Western Towns of Asturies

This weekend to keep our quarantined spirits up, we had an Asturian themed afternoon. Asturies, party of two! It was complete with fabada (bean soup typical of Asturies), sidra, queso de Cabrales (a strong Asturian goat cheese), and Asturian tunes. Not long before the quarantine, though, I was actually in Asturies. So here goes another post:

A couple of months ago, we took a little getaway to the western part of Asturies. Despite being the part closest to my home in Galicia, the west was essentially the only part of Asturies that I hadn't yet seen. I'd been to the major cities of Xixón and Uviéu; as well as up and down the coast in Cuideiru, Avilés, Llanes, and Ribadesella; not to mention the national park region in the southeast.

Salas

Salas and its market

Salas is the capital of the municipality of the same name. This region of Asturies is full of green hills, but then again so is most of Asturies. Salas is small but with a really cute Medieval town center. When we arrived they had a decent-sized market set up. I would have thought we had travelled back in time a few centuries if it weren't for the stalls selling socks, bras, and fuzzy pajamas! There wasn't much else to see here, so we strolled around and soaked up the winter sun.

Malleza

An indiano complete with palm trees

This parish of Salas has a smattering of houses, including some really lovely indianos. Indiano describes a style of large house built by returned emigrants. In the early 20th century, many Galicians and Asturians emigrated to Cuba and South America in search of a better life. Those who struck it rich returned with enough money to build a mansion in their homeland. Bonus points for bringing back palm trees! There are many indianos in A Mariña (northern part of Lugo province) as well as in Asturies. I'm not sure if all of Malleza's indianos are inhabited, but they certainly were well-kept with colorful, fresh coats of paint. Unfortunately, the same is not always true for historical buildings and sites in Galicia.

Tuña

Neighboring hórreos

This little village had a surprising number of mansions. Two or three, actually. My favorite was a noble palace from the 18th century. It still appears to be occupied, although I imagine they only live on one floor. Apart from the architecture, I liked the amount of sun it got. It was also just a hop skip and a jump from the Roman bridge over Tuña's River. Convenient! In Tuña, just about every house had its own hórreo. Galicia also has hórreos, but in Asturies they are around 3 times the size. And they're pretty uniform: almost always brown and square. (In Galicia they're made of a variety of materials and rectangular, with lengths varying on wealth.)

Cangas del Narcea
After visiting hamlets of barely 1,000 habitants, this town of 12,000 people felt so cosmopolitan. The fact that a lot of people were better-dressed than us helped, too. But the pedestrian shopping street also felt like a European city. Here we had lunch at a sidrería. When in Rome! The highlight of Cangas was actually in the village ¨next door,¨ Corias. The top (re: only) attraction in Corias is a gigantic monastery, now converted into a Parador. And that's where we spent the night. A luxurious, centuries-old building. Inside it has a museum of the ruins the present monastery was built on. And the old wine cellar has been converted into a swimming pool!

Just one section of the Parador. It was huge

The Bear of Salcedo (More Carnival Traditions)

While just about every village in Galicia has its own carnival characters (boteiras in Viana do Bolo, pantallas in Xinzo de Limia, peliqueiros in Laza, to name a few), the show-stopper in Salcedo is the Bear. This tiny hamlet in the south of Lugo may have one of the most traditional Entroido celebrations in Galicia. Because what could be more ancient than a bear? This year we went on Carnival Monday, not really knowing what to expect. Would people be in costume? What would the bear do exactly? We were about to find out.

The kid versions were equally
if not eerier than the adults

I love dressing up--it's one of the reasons I love Carnival. Although most people gathering in Salcedo did not appear to be fully costumed, it's better (and funner) to wear something wacky just in case people in plain-clothes are victimized (like in Viana do Bolo's carnival, for example). So between the two of us, we put on a tutu, a red wig, suspenders, a lime green necklace, and clown hat and set off towards ¨downtown.¨ Downtown consisted of a big, open bar/lodge at the intersection of four streets. We got there an hour before the Bear was supposed to appear, and there were already plenty of people milling around. As people lined both sides of the street waiting for the big moment, we noticed more and more kids with black on their faces. Other children covered in burlap sacks were escorting the clean-faced youth away, only for them to return with a black smudge on their faces. Assumedly there was a ¨baby bear¨ at the root of it.

Now it was time for the real bear. Well, not a real bear. The Bear is actually a person, so wide and dressed in dark wool with a bear mask that they were just as intimidating. The Bear's job was to cover its victims' faces in soot. The helpers-- in burlap from head to toe-- were just as frightening, like Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare before Christmas. They each carried a big stick to help trap their prey. Basically, it was their job to find victims to take to the Bear. Some people went more or less willingly. Others put up a fight, but then relented. Still others took off sprinting and had to be hunted down, or held down on the ground by two helpers as the Bear painted their faces!

Nobody really knows where the tradition comes from, but it's clear that it is long-lived and related to spring. Winter has finished; the bear comes out of hibernation. And as most ancient traditions, it also probably has to do with fertility. Hoping for a fruitful spring and summer that lead to a bountiful autumn harvest.

Notes from Coronavirus Quarantine

Here in Spain, the president has declared a State of Emergency. In this case, it means for the next two weeks, you can only leave your house for provisions or if you have an essential job. And only one person per vehicle, if you must leave the house. The army has even been called in to cities to enforce these measures. Since I'm confined to staying at home for the next two weeks, I've got nothing better to do than read and write. That means catching up on blogging! And if you yourself are trying social distancing, you've got nothing better to do than read my blog about Galicia, Spain, and Europe. 😄

It's Day 4 of the quarantine. That's according to my count, after the State of Emergency went into effect on Sunday. But if you ask someone with kids, they'll say it's Day 6. On Friday, attendance at schools here was optional.  I really feel for people cooped up in an apartment --especially with small kids-- which is most of the population. While spring is in the air, people can't even go outside for a walk (unless they have dogs or for the aforementioned acceptable reasons).  But if it's what must be done to slow the spread of the pandemic, well, solidarity! We're staying inside not for ourselves, but for the greater good. 

Some people, however, took the first indications of a pandemic as a joke. Madrid was the epicenter of Coronavirus in Spain. When schools, universities, and some businesses there closed last week for the health emergency, many left the city. That is, rather than staying in confinement as they should have, they spread the infection to other corners of Spain where there had been few or no cases. Granted, in some cases I understand: for example college students were in a tough spot and maybe saw coming home to Galicia as the best plan. It wasn't. My disgust comes from those natives of Madrid that came to Galicia to stay in their vacation homes. And they didn't come to lock themselves in their apartments, either. They came thinking this was an extra, federally-mandated vacation. They went to the beach. To bars. Spreading the disease. ¨I'm not sick, though.¨ Sure, maybe not now. But after being exposed to the virus for days, you really don't think you caught it? Even without symptoms you can be carrying it, infecting others around you. It's infuriating, really. Irresponsible and selfish! This is especially harsh in Galicia where there is a very large elderly population. While young people are more likely to live it like a common flu, the elderly are who's most likely to end up in the hospital or dead. Why didn't they just shut down the virus hot-spot immediately, like in Italy and China?!

So while the measures of confinement are all a step in the right direction, I'm afraid it's too little, too late. And if you're reading this from the USA, the same goes. We are just a few days ahead of you in terms of spreading. But if the government isn't going to take action, the best you can do is quarantine yourselves. I, for one, will try to take advantage of this time as I said, by reading and writing about fun, less apocalyptic experiences. 

Sources in Galician about Madrileños in Galicia: Nós Diario Nós Diario 2

Flour, Fun, and Fulións in Viana do Bolo's Carnival

My favorite festival of the year has come and gone. Farewell, Carnival! Ata o ano que vén! The sardine (or parrot, depending on the locale) has been burned, symbolizing the end of Entroido shenanigans and the beginning of somber lent. Or the start of spring. As I've mentioned before, Galicia alone has tons of different Entroido/Carnival traditions and characters. (See the ¨carnival¨ tag). In and around the province of Ourense, every village seems to have its own unique way of celebrating. This year I got to experience Entroido in two new villages: Viana do Bolo and Salcedo.

In front of the different Cigarrón masks

On the Saturday of Entroido, I headed out in search of Galician Carnival traditions with two ¨homesick¨ Brazilians. They were both used to the wild, colorful Carnival of Brazil--but more specifically to the heat. ¨Think of a warm costume,¨ I warned them. Because unlike in their homeland where Carnival is spent nearly-naked because of the heat, in Galician towns the nighttime temps would drop to freezing. We stopped briefly in Verín, a bigger town I had been to before for Carnival. We stayed to see the initiation of the new cigarróns. It was mostly little boys, but there was also someone my age being ¨baptized¨ as this traditional Carnival character of Verín.

We got to Viana do Bolo by sundown. We had been informed by people who had gone in years past that unlike in Laza, here you have to bring your own flour. We forgot. Oops. The hostel we stayed in was just a short walk from the village center. As we got closer to the main plaza, we could hear the steady beat of drums. Very ominous. In the plaza, the ground was covered with white powder. A handful of kids were chasing each other around with bags of flour. Some adults participated as well, but the majority of them were either in the drum band or dancing to the drum music.

Note the ground was white

As the night went on, we were educated on the flour traditions of Viana do Bolo. Here it's women versus men. And you can't merely throw flour all willy-nilly at people. With some flour in your hand, you have to swipe across the mouth/lower face of your victim. (Here I'd like to point out that this was before the Coronavirus scare. Touching people's faces did not seem like such a bad idea) Also, in theory you shouldn't go after people with really put together costumes. That must be why after wiping flour on a stranger, his friend commented, ¨And you even have a costume on!¨ Some of my Lugo friends happened to be there as well (and they came prepared with numerous kilos of flour) so it was extra fun. We spent over an hour in the main plaza, casually staking out people to flour. And of course, getting covered in flour ourselves. If you noticed someone coming at you beforehand, it normally ended in a chase. Viana's flour war was an absolute blast!

With some locals who explained ¨the rules¨ to me

And even with only 2,000 habitants, that night in Viana the party went all night long. There were plenty of visitors like us (probably not as many foreigners), but it wasn't overly crowded. The town must have half a dozen bars, some of which covered everything in plastic. Others had signs that said ¨NO THROWING FLOUR.¨ One wood-paneled bar was playing rock music all night long, which might have influenced in me getting to bed just before 7. Carnival, carnivaaal! ♫

Boteira saying, ¨The fulións are coming,
the fulións are coming!¨

Bloooood!

The next day at noon was the parade of Fulións. Fulións are marching bands of mostly bass drums, as well as some metal farm tools made into instruments. They're preceded by boteiras, colorful characters with elaborate headgear who get the crowd ready for the fulión to pass. Apparently every hamlet in the surrounding areas has its own fulión, because the pounding parade had no end in sight. Definitely not ideal for anyone hungover. Observing the bass drums, you could frequently see old brown stains on them. Or new, splattered red ones. Yes, despite using drumsticks, it is not uncommon for the drummers to have open wounds on their hands from drumming so long and hard. Ouch! I assume it's also sort of a point of pride, to demonstrate their dedication to participating in this Carnival tradition.

Stay tuned to a forthcoming entry about Salcedo's carnival traditions. Spoiler alert: there's a bear involved.

A Fonsagrada: The Highest Town in Galicia

Driving on a cloud, near Fonsagrada

December is underway with a ¨typical Spanish¨ long weekend. Well, it's always a long weekend for me, but this time everyone else was also off on Friday. So my traditional dance class buddy and I took advantage to check out Galicia's highest and most expansive region: A Fonsagrada. The name means ¨holy fountain.¨ It's a curvy one hour drive from Lugo, right on the border with Asturies. The proximity with Asturies is evident in the architecture and accent. While in the rest of Galicia, the suffix -iño/a is used to make something small (or cute), in A Fonsagrada and Asturies, they use -ín/-ina. (FYI: in Spanish -ito/a is normally used for the same purpose). The region also has Asturian-style hórreos. In the rest of Galicia these typical granaries are rectangular; the longer they are, the wealthier the family was. In A Fonsagrada and Asturies, however, they are a lot bigger and square.

A giant mouth harp!

The main reason we went to A Fonsagrada this weekend was the fifth-annual foliada taking place there. A foliada is an evening of traditional Galician music and dancing--and we were ready to practice! But first, I signed up for a mouth harp class. There are tons of variants of the mouth harp throughout the world. In Galicia, it's made of iron and steel. A Fonsagrada is well-known for them, probably because the region was always known for blacksmithing. Back in the day, a set of bagpipes could cost as much as a cow. So obviously, many families couldn't afford such a musical luxury. A cheaper alternative was the mouth harp. It doesn't have as many notes, but it's still entertaining for kids and adults. The introductory course only lasted a few hours, and after what seemed like forever I was finally able to make some noise with the mouth harp! Woohoo! The sound reminds me of Australian didgeridoos.

After the class, in the center of town bars were packed with musicians and dancers. After swaying to the music a bit, we went to the tent where the main concerts were taking place. There, people were listening to the music as well as dancing in small groups. Finally, time to practice! There was a group of older women who were also beginners so we danced with them. In Galician dance, you line up in two rows facing each other. Then one person picks a dance move, performs it, and the group copies. That's what's most difficult about dancing for me. Having to see it once and be able to make my legs do the same (specifically, mirroring my partner's movements). Of course there are a lot of people who have been dancing most of their life and it's impossible for a clumsy newbie to keep up. So it was great to practice with others who aren't such pros!

We gave it our all Friday night. But apparently, Friday was just a warm-up. Now we know for next year to save some our enthusiasm and stay for the whole weekend.

Back to Belgium

My first weekend trip alone was to Belgium five years ago. This year for Carnival, I went back to Belgium (and also the North of France) to visit the ¨in-laws. ¨One great thing about the region of Belgium/Netherlands/Northern France is that it's so small and flat, the train connects it quickly and efficiently. So from the airport we took a train to

Tournai / Doornik

Two names since in Belgium they speak French and Flemish. The highlight of this city bordering France was its huge plaza. It would be even bigger if they didn't use a fraction of it as a parking lot. Tournai also has a large cathedral and separate bell tower. We didn't go into either, but stopped to appreciate them from the outside. We found a second, smaller church with the symbol of the Camino de Santiago. Such a far ways from Galicia! Since there weren't many more sights to see, we stepped into a cozy pub. At first it was just us and what seemed to be a Brazilian resident with his parents visiting him in his new home across the ocean. I can relate to that! Then our Belgian Beer Tour began. By the time we ordered the second round, the place had filled. The other bartender/owner appeared from a door behind the bar (not from the main entrance) so I got the feeling the owners lived upstairs. She then proceeded to walk around to all of the tables to say good evening. She stopped and sat down at a few to chat with the regulars. I absolutely loved that! If I ever had a bar, I would strive to be that chummy with the regulars.

Reunited and it feels so good! 

We were killing time in Tournai, waiting for my cuñada to pick us up on her way home from work. Then surprise-- the whole family came to get us! Hooray! Apparently they go quite often to Tournai on Friday nights to hang out with other family friends. So on we went to meet the gang at another bar. The Belgian Beer Tour continued.

Lille
This big city has a few brick buildings mixed into its general fancy French architecture. We spent a good amount of our time there watching a live band play in a square. Our sobriño is future musical mastermind and never gets tired of seeing artists perform.

Ghent
Last time in Belgium, I went to the city famed for its fairy-tale appearance: Brugge. Obviously, it was pretty touristy, but I still enjoyed it. Truly though, Ghent knocked it out of the water! The architecture is just beautiful. I adore the dark brick style in Belgium and Holland. And despite there being plenty of fellow travelers (we heard a lot of Spanish speakers), it still seemed genuine. Our hostess had lived there for several years, so maybe that helped our experience.

Walking around Ghent was a treat. There was a cathedral and a few churches, not to mention bridges and canal walkways. We only went in one cathedral. No museums though. Which is why one day trip wasn't enough. I'll be eager to go back when we're in that region again.

The other highlight of Ghent was dining at Amadeus. I had been hearing about this restaurant for years. I'm not a huge carnivore, and also the fact that here in Galicia the famed ribs have NO BARBECUE SAUCE WHATSOEVER makes me even less interested. But at Amadeus they know how to do ribs right. They were covered in a delicious sauce. And don't even get me started on the baked potato! First of all, baked potatoes aren't a thing in Galicia. They love their potatoes in many ways, but boiled is king. The baked potato at Amadeus was doused in a finger-lickin' good sauce. Did I mention it was all-you-can-eat? It was like a little taste of home.

Dunkerque
Like in Galicia, Carnival is one big party in this harbor town in French Flanders (again, right by the border). Dunkerque has carnival traditions of its own: namely, long umbrellas. For the week of festivities, people dress in bright colors carrying small, colorful umbrellas on long poles. The day we went, the crowning moment was the throwing of herring. For whatever reason, the tradition here is to wait in the town square for them to throw salted fish (now in plastic wrapping). In the minutes before the clock chimes, excitement mounts. The crowd chants ¨LIBEREZ L'HARENG¨ (Free the fish! I could not help but crack up at this). It was then that I figured out why the long umbrellas. To catch some fish! (This isn't the real reason, but seems legit.) This year they threw 500 kilos of herring. And B-man caught one of them! Others slipped through everyone's hands and ended up on the ground. What, nobody wants a stepped-on fish?

Family Time
The reason for our visit was to visit our favorite emigrated galega, my sister-in-law, her husband, and our sobriño. He's two and a whole lot of action. I wouldn't say terrible twos. Well, actually, maybe. On Saturday morning I got to go to open swim with him and his mom. And then it hit me: this is why he doesn't care for the ocean when they come to Galicia in the summer. The pool water was so warm! Perfect for a chilly March morning. Again, I can relate to that!

One day we spent the afternoon babysitting. What could go wrong? Nothing went wrong, don't worry. In fact we even got out of the house and went for a walk. Inside we also enjoyed parading in circles with instruments for hours. That night though, we both fell asleep by 9:30 (probably around the same time our sobriño did).