Spanish NYE Snippets

People of a certain age (re: not in their teens or twenties) are likely to spend New Year's Eve in, with family. So after dropping off my parents following their Christmas visit, that is exactly what I did. 

Grapes ready for the 12 chimes

In Spain, NYE means dinner with family (almost always starring seafood, despite the price hikes during December that could make your eyes pop out of your head like a cartoon), and grapes at midnight. No ball drops here, but folks do gather in town squares to ring in the New Year. Like Americans tuning in to the action in New York City, most Spaniards tune in to broadcasts from Madrid. The Galician TV channel TVG offers an alternative: their program broadcasts from the Praza do Obradoiro, in front of the Cathedral of Santiago. While there are several options for NYE countdown shows in Spain, one channel in particular tries to capture audiences by enticing them with the outlandish dress of presenter Cristina Pedroche. Every year, she wears an enormous cape until 11:59 when she reveals a very revealing dress indeed. Not something I am interested in, but some people in our family insisted we watch that channel to get a glimpse of this year's dress. Yawn.

Some time after the 12 grapes at midnight the youth and party animals go out. Not my case anymore. For a quiet New Year's at home, another Spanish classic is watching ¨Cachitos¨ or snippets on public television. For hours after midnight, they play clips of music videos from years gone by. They are almost always accompanied by snarky comments on the ticker tape below. This New Year's Eve we had multiple generations singing along, and the youngest rocking out. A fine start to the new year.

Fun Galician Words

If you've read this blog before, by now you should know that Galicia has its own language, galego. After a few years of living here, I made the switch to speaking in Galician and now almost exclusively speak it (except for English of course). Some characteristics I like about the language are the sound, especially the letter x which is pronounced like ¨sh¨. I also appreciate the plethora of contractions, like my own native language. Especially when you compare it with Spanish's only two options del and al, Galician has a ton. 

There are a lot of cute Galician words, but many of them don't mean what you think they'd mean based on a literal translation. Can you guess what these words mean based on their literal translations?

1. riquiño/riquiña

literally ¨little rich¨  

actually ¨cute, adorable¨

This has to be one of the most common words in Galician, as far as adjectives go. It means cute/sweet. But don't get your hopes up, because if your crush uses it to describe you, he/she likely means it in a you're-sweet-but-not-attractive-to-me kind of way. Oops.

2. cabalo do demo

literally ¨devil's horse¨

actually ¨dragonfly¨

Why do they call them devil's horse? Probably the same reason we call them dragon's fly (although at least they do fly...)

3. sapoconcho

literally ¨toad-shell¨

actually ¨tortoise¨

When you think about it, this one makes so much sense. What are tortoises if not shelled toads?

4. miñaxoia

literally ¨my jewel¨

actually ¨gullible, poor thing¨

One time someone called me this, and at first I was delighted because it sounds like a term of endearment. Wrong. How did ¨my jewel¨ evolve into that?!

 

5. lucecú

literally ¨light butt¨

actually ¨firefly¨

Another one that is actually spot on. I must admit, lightning bugs have a dozen different names in Galician, probably also depending on where you live. But I just adore this one because it's so accurate. (The more standardized word for it is vagalume, literally meaning ¨wandering fire.¨ That's sweet!) 

 

6. mexacán

literally ¨piss dog¨

actually ¨dandelion¨

In speech, most Galician people would probably use the Spanish translation of this flower, which is similar to English diente de león. But in a book about natural remedies I saw mexacán and found it amusing. Apparently the actual etymology is bed rather than dog, because dandelions are a diuretic. Either way, it sounds silly.

 7. rula

literally ¨turtle dove¨

actually ¨sweetheart, dear¨

From studying Spanish I already knew that apparently every language has its own objects it compares to someone being dear. In English we have honey and sweetie, in Spanish they have heaven or ¨my life.¨ And in Galician, if someone calls you ¨my turtle dove¨ take it as a compliment! Surprisingly the opposite of ¨my jewel.¨

 

I'm sure there are plenty more curious Galician words, but that's all for now!

Mallada in Meira

Mallar: Galician. verb, to beat cereals with a flail or mechanically to separate the grains from their husks. See Eng. threshing. Curiously, just like another one of its English counterparts, beat, it can be transformed into an adjective to mean exhausted. Estou mallada, I'm beat.

Wouldn't want to lose a needle here!

As a very rural region, Galicia has always had celebrations in accordance with the seasons and harvests. One such occasion is the malla or threshing. Before the advent of the combine harvester (which was much later in Galicia than you'd imagine) the malla was half social event, half work gathering. At the end of summer, neighbors used to help their neighbors get the job done after collecting the wheat. They'd rotate to pitch in at all area farms. While researching some vocabulary equivalents in English, I discovered similar get-togethers in the Great Plains. Threshing Bees. Given the size difference in land, Galicia's version was on a much smaller scale

After its near-disappearance in Galicia, the malla is making a comeback. In big towns around the plains of Galicia, they now gather to give a demonstration of threshing techniques, using a variety or manual and mechanical instruments. I guess this is to show us city slickers what hard work looks like. In late August, we went to Meira to see their malla. For the past 20 years, an association dedicated to preserving threshing has been holding this blast-from-the-past event. 

A mechanical threshing device

The small crowd assembled around the exhibition was made up of mostly senior citizens. Recognizing the machines that were used in the demonstration, old men reminisced about their childhoods. We were front and center to see how a group of volunteers coaxed a noisy threshing machine to work. Between demonstrations there was a roving traditional band, clad in old-fashioned traditional Galician clothes. Throughout the day there were supposedly handouts of donuts, wine, and queimada as well as other traditional musics. We didn't stay long enough to find out though. It took me a few hours to get over missing out on free donuts!

Getting wheat from the very top

Galician Block Party

It's 3 AM on a Saturday. Do you know where your grandparents are?

Well, if they live in the Galician countryside and their parish* is having it's annual celebration, they just might be out and about. I couldn't believe my eyes. Or my watch, for that matter.

In rural Galicia, neighbors chip in for what is comparable to an annual block party or town fair. Even if there are less than 100 people living in the parish. Even if the average age is 75. These block parties are usually in spring and summer, and always honoring a saint. The party is held near the church, as each parish has its own celebration. And with over 3,5000 parishes making up Galicia, if you wanted to visit all of their little festivals, it would take years.

Full bar, awaiting the orquesta

No Galician block party is complete without a stage and a bar.  Beforehand, the planning committee goes around to the houses asking for a donation. And you better give something, or risk being labeled the village cheapskates. With the money collected they hire orquestas and bring in a bar to keep folks entertained. By the way, in Galicia an orquesta doesn't mean what you think it means. It's a band with flashy costumes, choreographed dance moves, and a truck-turned-stage with dazzling lighting. They cover a wide array of songs to get the crowd moving: cumbia, paso dobles, rumba, pop, and even rock.

The usual order of events at these block parties is: mass, sesión vermú (meaning music and dancing before lunch), and later on the verbena (more music and dancing after dinner). Some parishes have specific traditions such as processions or picnicking.

After a short but sweet trip home this summer, back in Galicia it was my first year attending our parish's late-night party. Last year we went to the pre-lunch band. But this year I arrived at midnight and was surprised to see a good amount of people, almost all sporting white locks. There were also a handful of kids in the mix, likely grandkids of neighbors. And at our block party there was not one but two different orquestas, which is incredible to me, keeping in mind that there are less than 200 people to split the costs. The celebration lasted til 4 AM. In a field in the middle of nowhere! Now that's what I call a Galician block party.

*Note: As I have explained before, parish is one of the smallest subdivisions in Galicia. Towns --concellos-- are divided into different parishes --parroquias-- surrounding the churches scattered throughout town limits. Nowadays it's not merely a religious subdivision.

Resurrection Fest

Hordes of people almost all in black t-shirts in the coastal town of Viveiro can only mean one thing: Resurrection Fest. From Wednesday to Sunday, the town (population: 15,000) swelled to accommodate over 100,000 fans of rock and metal music. And in my first time there, what stuck out to me was the atmosphere that engulfed Viveiro before even getting into the concert grounds. Because metalheads had come from around the world to see their favorite big-name bands, such as Alice Cooper, the Offspring, and Avenged Sevenfold in this edition.

Resurrection Fest is almost a way of life for some people. Tons come year after year, proudly displaying wristbands or t-shirts from past editions. Some folks show up days before and stay the whole week, turning it into their vacation. And who could blame them, with a nearby beach, great gastronomy, plus big-name concerts-- sounds like an ideal vacation. There is also the option to get married at Resurrection Fest's little chapel. Apparently this year over 1,000 couples applied, so there was a drawing. And just because you have kids doesn't mean your festival-going days are over. Aside from many families bringing their kids along, they have recently started offering Resukids where you can sign your kids up to be with babysitters, even to sleep over. We saw a group of these kid ¨campers¨ at one concert, when they came out on stage for the last song (decked out in protective ear gear, of course), most of them doe-eyed, but one girl was really into it and helping the guitarist.

Because we were only going one night, we opted to skip the tent and just sleep in the car. I'm sure we missed half of the fun by not staying at the festival campground. Anyways, after a stroke of luck finding a parking spot in public parking, we went to lunch. The three bars surrounding the parking lot were all full of festivalgoers drinking and dining. Some started conversation with other fans, as it was quite clear who was around for the festival (80% of the customers, approximately).

Not too many people for Wednesday's opening act

 

Once on the festival grounds, we walked down what they have set up like Main Street from the Wild West. It contains t-shirt shops and the aforementioned chapel. There were also plenty of food choices. At the festival there are 4 separate stages, with two concerts going on simultaneously. This was really useful, because if you weren't interested in the two options, you could stake out a spot to see the following concert.

Resu Main Street and Chapel

 

Alice Cooper for Prez

We saw the festival openers --a Japanese all-female band dressed in very frilly clothes, with the singer alternating between a high-pitched ¨girly¨ voice and deep bellows. Throughout the afternoon/evening we saw three other concerts, culminating in the headliner for the day, Alice Cooper. For that we were relatively close, perhaps six heads back. Since it was a Wednesday, the place was not packed. Pictures I've seen online from Friday and Saturday show the field overflowing with attendees. Alice Cooper put on a great show with numerous costume changes and tons of guitar picks flying to the crowd. Sum 41 played past midnight, but we just didn't have the energy to wait. 

Next year will be Resurrection Fest's 20th anniversary, and surely they'll book some great bands to celebrate. Maybe the lineup will be enticing enough for me to go back. And next time, camp out to experience the convivial atmosphere.

It's Tough to Be a Senior in Spain

While kids in the USA are probably out of school already, students in Spain still have another 2 whole weeks of class to trudge through. Except for the ¨seniors¨ in their last year of high school (called 2nd BAC or bachillerato). They finished their final exams at the beginning of May and have spent the past month studying like crazy. Today in Galicia they are in their last day of testing for the Spanish version of the SAT-- the EBAUs. That stands for Evaluation of Bachillerato for Access to University (hey, the acronym works in English, too!)

I say Spanish version of the SAT because it is an exam necessary to get into college. But the similarities end there. Whereas in the United States students can take the SAT or ACT as many times as they want--starting early, a few years before graduation-- in Spain you've only got one shot. Not only that, but there are several exams, one for each subject. In Galicia --since there is a co-official language-- there are five written tests: Spanish, Galician, English, History or Philosophy, and Math (or another exam related to the type of bachillerato you have been studying). You can also take up to four more exams on elective subjects to raise your score.

But what happens if you have a bad day? What if you're sick or just totally blank? There is the possibility of a redo, a month or two later. But you risk the spots filling up for your chosen major. That's another difference between Spain's college access system and the United States'. Here you get into college based on your chosen major and whether or not it aligns with your combined score. Rather than GPA and SAT scores being evaluated separately, here they are combined into one neat number. Your grades in the last two years of high school count for 60% of your score and the EBAU results make up the other 40%. The maximum score is a 14. Ten of those points are made up of the aforementioned percentage of grades and test scores. The other possible four points are from exams that are ¨weighted,¨ and related to your chosen field of study. For example, future med students might take the biology or chemistry exams. Future language teachers would probably go for some other foreign languages.

Beforehand, universities publish a cut off score for each specific major. As you can imagine, medical degrees require near-perfect scores, but these minimums vary depending on the college. Then after the exam, students look at their final score out of 14 and based on that, apply to colleges and their desired major. And just because you made the cutoff score doesn't necessarily mean you made the cut. If a college's program got more applicants than it was expecting and they all did better than you, well, you might have to choose a new major or school.

So basically, after ending classes early, seniors in Spain have to hit the books, maybe even more so than during the school year. Their future is depending on it. So much for senioritis!