Christmas in Spain. Yeah, I know, that was like, three weeks ago... no judging. It was fun to experience such a celebrated holiday in a different country, and the holiday-homesickness honestly wasn't as bad as everyone said it would be! I was only a little sad on Christmas Eve. I don't miss my real family yet, being as I'm a terrible selfish person and all, but I guess the main feeling I was experiencing was: "This isn't right!" We should all go to bed early on Christmas Eve, not dance until three. My mom should be giving me and my sister matching pajamas like every year and my dad making Mexican food and we'll leave cookies and milk out for Santa and open a ton of present tomorrow morning... I was just like, "Who are these people and why are we eating so much seafood!?!" But, luckily, I was able to remind myself of the AFS modo that nothing is bad, it's just different, and I had a lot of fun with my amazing host family.
Jamón and Pan. Ham and bread. The most typical Spanish food there is.
Christmas Eve, my host mother informed me, is the biggest of the festivities. (In America is it Christmas Day?) It's normal that all of the family gets together for a ten-course meal of various seafood, drink a lot, and generally enjoy being together. Rey Juan Carlos, the King of Spain, came on the television and everyone gathered around to hear his annual talk to the people. It's like the State of the Union Address that the president makes in the United States. Rey Juan Carlos spoke to us about the Crisis, the values of the everyday person, and what we can do to establish Spain as a strong international power. I think that the king did very well, but he could have cooled it down a bit with the head-turning-to-different-camera-shots thing.
I'm afraid to tell you that the Christmas trees in Spain are all gaudy and very flashy with a bashilion strands of different colored lights and dollar-store ornaments. And, since we're in the city, most of them are about three feet high. Remember, nothing bad, just different.
My family's Belén. In Spain the standard thing to do is decorate a nativity scene. Everyone does it. The important families have gigantic and grand Beléns, but everyone has at least something. Even if you're not Catholic. I guess it's fun for the little kids to play with. I had the chance to go to the famous Plaza Mayor to see rows of stalls set up to sell Christmas gag gifts and artisan hand-crafted wooden pieces for your nativity scene. These can get pricey, but everything is super beautiful and of amazing quality.
The present we got on Christmas Day.
The Presents we got on January 6th, Día de los Reyes, King's day. Today is the day when the three wise Kings arrived to visit baby Jesus or something like that. No one really knows here, either. Día de los Reyes is awaited by children because today, not Christmas morning, is the day when the real presents come.
Later that day we went to the Grandparent's house for lunch, ate more seafood, (it was all very delicious) and played Spanish Poker, Ching Chong. Ching Chong is a town in Spain. I tried explaining why that was so strange for me, and why I didn't place the name with the country, but my host family couldn't understand. And YES, the cards here are different. Fuuuun.
The next day we took a vacation to Sevilla! The city was incredibly beautiful. I was very impressed, but I must say that I still like Madrid more. The photo above is of the Plaza de España. A scene from Starwars was filmed there! (Don't worry, I took lots of pictures.)
We spent two nights in Sevilla, then packed up and drove to Cordoba, another little city in the South of Spain. My host family took me to an authentic Flamenco show. It was--I don't know how to explain how impressive it was. It was beautiful. It was emotional. It was something that I am so lucky to have experienced. We went to the intimate show on Spain's April Fool's day, Día de los Inocentes, and, to keep up with the holiday spirit, my host parents surprised us by bringing along friends from Madrid who happened to also be vacationing in Cordoba. The above photo is of the famous Mosque/Catholic Church there.
New Year's Eve! Spain does this really well. I spent the day studying, got dressed up at about seven, skyped with my family a little, hung out with host family until about ten, ate dinner at eleven, and made it in time to gather around the living room and watch the festivities in Madrid on TV. The tradition is to eat one grape for every two seconds leading up until the stroke of midnight, the dawn of the New Year. So, it's like, ONE! Eat a grape as fast as you can. TWO! Shove another one down, even though you haven't finished the other yet. THREE! This is super hard. I'm surprised I didn't die. FOUR! Now my host brother, with his eighteen years of competitive grape eating, is making faces at me, trying to get me to laugh so I'll choke and he won't have to share a bathroom with me anymore. FIVE! It worked. I laughed. I guess I was sort of late, but I swallowed a few grapes whole so I could catch up for the others. SIX! I look around to see the serious and intent faces of everyone working to somehow ensure their year's luck with an oddly dangerous foreign ritual. SEVEN! Thank God I peeled the skin off of them first. It's so much easier. EIGHT! What if you're allergic to grapes? What do you do on New Year's Eve? NINE! Oh, that's right, you eat M'n'M's. Or what ever the heck you want, as long as it's in a quantity of twelve. TEN! Oh crap. I don't have anyone to kiss at Midnight. ELEVEN! Nah it's okay, it's not a tradition here. I'm good. TWELVE! I'm still alive! I'm still alive! We all jumped up and kissed each other, anyways, because families here are very touchy. Later, at two in the morning, my host sister drove us to Madrid and dropped me off to meet up with my friends. We went to a party, had a lot of clean, safe fun, and then my host dad came to pick me up at about 4 30. I don't think that would happen in Durham.
Those crazy kids in Sol. The tradition there is to throw glass bottles into the air at midnight, which is stupid and pointless in every way, so I did not go. And it was raining.
More Sol
The clock!
Roscón, King's Cake. We ate a lot of this. I have a baby Jesus that was found in the cake to commemorate the experience. On the eighth of January I returned to a hard week of school. It's weird to see the '2013' date on my papers as I realize that the half-way-mark of my exchange is coming up soon. I think I'm having a mid-life crisis.
Feliz Navidad! Feliz Año Nuevo! Felices Reyes! I hope everyone is doing well. Keep a look out for a post full of pictures.
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