A Coruña

Today is Thursday, June 26- Review of events- Took a taxi to the train station in SdC about 10 AM. We arrived in A Coruña about 11 AM. We met a nice father and daughter, Australians, who had walked the Camino down from France to San Sebastian. They found it very difficult and really did not recommend it. It took them five weeks. Donna and Lennie stated that they wanted to spend the day at the beach. We had a slight kerfuffle, as I walk pretty quickly even when I am trying to slow down. It was about a mile and a half to the beach, and Donna could see that I was primed to do one of my quick walks, but I had agreed to walk them to the beach, so I could know where they were.  With permission I launched myself on my walk. I wanted to take the walk around the peninsula. The wide beach was almost devoid of people. The low clouds as well as the chill in the air seemed to discourage swimming altogether. The wide walkway followed the beach and then rose with the cliffs. In the distance I saw the famous tower. I had heard about the tower of Hercules, a Roman lighthouse that had persisted through the ages.  As I came closer, the sight was more and more engaging, set out on a cliff, surrounded by trails. As I climbed the hill, I saw more and more visitors, some just hiking or exploring and some headed straight for the lighthouse.

The lighthouse itself was a reasonable 3 Euro to enter. The detailed exhibit elucidated the history of the tower, its phases as well as the numerous artifacts that archeologists had found. The most amazing, I thought, was the enormous carved stone with a large hole in the middle. It housed the fire for the light house as well as large polished mirror (not found) that intensified the light from the flame. The tower is about as high as the Campanili in Venice. Climbing the stone stairs was made easier by reading more about the tower on different levels. Also the tower was designed and built with very high arches inside to add to the strength of the tower, as well as using the minimum amount of stone- Roman engineering from 2000 years ago is truly amazing.  At the top was a beautiful windy view of the city.

Also the guidebook recommended a walk through the old part of the city as well as Bellas Artes, the art museum. The old part of the city was elusive, as I thought that I was walking in the correct direction. I suddenly ran across Bellas Artes purely by chance. It is a wonderful museum, neatly organized by rooms and time periods. I really enjoy the unusual and this museum had more than its share. I love to see extreme versions of heaven and hell.  There was a nineteenth century painting of the end of a battle and the two armies are facing each other with the dead in the background.  On the left a dashing man on a horse looks  apologetically at the leader on the other side. On the ground was an elderly well-dressed man who had been obviously held up in a turned over bearer with a seat. Most of the other army was either looking at the dead man or the dashing soldier.  Especially one who looked like a military leader in the front with a stunned and hurt look in his eyes- almost to say, “Why did you do this to him?” Another wounded soldier is being carried off and cursing the other side angrily.  The horse of the dashing man has a bit of blood on it, apparently hurt a bit in the fray.

Other paintings showed prominent and humble people from the Galician coast. Also the rocky coasts, mountains and country side were painted.   I could go on like this, but for your sake I won’t. I will try to remember to include some of the images.

There was at once a wonderful and horrifying exhibit of Goya’s etchings of war. Also there were some of bullfighting and cartoons that seemed to make fun of the bourgeoisie (if there were officially a bourgeoisie in the early nineteenth century). Those were really cartoons. If my Spanish were better, I would have gotten more of the jokes.

After leaving the museum I started finally to find parts of the old center of the town. Frankly I was disappointed. Probably the reason is that Santiago is such a preserved and beautiful medieval town, it would be hard to match.  I wanted to connect with Donna and Lennie again, as our parting was not uncivil, but a little edgy. Unless I did, it would be the last time I would see either of them until after my trip. I chose a restaurant purely because it had Internet service. It turned out it had all the worst features of a Galician restaurant. Don’t get me wrong. Galician food can be delicious, but it tends to lack vegetables. I had the experience last night when I ordered pickled sardines. Twelve pickled sardines came on a plate. That was all. Today I ordered grilled shrimp, and again 12 salty grilled whole shrimp and that is all- bread is extra- twelve Euro, a real rip off. But I had Internet, and I messaged Donna and sure enough I got a message back.  I saw the address on a napkin and she found it on the map.  They were  walking from the beach, so it took a bit of time and we finally met up.  Now for some reason in A Coruña all restaurants seem to close from 4 PM to 7:30 PM and this was just the time that they arrived. We could not get anything to eat there. We decided on taking the train to Santiago and having something to eat there.

I felt a little pressed for time, as my plane was supposed to leave at 9:40 PM, so I took a cab. As things go I could have walked to the airport. It is now 11 PM and no sign of a plane, only the words “DELAYED.”

The upshot of the delay was a 1 PM departure time- arriving in Barcelona at 2:15 AM. I finally crawled into my room on Calle Bruc at somewhere around 4 AM.

My X Rated Last Paragraph

Wednesday

Donna and Lennie decide they want to go to the market. This day they devote to shopping. I visit the modern Galician art museum. I find it a very disappointing use of space- not to discount the one artist that they exhibited.  I also visited the Museo de la Pobo Galgo house in the former Convent Igerxa de San Dominicos de Boneval (Dominican Nuns), the Galician people’s museum, really wonderful. They go into detail about old fishing techniques, farming, traditional dress, traditional music, ceramics, architecture, religion and of course music. Music is especially useful because they take apart each instrument and use the Galician word for that part. They do this also for just about every object used in the cultural areas mentioned about. Everything is fully and clearly illustrated. It is just what I like, learning with pictures.

Cano at 5 PM takes us to the peninsula. We see Jose and his wife and baby. He is a gaita maker and we see his gaitas as well as his took. We come in for a drink and a short snack of ox and pork sausage and a beer.  

 We stop at the Celtic ruins, Castro de Baroña.  Remarkable ruins in wonderful architecture of a people, the Galaeci, who lived on the coast about 2500 years ago. Gallaeci lived in castros, annular forts, with one or more concentric earthen or stony walls, with a trench in front of each one. They were frequently located at hills, or in seashore cliffs and peninsulas. Some well known castros can be found, in the seashore, at Fazouro. The Galaeci were skilled in metal work, especially gold. When the Romans colonized it in about 200 CE, the Galaeci participated in the Roman army and it is here where the language of Galician and Portuguese has its roots.  Also link to this blog under October  5, 2012 to find out more, and see some great photos of this amazing site. Also see my photos below.

On the way home Donna chats on and on with Cano. I love it. Since they are both nurses, they share a lot of interests and can compare different systems. It is interesting to talk to Cano about the two languages Spanish and Galician. He said that he has two parts of his brain to handle them both. He said that he feels no real connection to the Spanish or to a Spanish nationality. He feels that he shares much more with the Portuguese. It is almost as if they share a common language, but it is more than that. It is an approach to life.

A word about “X” in pronunciation: Many Galician words have an X. The X is pronounced like a soft J (ja). It also may be thought of as a really soft ch. When you pronounce them for yourself, you will find how close they are.  The X in Greek is pronounced “Key”, as in the abbreviation for Christ’s name- XP or “Key-Rho”. They stand for the letters Ch-r and an abbreviation of “Christos”, the Christ. They also have an X in Catelonia, and that is pronounced more like an “sh”, as in Eximple (pronounced ee- SHEM- pla). That is the district of Barcelona where I will be staying. One added note is that I had a Chinese student many years ago when I taught high school. She spelled her name Xoon. She said, “Just pronounce it ‘Soon’.” I don’t know the Chinese pronunciation exactly, by the “s” sound must be close.

Making Reeds for Bagpipes or Gaitas

Tuesday-

We begin the day slowly. Donna and Lennie get Bill to the airport. They are full of angst about his ability to make it home on his own (he did.)  I took some time to look for a self-service Laundromat, found a few far away, and decided to wash my clothes in the bath tub. I was full of angst about whether my laundry would dry in time for my plane trip (It did.)

Suzanne showed us about 40 dolls that she had created traditional Galician costumes for a show in Brazil. They are highly detailed and she awaits a time when she can show time in a museum in Santiago.

(By way of background, Cano is a friend of ours that we met at Lark in the Morning Music Camp over several years. He and a couple of his Galician musician friends came and taught there. Donna picked up the gaita as a result of her lessons there.)

Cano picked us up and took us to the top of the mountain where we took a hike.  (I have spent some time looking for the name of this mountain, but I have not had any luck. It is the largest in the area with a large radio tower at the top.) There is a spectacular view of the area from here, as well as what Cano calls a mistake- a billion Euro boondoggle of a cultural center on another mountain. Galicia also has its share of invasive plants- the Australian eucalyptus, Scotch nettles, ivies, etc.  Galicia has preserved some of its dense forests. It is relatively unpolluted, and its landscapes composed of green hills, cliffs and rias are generally different from what is commonly understood as Spanish landscape. Nevertheless, Galicia has some important environmental problems.
 

Deforestation and forest fires are a problem in many areas, as is the continual spread of the eucalyptus tree, a species imported from Australia, actively promoted by the paper industry since the mid-twentieth century. Galicia is one of the more forested areas of Spain, but the majority of Galicia's plantations, usually growing eucalyptus or pine, lack any formal management.Wood and wood products (particularly softwood pulp figure significantly in Galicia's economy. (some content from the last two paragraphs is taken from Wikipedia.)

 We visited his friend who has a music shop and makes reeds for gaitas. Donna bought 3 for a friend in California who asked for “some”. She was astounded to find out that they cost 13 Euro a piece- about $20 each. 

I am having an idea. Although the making of reeds is a skilled craft, I am sure that it is far from impossible. Reeds are made from a certain grass that grows in the marsh. Also thread is involved. I cannot think of more inexpensive materials. How hard can it be, say- compared to lace making, and at $20 a pop, I could be wealthy in no time.

Anna Lynch on Country Music Television

This is just a little distraction from the travel-log. My daughter was just interviewed by CMT or Country Music Television.  Anna seems to think that this is a big step in her career. I hope that it is. My only problem is that in this article there are two major typos. These guys could use a couple of English teachers. Here is the link with the ability to play a couple of tunes of hers.

http://www.cmtedge.com/2014/06/24/alaskas-anna-lynch-imagines-life-as-a-railroad-man/

Porto- Port Wine in and out of Portugal (now with photos)

What you know about Porto is probably, about the same as I knew before I went there. It is a big port, and if you are really knowledgeable, you know that Port wine began there, and they make the best of it still. But Porto is a medium sized city, very old, built on hills, known for tile decoration on their homes, bacalau (or cod fish cuisine).

We (myself, Donna, Lennie and Bill) took the three hour bus ride straight south from Santiago and arrived about 2:30 PM. Since Bill has not been walking so well, I did my research and found a four star hotel, just 2 blocks from the bus station and a block from Casa de Musica. The music hall is an askew piece of modern concrete architecture that features many kinds of music, we are told. Hotel de Musica was a beautiful four star hotel housed next to a Portuguesa gourmet food court, and we spent our first two hours in Portugal eating tapas and Portuguese delicacies as well as delicious Portuguese wine. Our hotel room was late to be ready, since it had been full the night before, so we spent our time constructively or at least deliciously.

After the meal, the other three napped and started walking toward the river, maybe 2 miles away. I found myself on a ridge overlooking the city and the river at the Pavalhau Rosa Mata and the Museu Romantique. The new Romanesque building was surrounded by gardens, sculptures, and pheasants as well as live kissing lovers.  Unfortunately the terraces did not open up to any stairway.  I meandered my way to the center of town as again, it began to rain, a little harder than the previous day. Fortunately I found a store where I could buy a small umbrella. I used my sometimes fair sense of direction, to walk back to area near the Monumento aos Herois de Guerre de Peninsular visible for at least a mile down the Rua da Boavista. Perhapsat one time Boavista was a wide street but this century, the sidewalks were barely wide enough to walk on, and the two lanes of traffic squeezed past one another.

It was my turn to take a nap, and when I awoke, Donna said that Ana Moura was singing live in downtown Porto. The cab driver, born in Angola, got a great kick that Bill could speak so many languages, and we really enjoyed his company, and we his. Ana Moura, Fada singer from Portugal- where do I begin? Donna had heard about her the previous year, and what a voice! I find myself without words to describe this singer. I can only say that when she sang Fado, it did to me, what it does to many. It made me cry uncontrollably. No singer has ever done this to me. I cannot explain it. I can only recommend that you follow her link on this page. I might add that she is also very beautiful. It was extreme good fortune, and a chance conversation by Donna with someone in a bookstore in Porto that brought us to this place and time.  Despite a light rain, this was the extreme highlight of my visit to Porto.

I knew that the above events were more than enough for any day. Yet, this particular evening happened to be the evening of the World Cup (Copa Mondial) match between Portugal and United States began this evening at 11 P.M. Large screens and chairs were set up all over Porto and probably Portugal too. When we returned to the hotel, a crowd of people watched on five different screens. We arrived just as Portugal had scored its first goal. We managed to get a place to sit. Just before the first half, the USA scored a goal. The mood of room changed.  Early in the second half the USA scored another goal. As the game got to within minutes of the end, the mood of the Portuguese watchers turned from tense to grim and silent. In the last seconds the Portuguese team scored a goal to tie the game.  The next day the hotel concierge said that he was miserable about the outcome of the match.

Just a note: Portuguese know English on the whole much better than they know Spanish. Few of the Spanish that we met speak very good English. Many Portuguese speak excellent English.

We planned to take the tour bus of the city. Our hotel recommended the Blue Line.  We got on someplace near the Casa Musica, and drove through some of the newer parts of Porto- north then west to the Atlantic. We stopped at a beach for about an hour.  A cute fort dominated the area, built early in the 19^th century by those in power, later overtaken by some “liberal rebels.” In the distance young people played on beaches, farther on signs of giant cranes of a port, father on the smoke stacks of industrialization. Some people sunned themselves, many walked along the concrete and wood walkway next to the ocean.  Competent graffiti adorned some of the industrial sized breaker walls along the coast.  I saw no one swimming but a life guard watched at a central beach. Donna confided to me that she wished that she had actually jumped in.

We drove from the Atlantic coast to the banks of the River Douro.  High cliffs nestled little villages, old factories, quaint houses and churches along the shores. The city of just over a million was one of the earliest ports in Europe and the city itself holds the honor of a World Heritage Site. We weaved our way through the tiny streets lined with people busy preparing for the upcoming Sao Juan festivities. We crossed the S. João Bridge to visit the west side of the city. We disembarked to have a traditional lunch. Bacalau is the Portuguese word for cod. We had it prepared two different ways, one grilled with whole potatoes and peppers and the other in a white sauce with light cumin and garlic. Both were some of the best food that we have had on our trip.

We then took a boat ride up and down the river.  We got a good dose of Portuguese history and geography- the history of the shipbuilding industry, the rise and fall of the ceramic tile industry and the still booming making of Port wine. We could see busy people on both sides building stages and setting up the sound system for evening festivities. Unfortunately we had to catch a bus back to Santiago. Lennie and I did try to make a stop for the Port Tour, but the one in English was 90 minutes away.  We did make a stop at the oldest Port makers in Portugal, Kopke. I  bought a bottle of Kopke Reserve Tawny Port (10 years old). I spoke to the pourer about how impressive the collection was on display, Ports from as far back as 1960 on sale. I spoke about I still had a bottle of 1980 at home. The pourer volunteered that we should taste some of the 1978. “Is that possible?”, I said. “Of course.” And so I had a good size glass of port from the year that I came to California- and the year of birth of our host. DELICIOUS

I flagged down our blue tour bus. The woman said that this was the last bus and would not make it all the way back to our first stop. Bill was getting a little anxious that we would not get back to the bus station in time. The streets seemed to be erupting in the excitement of the festival- traffic was becoming backed up, firecrackers were going off, people were starting to arrive in the old town in droves. We got in the taxi and the driver spirited us away from this buzzing center of activity.

We got back to Santiago just as it was getting dark- the smoke of the celebration permeated the air, as in Galicia they celebrate the same feast of Saint John- here San Juan. We ended the evening sipping the delicious port I had bought along the river in Porto.