for the grandmas

I'm finally able to post some pictures of what most would consider the "classic" Spain. I went to La Silla de Felipe II and La Escorial yesterday with my mom, dad, and brother. It's still gorgeous weather in Spain, despite the fact it's "autumn". The best way to describe the autumn here is with a Spanish word-- "precioso" which literally means "cute" but can be interpreted as precious and untouchable. I sort of miss the changing colors of the Minnesota forests, but a break from the cold is much appreciated. The trees are changing slightly but nothing compared to the vibrance back home.

La Silla de Felipe II literally means "The Seat of Felipe II" and is the place where the famous king sat down over his newly claimed kingdom and determined where everything would be placed and declared it his own land. Looking over the land as he did, it was easy to appreciate the immense history of this country, it's age dwarves that of the U.S. There are letters carved into the seat where the king sat marking it as his territory, I sat upon that very throne which overlooks the historic La Escorial chapel and palace and listened to my host father explain all the wonders of what I was looking at, nodding attentively, and actually understanding the majority of it. This was, in itself, a wonder and made me appreciate all the small wonders of everyday living.

We proceeded from La Silla to La Escorial Palace and Chapel, which doesn't sound familiar when you first hear it, but the images should strike a chord. The chords rang rampant throughout the famous church, as we entered during one of the masses and stayed for the duration. It was everything that a Spanish service should be, there was a chanting of the Word with three priests dressed all in green and white. There were attendants and bell ringing and a collection which included a man straight out of Dan Brown's Angels and Demons walking up and down the pews collecting euros. The most incredible part of the mass for me was the singing of the choir and the organ playing. The voices were almost surreal and echoing throughout the giant structure as if they were singing to God and no one else, despite your religious beliefs, their conviction and their chords intermingling with the brassy confidence of the organ once again made it obvious to me how irrelevant language barriers can be. I found out later that the choir was made up entirely of young boys as they later trapsed by punching each other and stepping on one another's robes, which made entirely it's own statement about belief, innocence, and the untouchable wonder that surrounded me.

I couldn't take pictures in the church because it was a Sunday and there was a mass going on-- but this is a picture of the entrance to the church, you can see the saints lining the entrance above, it reminded me of my Grandma Colleen and attending Catholic services ever so often when I was younger, images of my Grandma Roma and her rosaries drifted through my mind as well; it's incredible what can remind you of home in a place that couldn't be farther from it. I was promised that we would return to the quaint town of La Escorial and it's curved, winding, cobblestone streets so that I could take pictures of the inside of the church, so the explination of the sanctuary will have to wait until then, because it literally cannot be described in words.

We moved from the church to the other aspects of La Escorial, including the enormous palace and servants quarters attached. The gardens reminded me of my Grandma Jan in her infinite love for all things flora, they sharply contrasted the rigid architecture of La Escorial, somehow enhancing it's enchantment-- even in a history riddled with oppression and occupations, Spain has forever maintained it's grace in certain aspects, without a doubt in the pure beauty of it's land and it's people. The car ride home was sleepy and content, which could have been due in part to the fiestas that took place the night before and on Friday night. I'm finding my balance in between social life and my responsibilities and family time; though I have to give a lot of the credit for that to my wonderful host family. Bea has provided all sorts of opportunities I'd never have had, my host parents are loving and understanding, and Jacobo forever will have a place in my heart. I can't express enough how lucky I feel to have found my niche, because let's be honest, a lot of this program and a person's success within it is based on luck. And I really, truly hit the jackpot, folks. I wrapped up my Sunday night (and my fourth week, as the calenders here start on Monday) watching Crepusculo-- Twilight-- after a delicious Sunday meal filled with teasing and loving. Bea starts University today; as I've mentioned, kids in college live at home here in Spain, so I'll still see her on weekends but she has class every day from 3-10, meaning our time to hang out on the weekdays will be limited. Fortunately, I've made other connections at school and in the town with friends and there are a lot of exchange students in Madrid or the immediate surrounding areas, so if my brain ever needs a little vacation from this vacation, I know I can always call them. Que Buena Suerte Mis Amigos, what good luck my friends, to have been blessed with this adventure and these people. I'm only about a month in and it's already difficult for me to think about leaving these loved ones and this home. And at this point, I love, above all, that I feel comfortable enough to really call this my home. Thank you Rotary, thank you to everyone at home for your encouragement, and thank you thank you Spain.

Besitos, Sami