Salamanca, Madrid, y ¡Carnaval!

Just a few highlights from the last two weekends, parts of which are censorable anyway ;-)

Salamanca!
Salamanca is my favorite city so far. I hope Brittany is reading this right now and steaming with jealousy. I won’t lie though and say I am quite jealous of my old friend, who was blessed enough to remain there for a whole semester. It’s quaint, not touristy, and sin duda (without a doubt!) a lively little college town. I’m pretty sure this one Spain’s first really nice weekends, so townsfolk were out in droves welcoming home the long lost sun after they reluctantly had a taste of South Bend permacloud life is like. At night the Plaza Mayor smiles with light, providing one of the most beautiful man-made and non-ecclesial sights I’ve yet seen.

Open space = cartwheels and dance moves :-)

To boot, our group was fantastic. We had a great little hostal two blocks from the Plaza. The girls may have had a bigger room, but the gentlemen certainly won the best room prize. We had a balcony which overlooked the street and if you turned just a wee bit, you would see this. Pretty sweet, eh?

High-five for Pontifical Universities!

The night life there was a ton of fun. Everywhere we wanted to go was in relative proximity, including Jacko’s, a bar dedicated to the King of Pop himself. It wasn’t as spectacular as we imagined, but they had a drink called the Thriller which was mighty tasty. Both nights we ended up Leonardo’s, as I found out later, a place often frequented by Brittany and her friends. It’s a popular late-night Bocadillo spot. The great news is that I had the best sandwich of the semester in this place! Rightly dubbed the Plaza Mayor, it had chicken, cheese and onions…or something like that…I don’t quite remember…because it was so long ago! Don’t judge me :-)

This crazy vasco couldn't help us find a churrería, but he sang the FC Barcelona Anthem with me...so we let it slide

The second day (St. Valentine’s!) we walked around the city and soaked in the beauty of the day and the architecture. At the Old University’s main door Pami found the famous frog, which supposedly means she has good luck or something. The best part of our day though was the time leading up to and during lunch. We crossed the Río Tormes over the Puente Romano, a beautiful Roman bridge, enjoying the simplicity and silliness of our company. In the spirit of San Valentin, Gabi and I took this fantastic shot on the bridge, much to the surprise of some old ladies…yea this Gringo’s got moves!

There is...a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and...a time to dance! - Ecclesiastes 3:4 (with a bit of poetic license)

Over the bridge we found a nice little grocer, who sold us all we needed for a fabulous picnic. Our handmade bocadillos didn’t top the ones from the previous night in a culinary respect, but they may have had the edge in the spontaneous community spirit which generated them. Our picnic spot was picturesque: right by the river, at the foot of a church, and surrounded by the most unique trees you’ll ever see. Some were the subject of artists, painted and decorated in all sorts of crazy ways, while the virgin ones that lined the river walkway had the form of hands clasping a glass of wine or brandy from beneath. On top of being an impressive sight, they were the perfect height for climbing--tough enough for a challenge, but quite doable. Pete and I took some cool shots from his camera, which he hasn’t put up on facebook yet, but thankfully I stole someone else’s photos.

They will see us waving from such great heights,
'Come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'Come down now,' but we'll stay...

Salamanca ended equally as well, with Pete and I firing up some cubanos in the Plaza Mayor on our last night, and a safe journey home to Toledo. Although we meant to catch a direct bus back to Madrid to catch the train to Toledo, we got an indirect. It was considerably longer…but so worth it. We trekked through the mid-afternoon countryside of Castilla-León, rife with cattle, hills, and awesome rock formations. That barbarian spark lit in me yet again, my eyes were fixed on this glorious landscape the whole trip. Praise God for such art, which can’t but seize our most romantic yearnings for a wild life--utterly unpredictable, utterly dependent on God’s Providence and the work of our very hands.

Onto Madrid and Carnaval!
Last Friday my Master-Spanish-Painters class took our second field trip to the Prado, this time to admire the work of Francisco Goya. Goya is great, crazy, yes, but really quite an innovative force as far as the history of art is concerned. I quite enjoyed it. This time we wised up though and stayed after our tour was over to really appreciate the works of these master artists. In both of our tours we were only allowed to see each masterpiece for a few minutes while our professor talked, which was really frustrating, especially for El Greco and Velázquez, whom I love. I’m pretty sure we spent fifteen minutes in front of Velazquez’s Cristo Crucificado. This is one of those paintings that you have to see in real life, Christian or no. The corpus, Christ’s body, although depicted as dead, still retains a dynamic character. Over a dark, neutral background, the brilliance of the body suggests the light given to the world by this act of perfect self-sacrifice. Emily put it well, saying that lack of setting created by the neutral background, suggests, as did St. Thomas Aquinas, that the Prize of the Cross is the merit of all ages, not simply for those contemporaries of Christ. Every moment of time lies on the circle that circumvents this act of the God-Man, faces it, and bows down in adoration before it. Even as we speak, God watches Jesus “breath his last” so that he might always “remember his mercy” towards us whom are imperfect, and thus grant us the grace to persevere in holiness (Luke 23:46, 1:55).

It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon
because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle.
Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit"; and when he had said this he breathed his last. - Luke 23: 44-46

The next night, our Carnaval celebration, was…well…less intellectually stimulating…to say the least. Carnaval is the Spanish equivalent of Mardi Gras…only it lasts several days. This is their holiday to disfrazarse (wear costumes), much like our Halloween, except instead of trick-or-treating Toledo has a city-wide parade and live entertainment (Salsa y Mergengue!) until…actually I have no idea because they were still going when we went home haha. Dressed in my chic gangster threads and a fuzzy bow tie donated to me by a not-so-scandalous (thank goodness!) ‘bunny,’ I thoroughly enjoyed the night. As per usual, Gabi and I danced it up to the Latin rhythms much to the delight of the middle-aged onlookers and our Puerto Rican compañeros. Much to my heart’s delight this latter group gave official recognition to my sangre boricua (Puerto Rican blood) after we rocked Zocodover. You'd be surprised how touching that is to someone like me who has had that chip on his shoulder for about...20 years! ¡Yo soy hijo de Borinquen Y eso nadie va a cambiar! (I'm a son of Borinquen [native for Puerto Rico] and ain't no one gonna change that!).

Ahh! Captain Flan! I'll be walking the plank for sure!


Ya-ya-ya-ya-ya! We call this our "Smile wit yo eyes" photo. Don't worry that's not lipstick on the cheek, just facepaint.

Nice threads gang!

Probably the highlight of night were Connor, Dan, and Pete. They had spent the night in Madrid (where Carnaval is not celebrated) and had purchased some creepy masks to enjoy the night in. Funny thing is that they were the only ones dressed up! Being the hams that they are, they did this crazy thing where they would go up to random people with said creepy masks on and just start saying “Ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya!” as they would bob back and forth. This carried into Saturday and was absolutely hilarious. When we were catching the bus back to our neighborhood, they incorporated this habit into the Toledano anthem some locals taught us on the bus. We then answered them with the Victory March, which, despite the tonal discrepancies, was a welcome sound to my ears. Singing for 20 minutes certainly makes the bus ride seem shorter, and way more fun.

So yea, that was pretty much my last two weekends. This weekend is sure to hold an adventure! We’re off to Morocco! I hope I get to ride a camel! Prayers for safety please!

Have a happy and fruitful Lent!