Gee, Cassandra

As far as bizarre days go, this past Tuesday takes the cake.

Cake. This will figure in later, I promise.

Tuesday started when I broke my roommate’s special crystal.

You know, the crystal that she keeps in the bathroom. What, you say your roommate doesn’t keep crystals in the bathroom?  

Normally The Roomie would still be sleeping, but this was one of those rare mornings when she was up and rolling around on the living room floor in time to Britney Spears. She took the news in stride, funneling even the tiniest of pieces into a jar. I had always wondered why this object chose the bathroom as its hang out spot, and decided to ask what the heck it was. “It’s for my skin,” she replied.

Still pondered the crystal, I arrived to a meeting with the school secretary/bilingual coordinator. He immediately asked if I’d seen the news about how the big cheese of Bankia, a major Spanish bank, had stepped down from his post. “The Comunidad de Madrid may need to make a decision about if they want to help the bank,” he explained. The secretary then asked me which bank I used. While I keep my money in Santander, the school funds come from Caja Madrid. Caja Madrid, FYI, just so happens to be linked with Bankia. Had I cashed my check for April yet?, he asked. If not, I should do it ASAP as Caja Madrid might not have the money to pay me in a few days.

A few hours later the French department’s annual concurso de tartas temporarily pushed thoughts of ”Oh-my-god-I’m-going-to-the-bank-right-after-school” from my mind.  Last year I was a judge in the cake contest, which tallied taste as well as looks. I was quite happy that I’d said “no” to being a Dessert Referee; this time there were at least 20 cakes, and judges must try every one. With so many sweets, the other staff members were invited to take up a plate and fork while the official judges turned green from the sugar surge. Like last year, a yellow disk with no distinguishable features was getting rave reviews. If I had been a judge, I would have given high marks to the clever youngster who drizzled “Bon Appétit” on their otherwise plain creation.

The cake competition, as out-of-the-ordinary as it was, did not mark the end of the day’s strange events. Coffee in hand, I stood around chatting with a few teachers who, like me,  had no particular place to be. When a pleasant silence settled over us, one of my co-teachers unfastened her necklace and dangled it in the air. The end was heavy with some object not unlike a crystal.

The teacher explained that if the pendant swung in a straight line across one’s palm, it indicated that the person attached to the palm would have a baby boy. If the pendant looped into a circle, it meant a girl. She explained all this with a straight face, and enthusiastically claimed that the method had been spot-on about her two children. The fortune-teller was now looking for her next victim, and gamely grabbed my wrist.

The pendant swung back and forth so long I went cross-eyed trying to decipher line-versus-circle. A third party was called in to make a decision; line. The necklace was stilled and lowered again. This second time it was unmistakeably a line. The next time the pendant came down, it made no movement at all. You’re going to have dos chicos! my colleague explained.

Right. I wanted to see this pendant in action again, this time with someone who already had kids. The teacher dangled the pendant over the palm of J, the gardener/doorman/photocopier who has 6 children. It seemed to take forever for the reading to work, and when it did the verdict said that J should have 7 children. “Did you have a daughter before your last two children were born?” our colleague asked.  A bit startled, J explained that his wife had had a miscarriage at that time.

The pendant game a funny distraction, I set my mind on more serious matters. It had been a strange day, but in the end I don’t think I harmed my karma too terribly much by breaking the rommie’s crystal. She later installed a new one in the bathroom, Caja Madrid was able to cash my check, and I’ve hit my fortune-telling quota for the year. Crises averted!

The Plaza Mayor

Kaley asked me, “Is there anything to see in Cuenca besides las casas colgadas?”

The short answer: yes, there are a few more things you can do. Soaking up sun on the main square, for example, is ideal for people-watching and cathedral-gazing. There is a smattering of museums and collections (Science! Roman ruins! Semana Santa!) on which I am no expert. I’d recommend the Spanish Abstract Art Museum to any visitor, since it’s your ticket not only to art but also the belly of these strange structures.

Another site is the castle, or what remains of it:

18th-century remnants

From the top of the castle you can take in sweeping views of  the town as well as the dry landscape so characteristic of Castilla-La Mancha:

Part of the fun of a Cuenca trip is simply to wander around, checking out the various vistas and making bets on just how much insurance must be for those houses you saw at the beginning of the day. With narrow, sloping streets and sudden drops, the town is made for exploring. Las casas may be the star attraction, but there’s plenty to see when hanging out in Cuenca.

Cuenca awaits

Browsing through my folders–Dear Technology students, They’re not carpets--of photos, you’ll notice that I am a fan of the Horizontal Shot. No need to turn the camera, no need to rotate the photos once they’re uploaded. Horizontal Shots are the perfect shape to fill a laptop background or slap onto a cheesy gift. I often lament my lack of a wide-angle lens, with which I could squeeze even more peripheral goodness into each frame.

And then I went to Cuenca, land of the Vertical Photograph. The lay of the land demands a look forward and up, not a sweeping left-to-right. At times you will find yourself craning your neck back, back, back, to take in the buildings that jut, defiantly, into a sudden nothingness.

Yep, they’re still hangin’ out

Indeed, the chief attractions in Cuenca, a two-hour bus ride from Madrid, are the casas colgadas. According to the official tourism page for the region of Castilla-La Mancha, although these hanging houses were renovated in the 20th century, they date as far back as the 14th century.

You should not leave town without glimpsing the interior of the houses. This can be achieved legally in two ways:

1) dining at the Mesón Casas Colgadas

2) perusing the Museo de Arte Abstracto Español

Cuenca’s Abstract Spanish Art Museum

I opted for the latter, browsing the abstract sculptures and paintings by famous Spanish artists such as Chillida, Saura, and Tàpies. The plain whitewash of these traditional structures works surprisingly well as a backdrop for the modern art.

Vista from inside the museum

At the base of the houses you’ll find a bridge which yields more views of Cuenca’s star attraction.

Aforementioned bridge, looking toward the casas colgadas

The walkway takes you over the Huécar River

A skip across the bridge yields impressive views of the town’s parador, which was a convent in a former life

And, finally, a horizontal last shot

Additional Reading: This New York Times article from last year is a great primer on Cuenca, and argues for why the town could compete with Toledo as a top day-trip destination from Madrid.

Books, glorious books!

Madrid-ground once more, I eased back into the school year with the celebration of my favorite Spanish holiday, Día del libro. Spain started celebrating Book Day, picking abril to honor the death of Miguel de Cervantes. UNESCO championed the holiday, and now World Book and Copyright Day, as it’s officially known, is (kind of) celebrated internationally on April 23.

This was my second year to see the holiday come and go. Like last year, the capital was ablaze with different literary offerings and events: there were poetry readings, bookstores touted savings, and Gran Vía became a string of book vendors. I can only imagine how popular the event is in Catalonia, where the holiday originates.

Last year I wrote an e-mail to my college Spanish lit professor with the subject line of–what else?–”Día del libro”:

Last month Madrid had a “Día del Libro,” a now-annual tradition which springs from Cataluña’s Día de Sant Jordi (St. George)….Since this particular holiday took place over Semana Santa, my high school celebrated it at a later time. They focused on three Spanish writers—Unamuno, Valle-Inclán, and Lorca—who died exactly 75 years ago. Leading up to the big day, students had to make posters detailing the lives and work of these writers.

 On the actual day of the event, we filed into the gym. Nearly all of the students—grades 6 to12—were involved in some way in performances. There were poetry recitations, PowerPoints about the artists, a play from “La Casa de Bernarda Alba,” and even a recitation set to guitar music. Perhaps the most popular performers were a group of four boys who paired Lorca’s “Romance de la luna” with their favorite music by making it into a rap.

 The whole affair lasted over two hours. I was proud of my group when they recited an English translation of one of Lorca’s works (in the end it was more like Lorca Day than Unamuno or Valle-Inclán Day.) During the performances I couldn’t help but wonder how something like this would have gone over in the states.

While this year our high school didn’t have a school-wide presentation,  Día del libro brought a book exchange to the teacher’s lounge:

A Manuel Rivas for a Carmen Laforet = A win-win situation

As with most holidays, one could argue that the commercialness detracts from the sentiments of the day. However, with the author research projects, school events, and book exchange, I’d say the staff at my school did an excellent job of celebrating the holiday without dragging money into the mix. ¡A celebrar!

What’s your take on the holiday? If you live in Spain, how do you celebrate?

“Tell me what you read and I’ll tell you who you are”

To say that Toulouse has a lot of parks in an understatement; one source claims there are more than there are 160 0f ‘em! (Don’t worry, I didn’t shot pictures in anywhere near that many.) These last photos of Toulouse showcase another park, also with a twist. First, the classy photos:

The surprise in this park? Patches of the green space had been swathed in yarn, aka yarnbombed for all my WIP-toting, craft-savvy comrades. After the first views (see above), it was nothing this traveler was expecting. However, this trip was nothing like I’d anticipated, why was I so surprised? I kept my camera out and kept on snapping.

I’m curious to hear what pals Ely and Matt thought of the city, as they had a brief stint there a few days after I left.

My Final Thoughts on Toulouse, or Words That Will Spring to Mind Post-Trip: #pink #rainy, #“You die!” #yarnbombed

When the sun came out, it shown on the various green spaces scattered around Toulouse. Where the old town met the new, nearly hidden by business suits and briefcases, I spied a sign for the Caffarelli park.

The dragon was the first hint that this park was out of the ordinary. Looping around the rain-induced sludge, I crested a hill and came upon a view which evoked the orient. Later I discovered that this particular section of the park, which includes a tea pavilion and plenty of exotic plants, was created in the early 1980s in a spot that previously housed military barracks.  The area’s serene beauty must stand in stark contrast to what originally ruled this ground.