Gorges are the product of natures infinite patience. There is little urgency when you have no goal, no clear start or finish. Nature acts because the laws that govern it require it to and will continue to do so until movement becomes more painful then stillness. Chemically speaking stillness is impossible wherever energy exists, particles must move as long as the have energy to lose, so perhaps the patience of nature is not necessarily a lack of urgency as we know it with patience in humans, but an abundance of energy. Without fear of losing energy to stillness, as all humans are born with, nature can sit patiently and allow its movements, the slight pressure of water, wind, and moving earth, and with those movements it can create structures more grand and fabulous than any humans have ever been able to, with all of our attempts. With all of our urgency.
Rhonda is a city situated on two sides of a gorge. On one side is the old city, apparently named so because, well because its older, and on the other side is the new city. The two sides are connected by two bridges aptly named the old bridge and the new bridge for similar reasons as specified above. The city itself is quaint, full of little shops and neighborhoods with old men who sit and talk about when the old city was the only city and th new city was no city and how both bridges are older than the old city and it should really be thought of as oldest bridge, old bridge, not as old city, and really pretty new city and so on and so forth forever and ever amen. The city is interesting but unspectacular except of course for the land around and under it. The gorge under the new bridge is over 100 km deep (300 ft and change) and the bridge extends all the way to its bottom stopping just short of a waterfall where jets of water stream out like a fountain made by man and nature in one of their few cooperative efforts. The hills to the side are covered in flowers that bloom all year long so the beauty of the greenery is contrasted by the bleak and barren walls of the canyon.
We walked down into the canyon (you have a to pay a nice man about a dollar to walk through his yard but it really is worth it and he seems like a nice guy) and were surprised by how different the little city looked from the bottom of the gorge. From the bridge the town appears to spread out endlessly around the gorge, challenging it to expand into the thriving community that had mastered it with its bridges, but from the bottom the town was all but invisible. The gorge seemed to take no notice of them, as if it were more of a passive acquiescent then a conquered prisoner, not caring one way or the other what went on above it, waiting patiently as only nature with its boundless energy can.
We walked out of the city into the surrounding hills and were impressed by the view of the mountains to one side and the valleys with other little villages to our other side. As we looked on at these seemingly quaint little places we thought about how different they really were than any other place in spain or anywhere else. Inside those quaint houses they were probabl watching dubbed american tv, while their kids played the newest playstation games. They probably new as much about what was going on around the world from the news as an new yorker or businessman in tokyo. It made me look at the villages differently, part of their innocence and naivety was gone. Maybe that is the price of being connected to the world around you, a little bit of your individuality, your naivety, is released as well. Still I wonder if the miss the simplicity of ignorance. Not knowing about wars in africa or terrorism in the north of spain. I just don't know. I've never known a world without those things.
Sorry again for m long absence, i've been a bit swamped at school lately and have been trying to figure out some traveling, of which there will be much very soon. By the way I do have new glasses and a cell phone here (thanks mom for reminding me I hadn't mentioned that yet) and they are both working pretty well especially considering how inexpensive they were. This weekend I'm planning on going to madrid, which is apparently the capital of this place and will have lots of museums and culture and other boring stuff that I'm supposed to experience (just kidding, I love culture, ask anyone!) I also have to begin a ten page paper in spanish about theater in modern spain which wouldn't be too bad if I was familiar with theater in spain and I spoke spanish, but both of those are really not the case so it might be a grueling couple of weeks. A special thanks as always to me Grandma who sends me kind emails and tells me nice things. I love you more than kittens, and I love kittens a bunch, I hope you are well and that the weather is starting to normalize a little bit more. Much love to all and I will write again soon. Pinky promise. My next entry will either be about madrid, or Jerez the birthplace of sherry. I guess you'll just have to wait and see. Ta ta for now.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Cathedrals
This is not my first time in Europe, a few years ago My twin brother matthew, my friend Ryan, and I all traveled from london to berlin, stopping in france, italy, austria and other places in germany to see the sights and eat cheap delicious bread and be treated rudely by the french and really quite kindly by the rest of the world. So I've seen a few cathedrals in my day, the cathedral of notre dame in paris, the duomos of florence and milan, a basillica dedicated to saint peter in the vatcan, but no matter how many times you've seen gargantuan and lavishly decorated churches you still have to stand and wonder when you walk in and look up at the ceiling hundreds of feet above, the wood carvings as large as small houses, enclosing pipe organs whose arrangement is in itself a work of inspired creativity, the pulpits with images of biblical stories depicted with gold and silver and all around people of the worlds most advanced age wondering at the things that we have lost.
Interesting things about this cathedral. It was all about the benjamins (money), no surprise there. As in the mequita of cordoba, wealthy families would pay probably vast sums of money to be able to secure for themselves small sections of the cathedral for their own personal sanctuaries. The arrangement of these sections were like small chapels with a pulpit and grand art work, but they also served as a burial ground. As a caveat I have never understood peoples obsession with the meat left over when they pass on. Whatever is eternal and unique in each person is not kept in their fingernails or hair which will soon be devoured by creatures with twelve cell nervous systems, so paying absurd sums of money to protect a shell of ones self seems like a poor investment. Better to spend it on something that might affect the part of you that's eternal by enriching your life which is marked by the presence of a soul or your life's affect on others which is souls reciprocally affecting one another. But I'm off on an opinionated tangent, the point I meant to make is people with money could own what they desired, the church, the state, other human beings which is and was terrible but resulted in some of the most beautiful architecture and artwork ever commissioned. So its another mixture, a hypocrisy, something else to keep things interesting.
At the end of the tour we climbed thirty flights of stairs to the top of the tower known as the giralda and looked down on the city and we felt like the angels carved into the tower, looking down on the city and appreciating how hard it is to see beyond the wall in front of you when you are confined to the ground. Maybe this was a taste of the clarity with which god sees the world, the whole picture at once with the knowledge that everything fits together like a puzzle, but even with clarity of height I found myself nostalgic for the ground, the big picture is too vast. I'd rather let god handle that.
Thanks for the valentines day wishes from mom (I love you too, and don't say it enough) and Grandma (thanks also for the pictures, you live in a meteorological wacky land), Sorry i use this blog to reply rather than with email, I get easily sidetracked from emails but i will try to be better. Happy belated valentines day to all those I did not talk to. I hope everyone is well and felt loved that day.
My next entry will deal with the city of Ronda. Take care, I love you guys and will be in touch again soon. (Pictures are coming.)
Interesting things about this cathedral. It was all about the benjamins (money), no surprise there. As in the mequita of cordoba, wealthy families would pay probably vast sums of money to be able to secure for themselves small sections of the cathedral for their own personal sanctuaries. The arrangement of these sections were like small chapels with a pulpit and grand art work, but they also served as a burial ground. As a caveat I have never understood peoples obsession with the meat left over when they pass on. Whatever is eternal and unique in each person is not kept in their fingernails or hair which will soon be devoured by creatures with twelve cell nervous systems, so paying absurd sums of money to protect a shell of ones self seems like a poor investment. Better to spend it on something that might affect the part of you that's eternal by enriching your life which is marked by the presence of a soul or your life's affect on others which is souls reciprocally affecting one another. But I'm off on an opinionated tangent, the point I meant to make is people with money could own what they desired, the church, the state, other human beings which is and was terrible but resulted in some of the most beautiful architecture and artwork ever commissioned. So its another mixture, a hypocrisy, something else to keep things interesting.
At the end of the tour we climbed thirty flights of stairs to the top of the tower known as the giralda and looked down on the city and we felt like the angels carved into the tower, looking down on the city and appreciating how hard it is to see beyond the wall in front of you when you are confined to the ground. Maybe this was a taste of the clarity with which god sees the world, the whole picture at once with the knowledge that everything fits together like a puzzle, but even with clarity of height I found myself nostalgic for the ground, the big picture is too vast. I'd rather let god handle that.
Thanks for the valentines day wishes from mom (I love you too, and don't say it enough) and Grandma (thanks also for the pictures, you live in a meteorological wacky land), Sorry i use this blog to reply rather than with email, I get easily sidetracked from emails but i will try to be better. Happy belated valentines day to all those I did not talk to. I hope everyone is well and felt loved that day.
My next entry will deal with the city of Ronda. Take care, I love you guys and will be in touch again soon. (Pictures are coming.)
Monday, February 11, 2008
And Another Story Too
The entry about the castle is below but I just finished revising this other "story" that is based on a memory from when I was very young and is also written in the first person as a child. No need to read if you don't want and the real entry is below but if you care to its here.
So I finally got to go to the state fair and I’m really excited and I’m looking at this yellow and red striped tent and its really big. Really, really, real big and I want to just go see it ‘cause dad is always saying stay close and I say there’s nothing cool close. Everything cool is far, there’s always big red and yellow striped tents and stuffed animals and trucks that can change into robots that shoot missiles out of their arms and I always have to stay close and they stay far away and that’s how it is.
So I’m not trying to be bad, ‘cause I’m really good, really, really, real good and everyone always says, “you are just like a little grown up” and I make my face look like a grown up; I turn my head a little and pretend like I got something sour in my mouth so my face puckers up all serious like and they look and smile and their teeth are bigger than mine and fill their mouths and I use my tongue to feel the gaps where there are no teeth and its soft and it hurts when I press hard but I press anyway because I don’t know why and then I remember I’m being a little grown up and I squinch up my face again and press with my tongue when they aren’t looking.
So this tent has a high counter and I can’t see over it but I want to so I walk backwards and then I see over the counter and there are balloons and a man and people throwing pointed nerf missiles and the balloons pop. Pop!! And it makes me jump a little and I look around to make sure no one saw ‘cause Matthew makes fun of me and calls me a girl when I get scared and dad says don’t say that but he does when dad’s not there ‘cause he’s a jerk and I call him a fart face when Michael and I are playing ninjas and Matthew’s not allowed too play with us but one time Matthew hit me so hard I started to cry and he saw me and I tried to pretend I wasn’t crying but he saw and said I didn’t mean to he started to cry and I didn’t know why he was but I would have given him my plastic Siberian Tiger to keep forever if he would just stop and I hugged him and he hugged back and we didn’t know why but we kept on crying.
So I kept moving back and watched the balloons pop and they were red and green and yellow and a color that looked like my moms car she used to drive before she moved away to
The Castle of Sevilla
Containing four distinct sections from four different centuries, a massive garden with fountains and of course orange trees, and more history than a library at Cambridge, the Alcazar de los Reyes (the Palace of Kings) is one of the largest and most visited sites in Sevilla. It sits next to the university of Sevilla, another excessively daunting building where students in spain learn about spanish things I suppose.
The first section was gardens, there was of course the standard sea of green leaved orange trees punctuated with color as Orange trees tend to be in this season, but beyond that is a patio of stone with flowers creeping out of every wall and surface and covering others completely. It also contained a fountain with greedy ducks acting playful only to secure a bit of bread or cracker and a full hedge maze ("like in harry potter" says fernando, our professor and tour guide, named after a king and with all the presence of one) As we walk into the anteroom we are greeted by enormous paintings of rulers and an office that s still used to great dignitaries and royalty and other people born into importance. I touched the walls (not supposed to do that) and realized they were covered in plaster carvings in the style of arabic mosques. It was of course not made by arabs, only a cheap immitation, but still impressive and fragile and really shouldn't be touched thank you very much.
We walked into another courtyard and under an old and decaying wall. "This courtyard has four sides" bellows our guide and pointing to each in turn he says "19th century, 17th century, 16th century, 9th century, original arabic" So we looked around at 10 centuries of architecture which is a thousand years or over 3 times the age of our nation, twice as old as spain, and just about 50 times as old as the small group of invincible young people gawking at its age.
We walked into the main entrance of the palace and saw gold, on every wall and ceiling (people made some nice ceilings when they had unlimited money and enslaved other human beings) This was the room the king would greet ambassadors and was designed reflect light so that shone from behind and bounce of the gold to dazzle the foreigner and provide backlight for the king who was standing on a raised platform to give him the illusion of height and
god-like power.
We then saw the room of the god, hidden away behind doors and corridors which would be filled with slaves who were to protect the king and be killed first were their an invasion. The irony of a king that fancies himself a god hiding like a scared child was certainly obvious, but we live in a world of hypocrisies and perhaps thats what keep things interesting.
The last thing I will describe was my favorite part of the palace. Below the surface of the earth were cells for prisoners as the palace functioned as a courthouse as well, but at some point the queen decided she wanted a gift for herself so she made an enormous pool in the same underground space that could be filled with different kinds of water and scents and what not. But it was also designed to perfectly reflect all light giving it the appearance of an enormous mirror. So on some days the space was used to hold prisoners awaiting execution, on others the queen would use it to bathe and admire herself. Hypocrisy? No, just something else to keep things interesting.
Thanks again for the email grandma, I can't believe there were so many tornadoes! Kentucky should lend some of its tornadoes to states with nothing in them like north dakota in return for some pleasant days that are wasted on the few. Regardless I'm glad you are safe and well. If you find any of my mom's old writing I would be happy to post them on here as she would be terribly embarrassed by that and have no way to stop me since I'm thousands of miles away. In other news I just booked tickets to greece for april which should be wonderful. We are spending 7 days there and all the flights and places to stay are only about $400 which is pretty good for plane tickets and housing. I plan to go a beautiful town close to here with gorges and cliffs next weekend so Im sure you will here about that soon. As always stay well and i will post again soon, this time about the cathe
dral 
of spain, and as always here are some pictures.
The first section was gardens, there was of course the standard sea of green leaved orange trees punctuated with color as Orange trees tend to be in this season, but beyond that is a patio of stone with flowers creeping out of every wall and surface and covering others completely. It also contained a fountain with greedy ducks acting playful only to secure a bit of bread or cracker and a full hedge maze ("like in harry potter" says fernando, our professor and tour guide, named after a king and with all the presence of one) As we walk into the anteroom we are greeted by enormous paintings of rulers and an office that s still used to great dignitaries and royalty and other people born into importance. I touched the walls (not supposed to do that) and realized they were covered in plaster carvings in the style of arabic mosques. It was of course not made by arabs, only a cheap immitation, but still impressive and fragile and really shouldn't be touched thank you very much.
We walked into another courtyard and under an old and decaying wall. "This courtyard has four sides" bellows our guide and pointing to each in turn he says "19th century, 17th century, 16th century, 9th century, original arabic" So we looked around at 10 centuries of architecture which is a thousand years or over 3 times the age of our nation, twice as old as spain, and just about 50 times as old as the small group of invincible young people gawking at its age.
We walked into the main entrance of the palace and saw gold, on every wall and ceiling (people made some nice ceilings when they had unlimited money and enslaved other human beings) This was the room the king would greet ambassadors and was designed reflect light so that shone from behind and bounce of the gold to dazzle the foreigner and provide backlight for the king who was standing on a raised platform to give him the illusion of height and
god-like power.
We then saw the room of the god, hidden away behind doors and corridors which would be filled with slaves who were to protect the king and be killed first were their an invasion. The irony of a king that fancies himself a god hiding like a scared child was certainly obvious, but we live in a world of hypocrisies and perhaps thats what keep things interesting.
The last thing I will describe was my favorite part of the palace. Below the surface of the earth were cells for prisoners as the palace functioned as a courthouse as well, but at some point the queen decided she wanted a gift for herself so she made an enormous pool in the same underground space that could be filled with different kinds of water and scents and what not. But it was also designed to perfectly reflect all light giving it the appearance of an enormous mirror. So on some days the space was used to hold prisoners awaiting execution, on others the queen would use it to bathe and admire herself. Hypocrisy? No, just something else to keep things interesting.
Thanks again for the email grandma, I can't believe there were so many tornadoes! Kentucky should lend some of its tornadoes to states with nothing in them like north dakota in return for some pleasant days that are wasted on the few. Regardless I'm glad you are safe and well. If you find any of my mom's old writing I would be happy to post them on here as she would be terribly embarrassed by that and have no way to stop me since I'm thousands of miles away. In other news I just booked tickets to greece for april which should be wonderful. We are spending 7 days there and all the flights and places to stay are only about $400 which is pretty good for plane tickets and housing. I plan to go a beautiful town close to here with gorges and cliffs next weekend so Im sure you will here about that soon. As always stay well and i will post again soon, this time about the cathe
dral 
of spain, and as always here are some pictures.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Something a little different
I know I promised an entry about the castle of sevilla, and don't you worry its coming, but I thought since I'm more or less sharing what I'm doing in sevilla I'd share a little something different as well. I enjoy writing and being in spain where I have many fewer demands on my time has given me some energy to try writing different things (like this blog), so I'm going to post a short story that is a revision of one I began in a creative writing class, its about a man named gregory stanton, and its in the first person. Let me know what you think and sorry again for delaying the real meat of what I'm doing in Spain. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Thanks for the lovely picture grandma, as always I enjoy the correspondence. Check back a bit later for a real entry about what I'm doing here.
They say sitting all day is hard on your back. Or is it standing. I don’t remember. I know they say sitting all day will make you fat, which is true, but I don’t Mind. The seats seem more inviting. I walk up the little stairs onto the bus and see a seat and it looks like cake and ice cream to me so I just sit and sit and sit.
All the bus drivers know me of course; I don’t want to get on no one’s bad side. Soon as I walk on a bus with a driver I don’t know I step forward and introduce myself right there.
“Hi sir. My Name is Gregory and I’m gonna sit on this bus today if you don’t mind. I got no where to be and no one to see, so I‘m just gonna sit on this bus today if you don’t mind.”
I usually get a rise out of them because I always say the same thing and there’s a little rhyme in there and its pretty clever if you think about it so they usually laugh and say “Sure” and I say ”God bless you sir,” and I get on the bus and I sit.
I don’t know if I like sitting in busses I know really well the best, or if I like sitting in ones I don’t know at all the best. I step onto the 112 bus and I know everyone. Grocery man with the big face and sad eyes, the pretty girls who are older then their clothes, old hat man with a smile on his face like he’s hiding something and I bet he is. I just sit and I watch and I listen and everyone chats about this and that or they do nothing and sit there. That’s when I know them the most. When they think no one’s watching. That’s when I see their grins straighten, or eyes brighten, or lips mouth words no one but me can hear. That’s when they are the most beautiful. Right when they think no one can see them.
The 62 bus I don’t know at all. I save that one for special days because it’s always new. Some days there is a girl with little pony tails that can’t make up her mind on a green candy or a purple candy and I know she should pick the purple but I just smile when she picks the green. Sometimes I see parents with kids. Sometimes the kids misbehave and the parents have to be sharp with them, which is not as fun to watch but I know they have to do it.
It’s more fun to watch parents and little kids when the kid is too curious to misbehave. I once watched a little girl with curls that didn’t ever stop and she would ask her dad why the streets were the color of coal and he would answer because lots of things is the same color and asphalt is the color of coal and she was learning, and I was learning too but I was also watching and the little girl got bright in her eyes every time she got an answer and I bet I did too.
My best memory on the bus was one time I was sitting in the back, as always, watching and watching and this man came on the bus and walked toward a seat and as he walked a hand reached out and grabbed him on the arm and he turned all startled like he was gonna fight and hurt someone, but as he turned he sees this little baby and it is holding him by the arm and he is looking at it and he loves this child for no good reason and I can see it. And the mother says “I’m so sorry” but the man doesn’t even care. He is just looking at this child and loving him and then the kid lets go and the man sits down and its over. I sometimes think about if I had walked by after if I would have gotten the same thing, if I would have loved the child, but I know that’s not why I’m here. I’m just here to watch. I just watch and sit and sit and sit.
Thanks for the lovely picture grandma, as always I enjoy the correspondence. Check back a bit later for a real entry about what I'm doing here.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
I'm sensing a shift in the way those around me approach their time in Spain. The first days of our program were filled with meetings and small adventures to get us excited about living in spain, the next with learning to adjust to our rooms, our room mates, the language and everything else that is foreign and intimidating and exhilarating about a new place filled with the unknown. But I feel as time passes and the magic of newness fades a bit, those around me are realizing that there are obstacles to face, classes to struggle through, and no parents or friends close at hand.
This was the first week of midterms and papers and the instinct to do only the very best is alive and fighting in all of us. As we do our best to take notes and exams in a language we do not understand and in a system that is designed to be a challenge to spaniards I find those around me beginning to feel more like students than vacationers. Of course it is better to understand that we are here to learn, both in school and in our other experiences, but I hope that we are able to keep our wonder at the beautiful things around us and the opportunity we have to experience it.
Today I saw a man picking oranges from the orange trees that line the street, a child dressed in a suit walking with his father who wore jeans and a sweater, I saw a flock of doves, white wisps like cloud pieces painting pictures in unison in the sky, I saw a woman sitting against a grey stone wall holding her hands to her face so passers by couldn't see her red eyes and damp cheeks, and I saw flowers that don't grow in the united states, purple with alternating ascending and descending petals creating a purple throne on each side of the flower. Look and see what is a blessing to your eyes, its a pretty world full of pretty things. My next entry will be about the castle of Sevilla, until then take care grandma, I hope its not too cold in kentucky these days and to all who may be reading remember to vote in your local primaries, its your right as an american. Adios.
This was the first week of midterms and papers and the instinct to do only the very best is alive and fighting in all of us. As we do our best to take notes and exams in a language we do not understand and in a system that is designed to be a challenge to spaniards I find those around me beginning to feel more like students than vacationers. Of course it is better to understand that we are here to learn, both in school and in our other experiences, but I hope that we are able to keep our wonder at the beautiful things around us and the opportunity we have to experience it.
Today I saw a man picking oranges from the orange trees that line the street, a child dressed in a suit walking with his father who wore jeans and a sweater, I saw a flock of doves, white wisps like cloud pieces painting pictures in unison in the sky, I saw a woman sitting against a grey stone wall holding her hands to her face so passers by couldn't see her red eyes and damp cheeks, and I saw flowers that don't grow in the united states, purple with alternating ascending and descending petals creating a purple throne on each side of the flower. Look and see what is a blessing to your eyes, its a pretty world full of pretty things. My next entry will be about the castle of Sevilla, until then take care grandma, I hope its not too cold in kentucky these days and to all who may be reading remember to vote in your local primaries, its your right as an american. Adios.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Street Fairs and other tragedies
I apologize for my long absence, I try to write something new every couple of days and I think it has been about a week since my last post; I don't presume to think that anyone cannot live without my ramblings, but I do enjoy sharing my experience and my mind so thanks for your patience (grandma).
The city of Cadiz is about an hour and a half to the east of Sevilla, it sits on the coast facing the atlantic ocean and I've heard is one of the most beautiful places in the world to watch the sunset. Its an old city, older than most, founded by the Phoenicians before Rome conquered the world or Christ spoke of a god who loves us forever and ever, amen. Cadiz is also the sight of one of the biggest festivals in Spain, the festival of Carnival. Most places in the world believe that one day is enough for a party, thank you very much, but in Spain a day is barely enough time to get the food on the table and get everyone assembled so parties in Spain, especially ones like carnival that involve hundreds of thousands of people and elaborate costumes, go on for a least a week.
Usually things don't get too out of hand until 9 or 10 o'clock on the first day.
I arrived at 4:30, ready for anything on the day of the biggest party in spain and braced myself for the costumed ruffians that would great me. I walked off the bus and spotted them, there playing on a jungle jim were ten or so children all dressed as the cutest creatures god has blessed us with. One was a kitten, another a chipmunk, another was a baby dressed as a BABY! What is cuter that a baby? Regardless we found the city to be rather charming, a beautiful view of the ocean, a few well meaning costumed men singing songs for the children. This was no grand party, it was a halmark card and we were loving it. We strolled around for a little while longer enjoying the day, snacking on bits of fried dough that are present everywhere in the world but are called by different names. My friends were getting ready to head back to the train station when we saw a bit of commotion behind us. We looked toward the noise and saw that a parade was coming our way and leading the procession were a horde of adorable four year olds playing instruments and dressed as pirates. Now as a man I have a high threshold for cute things, I can see some pretty cute stuff and walk away from it unphased. My female friends on the other hand were in trouble . I turned to look at them and they began regressing before my eyes. My once intelligent strong young friends were on there knees trying to communicate in baby babble we men can not understand. "Whoooseee a cuuuttie booyyyy. Uuuusa cuuuttie boooyyy" and other nonsense like it. Luckily the parade was over soon and they were able to recover in time to catch their train. As I waved goodbye to them I prepared myself for a night of more of the same; charming costumes, children laughing, a few pieces of fried dough. I turned to leave and as I walked a horde of European teenagers yelping and blowing fog horns raced from the bus beside me, and as they stumbled by I realized my evening would be anything but pleasant and charming.
I won't bore you with the monotony of boorish behaviors I was witness to as the evening progressed and the streets filled with five hundred thousand lolligaggers, but it culminated in some upstanding young chap flinging his arms wildly and knocking my glasses to the ground to be crushed by thousands of other oblivious and decidedly un-charming folk. I have since decided that street fairs are fine, and may even be fun under some circumstances, but much more appealing are walks along the ocean with friends in a small town by the coast and the disarming charm of a child.
The city of Cadiz is about an hour and a half to the east of Sevilla, it sits on the coast facing the atlantic ocean and I've heard is one of the most beautiful places in the world to watch the sunset. Its an old city, older than most, founded by the Phoenicians before Rome conquered the world or Christ spoke of a god who loves us forever and ever, amen. Cadiz is also the sight of one of the biggest festivals in Spain, the festival of Carnival. Most places in the world believe that one day is enough for a party, thank you very much, but in Spain a day is barely enough time to get the food on the table and get everyone assembled so parties in Spain, especially ones like carnival that involve hundreds of thousands of people and elaborate costumes, go on for a least a week.
Usually things don't get too out of hand until 9 or 10 o'clock on the first day.
I arrived at 4:30, ready for anything on the day of the biggest party in spain and braced myself for the costumed ruffians that would great me. I walked off the bus and spotted them, there playing on a jungle jim were ten or so children all dressed as the cutest creatures god has blessed us with. One was a kitten, another a chipmunk, another was a baby dressed as a BABY! What is cuter that a baby? Regardless we found the city to be rather charming, a beautiful view of the ocean, a few well meaning costumed men singing songs for the children. This was no grand party, it was a halmark card and we were loving it. We strolled around for a little while longer enjoying the day, snacking on bits of fried dough that are present everywhere in the world but are called by different names. My friends were getting ready to head back to the train station when we saw a bit of commotion behind us. We looked toward the noise and saw that a parade was coming our way and leading the procession were a horde of adorable four year olds playing instruments and dressed as pirates. Now as a man I have a high threshold for cute things, I can see some pretty cute stuff and walk away from it unphased. My female friends on the other hand were in trouble . I turned to look at them and they began regressing before my eyes. My once intelligent strong young friends were on there knees trying to communicate in baby babble we men can not understand. "Whoooseee a cuuuttie booyyyy. Uuuusa cuuuttie boooyyy" and other nonsense like it. Luckily the parade was over soon and they were able to recover in time to catch their train. As I waved goodbye to them I prepared myself for a night of more of the same; charming costumes, children laughing, a few pieces of fried dough. I turned to leave and as I walked a horde of European teenagers yelping and blowing fog horns raced from the bus beside me, and as they stumbled by I realized my evening would be anything but pleasant and charming.
I won't bore you with the monotony of boorish behaviors I was witness to as the evening progressed and the streets filled with five hundred thousand lolligaggers, but it culminated in some upstanding young chap flinging his arms wildly and knocking my glasses to the ground to be crushed by thousands of other oblivious and decidedly un-charming folk. I have since decided that street fairs are fine, and may even be fun under some circumstances, but much more appealing are walks along the ocean with friends in a small town by the coast and the disarming charm of a child.
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