Saturday
Thursday
Friday
I really love how Jesus is flashing the peace sign. I guess this artist doesn’t subscribe to the “Jesus was married to Mary Magdalena” theory.
This post contains videos, which will not be seen in emails.
Gettin' Busy!
Dare I say it, could we really be seeing the light at the end of our forced confinement tunnel? (Cue Wile E. Coyote being creamed by the light at the end of the tunnel.)
In a matter of days my summer plans have gone from the safe, hypnotically repetitive yet still bizarro plod of a turtle on a hamster wheel (or maybe actually more a turtle in one of those plastic hamster balls, because truth be known I'm always hermetically sealed)... to the sprinting speed of a greyhound chasing a rabbit through his newly adopted backyard. It happened so fast, like popcorn in hot oil, plans to travel to Milan, plans to host my friend from Madrid in a week long adult English-immersion camp, and plans to take my long awaited initial foray into the wilds of Spain (Sevilla, Granada, Córdoba) with American-speaking friends from California. Bing, bang, boom, my calendar is now awash with big blocks of plans... Real plans... with other humans... seeing more than just the views from my balconies and the shopfronts along my walk to the grocery store.
And now comes the reckoning. Have I become agoraphobic from my semi-self-induced isolation in a boarded up beach town in Spain?
But seriously... don't you believe that many people who were borderline agoraphobic may have been shoved over the edge during the past 15 months? Do you agree that some people are going to come out of this (if this is actually the coming out) with PTSD?
I think mental health professionals are going to be overwhelmed like an accountant in tax season. (OK, I was trying to come up with a “busier than a” line, but poking around online for something hilarious I found this site, where I’m kinda sorta thinking non-native English speakers list their “busier than” jokes… Take a quick read.)
Renovation
The photo you see on the home page of my revamped website and on the bottom of the email of blog updates is from the top of the Templar castle in old town Peñíscola.
So much history, so little time to read!
Since coming to Spain I've realized just how elementary my understanding of Spanish history is.
There's 2,000 years I need to catch up on but too many squirrels, so I'm never able to focus properly.
I've been reading about the Spanish Civil war (1936-1939) - accounts from Ernest Hemingway and George Orwell. I've been told from several students that accounts of foreigners seem to be more balanced, less ideological. The Spanish Revolution was a social revolution that occurred in 1936 and was a "subset" of the Civil War.
After only a cursory overview, I've learned that in this civil war the Communists were the RIGHTMOST of the non-facists groups involved. Thousands of foreign fighters came to support the existing government (the Republican, non-Facist side) and within this group the Communists were the most conservative.
Being totally wiped out from the Civil War, Spain chose to not participate in WWII, but Franco allowed pro-Facist Spanish citizens to fight for the Nazis - only on the Eastern Front against Bolshevism - forming the Blue Squadron. Interestingly, though he supported Hitler's fight against the Bolshevists, Franco didn't trust Hitler, and (according to my students) he made a strategic decision to not standardize the train tracks of Spain to fit with the rest of Europe. This was so that German troops could not easily move into Spain via trains from France. The rails in Spain are not standardized with Europe to this day.
I read a book about the Basque country's struggle for automony and the fight against the Madrid-based government. The Basque speak another language (called Basque), and Spanish (known in Spain as Castilian) is secondary. The Basque group ETA conducted raids of terror - bombings, etc - much like the IRA.
Joining the Basque as wanting self-rule is Catalan - Barcelona. As recently as 2017-2018 votes were taken in the Catalan parliament to declare themselves independent from Spain. The motivations seem rooted from the War of Spanish Succession (1701) and perhaps as far back at the 1460s.
These tidbits only go back as far as 1936. It doesn’t consider the struggle with Elizabeth I and the battle at sea that heralded the way to British dominance (and which apparently still smarts, judging by comments from my students). I haven’t yet looked into the Inquisition, or the Muslim invasion and rule of the Iberian Peninsula which begain in 711.
Might make for good beach reading over the summer.
Seven With One Blow
After 20 years of not knowingly killing another living creature - except indirectly, with my consumption of meat, which is about 10% of the average American's consumption - hey wait a minute, now that I think about it, my meat-consumption-murder-guilt by volume is so low, so small, that I could probably roll it over into some unsuspecting American's wasted-food-guilt account without harm to him and with considerable benefit to my general well-being...
But, I digress.
After 20 years of not knowingly killing another living creature, I have decided that bugs are no longer off limits, and are indeed, fair game. Especially flying things. Flying things that come into open doors from the outside.
My apartment has 4 doors. The entry door, the door to the front balcony which looks toward the Mediterranean and the old town, and two onto the big balcony off the kitchen. None of which have screens.
(In fact, I'm not sure I've ever seen a screen in Europe - perhaps it's an American thing. Note for later consideration.)
And as the temperatures are warming, and as you want to air out your house after the stuffiness of winter, you leave the doors open for the spring air to blow through.
And in come these swarmy, buzzy things, dive bombing my face, yelling over the Netflix, and sleeping inside the clean cups in the dishdrain.
So earlier this week I decided I've had it. And I gave myself permission to become a murderer once again.
Latitudinally Speaking
While you may think of Spain as a dry land of warm winters and sweltering summers where Brits flock to escape the cold and damp, you might be surprised to consider that Madrid is at the same latitude as New York.
I know first hand that some warm air blows up from Africa, along with a fine, red sand that's deposited on cars and patio furniture. But from what I've experienced, Spain is not some European Mexico where the temperatures are springlike year round.
Actually my 2021 in Spain has probably been one of the first real springs I've ever known, the kind where the temperatures creep creep creep up on little cat feet (apologies to Sandburg), almost unnoticeable throughout March, April and May until one day you say to yourself, I don't need to warm up the bathroom for my shower today. A far cry from the ice-storm-that-destroys-your-tulip-magnolia-today-sun-seared-asphalt-that-melts-your-flip-flops-tomorrow transition we typically experience in the Carolinas.
The allergies are the same. Bring your anti-hist.
Longitudinally Speaking
Reviewing the map of Euro timezones below, you'll immediately notice that while physically located in GMT0 territory, Spain has stubbornly chosen to remain in the GMT+1 timezone. Andorra,France, Belgium, Netherlands, too, but Spain is the big offender - just look how far west it juts!
I'm assuming this is for ease of business with the rest of Western Europe, but I really don't care why because I LOVE IT!
Spain is The Land of Eternal Daylight Savings! I first noticed it in winter when it was light outside until 6pm. The dark mornings were unnerving, but the timezone didn't really jump to mind as the cause.
But forget winter, because now we're coming to SUMMER! Here is a photo taken May 14 at 9:10 pm. I can only imagine the incredible joy of June 21! I'll keep you posted.
I really believe the timezone disconnect has helped me transition into the Spanish meal plan, wherein I eat lunch at 3pm.
(A side note. I really loved the life in Costa Rica. Year round warmth. But it was just so strange to be warm like summer, but have sunset at 5:30-6 everyday day. I could never wrap my head around it.)
As seen from my house
Front balcony view of Mediterranean
Front balcony view of castle and old town
Kitchen balcony view of hillside
Ditto
Time-warp and COVID free
Peñíscola itself actually reminds me of my (ill-spent?) youth in North Myrtle Beach, where, during those years, the sidewalks were rolled up for the winter and glitzy discos limped through the winter months only keeping the lights on by accepting fake ids - meticulously crafted in local high school libraries, or so I've been told by someone close to the design and manufacture of said ids.
(Maybe the lack of apartment heat also reminds me of the oceanfront hovel I rented in the years after college, when I was more concerned with my tan than a 401K.)
As I learned my way around the town I was greeted by block after block of shops and restaurants closed not because of COVID, but because there are no tourists during the winter. My lifelong-resident wifi installer Tony told me that while the winter population is 10,000 - 12,000, in the high season Peñíscola swells to 100,000 each week.
During the winter Valencia took a militant stance against COVID, locking down before Christmas. Allowing only take out from restaurants and no visitors from beyond the Valencia borders without travel papers. These measures apparently worked based on this recent municiple posting on Instagram (below). Restaurants were finally allowed to serve outside in early March. No inside seating was allowed.
The city of Peniscola set up roadblocks and actively crashed illegal sorta-spreader parties held by teenagers bored out of their minds, reporting everything in local Facebook groups.
(In my trip from Madrid I was armed with travel papers from my school and my new 12-month lease.)
And so I've felt really safe here, though I did finally start having cabin fever in April. Netflix and PrimeVideo can only maintain the sanity for so long.
Brrrrrrr
Though my apartment in Peñíscola is big (3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms) and obscenely reasonably priced due to the owner fearing another dismal summer rental season, it doesn't have central heat. Meaning it has neither steam nor electric radiators affixed to the walls under windows and in bathrooms.
Instead I have (oil-filled) electric radiators on wheels which I drag around from room to room (exactly like the ones I used to supplement my heat in Charlotte). The apartment is furnished with plenty of thick blankets which keep me warm during the winter. And the huge (by Madrid standards) kitchen keeps me warm with homemade chicken soup. I’m able to close off half of the apartment so that no heat is wasted in unused real estate. It reminds me of winters at my grandmother’s, where we would huddle in one cozy room while the cold, wet weather blustered outside, waiting for the spring.
The apartment is in a primo location, with sea views from both the adequately sized front balcony - where I can also see the Castillo Papa Luna - and from the ginormous kitchen balcony, which also has a sweeping view of the hillside and the beginnings of the Serra d'Irta_Natural_Park.
I quickly learn the three shops that supply my life - the grocery, the Chino (imagine a jumbled Tarzhay with only half of the selection), and what I call "the soap store", which truly specializes in cleaning supplies for home and body, and drugstore level cosmetics.
Postcard from the Edge
So I did it. I relocated to a beachtown.
In mid-February. Not before Madrid slogged through what apparently became the biggest snowstorm in over 60 years during which half of the trees in the city were damaged or destroyed. Who knew - they name their snow storms here.
At any rate, in mid-February I moved to Peñíscola. I'll pause here for a few minutes while everyone giggles that I live in penis-cola... not even marking that the letter is ñ... making the word be pronounced <pe NYISS cola>. Which apparently means peninsula.
It is a small beach town located in the Province of Castellón in the autonomous community of Valencia, about halfway between Valencia and Barcelona on the Mediterranean coast.
Surprisingly, you may have have actually seen Peñíscola, as it served as the location of Meereen in Game of Thrones. Additionally El Cid, starring Charlton Heston (Mr NRA Himself) was filmed here.
It sports a Templar castle constructed in 1295-ish, which was used as the final home of Benedict XIII from 1417-1423 - a pope of the Avignon Papacy.
I take my earlier Christmas visit to Avignon as foreshadowing of my move to Peñíscola - at least in a proximity to anti-pope residences theme.
