After final exams and final farewells, I’m off to northern Spain for Christmas. First to Barcelona I headed with a connecting flight to Santander the next morning. The night was spent at my friend Lauren’s followed by a day catching up on our experiences of living abroad in Spain. Occasional threats were made to steal her roommate’s pug, the beyond cute, Kiwi. Early the next morning, I flew to Santander to meet my dad and sister, Claire, for the first time since early September. Claire and I resumed our banter hilarious to us, not so much to others, while dad and Luke chatted as we drove into town from the airport. Not everyone would view two oranges from Sevilla as a treasure to deliver. These are no ordinary oranges. They are huge, juicy, and extremely flavorful. Needless to say, dad was instantly hooked and was questioning the sanity of my having packed clothes instead of just oranges. As we made our way though the center of Santander we managed to cross the main street before the march of strikers reached us and made our way to a café for some pinchos, the small portioned foods, similar to tapas. Dad met Luke’s favorite vendor at the produce market, Begonia, and we walked by the sunny bay. For months I’d missed this calm, peaceful feeling with family around me. The next few days Luke escorted Claire, dad and I about Santander. Included in the tour was Gerardo Diego primary school. Our visit coincided with a celebration of culture, where all the children were dressed in traditional montañes, the Cantanbrian mountain people’s, attire. What is it about this setting, performing for parents, that turns them all into cherubs! As they sang traditional Spanish songs, finishing with the English song “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, parents laughed and snapped pictures of their children’s antics, whether that moment was a total meltdown or enthusiastic participation in the simple songs.
Over the next few days we toured small towns around Santander on the northern coast visiting Bilbao and the fabulous Guggenheim museum in the Basque region of Northern Spain. We visited Potes, the biggest town among the Picos de Europa (Peaks of Europe), La Iglesia de Lebeña, and Castro, a small fishing village near Bilbao. Though I am not a religious person at all, the churches of Spain are works of arts that inspire the spirit. The Iglesia de Lebeña was so beautiful, made even more so by the story surrounding it and of course the warmth and beauty of the day of our visit. The story is told that a Count in Cantabria would regularly would go hunting and riding horses around his land, ignoring his land and the people. One day while hunting he was struck blind. He believed this was God’s punishment for his lack of devotion and his less than pious ways. He decided that building a church would demonstrate his devotion and his sight would be restored. During this time, he met his wife, a woman from Andalucía, in the south of Spain. They fell in love. As a monument to their love, the Count decided to plant trees native to Cantanbria, El Tejo de Lebeña and an olive tree, native to the south. His gesture represented not only a merging of their two regional cultures but a blend of tradtional pagan beliefs of the north with the more traditional Catholic views of the south. Hundreds of years past, about seven hundred, when one day during a storm the Tejo was uprooted and split apart. The people of the surrounding area mourned the loss of this enduring icon of love and tradition until one day, a man from the upper mountains came down to share his treasure. He told the people that he had taken a cutting from the tree and in fact had a small sprout that would, in time, be able to be planted in place of the old tree. The love, the union lives on.
Bilbao, not a small town, hosts the Guggenheim Art Museum. The building is a work of art, with large swaths of glimmering steel that seems to have woven upon itself to create the imposing building. Arriving near lunch time, we stopped for the obligatory tortilla española (traditional Spanish potato omelette) then headed into the museum. We saw everything from an exhibit of Dutch masters of the Golden Age to an Andy Warhol piece titled 500 Marilyns. We later took the tram to the old city in search of more traditional Spanish buildings, food and a place where Dad could rest his leg. We found all three, though the food was a bit difficult since we managed to begin our search right at the beginning of siesta when almost all stores and restaurants close down for 2.5 to 3 hours, what is essentially, nap time in Spain. We found a spot, where we feasted on little tortilla pinchos and a café con leche.
Mom arrived on Christmas Eve, regailing us with her story of her traveling guardian angel, Craig, the Australian, who helped Mom through London because as he told her, “…my mother would approve.” He helped Mom choose a taxi as she traveled one train station to another to reach Stanstead airport. The taxi driver was an Irishman who happened to be a huge fan of American college football, with eyes reminiscent of Grandpa Mickey’s. He took Mom by the main sights of London, the Royal Palace, and Trafalgar Square among them, as the sun glistened on the snowy city. When we picked Mom up at the airport in Santander our joy was palpable. We headed back into town, in search, once again, for pinchos. The streets were filled to capacity with festive Spaniards decked out in reindeer ears and Santa hats, participating in botellon-essentially buying alcohol at stores, then drinking to excess in the streets. It was about two in the afternoon, so I guess maybe the time for celebration was nigh. After unsuccesful attempts to squeeze into two or three bars, we went to Casalita, one of Luke’s favorite spots, and enjoyed some delicious pinchos, wine, and free Champagne and polvorones (pig lard with flour, sugar, and chocolate or nut flavoring) on the house! Mom was in heaven and we were there with her. After this, we tooled through town, admiring the beautiful mountains providing a backdrop to the bay and stopped to inhale the wind and vistas that nearly blew us away. That night we walked through the center of Santander, admiring all the lights that were up for the holidays and enjoyed a calm and peaceful Christmas Eve together. Full of laughter and the wonderful stew that Luke prepared, we retired on Christmas Eve, happy that we were all together.
On Christmas day, we feasted on French toast and set off on a driving adventure of the Picos de Europa. It was a gorgeous day driving through rural northern Spain. We encountered green valleys filled with sunlight surrounded by snowy peaks, mountain ponies who blocked the roads at time, and snow everywhere. I could not have asked for more. Spending time with my family for Christmas was all I needed. We debated that day and the next where we should spend my birthday, on the 27th. It was a toss up between Logroño or Salamanca. We settled upon Salamanca.
The day before we left for Salamanca, we journeyed to San Sebastían, which I was told is a hot spot for delicious food. Of course the food was spectacular, but the city was absolutely stunning. The town surrounded a crystal clear blue bay, with green hills all around. We walked by the beach and made our way to La Cuchara de San Telmo where we were served some of the best pinchos I have ever had. These particular pinchos were prepared by two brothers form Argentina that had owned the restaurant for 10 years. We sampled risotto with goat cheese, octopus, cow cheeck, and…pig ear. Yes you read correctly, pig ear. Luke decided to inform me, mid-chew. After that I had trouble finishing my bite…. None the less, San Sebastían was a jewel among the northern Spanish coast. A center of delicious cuisine and Basque ETA resistance groups.
I spent my 21st birthday in Salamanca, Spain. It was interesting turning 21 in a country that has the legal drinking age at 18. As we explored the old, beautiful city, I could not wrap my head around celebrating my birthday or that now I was legal in the United States. I do not drink much really, so it was not some sort of amazing milestone to be legal, but it will make it easier for me to hang out with people in the States now. Salamanca hosted several huge, amazing churches and an old university that seriously rivaled the university I attend in Sevilla. I believe the University of Salamanca is one of the oldest, if not the oldest university in Spain. We celebrated my birthday out for dinner and drinking a couple bottles of red and white Spanish wine. They were absolutely delicious but the laughter and companionship of family was the highlight of the evening. Our hotel was located on the Plaza Mayor with a balcony view of the Spanish night life.
We headed back to Santander the following day we headed back to Santander. Unfortunately the family had to depart, leaving Luke and I to pass the rest of the vacation in Spain. We spent the rest of our time generally being lazy, though we managed to go on a day trip to Oviedo where I ate some of the best food of my life. The tablón astur essentially consisted of a huge wooden plank FILLED with meat. JAMÓN!! After succesfully stuffing ourselves into we all promised to never eat again, we returned to Santander.
I had a 14 hour bus ride awaiting me back to Sevilla. Luckily I had this lovely Christmas to occupy my thoughts.
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