Cádiz Continued

The view from the roof of my host family’s apartment was incredible, stretching across the bay of Cádiz to the city.

Tonight I’ve put on a CD of La Falla, with his “Andalusian Gypsy Scene” El Amor Brujo. Perhaps the fact that it is being played by the London Symphony Orchestra saps some of the Spanishness out of it, because the pieces don’t particularly evoke Spain, and the so-called “jota” would offend any decent jota dancer despite his attempt to include castanets, but perhaps he’s just warming up with the introduction pieces.

Vejer de la Frontera was a beautiful little town, part of the “Villas Blancas”, five coastal pueblos composed of white-washed houses nestled into the mountainside. After searching for a parking spot for ages – Cádiz has serious parking problems – we walked up to the family’s favorite bakery. I had a generous piece of poppyseed cake, a rich cake black with the tangy tiny poppyseeds. We then explored the town, going up to the castle, past a couple of churches, and ending at a little plaza with a pretty fountain and the entrance to the town’s gem: an Arabic tea-house and inn. We walked through the gorgeous dining area to reach the equally stunning tetería, with cubical red seats and a terrace above. The drizzle kept us inside but nothing could keep me away from my Pakistani tea, which I enjoyed as we discussed everything from politics to Paula’s class schedule.

The next day I saw her schedule for myself. School started at 8 a.m. and went until 2:15 with a half-hour snack break around 11. I don’t remember the exact classes, but I do remember economics (we went to the computer lab to invest in imaginary stock), math (a refresher course for me in derivatives – my teacher from last year would be proud to know that it all came back quickly and because of my calculator-free training I excelled in simple mental math computations!), and history (the American stock market crash of 1929). That afternoon Paula had a math tutoring class so I went with her parents to Cádiz again, where we took a spin by the salinas. Cádiz used to make a lot of money evaporating sea water in fields that look like organized swamps, but now mined salt has swept the market and many of the salt fields are flooded or empty.

salinas with mountains of sea salt

The days flew by and melted together, so I’m having trouble recalling the exact sequence of events…on Friday school ended early and we went to the cemetery, the duck-less Duck Park, and for churros. We then hung out in the big park, sitting on the grass (southern Spain actually has grass!!) until Paula’s brother picked us up to go home for lunch. Lunch was just a hiatus from friends, and soon we were back in the streets until my midnight curfew. Her friends were great, and we had a wonderful time – I really wish Cádiz wasn’t so far away!

On Saturday, we went to Jerez de la Frontera, a bigger city hosting a manga fair that weekend. A manga fair entails a variety of booths selling anime and comic paraphernalia, Japanese candy, and lots of people dressed up as their favorite television characters or music stars. We didn’t wear costumes, but we had a great time watching those who had! We took the train back – Spanish trains are incredible – and spent the last remaining hour of the evening on a bench overlooking the Atlantic.

The only time the renfe trains are not incredible is when they come to take me away from places I do not want to leave. Don’t get me wrong; I love Zaragoza too, with its Tubo tapas bars, art museums, moderista and renaissance and mudéjar architecture, and my host mother. However, in San Fernando I had made my first true Spanish friends of my age, and hanging out with them was an experience I wanted to repeat every week of the few remaining I had. The distance between Cádiz and Zaragoza, however, proves to be a complete budget-wrecker, so I had to say goodbye for the foreseeable future.

The travel gods were once again on my side, however, and decided to complicate the trip back for the six of us returning from various Cádiz cities to Zaragoza on the same train. It was a train-hotel, due to arrive in Zaz at 5:30 a.m. after a 3-hour stop in Catalayud for engine repairs. However, the engine didn’t end up needing work and we arrived in Zaragoza at 3 in the morning. After a taxi ride and some elevator buttons I was outside my apartment, keys and luggage in hand, with just one problem: Carmen, expecting to be up by the time I got home, had left her keys in the door, making it impossible to open even with my own set of keys. I called her mobile, but I was already low on battery and about 5 calls later it died. I then rang the doorbell, but reaching a level of frustration I pushed the button for a solid 15 seconds, until with a pop! the doorbell blew out. Sitting helpless at the top of the stairway in the middle of the night, I was truly at a point of desperation. I had only one option, and it broke my heart: I’d have to go down one flight and wake up my light-sleeping host grandmother and have her call Carmen until she woke up.

With heavy feet and a reluctant hand, I rang the pleasant doorbell of my abuela’s apartment; its cheery notes seemed to mock my situation. Spewing apologies, I explained the uncomfortable situation, but eventually ended up in the correct apartment and in my own bed, with just another reason to have stayed in San Fernando!

5 Days in, 15 Days Ago

This moment is an apt one to begin writing about San Fernando, Cádiz. I apologize for the temporal jump, but with Camerón music playing in the background, his wailing, nostalgic voice has made me miss San Fernando in an inspirational manner.

Camerón is a gypsy flamenco singer from San Fernando, the town I stayed in for 6 days, located just 15 minutes from the city of Cádiz. Camerón is so famous that his first name has become obsolete, because just with the last one everyone knows who you are talking about. On the Friday I was in San Fernando, one of Paula’s, my host sister, friends dragged us all to the town cemetery to show us the tomb of Camerón. He sits, long and straggly hair reaching past his shoulders, on a simple chair, dressed in worn formal flamenco dress, the whole statue made of bronze. He shares San Fernando’s musical fame with Miguel de La Falla, a classical composer buried in the cathedral of Cádiz city.

The reason I found myself in San Fernando, population 90,000, located in the autonomous community of Cádiz, perched on the southern Atlantic coast just a few miles from where the ocean waters mix with the Mediterranean Sea, was a school-wide exchange program. Each student found themselves in a different Spanish city, with a new temporary Spanish family. Six of us went to Cádiz, with one other girl staying in my city. However, since our host sisters weren’t particularly close friends, I enjoyed a week being the only American and speaking exclusively Spanish.

I arrived, after a long train ride with a change in Madrid – Cádiz is as far away as you could possibly get leaving Zaragoza in a southwestwardly direction – on Tuesday afternoon, in time for a spin around San Fernando. Waiting for me at the top of the escalator were my host sister, Paula; her older brother; his girlfriend, who was practically part of the family; and my host father, who worked for the military. Once “home” in their 7-floor apartment I met my host mother, anxious about what to prepare me for dinner that wouldn’t include meat. However, she had little cause for worry: my first comment upon entering was how delicious whatever was in the oven smelled.

We still had a few hours before dinner, however, so Paula took me into the city to see a play one of her friends was in. After the performance, they toured me around their city: to the big park, the main shopping center, the duck-less Duck Park, the main street, and ending in the long and narrow park, where we sat on a bench for a while. Her friends took me in as though I had known them for years, and I felt completely comfortable in a way I haven’t felt with youth in Zaragoza. It was a general difference we who went to the South noticed: an openness and welcoming attitude, an immediate confidence harder won in the North.

However, after the sun had set and a slightly cold wind had come on, we went home for dinner. The father was from Santender, a city on the very northern Cantabrian coast of Spain, and two of his friends were visiting and joined us at the table.

That meal was one of the most enjoyable I’ve yet had in Spain. We laughed our way through the red pepper soup and vegetable pizza, and even through the strawberry dessert. I felt immediately at home, and knew that leaving after so few days was going to be extremely difficult.

The next day, the majority of Paula’s classmates had a field trip that she wasn’t a part of, so she got permission to miss school and take me to Cádiz and Vejer de la Frontera. Her brother and his girlfriend accompanied us to the capital city. Founded in 1011 B.C., Cádiz is Europe’s oldest city. And it feels ancient: all the buildings, most of the older ones built with a porous rock taken from the sea, look as though they have been worn by centuries of wind while watching the port attentively. However, they retain a noble and regal feel, like widows who continue to scan the sea with a never-dying hope that a long-lost sailor will return home. Cádiz’s new publicity campaign is “1812: When Spain was an Island”, referring to when the French officially took over all of Spain except Cádiz. Technically, Cádiz is connected to the mainland by a long, thin strip of beach, now shared with a road and train tracks, but the truth is that the isthmus feels like a tiny thread. San Fernando was the site of the signing of the first Spanish constitution that year.

We passed through the tall, narrow streets of the oldest walled part of Cádiz – the city’s walls were oft-expanded through the years. My favorite plaza was the Plaza de las Flores, where flower vendors sell their colorful, lively wares. We entered the austere cathedral, which seems to defy gravity with its huge rock ceiling being among the highest I’ve seen, and descending to the crypt where La Falla, along with various rich, famous, or religious figures (or any combination of the three), is buried.

Cádiz was filled with unassuming but beautiful plazas and streets, which I visited a couple times more during the week. However, this day we had to return home for lunch before a drive to Vejer de la Frontera…while I’ll write about tomorrow.

Busy Busy Busy!

Hello! Spring is in the air and with the warm weather has come a whirlwind of deadlines and things to do...everything from a political science essay to going out for tapas to a violin concert to day trips with my host mother have kept me away from my blog. I'm still alive and well and thinking about posts, but I haven't had time to sit down and write them out lately. I'll do my best to write soon!