The Dog Blog

I’m going to be honest, this is not some spontaneous, flippant post that I came up with a few nights ago and thought it might be funny. I knew I was going to write this after only a few hours on the dog-laden streets here, although I had no idea of the kind of scope it would eventually grow to. Due to the number of pictures and the fact that I’ve fallen behind on every aspect of blogging, it’s taken me much too long to actually publish this.

But with that said, this is the dog blog.

Simply put, the Spanish love their dogs. There are dogs everywhere; the sidewalks, parks, in cars, sitting outside restaurants and shops, and even in bars late at night. And it’s not just the amount of dogs that is astounding, but also the distinctiveness of the dogs here. This is a gross oversimplification, but I think the three largest varieties of dogs can be labeled “Small Sweatered”, "Strange coat", and “Big and Hairy”, although such categories are a little rigid. Nonetheless it'll help me keep this organized.

Over time I’ve been collecting pictures of my favorites, and although it was a painful process going through the pictures and weeding out certain dogs that didn’t make the cut, I managed to get the number down to thirty or so that I hope you really enjoy. I may give you a brief description of what my favorite attribute of the dog is and anything that the picture didn’t capture. So basically what I’m saying is if you need to go to the bathroom or grab something to eat, do it now.

Big and Hairy:

This guy's the same breed as my dog at home, but with crazy long hair:

This breed is everywhere. I call them the Spanish Bob Marley and I think with a little care, my hair would look pretty similar:

Another Bob, but this might be my favorite dog of them all:

However, this may be the overall best snap-shot. The timing with crowd movement could not have been any better. And the best part: the only one aware of my scheme is the dog, who is clearly looking right at me (Okay the guy to my left may be a bit suspicious):

Could this dog also be confused for the infamous "Bah Bah Blacksheep"? I think so:

From the angle this may look like your standard German-Shepherd, but what you can't see are the 4 inch fangs:

I remember this one well because the owner's hair looks exactly like the dog's:

If your basement floods here in Sevilla, they use this dog to sponge up the water:

Unfortunately, this is one of the down-sides to all the dogs:

I'm not sure if it's the same dog, but I think this guy may appear later wearing a sweater:

Eye contact, genital sniffing, and butt sniffing all at once? I'm not positive he's their leader but definately held in high esteem nonetheless:

And now, Strange Coat:

Probably not a very good angle but you can see it's a leopard-coated greyhound (although the shadow looks like a kangaroo):

This black and white dog wanted me dead:

I don't like this one at all but I'm sure he's nice enough:

Maybe the owner painted on those spots:

Another leopard dog:

This dog was literally the biggest dog I've ever seen:

A great segway because we get a dog with a great coat, but also this brings us to our smaller variety:

Small Sweatered

She must wear the pants in the relationship (and the sweater):

Sweatered French bulldog. She would be french:

A personal favorite of mine because I see her waiting patiently outside this shop about every day:

Here's a glimpse of the care people give their dogs around here. The woman is pouring her little sweatered dog a bowl of water (probably about 2 euros worth) right on the main street of Sevilla:

This one's just absurd:

And now we see a sweater with a fur collar...ironic:

I'm pretty sure I've seen Harrison Ford wearing this same jacket somewhere along the line:

Doggie raincoat:

And just a classic:

I'll end with this guy because he's the rare hybrid of a big and hairy but also sweatered canine. He might also be part lion:

You’re probably asking yourselves right now if walking the streets of Sevilla is like walking in a mine field, and my answer would be that at times, yes. But that’s only on a few rare occasions, and although it makes it much harder for dogs to decide where to pee, the streets are cleaned every night.

Nonetheless, this brings me to the dog that I live with; Baxter (or Buster…It’s hard to tell). My “brother” Santiago now has a 2 week old baby to take care of, and he’s used this excuse numerous times to neglect Baxter and his walking schedule. So I’ve taken to walking Baxter every other afternoon or so, and I felt it necessary to share with you how Baxter likes to take a walk.

Walking with Baxter is kind of what I’d imagine walking with a 4 year old might be; he requires constant attention, and although communication is hard, you know something serious is going on in his head. For Baxter, I think it is his plan to pee on every pee-spot in the neighborhood and anywhere else I take him. And sometimes I think he just likes to pee on anything at all. He pees on walls, trees, bushes, grassy patches, fire hydrants, sticks, a basketball, man-holes, and a couple cars when I wasn’t paying attention.

On our last walk I decided to see how many times he could pee on one walk. The total count was 59, and I had to cut him off because it was lunchtime. Try and think about how large a number that is. I can only hope, for his sake, that he doesn’t get the same stop and go burning feeling that we do.

My friend Baxter (I caught him at an awkward moment):

The fact that this is just one dogs work begs the question, “Does the city just smell like urine?” The answer is no, unless you’re a dog or maybe a very small child. These great dogs only add to the quaint narrow streets and statued fountains that make up Sevilla, and apart from some confused looks from owners that have caught me photographing their dog(s), it’s always a pleasure to see them out and enjoying the fresh air.

I have to end this blog with an American dog. Actually the American dog: Blue. If you’re reading this Blue, know that these dogs mean nothing to me and I’ll see you soon, brother.

Catching up...La Giralda and the Grand Cathedral

The most notable monument in Sevilla is most definitely the great cathedral and the adjoining tower, la giralda.

It’s another place that photos really can’t capture, and I’d recommend you google image it to get some great aerial views that will show you how big it is.

Originally, there was a great mosque on the same site, which was then adapted to Christianity in the 8^th century, when Christians took over Sevilla. There are still a few elements of the original mosque present such as the patio of the orange trees and the Giralda.

Here's a picture of the patio of orange trees. This is where Muslims would wash before entering the mosque.

In 1401, plans were made to destroy the current structure and build a new gothic cathedral, and the council had the goal that the church be “so big that all who see it will think we are mad”.

Construction began in 1517 with masons from Spain, France, and Germany, and although it would roughly finished by the turn of the 18^th century, it was added to up until the early years of the 20^th century. That’s a construction period of around 400 years.

And if the size wasn't enough, the extensively decorated interior will change your mind. There are over 50 large stained-glass windows, most of which have been redone numerous times due to the frequent earthquakes in Portugal. Here's a picture of one of the larger ones (although when the sun shines in it's tough to get perspective):

It's worth noting that for many, this would be a pretty great place to be laid to rest (I'd prefer a plot next to my lake at home where I've buried a few cats). Here's a picture of a famous Cardinal who died just before ascension to the Pope:

And I guess it's also worth noting that Cristobal Colon also rests inside this cathedral. For all you non-spanish speakers out there, that's Christopher Columbus! These remains have been heavily disputed in the past because both San Salvador and Madrid both claim to have Columbus' remains. Interestingly enough, DNA testing has proved that all three do in fact have Chris' remains (How they got the initial DNA to perform the test is a question beyond my grasp of the spanish language). This fact of course questions either the integrity of the DNA test, or the integrity of Columbus' family...or both. But anyway, here's his coffin:

The four pall bearers represent the kings of the four realms of Spain during Columbus' voyage, a couple of which carry staffs with crosses on the top and a Muslim image on the bottom, representing the triumph of Christianity that Columbus' voyage apparently brought. Say what you want about the man's beliefs, navigational prowess, and all the diseases his men brought to the New World, but don't think you wouldn't have done the same thing if you had his financial means and courage. If you wouldn't have made the trip, it certainly wouldn't have been out of a knowledge of the difference between European and Western hemisphere bacteria.

The size of this church is absolutely impossible to grasp, but here's a couple ceiling shots to give it a try...

In the middle photograph above, the door below is the main entrance to the cathedral, but is only opened for the King of Spain, or the Pope.

The organ in this place only sounds on special occasions, but from this picture you can tell it's big.

...and that's only half of it. There's an identical organ on the other side of the choir chamber. Each has over 30,000 individual tubes, and although it's automated now, required 3 men to play in the 16th-19th centuries.

In addition to everything else, the construction of this cathedral took place in the golden age of Europe and of Spain, and every one of Spain's greatest artists played some part in the art that adorns many walls of this cathedral. I feel so terrible that I can't remember their names, but that's the way it goes, and in fairness, wiki didn't know, either.

This is the most famous painting in the cathedral, depicting St. Anthony. It's difficult to see, but if you look closely around the figure of the kneeling St. Anthony, you can make out a line that goes all the way along. This is because in the early 20th century, robbers broke into the church, cut out the man from the painting, and sold it on the black market. The figure made his way back onto the grid and was bought by an American. But when he was contacted by the church who had located its whereabouts, he immediately gave it back (go America), and luckily, St. Anthony made his way back home. In such a strange series of events it's a wonder that he wasn't lost for good! In that case it's a good thing St. Anthony happens to be the saint of lost items. Seriously.

With a tour of the grounds and inside complete, we headed up the tower, La Giralda, which is by far the most notable site in all of Sevilla. It is the first thing you notice no matter what road or path you take into the city.

Walking up the Giralda, I was extremely surprised to find that there are no stairs.

This is so that horses could make their way up to the top. Why? That's a question that escapes me, unless it was just the laziness of their riders. (In their fairness, the tower is around 30 stories high).

The tower is still a functional bell-tower, which we experienced first-hand when the clock struct 2pm. Thank my stars it wasn't 11.

Here are some photos I took from the top:

My favorite street in Sevilla, Padre Merez^

The Real Alcazar, or royal fortress, which I discussed in an earlier blog but will be returning to sometime.

Here's La Iglesia Santa Cruz, which I pass everyday on the way to class^

And the Arena de los Toros, pretty self-explanatory but bull-fighting doesn't start for a month or so.

And just another view of the Cathedral and the top of the Patio of Orange Trees.

Carnival

I have absolutely no idea how to start this post, so I'll start it with a picture:

This is a post about the festival of Carnival, which takes place on the coast in Cadiz, Spain and lasts for a week. To put it simply; it is the biggest party imagineable. There’s no way that I could describe the atmosphere of this party, and because it’s pretty wild, I only brought my phone for pictures, and didn’t do a terribly good job of documenting it all.

I guess it just makes sense to start at the beginning:

Carnival involves costumes, and because Mark and I are quickly realizing the expenses of European living, we wanted to get costumes at the lowest possible price. Our new friends gave us the idea to go as sudoku, but we expanded it a little with Mark being a sudoku and me a word search. I’m not going to lie, our costumes were pretty basic, and when we got to the train station and saw all the crazy costumes people had, we were sure that we would be the duds of the party.

We basically came straight home from Aracena, ate, and headed for the train station, but unfortunately we missed our train. Luckily we got tickets for the next train at no extra charge, and headed for our gate. We had four bottles of beer in my backpack to save us from paying as much at Carnival, but to our dismay, it was illegal to take them on the train. So Mark and I, now minutes from missing a second train, but not wanting to waste 4 liters of beer, start chugging outside the gate, trash most of it, and run to get our train. Turns out the security was completely on the honors system, and we wouldn’t have had any problems. But with that said, I’m proud that we can say we honored the honor system.

Now, we had heard that the party actually begins on the train, and I had grand ideas about loud music, chanting and singing that I couldn’t understand, and a myriad of new spanish friends taking us in their arms and embracing us as their own. The train was actually just a normal ride, and aside from a few hooligans up front, was largely uneventful.

Getting off the train, we donned our costumes and followed the masses forward. It didn’t take long to find out something we didn’t see coming; everyone loved our costumes! (Moreso the sudoku, although I did have a lot of people come up and search me.) I can’t tell you how many times people would shout at us, “Sudoku!” or “Que buena”, and it kept up all night long. We were a hit.

It was pretty easy to find the party, because it’s absolutely enormous. There was literally a parade of people banging drums and everyone was chanting. We walked around and tried to see everything, and then reserved ourselves to the fact that it would be impossible. To say that we were a little over-stimulated at first would be a big understatement. There were people swinging from lampposts, dancing on scaffolding, and the costumes were so outrageous. One thing I wasn’t fond of was the fact that the men really liked to dress as women, and many took it way too far. Maybe the craziest thing was that in this chaos, there were actually a few families with children walking around!

I imagine this is the kind of place that was awesome for me now, but also a place I will never let my daughter(s) visit. It’s great, but there are some serious logistical issues like lack of restrooms (both sexes just used the alleyways, which had no drainage…you can imagine), and I found myself wondering, “Does the government know about this?”

To many of you, the rest of this probably won’t be too exciting because we got there at 10pm, I left at 8:30am, and in between you could say that pretty much I just stood around and talked to people. But it was a lot more than that.

I joined a crew of Spaniards on some scaffolding for a few chants, where I realized the main chant pretty much just said over and over again, “Alcohol”. And honestly, it was a pretty fitting chant for Carnival.

I met so many people, many of whom just loved our costumes and came up to talk to us. I wish I wouldn’t worn a head cam because some of these people were just absolutely ridiculous. There were a lot of hippies, cross-dressers, policemen, strippers (by my best guess), and a lot of bright colors.

This was some sort of chorus line that was broadcast on Spain's major tv station.

I met a lot of university students, and to my surprise got a lot of phone numbers, which in my opinion, makes them new friends. The biggest problem I realized this morning was that the party was so loud and my spanish ears so bad, I doubt a single name in my phone is correct. And there are about 4 numbers in my phone that I didn’t bother putting a name with. Friends nonetheless I say!

Early on, Mark and I actually were found by our Mizzou friends, which is pretty crazy in a crowd of a few hundred thousand, and we ran into other Americans off and on throughout the night.

Here’s a list of some other characters that I talked to last night:

A Spaniard deploying to Afghanistan in 2 weeks

An Irish couple that were drinking something along the lines of liquid fire

The drumline

A group of girls from Madrid dressed up as people from “Grease”

A clown who was the first to find all the words on my costume

And there were a few groups of Spaniards that I actually followed around for a while. It was with one of these groups where I lost Mark, or he lost me. I can tell from my text log that this was at 4am, which means we actually stayed together pretty well, even though we did in the end violate the buddy system.

There was one group of young people I was hanging out with, and I don’t want to toot my own horn but I’m pretty sure one of the girls named Rosa was pretty into me. At least it seemed that way at the time. I could understand her really well and she was very smart. I’m not sure how we got separated but it caused a wound that will probably take some time to heal.

That's Rosa in the center of the picture (blackest outfit)^

I was worried I wouldn’t have the energy to make it through the whole night beforehand, but to my surprise, the night passed much too quickly. Towards the early morning, I literally just wandered around for a long time, and when I regained functional consciousness and realized that I was in charge of getting myself home, it was 8am, and I was informed by a very polite man at the ticket window that unfortunately I would be unable to board the train home…mostly because I was at the bus station…but also because my train home was scheduled to leave at 6:45am, a fact that I had absolutely no concern for until that moment at the bus station.

Luckily, it turned out that the workers at the train station were eager to send me on my merry way, on the very next train. In hindsight, I bet everyone over the age of 40 who lives in Cadiz can’t wait for all the ridiculous adolescents to leave their beloved home.

As soon as I sat down on the train, I was asleep, and the kind of sleep that hurts burns your eyes to wake up from. However two girls, Claudia and Magdalena, must’ve been able to tell I was in the perfect mood to meet them, and they woke me up. They turned out to be very nice and great company on the train, and the fact that they were so friendly can only make me believe that Spaniards really are just a generally nice and happy bunch, or…these girls were probably 16. But because they woke me up, I got to see the sun rise, which in my mind put the seal on an unforgettable night.

I did realize in the middle of conversation that Mark was not with me, and although he was fine, and actually left on the train before we were scheduled to leave, I could only play in my mind a million tragic situations that could have befallen my sudoku friend.

I got back to Sevilla at 10:40, and although I knew the station was a very long walk from home, I opted not to take a cab. This would prove to be a very bad decision. First of all, I was disheveled, smelly, exhausted, and without a map; not a great foundation for wandering.

But wander I did, and although there were moments were I’d see a landmark and think to myself, “I know exactly where I’m going”, after a half hour I looked up and saw that I was walking toward the train station. Naturally I turned back around and forged on. After another half hour I was back at the train station for the second time, and although this should have been a slap in the face saying, “Get a cab, you idiot”, I took it moreso as a challenge to my manhood, intelligence, and nationality, and I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I can’t say that my journey from there got much better.

At one point, I asked a man washing his car where my neighborhood Triana is, and he looked up at me and told me very clearly that I couldn’t get there on foot. And when he realized that on foot it would be, he got that look in his eyes where I could see he’s deciding if he needs to bring me into his house to eat, shower, and get some water before my impending doom. He did point me in the right direction and wish me good luck, and after an hour and a half or so, largely spent trying to get a hold of Mark, I arrived at my apartment. Towards the end of my journey, there was a marathon happening on the street, and I was passed by a man who wore the scars of double knee replacement, and so old he could probably tell me what Ferdinand and Isabella were like. It was more than a little demoralizing, but I was motivated by the song “Eye of the Tiger”, which was playing in the background. Turns out after looking at a map, I had every right to be moving at a slow clip because by conservative estimates I walked at least 10 miles.

My foray home took me around 3.5 hours, and it wasn’t until a little after 1:30 that I collapsed onto my bed. When I woke up, I went through my backpack and found this...half of my costume that I salvaged out of the haze and chaos of the night.

Overall, Carnival was absolutely incredible and so much fun. I would love to do it again, but I think it would literally be dangerous to your health to do it more than one night a year.

PS- Since I wrote this on Valentine’s day, this post is dedicated to Rosa…

And sorry for typos.

Aracena

Saturday morning I went with on a program excursion to the town of Aracena in the province of Huelva. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there were murmurs of some very impressive caves. First we stopped at an enormous mine that is also the headwaters of a river. The river is called “el riot into” because it is red with all the clay that’s stirred up from the mine. This mine contains copper, sulfur, and something like “gozan”, which can supposedly be refined and used in commercial gold and silver. Our guide said the people of the region thought the water to have healing powers and keep you young, but unfortunately now there is so many different particles dissolved in the water that if consumed now, it would kill you. But NASA did go to this very lake and do some tests to see if the water might be similar to water that could be on Mars, and see if it could support life.

After the mine, we headed to Aracena, and started off with a couple hours of free time to have lunch and explore the city. Aracena is known for its pastries and ham, taken separately that is. After hearing this, Mark and I decided it was a place for us and resolved to spend every minute of free time eating pastries.

However a stroke of luck hit us and a couple guys (Joe and Tom) told us we should climb up the little mountain with them that sits above the town. They said they saw something up there that “looked neat”. Although I like pastries, I really like adventure, so we decided the sweets could wait.

It wasn’t a very difficult or far way up the mountain, but once we got high enough we could see that on the top were ruins of something that I’m guessing were once a lookout for the town. It was an incredibly great idea to go up there because the views from the top were absolutely great, and we got to see the town’s first church, which also sits on top of the mountain. From the top, you can see that literally every building in the entire town is white with a red roof, making Aracena perfectly fit my preconceived images of Mediterranean cities. It’s great to have moments like this where you realize just how close you always are to something adventurous and out of the ordinary if you only look around.

It's not much of a feat considering the stones basically form a ladder, but I did climb up this fortress wall.

After we headed down the mountain, we deserved some pastries, and pastries we had. I only took one (dark) picture, but I had a lot more than you can see, and we basically had to drag Mark out of this place.

Walking through the streets, it became evident that Aracena loves ham. There are designs everywhere of a flag that is a strip of ham with fat in the middle, and they actually have a ham museum. Unfortunately, I didn’t try any ham, but did manage to get a photo that gives you an idea of the importance of ham in Aracena. This statue is right out in front of their town hall.

The Aracena town square^^^

Although our trip up the mountain was great, what turned out to be underneath that mountain was breathtaking. Aracena has a cave system called “The Cave of Marvels, and the name could not be more accurate. I felt like I was a character in the caves edition of “Planet Earth”. There are big caverns and enormous stalactites and stalagmites, and large pools of the clearest water I’ve ever seen. I would’ve taken a hundred pictures for you (…me), but no photography is allowed in any area of the cave. I did pull a few pictures off google that will give you an idea.

Aracena overall was great, and after a nap on the bus ride home, I was excited for the evening that lay ahead at the festival Carnival in Cadiz. The night would not disappoint.

One last look at our mountain from town^

And a glimpse of the picturesque drainage Aracena boasts^

Making Friends

I’ve wrapped up my first week of classes at the University of Sevilla and I already can’t believe how fast the time is going by. I really like all my classes and I think it will definitely be challenging, but not terribly hard. My history class is really interesting but very hard to follow at times because the professor doesn’t use the chalkboard much and speaks the non-dumbed down version of spanish. I think it was a little overwhelming for some because Monday the class had about 30 students and Wednesday we were down to 18. My writing class is great and the professor pretty much just wants us to learn conversational spanish and eliminate the repetitive mistakes that he sees in our writing. We start every day with a riddle.

Example: Every day when Manuelito comes home from school, he takes the elevator up to the fourth floor of his apartment building, where he gets off and takes the stairs up to the eighth floor, where he lives. That is, unless it’s raining. If it’s raining he always takes the elevator straight up all the way. Why? Answer in the next post…

I have no idea what to expect from my literature class because my professor literally writes out every word of our notes on the blackboard, and speaks very clearly. However our reading list is made up of 5 books of plays, stories, and two novels. This was a little daunting for me when I’ve never completed an entire book in spanish.

My anthropology class is my favorite because the professor finds a way to help us understand the big concepts that are often lost in the language barrier…and he uses powerpoint. Trivia: Did you know Ferdinand and Isabel were first cousins who decided to marry at a time when all royal marriages had to be given the Pope’s consent. Thus, they forged his signature on their marriage document.

Even though I’m pleased with my classes, it’s a great feeling to walk out of class on a Thursday at 1pm knowing you won’t be back in class until 11am Monday morning. And I’m not the only person who was in a great mood because as I was walking around taking pictures of the sunset there were hundreds of people just enjoying the day. I went to a little park where I randomly found my Mizzou friends, who were surprised to see me. (You can see it from the picture I snapped.)

And here are some sunset pictures that I think look great over the river. I think I’ll go to that spot many more times this semester.

Thursday night was spent down by the river hanging out, and I decided that although it was good to get to know some Americans over here, my friend Mark and I had an opportunity to cement a friendship with Spaniards. We met four guys studying engineering last week and they seemed really cool, and I got the vibe that our presence wasn’t terribly unbearable for them. Despite the initial awkwardness of asking a guy for his number, I got Carlos’ phone number and told him I’d give him a call soon.

The initial thrill of meeting these guys eventually brought the realization that I needed to follow up on it and see if they might actually allow us to hang out with them again. So Thursday night I texted Carlos, and was very happy when he 1) responded, and 2) invited our group to join theirs.

We walk everywhere here and by the time we corralled the troops and headed for Bar Alfalfa, Carlos, Alex, and Danny had gone to a plaza area called Alameda de Hercules. It ended up getting later in the night and after trying to convince some friends to go find these guys with me (I had and still have no idea where Alameda is), I started to worry that I had missed out on rare opportunity to make friends. And then the unthinkable happened: Carlos called me and asked if we were close. I told him we were still at Alfalfa and didn’t know how to get there, and we reached that key point in time where most people would give it the “Okay well let’s meet up another time”, which really means, “I’ve got a lot of friends so you’ve gotta make the effort here, buddy”. But, Carlos asked where we were, and then 15 minutes later found us. They stayed for about an hour and then left because they had class at 9am the next morning. This means that when they could have just gone home and slept for about 5 hours before class, they went out of their way to find us.

It sounds weird typing this, and I’m sure some of you are wondering where this is going, but it was so awesome to see those guys walking up the street because it means that they actually want to hang out with us, which in my book makes them my friends. They told me to call them Saturday night in Cadiz (a beachtown), when we go to the festival Carnival. I wanted to jump up and down because I’ve got my first spanish friends.

I should add that the night did take a bit of an unexpected and downward turn when we wandered into what became clear to be a gay/lesbian bar, but it was nothing that a little churros couldn’t cure.

Mark loves Churros too.