Signs of Spring in the Ribeira Sacra

Long time, no write! Not much of interest has been happening lately. For obvious reasons. Between now and my last entry, bars/restaurants were closed for several weeks, as were most city limits. We even went 100% virtual with English classes. Honestly, for me it wasn't that bad because I was in the countryside and only had to connect to class for brief chats with each group. For the regular teachers, though, I'm sure it was a headache between bad connections, difficulty hearing/seeing students, and suddenly having to plan everything online. But classes are back in person, and bars are back open now, at first until 6 and now until 9 PM.  

Last weekend I ventured out of Lugo's city limits for the first time since October. Five months in the same place! We didn't even escape very far: Ribeira Sacra in the south of the province. By now I've been several times, but it's a lovely daytrip and the views never disappoint. I'm never sure if I want to keep Galicia and its treasures a hidden secret, or let the whole world know and discover their beauty! When we were out and about on a Saturday, there were few cars and zero tourists. The only potential tourists would have to be Galicians, since the borders are closed, but still. We had gone specifically to see the cherry blossoms. A student had mentioned that in the area of Chantada there were a lot. Unfortunately, I think we were a week too soon! That's alright. Every time I spotted blossoms, I pointed them out exaggeratedly. ¨Wow! Look at that tree! Isn't it marvelous!?¨

Archway below/next to 
Santo Estevo de Chouzán

Because we had left early and didn't have much of a plan besides to search for cherry blossoms, we had plenty of time to spare before lunch. We were planning on doing a hike, but there was a logistical error with the starting point. Anyways, we made up for that by walking uphill and downhill a few times. First, to se the Cabo do Mundo, a lookout over the Miño River. From there we observed those hilly family vineyards, complete with a smattering of folks taking advantage of the sun to work. We also climbed very far downhill to visit a Romanesque church. Galicia is all about that Romanesque art! I was surprised at the size of Santo Estevo de Chouzán Rather than a small chapel, it was a full-blown church, on a hill seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Not even next to a hamlet! Originally a Benedictine monastery, it was moved decades ago when the area was flooded to build a dam. Apparently inside there are still Romanesque paintings. Unfortunately, I couldn't make out much from the keyhole. 

For lunch we stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, with terraza views of the Miño and Sil Rivers. On the way home, we also stopped in Portomarín. But I'll save that for another day, when we return to see the underwater remains. Like a lot of important buildings of the region, the entire town of Portomarín was moved decades ago when they built the dam. 

Os Peares: Where the Sil and Miño meet

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

It hasn't snowed again since last Friday, but I've still got snow on the brain. Reminded me of my last encounter (not including the beginning of this year when we went to Pedrafita looking for snow and were disappointed) with the white stuff in Galicia. I got an unexpected taste of snow when I went hiking in mid-November last year with the youth of the city. In Galicia at least, the major cities dedicate part of the budget to youth. There are a variety of free or dirt-cheap activities and classes throughout the year. This was one of them: a fantastic option especially for people who want to hike but don't have a car. Transportation is included and it's a free, fun way to socialize. Before COVID-19, of course.

This particular hiking trip was to O Bierzo, right over Galicia's eastern border. While O Bierzo is no longer technically in Galicia, a lot of the population speaks Galician and they can study it in school. That's because traditionally it was part of the Kingdom of Galicia (Europe's first kingdom, by the way). It is a mountainous region, part of the Ancares. On the way we passed by my beloved Becerreá as well as Pedrafita do Cebreiro. We were headed to a trail within a beech forest for our hike. When I had signed up for the hike, I thought to myself, 'Pretty fall colors! Changing leaves!' Um, wrong.

The night before, they warned us that it was supposed to be 1º C. Brrr! Since I don't have snow pants here (I'm always tempted to bring them back from home, but since I normally visit in the middle of summer, it just seems ridiculous), I instead wore normal sweatpants with a pair of tights underneath. My normal waterproof hiking boots were at the cobbler's getting fixed so I borrowed a friend's. Important detail because I assumed hers were also waterproof. They were not. I also was ready to go with a newly acquired thermos that really kept my infusion scalding for hours.

OMG, snowshoes!

As our minibus chugged up the sinuous hills, getting closer to the town near our beech forest destination, the snow started falling. The town mayor himself came to plow a path for us! Once we got to the hamlet, they opened the snowed-in bar just for us to get a coffee before hitting the trails. At this point our guides were unsure about how much snow we would find out there. And at this point one of them indicated to me that me shoes were definitely not waterproof. Luckily for me, he had a spare pair of snow shoes! Apparently not being prepared sometimes has it advantages. I was the only one in the group who got to snowshoe. At first it was weird to walk in them, since I wanted to keep picking up my feet. But it's more like a glide. Despite falling a few times, I had a blast! The hardest part for me was not crossing the shoes in front of me, and a few stairs which were obviously more narrow than the snowshoes so I had to sidestep them. 

On the hike the snow slowed us down. It took us two hours to walk just two kilometers! That was partly due to waiting time-- we had to stop and wait for someone to go ahead and see if the path was clear enough. And we ended up turning around in the middle anyways. But we did get to see a small cave, used during the Civil War as a hideout. I could hardly imagine spending a night there, let alone an extended period of time. We also came across a beautiful, snow-capped waterfall. The majority of our hike was through the woods, but at one point we came to a clearing. A field of snow! There we broke out into a mini-snowball fight. Others fell onto the ground to make snow angels. Afterwards we headed back to our café starting-point to get warm and have lunch.

Fervencia do Beiro

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

When you're looking for snow in Galicia, your best bet is the hills (mountains?) on the east side. When I worked as a language assistant in a town in the Ancares, close to the eastern border, it snowed there quite regularly. In the southeast corner of the province of Ourense there is even a small ski resort. Or so I've heard. As far as Galicia's cities go, seeing snow is a rarity. In the city of Lugo it used to snow once a year, but with global warming, it's no longer guaranteed. Last year I don't recall any snow in town. Meanwhile in my hometown they've already had the first major snow of the season; several inches!

Therefore when this morning I awoke to massive, fluffy flakes, you can imagine my delight! I skipped breakfast to throw on some warm and weatherproof attire and get out there. After all, the few times I've seen snow it had lasted barely an hour, and who knows how long the snow was going to stay. A walk around town in the snow really seals the deal in terms of Christmas spirit. Perhaps I would be less enthusiastic if I had to drive in it, but luckily for me in the city there's no need for a car. My snow-white walk coincided with kids going to school. What a treat for them, in this bizarre and unfortunate year. At least they got to enjoy the snow on their trek to class. An excellent start to what is going to be a 4-day weekend with no travel (we are still unable to leave the city).

Aside from the snow (which to my surprise is still falling --albeit not as intensely-- hours later) those working in bars and restaurants are having their own holly, jolly day. Today after about a month of mandatory closure throughout Galicia's cities, bars and cafés can open their doors once more. There are limits on capacity, but for them something is better than nothing, I'm sure. We are also allowed to see people who aren't from the same household as us. This whole time schools and classes continued, and shops were still open. But you couldn't meet up with your colleagues outside of work. Here's hoping the snow sticks but the Coronavirus does not. 

Galicia's Bean Town

Back when the leaves hadn't yet fallen, nor were we on a semi-lockdown, a group of less than 10 of us (the limits for congregating at the time) took a weekend getaway to Lourenzá. Although Lourenzá is in the A Mariña region, it's not on the coast. But that also means it's even closer to Lugo than A Mariña's coastal locales. When we arrived, Lourenzá's valley was brimming with bean plants. Because they're strung up similarly to grapes, for a second I assumed they were grapes. Although, realistically, a Mariña is one of the few regions of Galicia not known for its wine. 

The fabas of Lourenzá are famous throughout Spain. While other faba beans might cost 4€ per kilo when buying at the bulk food store, faba beans from Lourenzá will set you back 12€ a kilo. They've been a hit since the 18th century at least! Growing beans in a tranquil setting... not a bad way to make a living. And I imagine it's not as labor intensive as say, raising cattle. We did have a debate though about how they harvest those beans. Someone insisted that there must be machines for that. The next morning, we noticed some very intricate machines in action: two people picking beans by hand. That answers that.

The refurbished house we rented had a manicured lawn facing the rest of the green valley. Rows of corn and beans made up the view. Hey, sounds not unlike my home state! And the host reminded me of that good old Galician hospitality. Like they say in their anthem, Galicians are bos e xenerosos (good and generous). Upon arriving, the house was stocked with every imaginable commodity, including some fresh fruits and veggies in the fridge. They also came by to bring us firewood and ask if we needed anything. The next door neighbors had a sheep and two little lambs: black and white. Adorable! This brush with farm life might have been more exciting a few years ago, but now that I'm chummy with a pair of goats, a sheep, and some chickens, I wasn't as starstruck.

The weekend weather mostly held out for us, raining only after dark. At times it was clear that with global warming September is now becoming more like summer than autumn. The place had a wood-burning grill, so we were able to cook out and enjoy the great outdoors. Especially pleasant for the apartment dwellers in the group who don't have a yard to run around daily. And because there were two asturianas in the bunch, of course their was plenty of sidra to go around. Homemade and store-bought. 

Saturday morning just the two of us got up early to walk around. After passing some cows and perhaps a million beans, we came to Pazo de Tovar. This pazo is the only non-religious site to be seen in Lourenzá. The rest are churches.Before it was a pazo, it was first built as a tower in the 12th century. Then more was added on as it became a sort of fortress and eventually now can be considered a manor. Unfortunately, due to COVID-19 restrictions it wasn't open for visiting. But we did walk around the place. Another reason to go back again to relax in Galicia's bean town.

It's Chestnut Time!

Chestnuts are a big deal here in Galicia. You can tell by the sheer amount of words en galego associated with them. There's a verb for specifically picking up fallen chestnuts, soutar. There are also several words to describe chestnuts that leave the spiky burr on their own, restrelo, baguto, degaro. Words to describe chestnuts that didn't quite reach their peak (also valid for potatoes), bolerca. Words for chestnuts that have been boiled with their shell, zonco, mamota. Plus Galicia's favorite autumnal event: magosto. And with such an abundance of chestnuts in the provinces of Lugo and Ourense for centuries, structures were built specifically for them. Two-storey shacks (sequeiros) can be found near some forests, used expressly for drying chestnuts. Ouriceiras are small, circular stone structures without a roof, and a narrow opening just wide enough for a person to fit in. They were used to store the chestnuts in their burrs while safeguarding them from animals such as wild boars. On a visit to Marronda Forest which has a trail lined with chestnut trees, we noticed several of these ouriceiras. If I hadn't just recently read about them, I would have thought they were some sort of castro. 

Inside an out-of-use ouriceira

Pumpkin dip and wine bowl

This year for the first time, I've spent sunny fall afternoons collecting chestnuts myself. Sixteen pounds in three days! And there are still more to be collected. Needless to say that is a lot of chestnuts for one (or even two) person. One way to eat chestnuts is boiled with milk and cinnamon. I had never tried it like that until now, and it's delicious! Like eating a bowl of cereal. Chestnuts are actually more like a grain than a nut. That's why before America was discovered, Galicians basically lived off of chestnuts. Now potatoes have become a staple, and chestnuts are reserved for autumn snacking.

With so many pounds of chestnuts collected this year, we just had to celebrate a mini-magosto of our own. I'm not even sure it could be considered a real magosto since that is traditionally saved for the first 11 days of November. We did, however, have all the necessary foods. Aside from chestnuts roasted on an open fire, we also roasted chorizo and sweet potatoes (a tradition imported by our Catalan friend) and sipped red wine. And a very festive kuri pumpkin spread, if I do say so myself. With COVID-19 looming, that may have been our only magosto for the year. 

Some of the harvest drying, but alas, not in a sequeiro

The end of summer at 💀 A Costa da Morte (the Coast of Death)

Before fall turns to winter, time to look back once again at this year's Galifornia summer. People here often compare Galicia to California (jokingly, at least) because of all the coastline and beaches. Half of Galicia's borders are with the sea. While every summer people from Galicia and parts of Spain flock to the southwest region ---the Rías Baixas-- en masse, the Costa da Morte --a little further to the north-- remains relatively unoccupied. (Perhaps because the temperature there is set at 75º F for weeks on end, whereas in the Rías Baixas it can get hot, hot, hot) This was especially true for our visit in September, when visitors from other parts of Spain had already gone back home.

In the Costa da Morte, there really is a lot to see. This time we focused on Muxía and Camariñas, leaving plenty more to be seen on future trips. My previous experience with the Costa da Morte was a visit to the end of the earth: Finisterra. Although the Romans thought it was the end of the Earth at the time, it's not even the furthest west in continental Europe. In the summer months, the last rays of sunshine can be observed from Cabo Touriñán, close to Muxía. Right next to Touriñán's lighthouse is where we spent one of the trip's sunsets. A few other groups were there for the occasion as well. But we were the only ones who came prepared with some food for a makeshift picnic. How romantic! On another night, we watched the sun dip behind Muxía and the sea from the comfort of our campsite. It's funny how an occurrence that happens literally everyday is considered ¨romantic¨ or ¨inspiring¨ when we actually take the time to acknowledge it.

Left, monument. Right, A Virxe da Barca

But back to the trip! The campground we stayed at was halfway between Muxía and Camariñas, so we took a day to explore each. Muxía is unique because it juts out as a tiny, densely-constructed peninsula. It's claim to fame, however, is a small church at the tip of said peninsula. A Virxe da Barca is built atop giant stones, rising above the sea. Legend has it that the Virgin Mary came in a stone boat to tell St James (Galicia's patron saint) to keep on spreading the word. The stones currently around the church are supposedly remnants from that holy stone boat. Very close to A Virxe da Barca is a massive stone monument, cracked in half. It recalls the oil spill of the Prestige in 2002. That was an environmental disaster that spawned the catchphrase ¨Nunca maís¨ or never again.

Even the lacemakers
wear a mask

Camariñas is another seaside town, famous for its lacemaking. We visited the Lace Museum which had some lovely patterns including some decked-out masks for the COVID-19 era. I couldn't resist shopping local and got a more subtle black mask with some simple lace on the sides for ¨formal occasions.¨ Aside from walking along the boardwalk of the Costa da Morte's biggest port, there wasn't much else to see in Camariñas. So we got in the car and headed north along the coastline.

The first stop was another lighthouse: Faro Vilán. It included a delightful little museum about lighthouses and the Costa da Morte in general. The name, evidently, comes from the amount of shipwrecks that happened along the coast in the past centuries. But what makes it so dangerous? Several factors, including the simple fact that it was on the main route between the rest of Europe and southern Spain/Portugal/the Mediterranean. More ships, more shipwrecks. The random changes in depth near the coast don't help either. Suddenly its shallower and your boat has been destroyed by the rocks. It is also said that perhaps the fierce name was used ages ago to scare off rival traders from checking out the area. Who wants to risk sailing around the Coast of Death?

Red, white, and blue (sort of)

Faro Vilán

After the lighthouse, we followed the winding dirt road to some deserted beaches. Well, actually there were a total of two people on three beaches. Continuing our journey, we some how missed the English Cemetery, where they buried the dead of a British shipwreck in 1890. One downside of the Costa da Morte being mostly unspoiled is the lack of signage. We got lost/missed the turn-off several times. They don't even have the basic signs that say ¨TOWN NAME¨ when you enter and ¨TOWN NAME¨ when you leave a place. At one point we were driving through a village but weren't even sure which it was! Good thing we kept going because our destination Camelle was the next village over.

Camelle is a parish of Camariñas with only 1,000 residents. It is noteworthy, despite its size, for the creations left by a German artist named Man. He constructed dozens of sculptures of rocks along a jetty. Unfortunately, because they are right along the sea, each year they are in worse and worse shape. Before going, they warned us that it isn't as great as it used to be. But we had no expectations to compare it to. A few curious statues are still standing. That was good enough for us. 

Remaining art by Man

On the way back to the campground we stopped at a beach. With such sunny weather on the coast, one beach a day was the minimum. Although I myself am not a huge fan, I did go in once or twice. But after the warm water in Miño spoiled me, everything else seems frigid. In the Costa da Morte we mostly stopped at beaches with few sunbathers and surrounded by forests. The campground also had a beach right below it. That was handy for the recreational fisherman who caught us something for lunch!