Visiting Jesus

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Well, they weren't wrong when they said it rained in Oviedo, and coming from Britain, you wouldn't think that would be too much of a problem. But what we don't get in Britain is the astounding unpredictability of weather. I know it's something I've mentioned before, but this week wins in the fickleness stakes hands down. Ever had all four seasons in one day? Brilliant sunshine, temperatures in the twenties, blue skies, turn in seconds to grey clouds and autumnal winds, which in turn give way to plummeting temperatures and rain. Oh the rain. It has been the most frequent and enduring of all the weathers over the past couple of weeks and it is annoying. And to think my first choice was Gran Canaria! But I wouldn't change now for the world. The rain hasn't dampened our spirits.

Lectures are rolling along as normal, and talk of exams is starting. I'm reading a play I don't understand (I understand the Spanish words, with a little help from the dictionary, but it's all deep and meaningful and symbolic... and I just don't get it. So of course when Rosy's mum arrived for a visit, complete with hire car and tourist leaflets, I jumped at the chance of a more diverting activity than reading about a suicidal, drunk, blind poet.

On Thursday, after lectures, we decided to drive up the mountain to see Jesus. No, I haven't suddenly found God, there is an actual statue of Jesus on top of the Naranco Mountain which you can see from all over the city, especially when he's lit up at night and appears to float in the sky. He's a smaller version of the gigantic wonder-of-the-world in Rio de Janeiro, but still impressive. As we wound our way up the mountain road, we passed two gorgeous little churches, well-reknowned as heritage sites as examples of pre-romanesque medieval architecure, just my cup of tea, as you can imagine. When we reached the summit, and Jesus, we had wonderful views across Oviedo. We realised how mountainous the area really is, of course we'd glimpsed the mountains from the city, and driven through them a couple of times, but I'd never realised that Oviedo is totally surrounded by Mountains. The city nestles in the centre, and as soon as the buildings stop, the mountains start. A view of mountains always takes my breath away, they are so majestic, and it is a view you never get in Britain. We have mountains, but not on this scale - and we're still hardly talking the himilayas. But even in May, the highest mountains are still picture-perfect, rocky and snow-capped.

However, our view of the mountains and of Oviedo didn't last for very long; we had seen the rain from a distance over some mountains further away, but by the time we'd taken some photos and gawped at Jesus, the view was obscured and the rain was upon us. Luckily, by the time we'd meandered halfway back down, to have a look at the churches, we were out of the rain again. Such localised weather systems never fail to amaze me either. Once we'd had a wander round the churches, we drove back down into the city to visit the cathedral. It's strange, but when you live in a city, you never really explore it properly, as you would when you are a tourist somewhere. Even when we are in a foreign city, for a few months, we don't do the 'touristy' things, we just get on with our day-to-day lives. Sure, we'd admired the cathedral, but we'd never even thought to go inside.

Oviedo's cathedral is not huge, but it is ornate, full of baroque gilted pieces. Now I know they are made from expensive materials, and are meant to be revered, but I find these huge sculpted, decorated pieces kind of tacky. I think it's just that they don't look like they've used expensive materials, they look like they've been made out of plastic from a distance, just like all the virgin Mary statuettes from the tourist shop. Up close, I can appreciate the workmanship, but I don't find them particularly beautiful to look at. The overblown altar-piece, telling the story of Christ had just too many heavy gold frames around each insert. I suppose I prefer art when it's simpler and less gaudy. Also, I have the problem, that coming from Salisbury, with its world-famous, beautiful gothic cathedral and towering spire, and having spent Christmas concert after Christmas concert whilst at secondary school inside its huge, majestic interior (which has beautiful gothic stonework and spectacular stained-glass rather than Baroque gilted pieces), I'm a little bit spoiled. Every cathedral I see gets compared to Salisbury, which is a pretty tough standard.
However, I can appreciate Oviedo's cathedral from the outside. It has a very distinctive Spanish style which I like, identical in style to the cathedrals in Leon and Astorga, and many others, I'm sure.

Worn out from all our cultural activities, we went home, made a heap of pasta, and retired to our uniquely low sofa in front of the 70s classic, 'The Way We Were'. Boy was Robert Redford hot in his day!

The next day, with a quick glance at the map, we decided to head to the coast and have a bit of a drive along the coastal roads. Our first stop was a charming little fishing village, Cudillero. The harbour is not as beautiful as Coullioure, but I doubt many are. Colourful houses clung to the cliffside, and equally bright rowing boats bobbed up and down on the water. The breakers were quite rough, even though the weather was quite calm, so it must be a dramatic scene in a storm. It really was a delightful place, with windy, cobbled streets and old stone buildings. We continued along the coastal road, and stopped at a viewing point, where we had a wonderful view of the atlantic. Looking out over the open sea, with the sound of distant waves, and knowing that there was nothing in front of us but ocean was a truly enchanting experience. We continued a bit further and stopped at a stunning cove, with a beach of golden sand and huge rocks which had been sculpted by the sea. . It felt jurassic, and there were no buildings in sight to take away from the feeling that it had been more or less unchanged for thousands of years. We dipped our toes in the sea, played with the hundreds of limpets clinging onto the rocks, and then went back to the car and bimbled along through the Asturian countryside. It felt truly Spanish. Oviedo is a sophisticated European city, but it is the countryside that is evocatively Spanish, with its stone farmhouses, and grain houses on stilts. On one hillside, there is even a sculpture of a bull, just to remind you that you are indeed in Spain.

As the weather turned for the worse, we made our way back to Oviedo, and after a nap, we went out to join the others for tapas. It was a great meal, with a huge dish of paella, a selection of cheeses, meats and fish, and plenty of wine. We went to so-called 'cider-alley' afterwards to let Rosy's mum experience the unique Asturian sidra. It was a wonderful day.

The week finished in a european celebration - with eurovision. Caroline and I went to Jo and Sarah's, where we got in the sangria, ordered a chinese, and settled down for several hours of sparkle, campness and european surrealism. As we were watching it on Spanish tv, we only had a Spanish guy announcing each act, so I don't know how well Graham Norton got on in filling Sir Terry's shoes, but I suspect it was with a similar brand of acerbic wit. Other countries seem to take it so much more seriously than us Brits, but maybe that's because we haven't stood a fighting chance for the last few years. Still, it was good fun. We were highly sceptical of how well the British entry was going to do, a big muscial ballad courtesy of Andrew Lloyd-Webber (or Andge Yoyd-Webber, according to the Spanish commentator), so when the results started coming in, I expect the whole of Asturias heard our shrieks as the points for the UK began coming in thick and fast. For the first time in my memory of eurovision, we got over 100 points - compared to last year's 14, for example. The Norweigan entry won (he was so cute!), but we finished a respectable fifth place. The introduction of judging panels to account for half the votes has definitely made it fairer - no country had less than 20 points for once. Of course there was still some predictability, but it was a novel experience to be celebrating as each country announced their points, rather the sinking inevitability that, once again, we would be at the bottom of the table. Sir Lloyd-Webber, you have done us proud.

The Spanish show afterwards came as something of a surprise; it was basically eurovision: the aftermath. Spain did not do well, but rather than the 'oh well, happens every year, always going to be a baltic state' attitude that we have in Britian, they were seriously upset. People were crying, the panel of experts looked sombre and they were all declaring their love for singer soraya, like she'd died or something, rather than had a bad eurovision result. So yes, they do take eurovision a hell of a lot more seriously over here!

Now I need to get planning our Bilbao-Santander trip, which is coming up quickly; we leave on Friday. And finish this damn play about the blind poet...

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