Castañazo Rock

Castañazo Rock is a one-night rock fest in the town of Chantada which proves festivals aren't just for the summer. Really, that's their slogan. But actually with the weather the way it was, it felt like summer anyways. Castañazo isn't just a nighttime affair. Early in the afternoon, it starts off with a song contest, which unfortunately we missed. Eight groups go around to bars, singing traditional (drinking) songs, and basically getting people excited. The concerts themselves are held under the covering of the town fair pavilion. Which must be why at random points it smelled like cows. Also before the concerts were traditional games, which were really successful. You'd be surprised how entertaining simple games can be in this day and age. Then there was the magosto, aka free roasted chestnuts. Yum!

At Castañazo, we ran into many acquaintances. Well, for my boyfriend it wasn't surprising since all Galicians know all Galicians (that's my theory). Especially those on the alternative scene. But personally I was excited when I ran into some ex-students! ¨What are YOU doing here!?¨ They were perplexed because I guess they still think I don't understand Galician. We spoke in English. Fruits of my 2 years teaching them!

The concerts started off with Poetarras, who I've been listening to more and more often. Their songs are mostly to the beat of popular English and Spanish songs, but always with new lyrics and a social critique. There's a song dedicated to the governor of Galicia and to people who say things like ¨I'm not a racist, but...¨ Smaller crowd to start it off, but good fun. Then there was Familia Caamagno, a very dancy band with a 50s or 60s vibe. The next group seemed to be the one that drew the biggest crowd: La Raíz. I liked their mash-up of different music styles more than expected. Later was Esne Beltza, a cheerful Basque band, which was cool because I doubt many people in the crowd spoke Basque. There were more concerts after, but after standing for 7, I was ready for bed.

Camping was in a school gym. When we had pitched the tent, they told us to leave a path around the perimeter so that people could get to the tents in the back. But late arrivals must not have heard those instructions. The gym was packed with tents upon tents upon tents-- getting back was like traversing land minds. Ah, another fun tidbit: the sleeping area opened at 3 AM. But that weekend was the time change. So they really meant the old 3AM, the new 4AM. People had to wait in the cold outside in order to get to sleep. Some even got desperate and tried busting the lock. In the end we went in and fell asleep to the drunken lullabies of the other festivalgoers.

The Real Black Friday

¨Black Friday.¨ That was the reply I got when I asked my students this past week if they knew which American holiday was about to be celebrated. Yup, consumerism is the only concept that spread. Obviously they wouldn't celebrate Thanksgiving here, but our specific Black Friday wouldn't exist without Thanksgiving to kick off the family holiday season. Regardless, this year the consumer's Black Friday fell on a truly dark date, November 25th, International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.

During the month of November, throughout Santiago and the rest of Galicia, there has been an anti-violence campaign. ¨Contra a violencia.¨ Storefronts outfitted in black, with signs against gender violence. Respect my decisions. No means no, yes means yes. I'm not your master. I'm not your prince charming. Shopkeepers and waiters all wearing the same black, anti-violence t-shirt.

This campaign culminated on Friday. In the morning in the main Praza do Obradoiro, people gathered and received a t-shirt or umbrella with the contra a violencia logo. The mayor also read some astounding facts about gender violence. Like 1 in 4 victims doesn't report it due to fear. Or 1 in 4 women aged 16-19 suffers psychological abuse/control by her significant other. That is only the beginning, as we know. This year in Spain, 40 women have been murdered by their (ex) significant others.

Later that evening, there was an alternative protest organized by feminist groups in Santiago. I am bad at estimating, but I'd say there were at least 500 people. We marched through the old town, often filling the pedestrian-only streets. People stopped to watch us pass, and others joined. Some of my favorite chants were:

Non estamos todas! / Faltan as mortas!
(Some of us our missing! / The dead aren't here! *shiver*)
A noite e a rúa tamén son nosas!
(The night and the street are ours too!)

I'm not sure whether in Spain these crimes get more press than in the USA, or if they are actually more prevalent here. What's clear though is that gender violence has to stop. And hopefully campaigns like this--awareness in general-- will be what sparks that change.

Ye Olde Sidra Making

Although in Spain alcoholic apple cider is associated with Asturias or the Basque Country, I spent a weekend with my most Galician friends making it like in the days of yore. It was an exhausting weekend-long affair. And it will take a few months before we are able to taste the fruits of our labors. But this month I've been making alcohol faster than I can drink it (wine harvest earlier this month)!

Friday morning we headed out to my boyfriend's country home. I should add that in Galicia, almost everybody has an ¨aldea,¨ a tiny village their family is from. In some cases their grandparents still live there, but in others the house is empty and used for weekend getaways. (In this case, the latter) Close to our destination, we stopped to pick up the apple equipment. We both got out of the car, but let the cassette keep playing. A few minutes later *click,* the car automatically locked. With the keys in the ignition! Nooooo! It felt like a scene from a movie, with Bob Dylan emanating from inside the locked vehicle. Luckily, a mechanic arrived within an hour. We continued on our way, with some delay.

Climbing trees

To make the sidra, B bought about 200 kg of apples from a neighboring farmer. That was just the beginning! The other guy brought another 200 kg from the trees in his yard. And we spent two hours Friday afternoon collecting more. I bet there were close to 1000 kg! My naivete betrayed me as we went to a neighbor's yard to start picking. They talked about who would climb the tree. I, of course, imagined like at home, one would climb the tree to hand pick the higher apples, while the other two of us would reach what we could from the ground. Wrong. He climbed the tree to shake it with all of his might. Dozens of apples fell down. One hit me, as I didn't realize what was happening, haha. We repeated the process over and over again. So the strain of apple-picking here is in constantly crouching down and bending over. Also in sidra, every apple counts. Bruised apples, cherry-sized apples. All in the sack! Afterwards, of course, we had to lug the giant 20kg bags back to the car. I consider myself strong for my size, but after this weekend I realized I am the weakest link. I'm more suited to 10 kg sacks.

Apples, apples everywhere

After collecting enough apples, we spent the evening cleaning the apples. In the beginning, I was very picky with which apples passed on to the next phase. I tried to cut out a lot of the bruises, but then as the ¨professionals¨ reminded me, even bruised apples are fine for cider. Not to mention the amount of apples we had to go through before the night's end. Another chica came to join the fun. Admittedly, she is stronger than I am. But she lives on a farm! After the sun had gone down, we divided into two teams and started the next phase: grinding. This had a machine, but you couldn't just dump a whole box of apples in it, because it would get stuck. You needed to toss about 8 in at a time, and the machine would spit them out into cut up pieces.There was so much that we moved it with a snow shovel. By the end of the night, our assembly line had washed and cut all but 50kg of apples. Hooray!

To the left: the machine that diced the apples. In the background: apple bits!

Note she is actually sitting on the press

Saturday morning, B ran out to catch the breadman driving by on his rounds. So for breakfast, we had fresh queique. I write the name because the pronunciation is so similar to cake, it can't be a coincidence! Day two was more washing/grinding, but also pressing. For this we used an old fashioned wooden press. In the early stages when the metal bar is loose, we would swing it around to each other merrily, like a game. But then as the lid lowers and comes into contact with apples, it becomes more difficult. Once it got to a certain point, the guys would have to pull it backward slowly, then push it forward to begin again, like rowing. Of course, they were putting a lot of force into it, so to counteract it the other three would hold it down with all of our weight so the press wouldn't go flying. The other chica would even sit on the press. And yet, sometimes it would still tip in the opposite direction. Superhuman strength! All the while we whistled (aka sang in Galician and Spanish) while we worked.

On Saturday we pressed all the apple bits for a first time, and on Sunday we did them all a second time. Every drop counts! Surprisingly, there was more juice to be had. Although, obviously on the second day there was less and it was harder to get out. During each pressing, we had to change the small tub collecting juice at the bottom. That juice went into big metal barrels to ferment. We ended with 360 liters!! And it only took us four people and 56 hours!

Sweet, sweet apple juice!

Winemaking in the Ribeira Sacra

T'is the season to harvest grapes in Galicia! Here the vendimia lasts from mid-September to mid-October, depending on the year's conditions. This year I got in on the action, instead of simply enjoying the fermented fruits of the labor.

First, Galicians and foreigners alike boarded the viñobus and set off to the bodega (winery). The place boasts a stunning view, perched above its vineyards which go down steeply to the Río Sil below. Straddling the provinces of Lugo and Ourense, the Ribeira Sacra really must be the most beautiful wine region in the world. Inside we toured the winery and learned about the wine-making process. We observed workers manually removing twigs and leaves caught up with the grapes, before moving on to a machine which shakes out the small stuff.

After the tour, we got down to business! In pairs we were handed plastic crates and a pair of scissors. Some of the rows of vines were in a flat patch. But others of us opted to harvest grapes the heroic way: climbing down a ways to a steeper row! I partnered up with a French girl. Of course, everyone sampled the grapes we were picking. Delicious! After taking in the view and filling our carton up halfway, we called it quits. And we let the owner carry our carton of grapes up the hill. Hey, we're not getting paid for this!

Next was the winetasting. Our fellow tour members had a lot of questions. And the host didn't actually explain much about the 3 types of wine we were sampling as I had hoped, so my friends and I just zoned out and tasted the wines. One was aged, one was young, and one was organic. In the Ribeira Sacra, almost all of them are young. One year and done! (Whereas the wines in Bordeaux are mostly barrel-aged) My favorite was the organic one.

Astute readers will know that this grand wine tour is missing just one step. Yes, squashing grapes! After the wine tasting (who planned this order?!) some of us took off our socks and shoes and hopped into a big pit of grapes. The feeling was...strange. It was gross, but you got used to it quickly. Squelch squelch. To top off the day, lunch was included. Obviously. Because this is Galicia. Where food and wine always combine! And we left with another super Galician experience under our belts. Who'll join us for a repeat next fall?

Settling in to Santiago

It's only been a few days since some pals kindly helped me lug suitcases up several sets of stairs to my new piso, and I am already liking Santiago de Compostela. Of course, moving to a new city no matter the size is always exciting. So much to discover! In Lugo I seemed to know all the shops, bars, and cafés by heart. It happens. But in Santiago I have been noticing a lot more signs for activities that might interst me. Concerts and classes galore! And perhaps one of my greatest discoveries: an authentic Galician bar, where the cuncas (bowl of wine) are only FIFTY CENTS!

I went to scope out my new school as well. They've never had a language assistant, so hopefully they are left with a good impression of the program by the time I'm done. It's also bigger than my last school, which thus reminds me more of an American school. It's still probably half as big as my high school though, so it's tiny by American standards.

I have also realized that similarly to Lugo, Santiago is really just a big town. Maybe this is Galicia in general. Two degrees of separation. But well, this is advantageous even for a newcomer. Because I have friendships in Lugo who have friends here, I've met a handful of folks here through these connections. Which is way easier than just walking up to strangers and saying, ¨Hi I'm new here, will you be my friend?¨ (FYI: I would not advise doing that haha) This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Calentando Motores

The cool air and clouds announce: summer has come and past. Today was the first day of school in high schools across Galicia, although auxiliares don't start until October 3rd. I should be moving into a new piso in a new city this weekend, but until then (and since I got here last week) I've been living out of my suitcase with  Fani and Pitiña. After first arriving, I didn't really want to switch cities since Lugo is my comfort zone. But after walking around my new city and seeing all the possibilities (eateries to discover, concerts and activities to attend!), I am looking forward to it. Plus, I'll always have places to stay in Lugo Luguiño.

And here are some images from my summer travels that I never got around to blogging. I was just too busy!

Tractor shot from Festival de Cans. It's a version of the Cannes film festival, with a Galician twist! Iberian shorts are projected in barns, garages, and other outdoor venues. I'd been wanting to check it out for the last few years, and was thus as excited as a kid at Disney World when my friends Elena and Neil were willing to go too!

Elena and Neil on the Cans' red carpet. Note the hórreo in the background

Weekend in Sevilla with the girls. Nathalia and I flew down to meet two of our amigas who at that time lived in Andalucía. Wonderful weather. Loved the Moorish palace (they really knew how to awe with tiles) and the Plaza de España which has a small mural dedicated to each and every Spanish province. 

Viaje de Chicas II--A roadtrip across Andalucía with my two bestest buds Fani and Lauren. We stopped in Málaga, Granada (finally saw el Alhambra!!), and los Pueblos blancos, Absolutely idyllic.

A horse walks into a bar...

One of the Pueblos Blancos BUILT UNDER A LEDGE

In the Alhambra