The end is nigh

So here it is, the last ever (probably not) blog for A Sweeney in Spain.

I’ll keep it short, don’t want to mope over leaving.

Piece of vital information - Café Oriental has broken my heart.

 I dealt with their change in staff, from friendly and smiley to stoney-faced and entirely non-plussed by foreigners, I even dealt with the spike in coffee prices from 1.20 to 1.30. But there are some things I will not stand for. Café Oriental has done that which I cannot forgive – become a pulperia.

For those who don’t know, that means it has become a restaurant which specialises in OCTOPUS. Of all the things about Spain that I do not understand, pulpo is right at the top, following quickly by their obsession with white beans and eggs.

This seems like as good a time as any to leave the country.

I took a final trip to Sparkly Bar on Saturday night and said my farewells. This week I have my final classes, funnily enough I think taking leave of giant gin glasses will be more painful than saying goodbye to screaming five year olds.

I go home on Sunday afternoon and have a quick seven day stint at home before jetting off to Prague – #mylife.

It’s been a funny old year. I’m really happy I got to live in Oviedo again. I got the chance to meet new people and spend time with some familiar faces. I think it’s time I go away and start to get starry-eyed about my stay here. Let's face it, I'll have booked a flight back out in no time! 

And so, almost three years after I first read ASTURIAS on my British Council placement and thought, “where the hell is that?” it’s time to take my leave.

Hasta luego Oviedo – I’m sure I’ll see you again very soon. 

The Sweeney-Wells Invasion of Spain

They've been here before. They've eaten here before. They've drank here before. But never before have they eaten quite so much, nor drank quite so much. Oh yes, this weekend Oviedo was overrun by 4 visiting Sweeneys and 1 Wells. The weather was typically Asturian on Thursday and Friday (rain) but atypically Asturian on Saturday and Sunday when we were treated to soaring temperatures and glorious sunshine.

Since introducing my grandparents to her I've been informed by the Texan that, what she thought was my original wittiness and sense of humour, is nought but a pale imitation of theirs. I'm going to take that as a compliment.

The weekend consisted of what we do best - eating and drinking. Given that I dedicate so much time to detailing the hours spent: thinking about food here, looking for suitable places to have food here and going on about how cheap the food is here, I'm going to give this post over to a little education in the culinary delights Oviedo has to offer.

First stop on Thursday we went for a traditional Menu del Dia on Gascona, the cider street directly beside my flat - it would be so much better if I actually liked the cider! Menus normally cost between 8 and 12 euros and consist of; starter, main course, pudding and a drink. The variations within this structure are endless. Sometimes you pay 8 euros and receive helpings the size of the Iberian Peninsula and yet on the same street you could find a pricier 12 euro menu in which the pudding is nothing but an elegantly placed Cornetto on a white side plate.





Thursdays dishes of note were:
Fabada - Asturian dish with white beans, chorizo, morcilla, sausage, bacon.... (insert any other meat product found in the kitchen here). It's very heavy, but can be delicious.
Cachopo - Cachopo is kind of hard to explain. I think my attempt went along the lines of, it's deep fried meat with some cheese inside. Tasty.
Arroz con leche - otherwise known as the sole reason my mother allowed me to move back to Oviedo. Cold rice pudding glazed with cinnamon. What's not to like?
And of course Cider which almost incapacitated both my grandparents - a good vodka sorted them out though.





On Thursday evening we (of course) went to Sparkly Bar where they put on a spread of tapas for us.
Pimientos de Padron - small fried green peppers smothered in salt. (I have no idea how everyone in Spain doesn't have heart disease.) These are the sole reason my father allowed me to move back to Oviedo. Delicious and yet occasionally deadly if you get one that's more chilli than pepper which usually means you have to guess what the rest of the food tastes like as your tongue has been scorched off.
Tortilla - there is nothing more Spanish or delicious than a properly cooked tortilla and it is without a doubt the main thing I will miss when I leave. I was eating a depressingly disappointing pincho whilst writing this blog

Friday evening we went to another tried and tested favourite - La Mas Barata. Otherwise known as that place you need to wear a loose fitting outfit to. They do paella and rice dishes which are so big you could probably eat one a week and need nothing else. We - of course - ordered way too much and could barely move. I'm convinced that the waiting staff hate me but they were actually really pleasant. Making me think that perhaps their dislike was more of huge tables of foreigners who didn't know how to order, rather than a personal vendetta against me.
Main Event - the discovery of a bottle of Drambuie and the expression on the grandparents face as it was free-poured into glasses directly in front of them I am officially Grandaughter of the Century.

Saturday evening was Tierra Astur. I've been to the espichas many times but only eaten in the restaurant once before. Still reeling from the over-ordering of the night before we decided to forego the starters - then saw croquettas and figured a little wouldn't hurt.
I ate picadillo with chips and tortitas de maiz. Fundamentally spicy mince with chips and potato scones. Wonderful.
Rach and Dad tackled steaks which had been politely introduced to a frying pan before being placed on a scorching grill and brought to the table.

Before.... 

After

That is how we do it. 

All in all it was a lovely weekend which was probably the last time the family will be visiting me in Oviedo. I'm glad we had some good weather so Asturias could show off what it really looks like, although everywhere looks better in the sunshine.

Only five weeks left. Let's see how much I can drink before then! 

I missed el clasico....

I'm distraught. Actually, distraught is quite a weak word for the emotion I felt when, upon arrival at the flat after a four hour train journey  - complete with weed-smoking hippies who refused to wear shoes whilst parading up and down the aisles - I discovered that I had missed (in the words of the BBC) "The Most Exciting El Clasico in Years!". Yes, whilst Messi was scoring a hat-trick, I was stuck on a train crawling through Castilla. I missed the most exciting El Clasico since Sergio Ramos bitch-slapped Puyol a few years ago.

But hey, Burgos was pretty awesome: so I'm sure I'll get over the loss... 

I almost missed the train on Saturday morning, waking up around oh, I don't know, twenty minutes before it left? No big deal. Totally had it under control - and a taxi number on speed dial. The journey wasn't too strenuous despite it's length. It afforded many a discussion about the various geographical phenomena we passed through, example:

"Is that a hill or a mountain?"

"A mountain."

"It's not high enough."

"But we're already high up, so it's higher than it looks."

"So even though it looks like a hill, it's actually a mountain."

"Yes."

All three of us are paid to teach. 

You would think that the sketch like nonsense would end once we got off the train, but no, oh no. How confusing can a train station be? Very. When there is no bus stop, and yet a bus timetable, where does the bus stop...? Well, perhaps on the massive "BUS" painted on the road. I will not reveal how long it took us to work that out. 

We stayed in a lovely hotel right in the centre of the old part of Burgos. The room was nice. The receptionist was not. In fact, in general the people of Burgos seemed to despair of our attempts to converse in Spanish. Now I'm definitely not fluent yet, but we make a pretty good effort to be understood. There's no real need for rolled eyes or to say (as the receptionist did) "maybe English is better?" No. Thanks. 

Burgos is probably most famous for its Cathedral, which is just popping out the top of Plaza Mayor there. 

Now, I am already a huge fan of the beautiful Gothic Cathedral in Leon but after having seen Burgos, I might have to rethink my favourites. 

My pictures really don't do it justice. It's so big. I cannot begin to understand how someone could have designed and built something so amazingly gigantic and elaborate. Basically every other cathedral in Spain has to take a long hard look at itself and ask whether it should be in the same category as this. 

The ground they built it on was a different height on one side than the other, a problem solved by building a set of stairs so beautiful that the Paris Opera House based their staircase on it. 

The Cathedral (and food) took up most of Saturday so on Sunday we did my FAVOURITE THING EVER. 

TOURIST TRAIN!

My absolute adoration for tourist trains is dwarfed only by their larger bus counterparts. The best thing about little trains like this is guessing whether or not they will actually attempt to climb up tiny cobblestoned paths - this is Spain, of course they will. 

On the train's route we spotted an exhibition about Isabel la Catolica, I think the only historical Spanish figure I know anything about, and that mostly comes from the TV series about her. The exhibition was basically the outfits from the show. Los Reyes Catolicos were in Burgos for a while, so it does make some sense. 

Not that I cared. I just wanted to see the gorgeous dresses. 

Isabel

Gonzalo

Juana de Aves 

Note: anyone wearing dark colours in TV shows is a baddy. Fact. 

For further proof see Morgana from Merlin post series 3 - red lipstick and black dresses galore. 

Burgos also, obviously, has a castle. Because the Cathedral of Cathedrals just wasn't enough. It's more of a ruin now, a certain Texan was disappointed by it. This started a conversation about how many ruins that old there are in the US (none.) 

Holly's attempt to invade the castle. 

In spite of missing the football I had a wonderful weekend in Burgos. Coming up in the next few weeks is the Sweeney-Wells invasion of Oviedo next weekend and then Easter! 

Only seven weeks left in Oviedo - which seems simultaneously like loads of time and nothing at all. 

Carnivals and Cantabria

It’s been quite some time since I wrote a blog post. I have absolutely no excuse for this excepting a lack of enthusiasm and being buried under the monotony of teaching English to kids who, for the most part, don’t want to learn anything. My class of fourteen year olds yesterday whose creative writing exercises all involved either alcohol or STI’s are a prime example. Anyway, I’ve had a great time traveling over the past two weeks; across Asturias and into Ourense and then up to Santander for a sunny weekend by the sea.

Ourense was to be my first new place of the year; I’d done nothing but repeats before this. My trip was almost cut short when I discovered, mere days before leaving, that while one academy follows school holidays – giving me Monday and Tuesday off work – the other does not… This led to a slightly awkward conversation with my boss as I explained that I had already booked my six-hour bus journey back from Ourense for the Tuesday. Luckily, a solution was found and last Friday I boarded a train to visit Olivia.

Travelling through Asturias and into Galicia was quite an experience. At one point the train was curling around the side of a cliff, with a sheer drop to the left and a mountain top to the right. Of course, given that this is Spain, for the majority of my journey I had no clue where I actually was. It doesn’t help that trying to pronounce anything in gallego involves slightly more intelligence than I am in possession of. Eventually, whilst on the phone to Olivia and blaspheming against the endless nothingness of the Galician countryside, I spotted the beginnings of civilisation: I had arrived into Ourense.

Following the typically Spanish habit of claiming that whatever happens in the exact town you come from is THE BEST EVER, I had been informed that Galicia is the best place outside the Canary Islands for Carnival, and Ourense is the best place inside Galicia.

I can quite happily confirm that the Gallegos, on this occasion, were not exaggerating.

Every night that we went out the streets were filled with people in costumes – including quite a few priests, nuns and popes – bands playing music in the streets, and generally the kind of fiesta atmosphere you would expect at Carnival.

We had chosen to dress up as flappers – a concept lost on the Spaniards, who required a demonstration of the Charleston to understand. There is a mountain of issues with dressing up in the north of Spain; do you take a coat? Do you take an umbrella? Will it rain? Luckily the tight streets of Ourense’s old town mean that even when the rain did begin to fall, it didn’t cause too much of a problem.  

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t quite so good the rest of my stay and a trip to the thermal baths had to be cancelled as the baths had quite literally been swallowed up by the rising river.

The little bubble on the left is what remained of the thermal baths! 

But no fear, as always Spain is there to help out with an abundance of cheap wine and tasty food!

Olivia and I departed Ourense together on the Tuesday by bus. It was a completely bizarre journey as whilst we drove through Castilla metres of snow appeared on either side of the road! After six hours we made it safe and sound back to Oviedo.

The weekend after, it was time for my third yearly pilgrimage to Santander, an accidental tradition which began at the end of my year abroad. Santander pulled out all the stops to welcome us, glorious sunshine!

As has become customary on each of my trips to Santander I visited the Palacio de la Magdalena not once but TWICE! The second trip came about because we discovered that on Sunday the doors to the Palacio would be opened and we could look around inside!

It was a shame that only the first floor and a few select rooms on the second were open; the spaces that are used for conferences and weddings – as the building is now owned by the government of Cantabria. Upstairs are the Royal Bedrooms which are always available for the Royal Family, even though they haven’t visited for over a decade. Despite the limited tour it was amazing to go inside and have someone explain the history of the building.

Before leaving Santander I checked to see if my favourite piece of graffiti was still on the bus station wall.

"Never forget the only objective in life is to be happy."

I saw this just before leaving Santander, having waved Kerensa off on her boat, not knowing that she had seen it on her arrival ten months before.

It’s a funny old world.

A few weeks ago I received some wisdom, as I often do, from one of the old ladies who live in my building. Whilst waiting for the lift she asked me where I was from and what I was doing here, she replied,

“A, que bien vivais vosotros. Es vuestro mundo hija.”

Translated, although it doesn’t sound half as good, it means;

Ah, how well you live. It’s your world.”

I think she’s right.