¡Gracias!

¡Gracias!

Thank-you!

My time here is at to an end, I'm realising all the things I'll miss (and others I will definitely not), while psyching myself up for the tube leg of my journey back home buckling under 28kg of luggage. I have thoroughly enjoyed my 10 months here; I have learnt a lot, met some lovely people and generally had it pretty good all year, really. 

For this end result I have many thank-yous to issue... 

My parents for visiting me/bailing me out/taking me out/being supportive, calm adults when I failed to be one.

Katherine for supervising my general survival, whether in separate countries, regions or seats with a sense of wit and faultless organisation.

Richard for keeping me sane and being super-supportive. 
Nan for being my most loyal mail corespondent. 
My summer adventure girls Sarah and Alex & Nikki for their fantastic hospitality, and all for a great time.

All my friends who've taken the time to skype me and send delightful postcards.

The assistants in Asturias, especially the Gijón girls! 

My flatmates and landlady for helping me and putting up with me and my foreign ways.
Staff in Correos, the post office downstairs, especially in light of the numerous packages I am sending home (which makes Nan and I look like we're running a drugs cartel, dealing in stolen goods or the like).

Everyone at the Primary school.

Some people at the Secondary school. 

And to all of you who took time to read my exploits (special shout-out to those in the Exeter Met Office), I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing. 

¡Saludos de Asturias!

Nostálgica.

Nostálgica.

Nostalgic. 
It is my last full day as a Gijón resident. It's grey cloud and drizzle, very Asturian, and I have a room to clean and a rucksack to pack. Obviously all those practical things will 

be done later, hopefully before midnight, while I sit and breathe for a bit and get all nostalgic about leaving my Spanish home for this year.  

Puente de Triana by night, Sevilla, Andalucía, June 2014

A ringer plover on the Costal rocks, Gijón, Asturias, Richard's visit April 2014.

Ribadesella, Asturias, December puente 2013

2 swans courting in Parque de San Francisco, Oviedo, Easter holidays April 2014

Puerto deportivo, Gijón, Asturias, September 2013

2 Bicycles on the sea front ramp, Playa de San Lorenzo, Gijón, Asturias, July 2014

Black swans on the big lake in Parque Isabel la Cátolica, Gijón, Asturias, January 2014.

Llastres, Asturias, December puente 2013 (disposable camera).

Isla de Santa Clara, San Sebastián, País Vasco, October 2013

Playa del Sardinero, Santander, February 2014.

The garden behind Gaudí's 'Capricho', Comillas, Cantabria, February 2014.

Centro Niemayer, Avilés, Asturias, during Richard's visit, April 2014.

Iglesia de Santa María del Naranco, Oviedo, Asturias, December puente 2013 (disposable camera).

Catedral de Santa María, Cuidad Ródrigo, Castilla y León, May 2014.

Swindon train station, England, coming home for Christmas December 2014.

And...

93 (one more to go) blog posts, 2711 page-views (in case anyone was curious and worried they were the only viewer, at time of blog), 28 Spanish places visited (10 in Asturias), 10 regions seen through bus windows, about 6000 fotos (a conservative estimate), numerous mailed postcards, 8 flights in a year and one more tomorrow, an obese year abroad scrapbook (for the self-confessed hoarder in me who can't throw away ticket stubs) and a file full of beloved bureaucracy. 

Vacaciones.

Vacaciones.

Holidays. 

Gijón's summer is in full flow: ice cream shop queues, lifeguards by the big thermometer on the beach, more bare legs than anyone can handle, permanent parasols and my neighbour today in the lift was despairing about the 'heat'. The tourists have arrived. 

And who could resist the Playa de San Lorenzo (even in the mist)?

¡Aniversari!

¡Aniversari!

Birthday (in Catalan)!

After a few days of dinners with my parents, they departed with 10kg of my junk, and I attended the final (sob) Primary school dinner, which was lovely, filling, sad and lengthy (about 5 and a half hours). Then I jetsetted off to Barcelona for Katherine's birthday. As you do. 

Sarah was there and Nada joined us off the back of her InterRailing summer trip. The general mishmash of dates, times and room bookings meant that, as well as countless email exchanges with Katherine, the hostel had a folder on our stay and began calling us the 'Bibby Family', Katherine obviously being the matriarch of our unit. 

I arrived, and naturally, got lost in Plaza de Catalunya finding the right Metro entrance.I did, however, sign the petition supporting the vote for independence (9th November 2014, save the date) much to Katherine's delight, and I got a free pen that later broke, much to mine. 

Our first stop was the Contemporay Art Museum, where we were given stickers with MACBA written on to stick to ourselves. The gallery was very inclusive for blind or partially sighted people, although one must admit that an art gallery wouldn't be the first stop for someone with such a condition. There was a section with braille signs, where you could touch reconstructed sections of original works. I wasn't too hot on the art, although there was a piece involving a giant bear, white beanbags to sink into and break dancers practising outside the gallery. 

I, already having bought my ticket by accident before everyone else decided they didn't want to, visited the Centre of Contemporary culture, which was great! There was a special short film section where you could sit in squashy chairs and chose from their short/alternative film archive. I watched 'A Chairy Tale' (Norman McLaren, Canda, 1957) about a chair that doesn't want to be sat on. There was an exhibition about data, modern communications and the internet, which had a room with 24 hours worth of Flickr photos (over a million) on the floor. The best bit was the Metamorphosis exhibition about animation, particularly stop motion. It started off wonderfully, lots of clips of stuffed animals to watch, and also the animals themselves, and sketches to peep; then it got a bit weird... The last section I didn't even look at, past the fact that it contained dolls, which was enough to put me off. This was as creepy as I could take:

Later at the hostel while I was making dinner in the communal kitchen, one of the hostel staff, a German girl, barred me going to the sideboard and looked at me; I had an internal panic thinking I was breaching some silent communal kitchen rule. Then she said 'MacBa?, Is that your name?'. I had forgotten my gallery entrance sticker was still firmly attached to my chest. 

On the second day we popped into the Cathedral in the Gothic Quarter, but overran time wise and then had to RUN off the metro up the big hill (it has escalators in parts, it's that steep) to get to Parc Güell for our slot at 11-11:30. I can confirm cardio is still not my strong point, but that we did all make it in. Parc Güell was created as an ideal housing estate for rich people by Güell, an architect, and Gaudí, the famous mosaic artist. I would like to point out that a certain, famous tiled bench featuring in countless postcards bearing Gaudí's name is not actually his, but was designed by Josep Maria Jujol.

The butterfly tile that featured rather heavily in the gift shop.

We also explored the gardens, which are quite underrated and later in the public non-paying area, we listened to musicians and I joined the other children who were catching giant bubbles. 

The main mosaic covered bit with the famous dragon, which we though was a lizard.

View of the city and the Sagrada Familia from the 'Three Crosses', a hill in the park

In the evening we visited the Picasso museum, after waiting in line for an age due to it being free for about 4 hours on Sunday only, which was quite good and then we counted down Katherine's birthday by the Magic Fountain before luckily managing to nab the last metro of the night home. 

On Katherine's birthday we had a trip to the beach in Tarragona, a town an hour away by train. The beach was lovely, such clear water and all locals sunbathing. We ate our picnic lunch and then 2 of us had to hold up a towel around the other one to get our clothes back on. Most hilarious 15 minutes of the day, discounting all the times Katherine nearly drowned and we advised her alternatively to be 'Claireboyant' and to 'respect the sea', and the time when a young boy crashed against Katherine's legs and she thought she was going to drown HIM.

Happy Birthday Katherine! Obligatory bday pic outside the Sag Fam!

The next day Nada and I trekked on the train to Figueres, Salvador Dalí's birthplace and now home to his self designed museum, which has eggs on it and lots of gold figures.

The museum itself was very impressive, if confusing. Some 'rooms' were just small alcoves with a single painting in, and the floor 'levels' were not really levels; it was also very busy and there was little in the way of staff supervision, although what was really needed was crowd control. People were knocking against the art, there were finger prints on the glass covers where people had touched the art; art doesn't last forever people, be careful!! There was an awkward moment when, after seeing a tapestry of the famous melting clocks, I asked one of the staff where the actual painting was, only for him to reply 'Museum of Modern Art, New York'. There was, however, a section of his water-colours about Christmas trees, one of my favorites, his own private art collection and the Wind Palace room with this glorious ceiling mural:

Dalí is genuinely so good at drawing feet.

After battling the crowds and attempting, then giving up, trying to understand the art, but having enjoyed ourselves immensely, we headed to the toy museum. We got to see a teddy bear that belonged to Dalí's sister, which Dalí and García Lorca had had touched!! There was also a section where we could play with toys, the best bit obviously; turns out I'm actually pretty good with ball on a string in a cup and I knocked down some other kid's tower (they weren't there anymore), which the woman supervising us approved of as I built my own, superior/taller, tower. We also found blocks that looked like Castellers (people who build Castels, human towers, which are part of a great Catalan tradition). 

See the tower in the background?

To top off the week, we ate at a Nepalese restaurant, very filling, and exchanged presents and then we used the temporary tattoos I had brought!!! I had bought them for the big summer trip and finally got to use them. When we applied one on my neck, Katherine had to hold the dish sponge on me and I could feel the torrent of water being squeezed from it; despite my squeaking protests, Katherine thought I was exaggerating, until she saw my wet t-shirt. I also managed to get 'love' tattooed on my finger after it wouldn't work on Sarah's wrist I just randomly stuck it on my knuckle and it, well, stuck. 

I left the next day, to pack up my own life, as Katherine was doing as I returned. It is very odd to think now I am the only one left abroad...

¡Coronación!

¡Coronación!

Coronation!

The final stop before home was Madrid, the capital. I had originally planned to base myself there and visit Toledo and Segovia during my 2 day stay, also I didn't really fancy the 12 hour journey back to Gijón from Sevilla. 

But that didn't happen....

I was pretty tired after 2 and a bit weeks of traveling and decided to have a break, on my break.

You my be wondering, after 2 previous stays here, what can she have done?

Well...

I wrote a letter and ate some nice food, and sangría, because, you know, on holiday and all that it doesn't count as drinking alone. 

Saw Felipe VI's first public appearance as the newly crowned King of Spain, the second of Spain's democracy post-Franco, after his father Juan Carlos I abdicated a few weeks ago. Had my bag peeped in twice enroute, very secure.

And the accompanying police presence that shut down the Sol metro station for a day and night. Despite no Sol, the city was relatively calm traffic wise and the crowds limited to the Palace. I imagine a British coronation would potentially shut down the whole of London and make everything impassable, but in Madrid it was completely fine.

And the rest of the police who supervised an anti-monarchy/Republican protest, which ended in the plaza by my hostel. 

And to top a royal day off, I witnessed some celestial skies (is it a sign for Felipe?!), which Dad has informed me are in fact 'crepuscular rays'.

I saw the entirety of the Prado, including a special temporary exhibition about Rubens' design for several giant tapestries and another featuring books from El Greco's library. I thoroughly enjoyed re-visiting the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum, which is a husband and wife's giant collection. There was also a fantastic Pop Art exhibition called Mitos del Pop (Pop Art Myths), with Warhols and Liechtensteins aplenty, well worth every cent of the entrance fee! The Reina Sofía was, as always, inspiring with exhibitions to challenge and provoke new ideas and thoughts; this time there was one about play grounds and how they have changed over the years and their function within society, called 'Playgrounds: Reiventar la Plaza'. All the old favorites were there and I had a brief chat with a lovely member of staff in one of my favorite rooms, who offered her interpretation of two paintings and told me a tale about another. 

Me sitting in the exhibition that everyone else just looked at (I did ask if it was allowed first)

It was all rather laid back and lovely. I even watched Toy Story 3 on the bus back, and I can confirm that Buzz in Spanish mode is just as impressive, even when the entire film is in Spanish. A fitting end to a wonderful summer trip, as I hurled myself and my, now much weightier, rucksack, upon my holidaying parents at the bus station in Gijón.

 

Tapar

Tapar.

To cover. 

One of the more poplar theories about the origins of tapas is that people used to be given something, like a slice of jamón, with their drink to cover the top of their glasses to keep the flies out. It sounds very plausible, but either way I'm glad it was invented as I had the best this year in Sevilla. Sevilla is the capital of Andalucía, and epitomises the bullfighting, flamenco dancing culture of the region. It has one barrio (neighbourhood) called Triana, which considers itself as separate from Sevilla. It is the flamenco hub and, traditionally, the heart of the tile making industry (lots of beautiful tiles over patios, walls and floors down here), a few matadors were born here as well. I was lucky enough to have Alex and Nikki, Sevilains for the year, as my guides to show me the sights! 

We began with Las Setas; a giant structure, like a waffle draped over some stilts, that was finished in 2011 and is officially called the Metropol Parasol and is supposedly the biggest structure in the world to be made out of wood. They found Roman remains while constructing it, and now underneath you can see them preserved. You also get a free drink with your ticket!

The path snakes round the 6 waffles.

We saw Plaza de España by night afterwards. This was built for the 1929 Exposition. It has a fountain in the middle, a river with rented boats and around the edge a series of tiled benches, each depicting how every province joined to form what we now know as Spain. 

View from our little row boat!

Asturias represented! The picture on the left is of Oviedo's cathedral and on the right, Covadonga. 

We visited the amazing Museo de Bellas Artes, whose patios and buildings are just as good as the art. In the evening we had time to locate all the England fans in the area in an Irish bar, watching half the England match. On the way home we had a fright when we saw a giant slow worm wriggling along the grooves of the pavement.

Bellas Artes

I had a mini-tour of Triana on the second day. On another occasion, Alex and I met a nice chap,whose greyhound I was admiring, from Bath who'd met his now wife on a return flight to London as she was visiting her banker boyfriend there; they now have a rescued greyhound and a daughter and he's lived in Sevilla for 10 years. Who says cuentas de hadas (fairytales) don't exist?! We peeped in some churches and admired the view of the Puente de Triana along the river Guadalquivir, the same river that Córdoba's Roman bridge stretches over. On the last day we risked our lives by renting a pedal boat on the river. This river is a proper river, with dead fish floating in it I may add; professional rowing teams practice along it and the big sightseeing river ferries glide through it. The only thing our boat possessed meriting note was a giant parasol, as well as a dodgy steering rod, 2 pedals and side 'rails' about 15cm high. I genuinely thought we were going to swim back after capsizing. 

We did, however, survive, despite me running us aground under the Triana bridge by some unimpressed ducks.

Brave faces, no life jackets: Alex and Nikki!

Lots of little houses lining the muro!

In the evening after tapas we got an icecream, which rapidly turned into an emergency of sticky hands and drips as it melted in the evening heat. The next and last day I was shown the Alcázar, which, as Nikki said it would be, was so much better than the Alhambra in Granada. There were no queues, no timed visits, but all the rooms open were decorated to the same standard as the special visit ones in the Alhambra and the gardens were just as beautiful. There's even a maze (that was sadly shut when I went)! The gardens also contains one of only 4 hydraulic organs preserved in the world; air is pushed around inside to create different sounds. Of course, the only craftsman in the world able to restore the machinery within it, Rodney Briscoe, is British. We're an eccentric island bunch us Brits aren't we...

In the Sala de Embajadores (Hall of Ambassadors) with a gold domed ceiling!

Some beautiful tiles from the gardens.

Later in the day we visited the Cathedral, where Christopher Columbus is, supposedly, buried; as no one was sure where he was from he couldn't be 'buried' in Spanish soil, so his tomb is held aloft by 4 figures, each representing the kingdoms of Spain of the time. We climbed the 35 ramps up the Giralda, the Cathedral's bell tower.

View over the Cathedral!

We also had time to check out the Archivo de Indias, the archives documenting Spain's trade through Sevilla with the New World. Sevilla was originally the big port and merchants conducted business in the Cathedral to make it honest as they were in God's house, but they were told not to, so a trade building was constructed, with a cross outside. However, the channel became built up with silt and, with ships unable to navigate it, and trade moved to Cádiz on the coast. Very interesting history, told by Alex and the informative video.

I was also dressed up (again), this time as a Maja, with a mantilla (the lace cloth) over a giant hair comb.

A final note on Sevilla, you should obviously visit, it's full of tourists for a reason, but make sure you bring the right companion (and forget Paris), as it's rather romantic too... 

Nighttime stroll over the Guadalquivir, under the moon.