Spain, My Parents, Alabama 3 and "Clarkyfest"

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It’s been awhile since my last blog entry, a little over a month in fact, and for a majority of that time I have been living with my parents again. Not since my days in college have we spent this much time under the same roof. When we planned our trip to Spain months ago neither of us realized the true length of their visit. I think it was about two months ago when I called home to ask what their arrival date was that we both became aware of their twenty-two day “visit”. All kidding aside though, it was wonderful. It was wonderful to have had the experience of traveling in Europe with my mom and dad. It was great for Camille to have the opportunity to bond with her grandparents in such a wonderful setting and finally, it was great for Elizabeth and I to have two people eager to spend so much time with Camille, freeing us up to enjoy life as a couple once again. We even went out clubbing in Madrid one night.

I guess I’ll start at the beginning. My mom and dad arrived on March 28 and I still had another seven days to go before spring break. They arrived late and without one of my mom’s bags. I’m not sure if it was on the news as much back in the states, but the grand opening of Terminal 5 at Heathrow in London had opened up the previous day. It was opened with a lot of hype, only to turn into a complete PR disaster for British Airways. My mom’s bag didn’t arrive for another seven days. I don’t think any of my neighbors who saw her in her Maryland Terps sweatshirt seven days in a row would question her dedication as a fan.

We woke up Saturday morning to the first “old firm” game since I arrived here. This is the classic football matchup of Rangers V Celtic. I was so excited to take my dad out and show him some football hooliganism. We met some of the boys over at the pub early to secure good seats. Of course we had to stop at the bookies first to place our bets, and my dad being my dad, had to bet on the Rangers once I told him I wanted Celtic. To my disappointment, Rangers won and so did my dad. My bet had proved fruitless. Regardless, we had a great time though and I was happy that my dad got to meet some of my friends here.

The next day we headed into Glasgow for a day of walking around the city and showing off many of the sights I’ve mentioned here before. Later that evening we met Joanna’s parents, Derek and Linda for a wonderful meal.

With the weekend down and only a workweek to go before spring break, I got to come home from each day and here about the adventures of my family on vacation, traveling to seaside towns up and down both coasts, castles and other exciting adventures. Needless to say I was jealous of the fun, but knew my time was coming. We had another nice meal with Derek and Linda mid-week and before I knew it I was boarding a plane to Spain early Saturday morning.

We arrived at Malaga airport three hours later and a couple hours after that we were by the pool. Our resort was a timeshare my parents were able to trade for the one they have in New York. It was a beautiful location. The town’s name was Benalmedena and it was located on the Costa del Sol of southern Spain on the Mediterranean. The first two days we spent enjoying the wonderful sunshine and relaxing by the pool. Unfortunately though the weather took a turn for the worst and my plans of sunbathing my week away ground to a halt. Looking back though it was probably for the better as it got us out seeing some sights that we might not of otherwise seen. We took a day trip to Malaga and visited the Picasso museum and then went over to Picasso’s childhood home. From there we visited a beautiful cathedral and carried on to a variety of other places. The highlight of the day though was finding our first true tapas bar and enjoying a wonderful meal in a great setting. We arrived to a whole host of freshly prepared foods being placed out for that evening’s business. We ordered our small plates and were treated to a wonderful meal.

Another adventure we had during the rainy period was a trip to Granada to see the Alhambra. This was a long bus ride followed by a short walk around Granada and then onto the Alhambra. This is Spain’s most visited site. It was a stunning building built by Arabs hundred of years ago. My pictures don’t really capture just how amazing the inside of this building was. The plasterwork, tiles and architecture of this grand building can’t be seen through the pictures I took. Regardless, I’d recommend a visit if you ever find yourself in the area. I would also recommend buying your tickets on-line way in advance so that you don’t find yourself on a chartered bus following the agenda of some crazy person.

Two rainy days down and one more to go, I found myself doing something I would have never had done had my dad not suggested it. We took a gondola ride from town up to the top of nearby mountain. The ride was gorgeous and afforded us views I would never of had had otherwise. Camille loved it and we had a great picnic lunch at the top overlooking the Mediterranean and all the nearby mountains. The winds began to pick up so we decided to head down the hill. It became so windy that the gondolas were nearly blowing sideways, but again Camille seemed completely unaware of this strange phenomenon. My mother on the other hand was very aware I’m sure.

After that, the weather took a turn for the better and we enjoyed the rest of our time seeing the immediate area around us. We enjoyed many good meals together and some relaxing times by the pool once again.

After six nights in Malaga, three of which were rainy, I was disappointed to be heading off to Seville on the nicest day yet. We awoke to a blue bird sky, no wind and calm seas. Malaga is where I was planning to get my “sun fix”, but things sorted themselves out. It ended up that the next six days were absolutely glorious. So after a final couple of hours by the pool we were on the train to Seville and the next leg of our adventure.

We arrived in Seville to find our accommodations more than suitable. We had a great two-bedroom flat with a rooftop terrace overlooking this wonderful city. We had arrived for the last three days of Feria de Abril, a very large seven-day festival that more or less shuts down the city. The restaurants and bars were open, but otherwise many other businesses were shut as families celebrated. After settling in we headed over to the area that it takes place. It is a very large area located within the city. I’d estimate it to be about 6 city blocks by six city blocks. I gathered that for the other 51 weeks of the year that this area sits unused. Upon arrival on the scene you quickly get the picture of just how massive this festival is. They have over one million lights strung up and literally thousands upon thousands of tents. Most of the tents are marked with family names and are not open to the public, but are used for families to meet, drink, eat and dance in over the course of the week. Others are open to the public and it is in these tents that you can have a drink, some tapas and enjoy the Flamenco dancing. As you can see by the large collection of videos I’ve posted with this entry, Camille quite enjoyed it too.

When we arrived at the festival on Friday night it was quite the party scene and everyone seemed to be having a grand old time. On Sunday though we showed up earlier in the day and it was a bit slower in the tents, but we were on the street as the crowds began to pour in. Many of the people were arriving in horse drawn carriages filled with families dressed in their full flamenco dancing regalia. In a sense, they were proudly parading their families in down the main drag of the festival. This went on for hours. It is quite a good way to whittle away an afternoon; sitting drinking red wine and watching absolutely beautiful people, large horses and extravagantly decorated carriages go by.

Seville reminded me of Venice without the canals. Its thin, narrow and winding streets make it very easy to get lost in, especially when you’ve had a bit too much vino, but that’s another story. The city was filled with many fascinating sights outside the festival as well. The most notable being its cathedral, this cathedral holds the world record for being the largest in the world. It is an awe-inspiring site. It holds the remains of Christopher Columbus. Even more entertaining are the 37 floors that you can walk up to reach the bell tower providing an unsurpassable 360-degree view over the city. It was while looking out over this view that Elizabeth and I determined we wanted to come back and spend a summer living in this wonderful city.

While in Seville we also had the chance to take in a bullfight, a truly spectacular experience to witness at least once in your life. Although my ass might disagree after three hours sitting on the six inch slab of concrete that served as my reserved seat. The program included six matadors. We had warned Camille prior that each matador would in the end, deliver a fatal blow with his sword that would ultimately kill the bull. I don’t think this warning served as enough of an indicator though of the violence that was to come. I’ve attached below some of the text of a Wikipedia article on Spanish bullfighting. The video I’ve attached is of the banderilleros plunging the flags into the bull. The other video is “the bulls on the sled ride” as Camille so innocently referred to it as.

Spanish-style bullfighting is called corrida de toros (literally running of bulls) or fiesta brava (the ferocious festival). In traditional corrida, three toreros, or matadores, each fight two bulls, each of which are at least four years old and weighs 460-600 kg. Each matador has six assistants — two picadores ("lancers") mounted on horseback, three banderilleros ("flagmen"), and a mozo de espada ("sword page"). Collectively they comprise a cuadrilla ("entourage").

The modern corrida is highly ritualized, with three distinct stages or tercios, the start of each being announced by a trumpet sound. The participants first enter the arena in a parade to salute the presiding dignitary, accompanied by band music. Torero costumes are inspired by 18th century Andalusian clothing, and matadores are easily distinguished by their spectacular "suit of lights" (traje de luces).
Next, the bull enters the ring to be tested for ferocity by the matador and banderilleros with the magenta and gold capote ("dress cape").

In the first stage, the tercio de varas ("the lancing third"), the matador first confronts the bull and observes his behavior in an initial section called suerte de capote. Next, a picador enters the arena on horseback armed with a vara ("lance"). To protect the horse from the bull's horns, the horse is surrounded by a peto — a protective cover. Prior to 1909, the horse did not wear any protection, and the bull could literally disembowel the horse during this stage.

At this point, the picador stabs a mound of muscle on the bull's neck, leading to the animal's first loss of blood. The manner in which the bull charges the horse provides important clues to the matador on which side the bull is favoring. If the picador does his job well, the bull will hold its head and horns lower during the following stages of the fight. This makes it slightly less dangerous while enabling the matador to perform the elegant passes of modern bullfighting.

In the next stage, the tercio de banderillas ("the third of flags"), the three banderilleros each attempt to plant two razor sharp barbed sticks (called banderillas) on the bull's flanks, ideally as close as possible to the wound where the picador drew first blood. These further weaken the enormous ridges of neck and shoulder muscle through loss of blood, while also frequently spurring the bull into making more ferocious charges.

In the final stage, the tercio de muerte ("the third of death"), the matador re-enters the ring alone with a small red cape (muleta) and a sword. It is a common misconception that the color red is supposed to anger the bull, despite the fact bulls are colorblind (the real reason that a red colored cape is used is that any blood stains on it will be less noticeable). He uses his cape to attract the bull in a series of passes, both demonstrating his control over it and risking his life by getting especially close to it. The faena ("work") is the entire performance with the muleta, which is usually broken down into "tandas" or "series". The faena ends with a final series of passes in which the matador with a muleta attempts to maneuver the bull into a position to stab it between the shoulder blades and through the aorta or heart. The act of thrusting the sword is called an estocada.

Occasionally, if the bull has fought bravely, and by petition of the public or the matador, the president of the plaza may grant the bull an indulto. This is when the bull’s life is spared and allowed to leave the ring alive and return to the ranch where it came from. However, few bulls survive the trip back to the ranch. With no veterinarian services at the plaza, most bulls die either while awaiting transportation or days later after arriving at their original ranch. Death is due to dehydration, infection of the wounds and loss of blood sustained during the fight.

Again, it was violent, but something that is worth seeing and a truly fascinating look at another culture. I would definitely go to another one, except next time I’d pay for a better or at least a bigger seat.

After we wrapped up our four days in Seville, it was onto the high-speed train from Seville to Madrid. We made the 400-kilometer journey in just over two hours. It was quite a shock to the system to disembark the train into such a large and metropolitan city after leaving such a quaint, historical one. Again we had absolutely wonderful accommodations just off the Calle Gran Via, Madrid’s most famous street.

We definitely all felt the change of pace go from rather relaxed to that of the big city quickly. I’d say that all of us for the first couple of hours we were in Madrid longed once again for the quite streets of Seville, but in no time it all the city started revealing itself to us. Again we packed in all the major tourist attractions, Museo de Prado, Royal Palace, Plaza Mayor, a cathedral and many of the city’s amazing public parks. It was a city that was meant to be walked with the occasional stop for a bottle of wine, a few tapas and some people watching.

Of course, Madrid’s club scene is world-renowned and Elizabeth and I had to take a night to explore this aspect of city life. After many hours of drinking and seeking out some clubs we found a strip full of them. We felt famous walking this grand street as bouncer upon bouncer lured us in with tales of the craziness inside and offers of free shots. We took each one up on their offer only to come into an empty club and down a shot of schnapps and move on. Hours later as our 35-year-old bodies were wearing down under the duress, the clubs slowly began to fill with people. It is now after two in the morning, and I am dancing (which I rarely do) and I am making out with Elizabeth in a public bar (another thing I prefer not to do publicly). We finally come to our senses and realize that it’s time to head home. All in all, quite a spectacular night I must say. A few nights later we had a night out that was much more our style. Hopping from bar to bar, playing scrabble, talking, laughing and enjoying a much quieter side to Madrid.

I also had my own special night out spent watching another old firm match. I didn’t know what to expect watching it down in Madrid, but I definitely didn’t expect what I came upon. I stopped into an Irish pub and found myself in Spain, but feeling like I was in Glasgow. Fans filled the bar dressed up in their football colors, spewing their venom at one another in what turned out to be an amazing football game. Celtic won the game with a goal in the 94th minute that sent all the Ranger fans scurrying from the bar, heads hung low in disgust at the defeat they had suffered. Surprisingly the atmosphere in this bar was so much more intense than that of the game my dad and I had watched just two weeks earlier in Glasgow. Regardless, it was an incredible game. I was disappointed to have had this experience alone.

Sadly our trip did have to come to an end. We had an absolutely wonderful time together and now it was time to head back. Luckily we arrived to more nice weather in Scotland. So on my last day of break we all headed up to Loch Lomond and the town of Luss to do some hiking and last minute sightseeing.
And on the following Tuesday, after twenty-two days together, we parted ways with my parents. It was an amazing trip that I know we all enjoyed immensely. And now that I know just how easy my parents are to travel with, it’s something I hope to do again.

We didn’t have much time to rest though. That Tuesday night Stuart had offered to baby-sit and had gotten us two tickets to see Alabama 3. I’ve grown to like this band after Kevin recommended them on his visit here in January. They are classified as “country acid-house rock” and have a reputation as putting on a rocking show. Hank if you are reading this, I’m pretty sure you’d love them. Check ‘em out. They wrote the title track to The Soprano’s. That song is much better in its entirety as well. Again we had a wonderful time enjoying yet another night together, listening to good music and even dancing a little bit again, no making out this time though.

And all this finally leads up to my last weekend in April, “Clarkyfest”. One of the friends that I’ve met here, Clarky, was celebrating his 40th birthday. It was a boys only weekend in the north of the country near Glencoe. I can summarize the whole weekend up in six words: drinking, gambling, fishing and more drinking. It was a very unhealthy, but fun weekend. What else can you expect when you throw ten guys together for a weekend? I am proud to announce that I won the fishing award for catching the largest fish. I reeled in a splendid rainbow trout, although I’m not sure why I won. Stuart put the bait on it, Jerry cast the line and I happen to be standing next to the pole and I saw the bobber move, so I reeled it in. Regardless, I was awarded a very nice pewter flask with an image of a fisherman on it. Stuart requests that before I leave he gets it back to engrave, Tim “The Fishing Cunt” Broadbent on it. I think he means it in a nice way or at least I hope.

Well that’s April 2008 of my life, not bad I suppose!

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Comments

[Robyn]

Viva Espana!!
Oh man, I loved reading about your trip to Spain and the pictures are awesome... if you guys do spend a summer in Sevilla, I will have to come visit you : ) I have to say that the pictures of the big ole slab of jamon took me right back... that was one thing I was never really down with, but who am I, the Spaniards all seemed to love it! Wish I could have joined you for a drink @ the plaza mayor. And Camille is freakin adorable. I love her flamenco dancing and I am amazed that you were able to take those videos without cracking up in the background... she is so great!!!!!

[Robyn]

forgot to add...
Tim, I could be thinking of someone else, but don't you already have a flask that has that engraved on it? Seriously, how many do you really need?