In Which I Am Mildly Obsessed With Fall Colors

One of the things I really missed while I was living in Spain was experiencing four distinct seasons a year. Everywhere I lived, there seemed to be only two seasons--summer and winter, with hardly a buffer in-between. And while spring and fall did exist there, I never noticed them as much as I did when living in the United States. I think part of missing fall had to do with the absence of leaves turning--in Spain, many trees are trimmed of leaves before they have a chance to fall, so I didn't get to experience those bright reds, oranges and yellows that I craved.

Have I mentioned yet how much I love bright colors? I mean, I know I'm not the only one to get excited about the leaves turning and it being FALL and PUMPKINS etc etc. But I think my interest in pretty autumn leaves may be slightly beyond that of a normal person...i.e. in the past few weeks I've gone on multiple bike rides PER WEEK out into the countryside with the express purpose of photographing fall leaves. And while this is really great for my physique, I fear that it may also be bordering on mild obsession.

But hey, instead of putting it that way let's just say that I'm gaining a passion for bike riding and photography! And while I ignore the fact that there is at least one person I can think of out there picturing me almost swerving into traffic and swearing at cars in French because I was a typical gas-guzzling American who hated sustainability and exercise and hadn't ridden a bike since I was 10 years old was unused to biking as a serious means of transportation, let's check out some of the photos I was so excited about taking!

Luckily, we've had quite the Indian summer this year, so I had a lot of sunny days to go out on my bike. As I write this, we're in the middle of a week of weather in the 70's F (mid-20's C) in November, which is insane for this part of the country. When I was a kid, we always used to have to go trick-or-treating in snowpants! I came back here to get to experience seasons again, and I am confused. What is happening to the fall chilliness? El Niño and global warming, I'm looking at you! I guess I'm not complaining, due to weirdly being now more used to crazy heat than crazy cold due to my time in Madrid, but still...this is strange. 

Also luckily, there is a nice bike trail that runs near my house, so going out involves neither dangerous traffic nor swearing! I have to say, I'm immensely grateful for that, because I am still not the steadiest person on a bike. Let's just say that trying to take pictures of leaves while still riding was not my brightest idea ever. #fail

And in case you're wondering, no, none of the photos featured here are my taking-photos-while-riding-and-almost-falling-off-my-bike-into-a-ravine ones. I'll just keep the atrociousness of those photos to myself, thank you very much! I have learned my lesson--first stop the bike, then take pictures.

Another thing I have to say I'm happy about is to even have access to a bike again, after so many years with only my own two feet as my main means of transport (even if my awkwardness+a bike is just a recipe for disaster). It's kind of crazy how excited I get about little things like having my very own bike to go places with, but I marvel at just how much further I can get in such a short amount of time on a bicycle. Silly? Yes. But still true. 

The last of the pretty leaves are just about to fall off the trees, so soon my commute to work in the morning will be that much less interesting, AND I'll have one less excuse to get out and exercise (as if freezing temperatures, snow, and the sun setting by 5 pm weren't reasons enough to stay inside getting fat all winter long). If you couldn't tell, I'm feeling rather sad that autumn is on its way out and winter is knocking at our doors. I haven't had a real winter in over 4 years, and I'm just sliiiightly apprehensive about once again dealing with ice and snow and temperatures of -25ºC (-10ºF). And did I mention living in near-constant darkness due to the sun setting so early? Damn you, daylight savings time!

It looks like today was probably the last "nice" day of the year, so I've got to get used to more grey skies and try to get myself amped up about the nice things about winter (that I actually do love), like snow angels and sledding and snowboarding and ice skating. I've just been spoiled by these nice temperatures, and did I say already that I'm not used to the cold anymore? Even on these 70ºF (20ºC) days, I have this compulsion to wear a light jacket, and my fellow Americans think I'm nuts. Maybe I've been around Spanish people too long and feel that I must dress for the season rather than the actual weather? Or maybe I'm just paranoid about getting cold since it happens to me so easily. Clearly, this bodes well for the winter ahead.

Whatever my issue is, get used to the cold and dark and ice and snow I must, and so I will (try)! 

But that doesn't mean that I can't return to look at these pretty fall photos every once in awhile to remind myself of beautiful bright-colored leaves seen on sunny days from my precarious perch atop my bike.

¡Feliz otoño a todos!

Photo Post: A Very Spanish Field Trip

This past week, I went on quite possibly the best field trip of my life. There was some stiff competition, since last year I got invited to go with my 15-year-old French students for a day to Jersey, a British island off the coast of France, which was pretty darn cool. But this year, I went on a three-day trip with my 10-year-olds to the school "farm" (in reality more like summer camp). That doesn't sound that cool, I guess, just saying it like that, but it was honestly so nice.

 I think just on the merits of food alone, this year's field trip was the winner by far...not that British food is hard to beat.

My god, look at all that food porn. Seriously, I was served amazing four-course meals made by a Michelin-star-level chef three times a day. I was stuffed until I literally could not move.

Luckily, that was fine, since my duties consisted of nothing more strenuous than taking walks around the camp to see how the kids were doing ziplining and rock climbing with their counselors, talking down a girl who was a little homesick, and dancing like an idiot with my students at the camp "disco."

Working hard holding a bunny for kids to pet...

Checking out a sheep eating some hay off his brother's back...

Other than that, I took naps, read a book for fun, and worked on my thesis. Such a difficult life! But I'd really needed a little time off to get some perspective on the fact that in just over a month, I'll have my master's degree and I'll be unemployed. Until then, it's full steam ahead!

An Argument for Places With Bad Weather

Bilbao

This past weekend, I was taking a more-than-slightly damp walk through El Retiro in Madrid with a fellow former assistant teacher who was in Galicia at the same time as me. As we squished along, we started reminiscing about the rain in my favorite community in Spain. As I know very well by now, the rain in Spain does NOT fall mainly on the plain! The rain in Galicia was a constant companion, and I came to find its presence more comforting than anything else. The big rainstorm here on Saturday was one of only a handful since I arrived in this desert last August, and it made me think about how I really miss chilly, cloudy days.

I know people think I'm strange for saying this, but I love places with bad weather. I can't tell you how many arguments I've had with people who've tried to insult the various places I've lived in my life (which, with the exception of Alcalá de Henares, are all known for their not-so-stellar weather). They ask why I wouldn't want to live somewhere like the south, where there is sun and heat and beaches. And I say, "Bleh."

Why? Well, first of all, I hate hot weather. Anything above about 25˚C (77˚F) is too hot for me and makes me super uncomfortable. But if that weren't enough, I have all kinds of reasons I like bad weather. Some of them are superficial, like the fact that I think winter clothes are cute, and that I like winter sports better than summer ones. 

I was a figure skater for 15 years, after all...

However, I also have more philosophical reasons, things that I think touch on the core of my personality type. 

Everywhere I've ever lived (Spain, France, the USA), people have told me about their theories that people from the South are very open to strangers but that they're also kind of fake, and people from the North are difficult, cold and unfriendly at first, but once you make your way into their hearts, you'll be friends forever. Is this true? I can't say for certain, although my confirmation bias and the fact that I am a born-and-bred northerner says YES, 100%. 

What I do think is true about the people from these northerly latitudes is that they are forced to be more resilient. When it rains every day for 6 months, you don't whine about it, you just get boots and an umbrella and go about your business anyway. When your car is buried in a snow avalanche, you shovel it out as best you can and drive much more carefully to work. Little things like weather don't get these people down! 

Maine

And when you're used to bad weather, you don't complain about it so much. It's a fact of life, not something to mope about! And in fact, there is a great deal of beauty to be found in stormy weather, which you only begin to notice when you're exposed to it repeatedly, day after day. 

Maine

For me, at least, there are few things more magical than a blanket of snow over a field, like an empty canvas waiting to be filled in, or trees painted white by frost. Both of the places I've lived in the USA are great winter wonderlands, and I loved them for it.

Illinois

I am equally enchanted by fog rolling over green hillsides, creating an air of mystery and romance. Fog patterns were a topic I became intimately familiar with in my two years in Galicia, and I loved going through foggy forests, then climbing the mountains to see the mist from above. 

Cañones do Sil, Galicia

Bad weather on the ocean can also be breathtaking. One of the most amazing moments in my life was watching the grandes vagues (big tides) come into St. Malo. The storm created quite a show, and I've rarely felt so much reverence for the awesomeness of the natural world around me as when the ocean soaked me from head to foot and then broke in the windows of the restaurant where I'd been! 

St. Malo, Brittany

I'm either a very moody romantic or Mary Mary quite contrary, but I like being forced to sit inside wrapped in a blanket with a steaming hot tea on a cold rainy/snowy day. I actually feel guilty when the weather is too good, because I don't like being outside all the time, especially not in the heat and sunshine! Sometimes I'd rather appreciate the beauty of raindrops winding their way down my windowsill. I also enjoy falling asleep to the pounding of raindrops on my roof. There are few things more soothing!

Vigo, Galicia

Lots of precipitation has another plus, which is that it turns everything it touches a vibrant shade of green. No, really! I swear, the plants in Galicia are on another level compared with those in other places I've lived. That was good, because when I did feel like going outside and appreciating nature, it was really worth my while! 

Near Santiago, Galicia

And when you're used to bad weather, you're more able to handle it when you encounter rainy or snowy skies on your travels. You know exactly what to do to keep yourself safe and happy when you need to, because you know all the tricks to living in a place with difficult weather. It never takes you by surprise, like it might for those people used to perpetually warm sunny days!

Near Edinburgh, Scotland

Lisbon, Portugal

Clouds also create an awesome backdrop for photos, since they make the rest of the colors pop so much. I like going out and taking photos on yucky days because the moody clouds look so pretty!

Near where I lived in St. Malo, Brittany

Gorgeously moody skies in Bilbao, Spain

I also think that going through lots of bad weather really makes you appreciate the good weather more when it does come. I remember when I was studying in Maine, every year the first day that all the snow had melted off the university mall and it was above 40˚F (5˚C) about three-quarters of the campus was sitting outside studying or playing frisbee. What would be considered end-of-the-world cold in other places was a cause for celebration in a place where two months before it was -30˚ (~F and C, how weird is that?) and we'd had a warning that if we stayed outside for more than ten minutes, we were at risk for frostbite. If every day were sunny and warm with perfect temperatures, you would never get to feel joy at the return of the sun in spring! 

It's so cheesy, but the bad weather makes you appreciate the rainbow that comes after so much more than if you saw one every single day. Or at least, that's what I think. 

Especially if it's a double rainbow, like this one in Liverpool, England!

So there you have it, I've pled the case for the greatness of bad weather! I know most of the world will never agree with me, and I'm sure I'll have arguments about this for years to come, but this is my opinion and I'm sticking to it! 

And you? Do you have more of a sunny disposition, or a moody cloudy one? 

Eu amo Galiza

For the first time this Easter holiday, I stayed in Spain. I've been working way too hard the past few months to plan a big elaborate vacation, and I found myself without any desire to travel. For someone like me, who normally thrives on voyaging as far and wide as possible, my dearth of desire definitely meant that I'd been doing too much. 

Still, I'd been a little bummed at the idea of spending my whole vacation sitting around Alcalá. I needed a break, albeit one simple to plan, and so I was happy when my Galician friend who lives in Madrid announced that she was going to go home to see her family for the week, and that I should come with her. 

Not one to wait to be asked twice if I want to go back for a visit to my favorite part of Spain, I jumped at the chance. We immediately booked a Blablacar (car sharing) for the next day, and I went home to get my things together. 

We had to be up bright and early the next morning to meet our fellow passengers, which meant that I spent much of the first part of the voyage dozing. But a few hours later, I woke up to the cry "Estamos en Galicia!!" 

I looked out the window to see that we were in those beautiful green mountains that I love so well, looking down on valleys full of toxo (toe-shoh) in bloom. 

Toxo

Toxo is a prickly plant that to me, represents Galicia. It happens to be the very first word that I learned in galego and didn't already know in Spanish (and I still don't know, or care to know, the translation in English). It's everywhere on the hillsides there, and most of the time it just looks snarly, but in the spring the toxo blooms, and all of the mountains erupt in yellow. Looking out the window at the toxo, I was suddenly transported back to my daily car trips to and from my work in A Cañiza, when I became intimate with the many species of plants on Galician hillsides, and when exactly each one of them is in bloom. When topics of conversation are short, and you have to share a car with the same people for an hour and a half every single day, you learn a lot about nature and the weather! 

Upon seeing the toxo on the hillsides, I suddenly had a feeling of being back home. This year in Spain, I've been fighting a feeling that this isn't where I belong. I felt deceived, because I thought that the love I'd once had for Spain had disappeared. But upon entering Galicia again, I remembered that it wasn't exactly Spain that I'd fallen in love with back in the day, but Galicia. It wasn't until I lived in Vigo that I felt like I could see myself staying where I was long-term. Vigo is the only city I've lived in, to date, that I have felt that way about, that I've really loved. 

So even though it was my friend's house and family that I was visiting, rather than my own, I had the distinct feeling that it was miña terra galega too. I know my Galician friends are laughing at my having written that, but it's the truth. From the moment I got out of the car in Ourense, I felt more at ease and relaxed than I have in months. 

Of course, it didn't hurt that the very first thing we did was visit Ourense's thermal hot springs, which was almost as pleasant on a sunny spring day as on a rainy winter one, although I did get slightly sunburnt. 

Next up was a walk in the woods near my friend's family farm with her little cousins, which also made me feel like I was back at home. My family has a farm out in the middle of nowhere too, and I spent a lot of time in my childhood taking walks in the woods, checking out the different plants and animals, so I could almost imagine that I was back with my own family, going on an adventure. 

When we got back to my friend's village, it was tapas time. Except our tapa of pulpo was nowhere near enough to satisfy my octopus craving, so we decided to order more. "Una media, o una entera?" my friend asked me. Ha! As if there were any doubt in my mind. We gobbled up our entire ración in less than ten minutes. Soooo good. 

The next day, after my first filling Galician meal, being urged by mothers, aunts, and grandmothers to eat máis, máis (more, more!) fish and soup for several hours, we headed off to Os Cañones do Sil (the Sil Canyons). I'd visited them before, in autumn a few years ago, and while the colors were less brilliant this time around, I still loved looking at the vineyards built into the hillsides. 

While the others took a dip in the river, I lay back and relaxed, softly humming "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" (by Otis Redding) to myself. Sometimes certain songs just FIT specific moments of your life, and for me right now, that one is it. 

In the next few days, we traversed Galicia diagonally, heading mostly through areas that were unknown to me, visiting things on a whim, in typical road trip fashion. 

Sometimes, when you have no particular destination in mind, you run into interesting things, like this graffiti by Gallegos who want independence from the rest of Spain. 

One of our detours was to Sobrado dos Monxes (an apparently famous monastery on the Camino de Santiago), which had one of the most beautiful façades I've ever seen. The details worked into the stone were just astounding, and I can't imagine how much time and effort that must have taken!

Finally, on the fourth day of our trip, I got to see the ocean again! Despite not having grown up near it, I'd lived near the ocean since 2007, up until this year, and my time in the desert in Alcalá has made me yearn for it. Something about the sound of the waves and the infiniteness of the water stretching out beyond the horizon tugs at my heartstrings. Maybe it's knowing that my family is on the other side of that ocean. Maybe it's the endless possibilities of places I could get to over that sea. Maybe it's the impossible numbers of creatures living in the water. Maybe it's how mysterious and unknown so much of the ocean is. Whatever it may be, I feel a pull towards the sea, so I felt good being near it again. 

We walked down to this little spot on the coast, and I crawled up those stairs on my hands and knees (yes, vertigo) to get to this point. I immediately grabbed the ladder for dear life, as the wind threatened to blow me off my feet and into the waves crashing below. Terrified? Just a bit. 

I feel like these pictures speak for themselves. What more could you wish for in life than a place like Galicia? It has crystal blue waters, lush green hillsides, blooming flowers, the nicest people you will ever meet, delicious and abundant and cheap food and it is relatively undiscovered by foreign tourists! Ain't nothing better than that. 

By the end of that day, all of my deep feelings for Galicia had come rushing back. There's a special word for the deep longing Galicians feel when they live away from the province and miss it. It's called morriña. Once again, my gallegos are going to laugh at me, but I genuinely think this is what I've been feeling. The rest of Spain just doesn't measure up to my beloved Galicia, it can't! I've gushed on and on before about my love for this corner of Spain, and that may never go away. 

I was excited to get to do one new thing this time around in Galicia. Since I'd never before stayed in Spain during Easter, I'd never gotten to see its famous processions. While these aren't generally as big of a thing in Galicia as in the south (say, Sevilla), in Ferrol they have some pretty famous ones, and I got to check them out. I was particularly impressed by the barefoot carriers of the Virgin. 

And, stereotypical American, I felt shocked by the men dressed in outfits that looked like they came from a KKK meeting. 

I only had a little more time to soak in all the oceany goodness that I could, so I spent it wandering along beaches as much as possible. Gee, I wonder why they call this part of A Coruña a costa da morte (the coast of death)??

I told my friends I planned on gaining 10 pounds of delicious Galician cooking during this trip, and I was not disappointed. Calamares, pimientos de padron, pulpo, caldo gallego, licor café, and so many other things. My Easter lunch consisted of goose barnacles and albariño with my friend's abuelos, and I could not have been happier about it!

Just before catching my Blablacar back to Madrid, I finally got to do one of those things that you intend to do for years while you live near a place, but never find a good moment for. There's this weird bridge in Ourense that I'd always meant to climb up and get a picture of, but I never did, so I was happy to finally get a chance during this trip!

Overall, my spring break voyage back to Galicia was just what I needed to feel rested and refreshed after a difficult few months. I'll probably never get over my morriña, wishing I could move back to Vigo, but as much as I might love it there, I have to accept that that ship has sailed, and it's time to move on to greener pastures...and perhaps come back to visit as often as my wallet allows me to!