My hovercraft is full of eels

by the Night Writer

…or, as they’d say in Catalan, the official language of Barcelona, “El meu aerolliscador està ple d’anguiles.”

Knowing that Castillian Spanish wasn’t necessarily welcome in Catalunya (Catalonia) was one of the things that I was aware of before traveling to Spain. There were other things I was kind of aware of, but still more were a complete unknown and I tried to catalogue the cultural differences during our 17-day trip. For example:

Greeting women: In the U.S., the handshake is the common “pleased to meet you” or “good to see you again” gesture for men and women. In Spain, the two-cheek kiss is de rigueur (and yes, I know that word is French, not Spanish) for man-to-woman/woman-to-man or woman-to-woman. This is true even when you’re a man being introduced to a woman for the first time. It goes like this: you meet a friend or are introduced to someone new (female), you both lean in, cheek-to-cheek, and make a kissing noise, starting on the left and moving to the right. The lips don’t typically touch the cheek except with people you’re close to. I’ve also noticed that women are more likely to be louder in making the kissing noise. It’s the common way of doing things here, but the the familiarity is unusual for Americans. I know I’ve seen people from my company’s European offices come to the States for meetings and greet American women in that manner, which usually tweaks the freak-out meter a bit for the women not expecting it. Because I’ve seen that, however, and witnessed other people on our trip doing this, I wasn’t caught completely flat-footed the first time a new acquaintance thrust her face at me, even though it happened right in front of my wife. She wasn’t bothered by the action — only, perhaps, that I seemed so practiced at it.

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Barcelona is gaudy, I mean, Gaudi

by the Night Writer

The last few days of our trip were spent in Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, or Catalunya as it is referred to in Spain. It seemed to me that Barcelona has a more cosmopolitan feel than Madrid and is very focused on art and culture. Mere function isn’t enough when designing buidlings here, for example, as even the newer buildings are heavily influenced by the work of Antoni Gaudi and the other modernists and art nouveau designers and architects that stamped the city with their vision in the early part of the 20th century.

Gaudi is of course the most well-known, at least to the casual observer, with the signature private mansions (such as Casa Milà and Casa Bailló he designed, the creation of the distinctive Parc Güell public park and his still unfinished masterpiece, La Sagrada Familia cathedral. Parc Güell was originally envisioned as an exclusive housing district with as many as 60 private estates, a winding park, an open-air theater that overlooks the city and it’s own gothic market beneath the columns and decorated ceilings of the plaza. Only three homes were ever built and the enterprise failed but those few homes and the imaginative landscaping survived and were donated to the city for a public park. Once you climb the steep street to get to the park it makes for a very pleasant evening walk among the often whimsical landmarks along with spectacular views of the city.

I’ve created a slideshow (with musical accompaniment) of our visit to Barcelona, which can be found HERE.

While I like our photos, and the music I selected for the slide show, here’s a better collection of photos and another nice song about Barcelona:

Leaving the church

by the Night Writer

Allow me to interrupt the travelogue blog in order to describe a different kind of route that will long live in my memory.

Yesterday was an emotional and bittersweet day for me at church, but before I tell you why let me first tell you about a particular Sunday some 10 years ago. My eldest daughter, the Mall Diva, had been called up to the front of the church for some reason that I can no longer remember. She was about 10 then and as I watched her walk across the dais I suddenly felt as if I were in a large bubble while everything around me was in fuzzy, slow motion except for her. Then I “heard” God say, gently – but in a message that gripped my chest – “You will not have her for long for I have need of her even when she is young” and then my senses went back to normal. In that pellucid moment, however, I absorbed that this wasn’t meant to be scary but merely advance notice so that I (and perhaps the Mall Diva) could be prepared when the time came.

I don’t remember anything else from that service as my mind was focused on trying to decide whether or not what I thought had just happened had really taken place. Had my mind or my enemy dredged up some buried fear to torment me? No, while it wasn’t a message I could initially embrace with open arms, it wasn’t a scary one. Accepting that, my mind then tried to speculate on just what kind of plan God had in mind; I pictured her perhaps being a global evangelist or famous in some way – such are the weaknesses of the flesh and the limits of human understanding. As the years passed I still remembered that moment and a part of me still hoped that it wasn’t true and that she would be with us for a long time to come.

She first came to church with us when she was six days old, on a Wednesday night when the prophet Bernard Jordan was speaking. Since then it has been her home and we watched her grow up in the various children’s ministries and pageants, attending Vacation Bible School and later serving as a volunteer VBS helper, joining and singing in the band, planting and growing her own faith and conviction rather than just coasting along on those of her parents. And from time to time I would remember the word and the moment that had once come to me, and I would wonder anew what it could have meant.

Yesterday she again sang with the band, even soloing on one song as her husband, Ben, harmonized beside her and my eyes clouded because it was the last Sunday that she would be a part of this immediate body, her lifelong church. Next week she goes to Alexandria to visit her in-laws and the week after that her husband begins his pastoral internship at a church in Savage, MN. She will go with him, taking all she has been filled with in answer to the call on both of their lives, perhaps even the one foretold to me.

I know it’s not unusual for children these days to leave the church where they were raised, though most of them may view it as an escape and not as a commission. All her life, however, she has changed people’s lives everywhere she has gone, and I am sure that she will continue to do so and that that is the reason for her going. It would be lovely if she could stay and continue to worship with us, but also selfish on my part to want it to be so. Greatly we have received, and as a result, greatly we give. It will be strange, however, when she is not there, especially for me who’s own membership in our church is scarcely longer than her own. But as I watched her sing yesterday I remembered all the things she has done here, and I remembered that word that I received, and I remembered the very first time she came to church and how she and her mother and I were called to stand before the prophet and I recalled the words that he spoke. Part of the message we received that night was as follows:

“And this child, oh man, is going to be the one that is going to strengthen your faith, to cause you to see the miraculous provision of your God. You’ve wondered in the past, “Where is God?” You have seen me work, says the Lord. But it is just the beginning, because the days of the miraculous are taking forth in your lives.”

Mission accomplished.

Segovia, the magical kingdom

by the Night Writer

One day while we were still in Madrid we decided to take a day trip to nearby city of Segovia, once the seat of the Spanish kings and the site of an ancient but still functioning Roman aqueduct. Segovia is a little more than 60 miles from Madrid and can be reached by high-speed train in about half an hour; as we got off the train I remember thinking how the trip lasted about the same amount of time it takes me to ride the Minneapolis light rail from Fort Snelling to downtown. It is a beautiful, walled city that features a beautiful gothic Cathedral in the central plaza and the incredible Alcázar, the castle that was the inspiration for Walt Disney’s trademark magic kingdom.

You can pretty much walk through the city in four or five hours, depending on how much time you take to view the cathedral and the castle. The stone buildings lining the winding city streets date back to the Middle Ages or earlier and are interesting in their own right, though most have been turned into upscale clothing stores and other shops that cater to the thousands of tourists that stream through the city every day. Despite the glitter of modern commerce you can still feel the history that seeps through the old stones. The highlight, however, has to be The Alcázar, a dominating but lovely presence that commands the promontory on which the city is built. Originally an Arab fort, most likely built on Roman foundations, the castle was repeatedly added onto by several generations of Castilian kings beginning in the 1100s. The Alcázar (I’d pronounce it Al-Kazaar, separating it between the first and second syllables, but the audioguide I rented pronounced it alCAZer) is nowhere near as large as Stirling Castle or Edinburgh Castle and the great rooms are really rather intimate; the throne room itself would just about fit inside my living room, but it is intricately decorated, including many of the ceilings that have their own distinctive motif, and the Hall of Kings that features nearly life-sized carvings of the rulers of Castile circling the upper walls of the room. Follow Tiger Lilly Jones below to view a series of photos we took of this fascinating city.

Tiger Lilly Jones is ready to lead you on a tour of Segovia. Click below to follow.

Tiger Lilly Jones is ready to lead you on a tour of Segovia. See below.

Click here to follow. (Note: select “Gallery View” in the slide show to view without music and to view slide show controls. In “Overview” mode, you can freeze an image by hovering the cursor over it.)

On the move again

by the Night Writer

We spent the day in Segovia and nearly burned up a memory card in the digital camera. No time to download thoughts or photos now because we’re up early Tuesday to move operations to Barcelona. There’s much to share beyond the Segovia trip. The Reverend Mother and Tiger Lilly both have stimulating accounts of shocking eating encounters and I may or may not (depending on how the company performs in the next crucial hours) may have a withering review of an accomodations service that may have the impression that it still counts as air-conditioning if you can lower the temperature in your apartment to 28C (aboout 84 F) when the outside temp is 35C.

As Tiger Lilly would say, “Ciao for now.” Hope to pick up the thread soon from Barcelona.

Madrid is the Mall of the World

by the Night Writer

Minnesota may be home to the Mall of America, but Madrid at night has to be the Mall of the World, especially on the weekends. Dinner is served very late here by American standards, often not until 9 p.m. (and may go on for a couple of hours) and when dinner is over the party is only beginning. Many of the streets of this old and historic city are narrow and fill with people once the sun goes down as everyone hits the cobblestones to move between the pubs and clubs in the quest for tapas, canas and a good time. Meanwhile, the music pumps from each establishment and the still warm night air is frequently punctuated with shouts and singing. The number of people moving in both directions of streets lined with open establishments is just like at a mall and the enthusiasm is catching.

This photo was taken at about 1 a.m. Sunday morning, just as things are really getting going. This street runs past the apartment building where we are staying and there are several bars and restaurants along this way and in the surrounding blocks.

This photo was taken at about 1 a.m. Sunday morning, just as things are really getting going. This street runs past the apartment building where we are staying and there are several bars and restaurants along this way and in the surrounding blocks.

Even in the heat of the day there is hustle and bustle in this very cosmopolitan city, though the pace would drive a New Yorker crazy as nobody seems to be in too great a hurry.

These turtles are denizens of Madrid and perhaps represent what it can be like to move along a sidewalk here at times. These turtles, however, live in a lush pond inside of Atocha Station, one of the hubs of the city.

These turtles are denizens of Madrid and perhaps represent what it can be like to move along a sidewalk here at times. These turtles, however, live in a lush pond inside of Atocha Station, one of the hubs of the city.

The heat probably contributes to that, but while the temperatures have been well into the 90s in both Madrid and Cazorla while we’ve been here, the humidity is pretty low. If you are in the shade it is really quite bearable, so strategic positioning is a must as you move from place to place.

"Come ye who are hot and heavy-laden and I will give thee shade." Ok, that's not a direct translation, but in this photo the Son of Man beckons one to the shady and pleasant side of the street.

Come ye who are hot and heavy-laden and I will give thee shade -- Ok, that's not a direct translation, but in this photo the Son of Man beckons one to the shady and pleasant side of the street.

This tree-lined apart immediately in front of the Prado is an attactive and comfortable place to stroll.

This tree-lined apart immediately in front of the Prado is an attactive and comfortable place to stroll.

The affects of the sangria from the Menu del dias are evident, but the shady boulevard in front of the Prado is a good place for a crash siesta.

The affects of the sangria from the Menu del Dias are evident, and the shady park in the boulevard that runs in front of the Prado is a good place for a crash siesta.

What we haven´t been telling you

by the Night Writer

While the Reverend Mother and I are keeping busy at our Pueblo Ingles program, we have assumed that Tiger Lilly was similarly occupied at her own PI venue with other teen-agers. It´s impossible to keep things from getting back to your parents, however, and kingdavid at The Far Wright brought the image and details below to my attention:

That’s right, Tiger Lilly is off to the left of this scene, hot on the heels of the bull. She’s been in Spain for less than a week, and she’s already creating havoc with the ninja bovines over there.

El toro

Apparently, I also have secrets of my own:

Run!

Commando with confidence in Cazorla

by the Night Writer

For our first week in Spain we have been participating in the English-immersion program for Spaniards run by Pueblo Ingles. Tiger Lilly is with a group of teen-agers near the French border while the Reverend Mother and I are in Cazorla in the south. Pueblo Ingles (PI) offers this experience several times a year in venues around Spain (and occasionally in Italy) and Spanish-speakers pay money to spend the week ostensibly speaking nothing but English as a way to improve their skills for business or personal reasons. To make this a more authentic and less theoretical exercise, PI recruits Anglos from around the world to come and work with the Spanish-speaking clients.

The groups are made up of equally of Spanish-speakers (they don´t like being called¨”Spaniards”, even by the Spaniards running the program) and Anglos. You spend the entire day from the time you get together at breakfast in the morning until you leave the bar late at night speaking English and explaining idioms. PI has a very well organized strategy that involves a series of hour-long one-on-one meetings, two-on-two meetings, individual telephone calls and conference calls, as well as meals and group activities where the two groups are equally mixed. There are almost 40 people in our cohort and in the last six days we have gotten to know each other well because of all the conversations and the constant rotation. Many companies pay to send their employees to PI programs but some of the guests have paid their own way for their own development. In our group of Espanoles we have two scientists from Spain´s version of the Nuclear Regulatory Agency, several teachers, a woman who owns a business in the Canary Islands, a research physicist, a doctor (rheumatologist), a couple of college students working on teaching, law or business degrees and several others. The majority of the group, both Spanish and Anglo, are women.

Given that, it was a bit of an unusual experience the other day when I was in a two-on-two session that was all men; two Americans and two Spaniards. We had a very interesting conversation about life and philosophy and at one point the youngest Spaniard, a teacher, asked the other American (another young man) what would be a good response if a friend approached you in a bar and asked how you were doing. My compatriot replied, “I´m living large and loving life!” The Spaniards liked this phrase and practiced it, trying to perfect getting the similar sounds in the right place. I then added that if a friend asked you how things were going and you were having a tough time you could say, “It´s a dog-eat-dog world and I´m wearing bacon underwear.”

This caused some consternation with our native-speakers as they were unfamiliar with the word “underwear”. It took a minute or two to explain what we were talking about and to help them grasp the humor of the statement about wearing bacon underwear when surrounded by hungry dogs. This lead into a discussion of “boxers or briefs”, and when the first young man asked my American friend what he wore, the Yank said “neither.” This brought confused looks to Juan and Fernando´s faces.

“Oh, so you´re going commando,” I said to the other American, and he responded affirmatively.

“Commando? What is commando?” asked Juan and Fernando. As this was explained they grew very animated and started laughing, even standing up and swinging their hips and saying “Commando! Commando!” As I have said, though, the group is largely female and several other two-on-twos were going on around us on the terrace. Notice was being taken and curious looks were rapidly running around the vicinity, followed by whispered explanations and more laughter as most eyes turned toward our macho group. I am so proud of my contribution to international understanding!

Photos from Cazorla

by the Night Writer

We have wireless internet access here in Cazorla, but for some reason none of us who brought laptops can get online. There is a single computer in the hotel bar and it is usually occupied with two or three people waiting to check email or travel details or, in my case, update their blog. Last night, however, we had a large party to mark the half-way mark of our program and most of the people partied well into the wee hours of the morning (the Reverend Mother and I were among the first to leave…at 1:00 a.m.!) This morning was a walking tour of Cazorla, and we just finished lunch; as a result everyone else has made their way back to their villas, most moving a bit like a clubbed snake, leaving the computer to me….mwa-ha-ha!

I will write more soon (I hope) about the interesting people and experiences we have been having (some might say the meetings have been “ordained”) but right now I’ll just upload some photos.

The first morning here we came around the corner of the main building in time to see the sun coming over the nearest mountain.

The first morning here we came around the corner of the main building in time to see the sun coming over the nearest mountain.

All of the buildings in Cazorla are white, and the town wraps around the sides of several hills.

All of the buildings in Cazorla are white, and the town wraps around the sides of several hills.

Another shot of the town, as seen from our hotel.

Another shot of the town, as seen from our hotel.

The streets of the town are narrow and steep, but people still drive cars through them.

The streets of the town are narrow and steep, but people still drive cars through them.

Castle Yedra looms over the town and our hotel. At night it is illuminated by floodlights and looks very cool.

Castle Yedra looms over the town and our hotel. At night it is illuminated by floodlights and looks very cool.

It's a bit of a steep walk to get the castle, but the Reverend Mother says it is worth it. I may find out before the week is over.

It's a bit of a steep walk to get the castle, but the Reverend Mother says it is worth it. I may find out before the week is over.

The door on the right is for our villa; it is very comfortable now that we found the air-conditioning switch!

The door on the right is for our villa; it is very comfortable now that we found the air-conditioning switch!

The Pueblo Ingles program is very demanding but also a lot of fun. We have break times, but most of the time you just want to recharge and in the evenings the dinner and socializing goes well into the night but we are with a fabulous group of people. In the next post I hope to tell more about what we are doing and perhaps include some photos from this morning’s excursion. We have had no word from Tiger Lilly at the Pueblo Ingles teen program in Els Avets, but we´re sure they are keeping the youth just as busy (if not busier) than they keep us!