July 30 x Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Well.

I'm sitting in the New York airport. I've never been to this airport, and I'm really starting to dislike it.

BUT

There is free wi-fi, which is enjoyable, and guacamole and fried calamare. My stomach is probably going to hurt after this, but they both sounded too good to be true. I had to eat some. It was a somewhat out of body experience, because my mind had no control over my body's decision to consume those delicious items. None whatsoever.

I can't wait to get home.

J'taime.

July 29 x Sunflowers and Castillo de Calatrava la Nueva

I woke up at an ungodly hour this morning to walk a mile to take pictures of the most amazing floral display I've ever seen in my life.

A sunflower field.

Did you know that in the morning, when the sun first comes up, sunflowers will tilt their faces towards the warmth? I don't think I quite captured that specific moment, but it was truly an experience. I forgot how much I'm in love with sunflowers; their smiling faces and blonde hair, dancing in the sparkling warmth of the sun.

With that being said, I think I'll take a bouquet.

We went to a fortress today that was built earlier than the 10th century. And it was still standing, completely solid, completely sound.

UNBELIEVABLE

I kept on trying to capture the enormous size of this monstrosity, but there was no way to possibly do it justice. They say that when it was at its peak, it could house over three hundred families that needed protection. Can you believe that? The fact alone that it is still standing and is still able to be explored and walked on is an architectural genius, but that it was big enough to hold three hundred households?

None of us could believe it.

The photo I've included of the Castillo is literally only a fourth of the entire fortress. A fourth!

J'taime.

July 28 x Alamore

After my earlier blog, my family and I decided to book it to lunch. It was yet another delicious meal, and I feel that Beatrice possibly held out on all the awesome places to eat to make our final days here in Spain more delicious. I think that might have been stupid of her, but there’s not a lot I can change about that.

In Alamore, there is a beautiful theatre full of wonderful traditions. It was built in the sixteenth century, and restored in the 1970’s. It was an open ceiling theatre, which is such an interesting concept. It had three levels, and was filled with secrets and mysteries hat are so fascinating its difficult to take in. On the second level, in the piece that faces the stage directly, it’s called a ‘cooking pot’. Only women were allowed to sit there, and it was referred to as the cooking pot because of how women were known to cook up their gossip throughout the plays. I would do anything to go into an era like that.

We then went to the lace shop, which was fascinating.

As we were walking back to the car, we all noticed that the drainpipes had the most curious attachments, animals. The drainpipes were made to look like animals! Dragons, snakes, lions…the list is endless. They were quite clever.

July 28 x Heat

Today none of the family have any idea what our plans are. Beatrice (who is our own personal tour guide) was nice enough to allow us to have an excellent morning of sleeping in. We were ecstatic last night; just thinking about sleeping in and trying to get rid of jet-lag made my mouth salivate. I could actually feel my migraine start to disappear!

I feel like I should take the time to remind you that here, in Spain, it is currently 104 degrees outside.

ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR DEGREES!

Sometimes we're blessed with a breeze flowing through our room, which has no air conditioning, at night...but last night was the stillest, hottest night any of us have ever experienced. I know what you're thinking, "Chelsea, shut up. You survived the Jamaican heat..." HA! HA! HA! At least in Jamaica we had fans.

Sleeping in didn't help anything. And we have no advil, so my migraine is just something I have to try and stomach.

We have two options for today and tomorrow. We can go to a town with some sort of lace shop in it, or we can visit an amazing fortress. Beatrice is recommending we stay in the city for a few hours and then go to the lace town this afternoon, so that the heat doesn't make any of us melt. The fortress involves lots of walking, which is better done during the morning, when the heat is less intense.

Personally, I just would like to sit in a room with air conditioning.

July 27 x Windmills and Cuisine

I have yet to get on top of the jet-lag situation that my body is going through, and its rather frustrating. Every place we drive to is an hour away, and I sleep there and back, because my body is screaming at my eyelids for being open at ‘four in the morning’, even though it is technically ten o’clock a.m here. Also, I take these idiotic naps that my body forces me into, only in the car while we’re driving and there’s nothing to do, and because of it I’m up until two or three a.m here, which is eight or nine at home.

I AM SICK OF IT

We woke up today as always, ate breakfast and were on our way to a place with windmills. It sounds somewhat boring, I know, but it was quite the opposite. It was the first time I had been outside while here in Spain and felt slightly chilled; the wind was blowing so hard. The windmills were huge, and they were everywhere. They were insanely cooled inside, and the mechanics to the old-fashioned machinery was almost to the point of disbelief. I loved every second of it, because not only could I take pictures to my heart’s content, but we had a fantastic view of the tiny city below us.

Spain is still wondrous and magical. I have enjoyed every place we’ve been too, but the one thing I have been completely unable to enjoy (until today) is the cuisine. Its not that the cuisine is terrible, or some sort of terrible combination of pig brains and feet, although that was an entrée available at one of the restaurants we explored. It’s that everything is something that I’m afraid my stomach cannot handle, or it is made with an extreme amount of egg.

Two nights ago our hostess served us an extremely important dessert…I can’t remember what it was called, but I hope Koki never serves it again. It was literally made of eggs and only eggs and smelling it made my entire body lurch in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I attempted to be polite and eat a bite…I ended up crying because I was attempting to choke down vomit. Please, Koki. Never again.

But today the Lord smiled on me. I have never eaten such a delicious meal in my entire life. It was the day before the restaurant was closing for holiday (a thirty day period were they close because of the heat, etc.) and the first restaurant or any building in general we went into that had air conditioning.

PRAISE THE LORD

There’s this type of cheese here that is made of strictly sheep’s milk, and it is so fabulous. The flavor is mouthwatering, and if you put a tiny piece on top of a huge chunk of sourdough bread…I would kill for that combination. Then my Dad, Sam, Keeler and I decided to be adventuresome and order venison. It doesn’t seem like an adventuresome thing for my family to do, because we constantly eat venison at home; it’s the meat we use for everything, instead of hamburger or something pathetic like that. But it was adventuresome because we had no idea how it would be cooked, whether or not it would be fully cooked, etc. etc.

The first portion of venison was marinated in a type of salsa, with peppers and other gorgeous vegetables that you wouldn’t immediately pair up with a piece of venison that needs to be marinated. It was cut in thin slices and drowned in olive oil, so not only did the flavors jump out at you in orderly perfection, but the venison cuts were perfectly cooked and perfectly moist.

The second portion was cooked stir-fry style, with olive oil and possibly some somewhat bland other sauce, and the covered with a garlic and parsley sauce on top. I have never tasted any meat with so many flavors in my life. My family and I were inhaling the venison.

And finally, the third portion was cooked in a stew, with plenty of olive oil, wonderful wine and garlic cloves. The venison was so deliciously tender, the instant it was in your mouth it fell apart it perfectly sized strands, and you found yourself happily drowning in the flavor. Once again, inhalation occurred.

And finally, the dessert was one hundred percent chocolate ice cream, with no eggs to be seen.

J’taime, mi amore. J’taime.

July 26 x Toledo, Spain

Today started off on the wrong side of the bed. But in my defense, Emma kept me up last night brushing out her hair, ergo the photo of how huge it was after we brushed out all the dreads. Every time I look at that photo I lose my mind I’m laughing so hard. That was God’s way of smiling on both my sister and I in one moment, for me by giving me a distraction and hilarity to make my soul happy; for Emma, it was God smirking saying, ‘Don’t dread your hair ever again.’ Ha. Enjoy the photo.

We went to a magnificent city called Toledo today. Not only was the outside of the city beautiful in indescribable ways, but also it contained the most beautiful cathedral I have ever seen or experienced in my life. Two years ago I was able to visit Paris for two weeks, and during those two weeks I was able to visit the Notre Dame. I thought that my life was blessed for good, seeing such an unbelievable creation. But believe me when I say that this cathedral today trumped the Notre Dame by at least twenty blessing points.

AT LEAST.

The only disappointing thing about it was that no photography was allowed inside the cathedral. Actually, in every place we visited today in Toledo, you could never take pictures inside. Truly a blow to my photography heart.

This cathedral had so many different aspects to it…its hard to decide where to begin. There were three sets of doors that were never used for the public. The main, central doors were opened only, and ONLY when the Pope was in Spain visiting the cathedral. There were two sets of doors on either side of these central doors that only the King and Queen used. No public went in or out of them. Ever. That in itself is an amazing way to show how much respect these people truly have for their leaders. Above these three doors there is a representation of DaVinci’s Last Supper out of stone that comes out above the doors in such a moving, visual way you feel like their still dining above you as you take pictures from below.

Then you enter.

And you can’t breathe, because everything around you is the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever let happen to you, and you can’t even control the amount of thievery the cathedral performs. There are three different organs, full organs, with the most beautiful pipes I’ve ever seen, all coated with gold and going both up and out of the body. The ceiling was at least two to three stories tall, and there were 3D sculptures of angels and cherubs, along with disciples and Christ himself all the way up into a huge domed area of the ceiling. Anything that could be encrusted with gold was encrusted. At least three thirds of the entire cathedral, in every single nook and craning, there were 3D figures; coming out of walls, benches, ceilings, everywhere. All were done so well that it took every inch and fiber of your being not to reach out and touch them. Beautiful originals of all the saints and versions of Christ, along with his disciples, hung everywhere; ranging from the size of an 8x11 to taking over an entire wall. Candles were lit everywhere, and rooms grew off the main worship area in every space possible, containing things like beautiful jewels, gold structures and old priest/pope robes. Bibles the size of eight hymnals with gilded pages were locked behind glass, as well as crowns royalty had worn. The magnitude of everything you experienced in this cathedral was enough wonder to last until your great-grandchildren were born. Something with this much intensity can never be forgotten.

After lunch, we went to a masque turned synagogue. A walking contradiction, I assure you. Everything about this building was Muslim in every way possible. But again, photos were not allowed, and disappointment ensued. The walls were entirely white, pure white, and encrusted with beautiful assortments of decorative tastes; things like carvings from the wall to make it more alive and visual, as well as domed ceilings and simplistic, but beautiful, pillars lining the center aisle. All done with extreme Muslim architectural taste. The only thing that made this ‘synagogue’ a synagogue were the art pieces hanging up all around the perimeter of the building. The entire building felt more like an art gallery than it did a place to worship and practice Judaism. Interesting, no?

We ended our day with a visit to a gorgeous painting that we could barely see because of the amount of tourists in front of us. Again, another photography disappointment. The artist was El Greco, by the way.

Extremely famous painter, even more famous painting.

We didn’t even look at it for five minutes.

J’taime, mi amore. J’taime.

July 25 x El Viso de Santa Cruz y Las Virtudes

The palace today was, wonderful. To say the least. Every single ceiling space in the entire place was covered with frescos, all telling magnificent stories. It was absolutely breathtaking at moments…moments. When I say moments, I mean that I think air conditioning doesn’t exist in Spain. It literally was over one hundred degrees today, without humidity.

So while El Viso de Santa Cruz was breathtaking in every way possible, it was hot. In every way possible.

Also, their was an entire ceiling dedicated to the story of a God that fell in love with a girl on the Earth. He impregnated her with twins, and she gave birth beside the river that he impregnated her on…and on the ceiling there was a picture painted of this woman giving birth to twins.

When I say this, I mean that it showed this poor, poor woman on the ground. With her skirts up. And some sort of odd, scary looking creature making an appearance out of her vagina.

What’s interesting to me is that the Spaniards didn’t paint this palace, the Italians did. In fact, the Italians designed the entire place, killed their backs painting every beautiful ceiling, and then left without telling anyone who did all the painting. Those painters deserve credit for killing their backs. Except for the birthing painter. He did a terrible job of making this god alien twin combination look like babies.

The whole point of El Viso de Santa Cruz is that it was created as a naval building for the Spanish Armada. The bastard child of the King of Spain (which King, I am unsure of) showed unusual talent in the navy and being the bastard child, was allowed to run the Spanish Armada, just wasn't given the title he deserved.

He was cremated and buried in El Viso de Santa Cruz, and that is where the picture of the rosary comes in. Keeler thought it was beautiful and begged me to take a picture of it, and the picture turned out to be one of the most satisfying of the day. Bravo, Keeler.

We then traveled over to Las Virtudes, which is a square bullring. I must be extremely naïve, because I had no idea that when they run the bull through their red satin scarf/blanket/whateverthehellyouwanttocallit thing, they have a sword hiding behind it! They’re killing the bulls! They repeatedly taunt the bulls and stab them in their hump every time they run through their red satin sheet. I’m extremely curious about this, as well as a bit appalled.

BUT

I’m pretty sure that multiple people have been secretly appalled by me and my desire to shoot animals with guns. And since I’m completely at peace with my own repeated massacres, I assume that that means I need to be at peace with the Spaniards personal massacres.

I would like to witness this, in order to better make up my mind.

What made Las Virtudes absolutely fabulous was the chapel that was connected off of the side of the bullring.

First off, why is there a chapel connected to some sort of traditional animal slaughter house?
Second off, why doesn't America have such beautiful chapels as this?

P.S-In the picture of the frescos (ceiling paintings), the bottom right painting is the birthing painting I have so fondly discussed.

J'taime, Mi Amore. J'taime