Super Sabbath

Yeah, I know I haven't been real timely about getting a blog up this week.  Last weekend we went to Toledo, a three-hour drive from Úbeda, and basically had a great big church day.  We visited a mosque, a cathedral, two synagogues, and a monastery.  By the end we were thoroughly exhausted and it was all started to look the same - forgive me for any irreverence.

Here are a couple shots of Toledo.  When I took these we were on top of the old wall that surrounds the historical part of the city.





Here's the tiny mosque we visited.  It was, of course, eventually turned into a Catholic church like most of the mosques in Spain.  And, as usual, they neglected to remove the inscriptions from the Koran off the front of the building, perhaps hoping people would just think it was a cool design.


Here's the only shot I could get of the inside of the mosque because it was closed for excavation.


Here's why they were excavating!


Behind the mosque the ground was being excavated and revealed several graves.  You could distinguish between the Muslim and Christian tombs because of their shape and the fact that some of them were pointed towards Mecca.





Toledo is in La Mancha, where Don Quixote took place, so there are all kinds of Don Quixote figurines in the tourist shops.  Here I am trying to look as noble as the knight errant at my side, but I came out looking little more than indifferent, perhaps even slightly annoyed.




Now that's a narrow street!  When we came out the other end there were just a few inches on either side of us.  I made the comment that, according to current statistics on obesity, a good percentage of the population of the United States couldn't even fit down that street.


Then we went to the cathedral.  Here's a shot of the main tower that you could see from pretty much everywhere in the city.


Here's the entrance to the shamefully enormous thing.  Above the door there is a scene of the Last Supper with statues of Christ and the Apostles.  You can only really see their heads from here.

The main altar from far to near.







The seats for the choir.  Each one was completely different, some containing very pagan or downright naughty images (if you have enough money not even the Inquisition can touch you.)  Most of them had scenes from Spanish history carved into them.  It took the guy who made them 35 years to finish the job.






There were very impressive ceilings throughout...








...but the most impressive thing about the place was that it contained an art gallery of very important works by big names such as El Greco and other Spanish and Italian artists.





The walls of the sacristy were lined with paintings of all the cardinals.  Over the entrance was this giant painting of Judgment Day.  We all agreed that the people on the bottom right (in hell) looked like they were having a lot more fun than everyone else in the painting.



Then there was this giant gold thing where they used to store the host and wine that are used for communion.  After I saw this, combined with the robes of the priests and cardinals woven with gold and diamonds, I sarcastically asked what ever became of Humility as one of the holy virtues.  David replied that it was absolutely shameless considering how many poor people there were.  He was particularly offended by their lack of kindness because they didn't give any sort of discount on the entry price for students.  According to him: "The Catholic church should be less Catholic and more Christian."


And of course there was no shortage of important dead guys laying around everywhere.

After lunch we ventured into the Jewish district of Toledo to check out a couple old synagogues.  These images are from one that was also converted into a church, except in this case they actually took the trouble to destroy the Hebrew writing on the walls.  Nowadays it is a Sephardi museum.









And here's Kate showing her excitement about exploring her Jewish roots.


Last but not least, the only shot I got of the monastery.  A gargoyle in the shape of a cat.  If you know me at all you know I like cats.


Sunset over a vineyard in La Mancha.

¡¡¡FIN!!!

The wonders of the human body

On Friday afternoon David asked me if some of the girls and I would like to go on a bike ride in the Cazorla Natural Park with he and Karin (another student at our school from Germany.)  I reluctantly said yes remembering the 10 mile death hike he took us on in that same park last year, but then thought to myself that if we were to go the same route on bike it would be really nice because it was flat most of the time.  Plus, I figured it couldn’t hurt to get some decent exercise.

We arrived at a campsite just outside of Cazorla and rented some bikes.  The owner of the establishment, a very tall man from Holland with huge hands, asked me whether I wanted a helmet.  I figured we wouldn’t be riding in much traffic and that the terrain was pretty mild so I declined.  Then he warned me that I (implying that unlike the other gender of our species) only have one head.  I laughed and accepted the helmet.

After stopping for coffee in Cazorla, we took the Frugoneta up to a nice overlook to start from because David said that the hill was too steep to ride up.  He told us that we would be riding about 6-8 miles to a place in the park where about 70 Griffon (Gyps fulvus), the largest specie of vulchure live.  He said there were a couple very gentle hills to climb and then the majoriy was more or less flat.  David tends to sugarcoat the truth.


View from the overlook.  Right in the middle as far out as you can see, there is a white smudge across the top of the land.  That's Úbeda.


Contemplating the view from the overlook.


The beginning: big smiles and lots of energy.


There are two castles in this shot, one at the top of the hill, and one just at the base, both overlooking Cazorla.

We didn’t realize it until we were coming back the same way, but the majority of the first half of the trip was uphill.  They weren’t steep hills, just really really long ones.  If we had some momentum, Kate and I could make it about halfway up most of them before we had to walk... providing the chains didn’t fall off our high quality mountain bikes while switching gears.


The top of the first "gentle incline."


I appear to be sweating profusely in this photo.  That was just the beginning.

About halfway to our destination, around the third time David said, “We’re almost there” and I stopped believing him, we caught site of some huge vulchures - they were circling over us.   Apparently this birds can stand almost as tall as me and have a wingspan of up to 8.5 feet!  Finally we arrived to where we were going, and much to Kate’s dismay we were only half done with the trip (she thought, “We’re almost there” = “We’re almost done”.)  We parked the bikes at a rocky cliff on the edge of the world, overlooking a deep ravine and facing a steep cliff with shallow caves where these giant birds live.  We saw several of them flying very close and I was astounded at how truly enormous they are.


The rocky terrain leading up to the cliffs.


Across the ravine from us you can see the shallow holes in the cliffside where the Griffon live.


Dangerously close to the edge.


Lunch with the vulchers.  From top to bottom: Kate, David and Karin.

We had lunch and after about an hour decided to start back.  As soon as we got on our bikes we realized the return was going to be especially brutal because we were all suffering from what David referred to as “culo roto” - literally, “broken ass.”  The first mile or so was a steep uphill climb so Kate and I walked most of the way.  Once we got to the top and began our descent,  amazed at the fact that it was a fairly steep downhill ride the whole way.  Kate and I kept asking, “How the hell did we do this in the other direction?”  At this point it was in no way rewarding, however, because the pain of going uphill and downhill were about the same.  If you were pedalling you were putting all your weight on your butt to do so.  If you were coasting downhill it became a fight to distribute the pain between different parts of your body - either you were sitting all the way down on your culo roto or trying to distribute the weight between that and your tired legs.  Plus, the descent was dangerously rocky so we had to ride the breaks all the way down, resulting in painfully cramped hands and jarred wrists.  You had to slouch to take some of the impact off your wrists and still have control over the breaks so now our backs and shoulders are sore too.

When we arrived back at the overlook where we started David said, “I have a little confession to make - we just rode 20 miles.”  Somehow we all just laughed, astonished at what our bodies had just endured, when we probably should have just thrown him over the cliff right then.  Despite how killer the trip was we ended up having a great time, seeing some beautiful sights, and at the end were rewarded with some very tasty ice cream.


We were greeted by a flock of goats when we returned to the overlook.


The end:  Just slightly exhausted.

In other news, this week I took an exam and passed it with flying colors.  I also gave a 30 minute presentation on Arabic music which I think was way more interesting to me than it was to my teacher.  That’s about it for now.  Thanks for reading my blog!  By the way, if you want to leave a comment, please sign your name at the end, otherwise I don’t know who it’s from.

It's the "Spain Isn't Just Pretty Scenery" Photo Bloopers Edition!

These photos are evidence that we do plenty of screwing around and just being plain silly here.  If we don't stick out because of our clothes or our nasty habit of speaking English, then we do just because we tend to be goofy.


This is the view from the terrace outside my bedroom door.  Jealous?


This is what we do on the terrace.


But we also study here.  Yes, it takes this much concentration just to read Borges in Spanish.  I can't imagine the faces I made while trying to translate it.


Jackie appears to be opining.


Posing as a professional photographer in Iznatoraf.


I'm don't remember what example of medieval architecture David was pointing out here but judging by our faces it appears to be a serious, or in my case terrifying thing.  Iznatoraf.


Relaxing in Castellar - there was absolutely nothing else to do since it was a local holiday and the city was practically abandoned.


No wonder the few locals that were still around in the city wouldn't talk to us - we look like we're in love.  Castellar.


It wasn't enough that we braved the hill in Santisteban up to the ruined castle; I felt compelled to race the Frugoneta to the top.  As you can see, I lost.


"Yeah, I walked up here - what's it to you?"


Thanks, I'd rather walk on this ledge than go down the hill at that angle.


Kate is hot, and oh so ladylike.


Even after a long day gallivanting around the province we still clean up nice.


The fair in Úbeda.  It ends today, thank God!  Next week there is a fair in Jaén so we get to look forward to Úbeda being abandoned for that, instead of overcrowded for it's own fair.


Varying levels of enthusiasm about the fair.

The only news worth mentioning this week:  I'm translating the website for the Flamenco school here in exchange for free singing lessons and possibly some money too, depending on the size of the project.  Oh yeah, and I'm going to Switzerland in December with the girls - a little ski village outside Geneva called Torgon.

Quote of the week:  "Those girls totally look like hookers.  But they're not; they're just girls." - Yours Truly