Jalouín

The phonetic translation of “halloween” looks nothing like it, but after all, it’s a very “North American” holiday. However, Spain has been introduced to the festivities of the last day of October, for better or for worse. Children now hear ghost stories in literature classes, teachers dress up like witches, and of course there is trick-or-treating…with the children saying “trick or treat” in English. comical for us native speakers due to the three hard “r”s in the phrase which don’t exist in Spanish.

Before the introduction of Halloween, the the weekend around the 31st wasn’t deprived of holidays: November 1 is All Saint’s DAy, which involves the purchase of a type of marzipan sweet called “Huesos del Santo” and some circular baked goods called “panalletes” or “buñuelos” with flavors like lemon, coffe, and pine nuts, but above all, bringing flowers to the graveyard to decorate the tumbs of dearly departed family. All Saint’s Day generally means a steady flow of customers in the florists.

But this year, there are more temporary Halloween costume shops selling brightly-colored plastic masks and synthetic-material body suits alongside fake swords and faux bunny ears. And the stream of consumer traffic has been altered by these new islands. THe florists report a significant drop in customers, who perhaps are choosing to spend their money on a costume for their children and candy at El Rincón instead of on bouquets for their grandparents’ graves and panelletes for All Saint’s Day.

I don’t want to imply that Halloween is bad or that dresing up in a costume made-in-China is a horrible moral offense, but I do regret that the delicious looking sweets in the wonderfully traditional candy shop are overshadowed by a plastic pumpkin filled with M&Ms in the new store next door. Halloween is viewed here as a very United Statesian holiday, and it also makes me a bit embarrassed that our greatest holiday influence is one in which children try to get as much candy as they can from their neighbors.

Luckily for me, I won’t miss out on the more traditional festivities of All Saint’s Day; although I don’t think my host mother brings flowers to the graveyard, she did mention something about thsoe Huesos de Santos…

Los Pirineos

After seeing the Andes in Peru, and the gorgeous sites of western New England with Elements, I was dubious when I signed up for the option hiking excursion to the Pyrenees. Could anything stand up to the ancient green terraces of the Andes or the gorgeous forested waterfalls of Vermont?
Yes, something can.

We stopped for dinner in Jaca on our way to the mountains. My host mother had packed me a sandwich of tortilla de champiñones – a mushroom omelet placed between the two halves of a baguette. The idea of an omelet sandwich is still rather strange to me, but after the long bus ride, the sandwich, still warm from the aluminum wrapping, was delicious. Jaca has a great castle, wonderfully historical despite the intriguing “1% cultural” sign, with a huge moat surrounding it. Unfortunately the castle was closed, but we stood gazing across the moat at the imposing stone walls and the movie-esque drawbridge gate.
Suddenly, motion in the moat caught our peripheral vision: a huge hoofed and antlered animal had just rounded the bend and was wandering past us! My host mother had also given me muffins to bring, so my friends begged mercilessly that I “give the moose a muffin”, but due to my doubts about the moose-ness of the animal and my “do not feed the animals” stance, I resisted. We did, however, continue watching, only to see another beast come into view!
Right as I said “I hope they don’t engage in territorial fighting,” another group of students rounded the bend as the hoofed animals locked antlers. Luckily, one of the boys was an avid deer hunter and informed us that despite their huge size and gigantic antlers, these were indeed white-tailed deer, grown to an unnatural size and age (14 years, he guessed) due to the lack of predators or obstacles in the moat.
We later learned that the deer were placed purposely in the moat at some point in history, slightly tingeing our excitement at seeing “wild” deer fighting. However, despite the intrigue of the deer squabble, it was soon overshadowed by the true destination of the trip: the mountains.
We arrived at the albergue (hostel) and chose our rooms: 2 rooms for 12 girls and the same for the boys. The night inevitably turned into a great pajama party, eventually ending in sleep in anticipation of the hike the following day.

The alarm rang at 8 o’clock, and we descended to the hostel’s comedor for breakfast. The best bread I’ve yet to have in Spain and some good cheese, accompanied by a glass of orange juice, was a great pre-hike meal. I’ve grown to appreciate a delicious cheese sandwich.
I don’t want to mislead you with “sandwich”…the bocadillos here are not made on plain old wonderbread. As aforementioned, the pan of choice is the baguette, the long thin “French” bread. These lovely sandwiches can reach a foot in length while maintaining a mere few inches in width – wonderful gastronomical physics.
But the albergue’s breakfast was only a precursor to the wonderful day to come. We donned our backpacks, loaded with trail mix, water, and penny candy from El Rincon, and the multiple layers we had brought after many warnings of the cold in the Pyrenees, and the bus let us off at the base of the peak we were to climb.

The first things to come off were the hats, followed by coats, and then mittens and gloves. Finally the scarves found their way into backpacks too, and we were sweating under the mountain sun.
We hiked for a few hours, stopping to refill our water bottles from the mountain stream and pass around the nuts and raisins we’d brought. We reached the snow line, but the day was still warm.
The views were too beautiful to describe in words; even the photos don’t do them justice. At the end of our hike was a beautiful glassy lake.

Climbing up on a snowless rock we pulled out our epic sandwiches and lunched on the top of the world.