Salamanca

Location: Salamanca, Spain















I recently went with 3 friends to Salamanca for a day trip, which is located about two hours northwest of Madrid by train. Because we were a little late getting our act together, we had to settle for a late afternoon train into the city on Saturday and a return trip to Madrid around the same time on Sunday.

We wound up spending almost 3 hours together at a nice white-table cloth restaurant over several courses of food and bottles of wine. That ended around midnight, and we were walking back to our hostel when we met two French students who convinced us to follow them into a nearby club.

This turned out to be an interesting experience because we quickly discovered that Salamanca is mostly a college town with the bars to prove it. Apparently the local university is the oldest one in Spain, having been established in 1218. But now it houses a large percentage of foreign exchange students, all of which seem to like a good party.

Although I talked to several people at the bar that night, not one of them was Spanish. I do, however, remember people from France, Australia, Scotland, and Ireland. The last one was particularly strange because they had spent over a year at UC Santa Barbara, which is about 90 minutes from Cal Poly, my Alma Mater in central California. Small world.

Had I been a bit younger, this bar would have definitely been for me. Unfamiliar with the local custom, I just ordered a beer. While I was waiting for the bartender to bring it, I looked around and noticed everyone else was doing shots. I found that strange but didn't put two-and-two together until later; my beer was €2.50 and hard alcohol shots were €1. These cost structures clearly bring out the best behavior in folks :)

Long story short, I finally threw in the towel and was the "party pooper" by leaving at 3am. I don't mind staying out late, but I had a long list of sites to see before our 3pm train the next day. I'm told the others stayed out until 5am, so perhaps it's not a big surprise I was the only one up early the next day.

My first stop in the morning was one of the highlights, a bridge in the corner of town called the "Puente Romano". It crosses the local river, Rio Tormes, and was originally built during the Roman occupation in the 1st century. Although there are many remnants of the Roman empire scattered around Spain, this was my first experience. I found it very cool to stand under it and contemplate how it was built approximately the same time Jesus lived.

Of course, up close it just looks like a bridge...
Next on the walking tour was the Casa de las Conchas ("House of Shells"), which as the name suggests has shells on it's outer walls.
Up close, this is what it looks like. I didn't have time to go inside, but it is now a library.
I had to go out of my way for the next site, but with a name like Casa de las Muertas ("House of the Dead") it's easy to understand why. It looks pretty normal from the street...
But on closer inspection it has very distinctive architecture, like this skull carving. It reminded me of an Indiana Jones movie (the second one which was so terrible).
There was a square right around the corner with a cool statue and fountain.
After Casa de las Muertas, I started to notice all kinds of demonic looking things around Salamanca. I wound up liking most of it, if for no other reason because it was unique. Here's a statue I walked by on a street corner, for instance.
And later I walked by another statue and stopped to look at the plaque, expecting it to be someone I'd never heard of. Turns out its Christopher Columbus, and at that moment I remembered that he had been commissioned by the Spanish government to explore the "New World". And the rest, as they say, is history.
Later on, I walked into a church and was surprised to discover they were in the middle of mass. I stood in the back and tried to look inconspicuous as I quietly snapped pictures. The service was being performed in Latin, which was cool to hear.
The altar was particularly spectacular. Notice the tiny-looking priest barely visible in the green cloth to get a sense of scale. Certainly a bit more impressive than the ones back home!
Another site I liked was the Torre del Clavero ("Clavero Tower"), which was built in the late 1400s and is noticeably different than its surroundings. There were all kinds of cheap brick structures in the blocks around it which were covered by spray-paint graffiti. And then there was this tower, ancient and untouched. The contrast was fascinating.
This next site wasn't in my guidebook but was fortunately on the local map I'd acquired. It's name is Palacio de la Salina, and I think it used to be a nobleman's house but is now just a historic landmark. Most of it looked the same as everything else in the city, except when I looked towards the ceiling and saw these guys.

You'll probably have to click on the pic below and get the full-size version to appreciate the detail in these demonic-looking figures. The lined the entire inside of the main courtyard.
More of them.
As with many cities in Spain, its most famous monument is the cathedral. Salamanca is unique because it has two - the "new" one (started in the 16th and completed in the 18th century) was constructed right beside the "old" one (finished in the 13th century). Of course the styles are different, and if I knew more about the subject it probably would have been interesting to have six centuries worth of architectural evolution side-by-side. But alas, I am but a lowly engineer, so most of it went over my head.

This is the newer (and larger) cathedral of the two.
And it was particularly beautiful when lit at night.
This was was taken on our way to dinner; anyone feel like a howl?
And I've saved the best (in my opinion) for last. Others had claimed Salamanca has one of the best Plaza Majors (main city squares) in the country. This was taken early on a Sunday morning before the traffic really picked up. It's even more impressive in person because all 4 sides of the square look like this.
All this walking around was starting to make me hungry, and I happened to walk by a small bakery right outside the main Plaza. So I popped in and bought these two items; each were 1€ and well worth it. The one on the left reminded me of a sugared sopapilla, and the other resembled a chocolate brownie with a graham-cracker crust.
And finally my favorite pic of the trip - the Plaza Mayor at midnight.

Prost!

Location: Munich, Germany






This post is actually a little delayed as some of you know, but a few weekends ago I went to Munich for my first Oktoberfest. I have been very eager to go since I have become quite a fan of German beer over the past few years, especially the Hefeweizens.

The seeds of this trip were planted several months back while I visited college friends in California and by chance discovered a friend would be in France at the same time. She generously invited me to tag along with her girl friends to Oktoberfest. It was a difficult choice, but in the end I went for it...

Once there, we all woke up bright and early (6am I think) in order to get a good spot in line. Since it was a Friday (not the weekend yet), there was hardly anyone there. We arrived with ~2 hours to spare, and I think we were in the first 20 people in line. Keep in mind these beer halls each hold thousands of people, so it would be fair to say we were ahead of the curve. The group had previously decided to go to the Hoffbrau tent because of numerous high recommendations from others, and since I had no reason to think otherwise I agreed.

Here is some of our group standing in line. I showed this to some of my Spanish friends and they responded with "La vida es dura", which translates to "Life is hard". A very perceptive assessment, I would say.
My good friend (directly to the left of me in the Fencing sweatshirt) and I decided that standing in line wasn't doing it for us, so we wandered around to take pictures. This is what the Oktoberfest area looked like; essentially it was an amusement park with occasional beer tents. I oddly liked the idea of this as a family event - sort of like "bring the kids and leave 'em in the roller coaster line while daddy drinks a pint!"
I couldn't pass up the chance to get my picture taken with this ride. My female compatriot did not understand why I found this humorous. If you don't get it either, read this to find out what the Shocker represents in popular American culture.
Disgusting right?!? Who says this blog isn't educational :)

Eventually they let us into the tent. "Tent" is actually a stretch in my opinion, since these places have amenities such as hard-wood floors, solid walls, fully operating kitchens, and live bands. The only tent-like aspect is the roof, which is hardly noticeable and seems to be a very thick plastic material.

The culture inside is mostly what I expected...lots of young people from other countries. I think the most common language there was English, which did come as a surprise. And obviously they become very crowded, noisy, and smoky place as the day progressed.

But here is a picture with my first liter.
And then it was gone...kind of like a before and after photo. Fortunately they had more.
For some unexplained reason, every now and then (half an hour or so) the sound of people rumbling would suddenly pick up and we would all stand , scream at nothing in particular, then toast and drink heavily. Kind of like "the wave" at football games, I found myself wondering who actually started these things.

Here is what it looked like.
And a video of the experience.

Apparently we left the Hoffbrau tent in the early afternoon (I don't recall this at all) and wandered into the Paulaner one. Oddly enough, no pictures were taken there...or anywhere else the entire rest of the evening for that matter. The moral of this story is: If you start drinking at 10am, make sure to eat plenty of food throughout the day.

I wake up the next morning in my hotel room and try to piece together what happened. Apparently I became separated (likely to be my fault) from the group but still managed to find my own way home. This might sound strangely familiar to those who know me.

For Oktoberfest, headaches are deemed as nothing but minor obstacles to be overcome through the consumption of more beer. And so we pulled ourselves out of bed and started all over again.

As promised, these next set of pictures come from the following day. I was unaware of this but apparently some people dress up for the event. My favorite is the nun.
I had received restaurant and brewery recommendations prior to my arrival, including one claiming one place to have "the best Hefeweizen he ever had". So my friend and I departed from the group and Oktoberfest tents and brewery-hopped around Munich instead. I wound up having a much better time this way because the beer was much better (and cheaper), the food was more plentiful, and the atmosphere resembled much more traditional German and less of a frat party.
NOTE: That last sentence was difficult to type because it made the author feel old.

This picture is in front of the IsarBräu house ("best Hefeweizen ever brewery"), which as you've noticed doesn't look like much except a brick building.
This is their front sign. I personally think they need to fire the person in charge of advertising.

To set the stage a little bit, I'd like to backtrack and lend a review of the beer inside the Oktoberfest tents. In short, it was surprisingly bad. First off, one could only order one of the following three items:
1) A beer
2) A non-alcoholic beer (I liken this option to those few souls to manage to score tickets to the Super Bowl while admitting they don't really like football)
3) A raddler (half beer, half lemonade). I think there is a mutual international understanding that men aren't supposed to order these.

And the "beer" choice was always a very light lager - kind of like a German equivalent of Bud Light. Very easy to drink one (or even five!), but never very flavorful or satisfying.

So with this as my backdrop, I was very excited to get to "the good stuff". As mentioned, our first stop was the IsarBräu and it did not disappoint. It mostly consisted of a restaurant with all the vats and other beer processes spread out in the corners. Here's the view coming in the front door.
And I finally got my local German Hefeweizen of which I am such a huge fan. My impression? Not the world's best, but likely to be in my top 3. Lets just say that smile is definitely real.
And these are probably the coolest yet most ridiculous place holders I've ever seen. Yes I think a case can be made for a bit of sexism here, but then again look at that smile...
We wound up staying for about 3 hours eating large quantities of food and trying every beer on the menu (my other favorite was the Dunklweizen, which is a dark yet sweeter Hefeweizen).

Our next stop, Augustiner, came as my partner in crime's suggestion and took us out of the boonies and back into downtown. The brewery also happens to be the oldest in the city and has been producing since 1328! More fantastic beer and food ensued.

We eventually left and were wandering the downtown streets, weaving in and out of shops looking for gifts when suddenly we found ourselves in front of the Paulaner pub, which so happens to make my favorite beer. Naturally, we strolled in and took a seat.

Here's a picture of the lively inside. After more talking and a couple pints I decided it still holds my top spot. After that we were spent and found our way home, but it was the perfect last place to stop off.
In the morning we pulled ourselves together and made our way to the airport, where I happened to notice a beer concession stand close by the ticket counter. By luck, it happened to be a small outlet for Erdinger which we had not found yet.
Upon closer inspection, temptation reared its ugly head...
And with a whole hour left before my flight, why would I possibly waste it without a beer in my hand?

Clearly I would chalk up the trip as a success. My one suggestion - for anyone coming to this festival seeking great beer, I would highly recommend leaving the tents behind for the actual breweries instead. And always remember to say "Prost" as the proper toast!

For additional pictures of debauchery, click here.

Torro!

***WARNING: FOR DEVOTED ANIMAL LOVERS OR THOSE WHO HAVE STRONG FEELINGS REGARDING VIOLENCE TO ANIMALS, THE FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS, PICTURES, AND VIDEOS WHICH YOU WILL LIKELY FIND DIFFICULT AND OBJECTIONABLE***


Location: Madrid

I was really torn about going to a bullfight here. I don't have a particular interest in seeing animals tortured and killed for sport, and even less when I have to pay for it. I in no way endorse animal violence. But as uncomfortable as it makes me, I've learned that other countries, people, and cultures do things differently. And since I came to Spain to fully experience its culture, I did wind up going to a show.

Many of the locals tell me that bullfighting is actually a dying sport here. The younger generations are not taking much interest and other sports like Futbol and Basketball (you may remember Spain took the silver medal in Basketball this past Olympics) are gaining popularity.

The ticket prices here range by a surprising amount (anywhere from 3 to 100 euros) depending on the proximity to the front and if the seat lies in the sun or shade. I sat in the sun and almost all the way in the back (the really cheap seats), and my ticket was 7 euros.

Madrid has the largest bullring in Spain and one of the largest in the world. With a capacity of ~25,000, Las Ventas is a remarkable sight to see. It reminded me of the Coliseum recreation in the movie Gladiator - essentially a large circular stadium with an open middle and nothing but sand on the ground.

Here is a good shot of the empty stadium, courtesy of Wikipedia.
Of course the Spanish love their drinks, so anything can be ordered from the many fully-stocked concession bars. I found this curiously different that how it's done in the States.
And here's what it looked like on the Sunday I was there.

One additional interesting thing to mention is the bullfighting season was currently nearing its end here, but it's near peak season in Mexico. This means all the top matadors are there for several months, leaving only the young matadors who are still in training here in Madrid. Someone pointed out these shows are often more exciting exactly for the fact that they aren't as experienced...one sees more errors and thus appreciates how difficult it is. Makes sense to me - I saw two separate news reports the week before I went about a matador getting gored at the stadium.

HOW A SPANISH BULLFIGHT WORKS
A Madrid bullfight consists of six bulls & three matadors with each matador being accompanied by his assistants. In a little over two hours the matadors will each kill two bulls, totaling 6 in the whole show.

The spectacle starts with matadors and their assistants entering the bullring and parading in front of the crowd. The front matador is usually the most experienced or kind of a "distinguished guest". Everyone then goes to their respective areas behind the outer ring and awaits the first bull. A horn sounds and it's released.

At first only the assistants are in the ring, and the bull comes out charging fast. It runs mostly from end-to-end as the assistants either dodge or move behind a small structure for safety. The reasons for this are several: it starts to tire the bull, and it gives the matador a chance to see how it behaves.

Here's a picture of it. The assistants all had fuchsia capes.
And another pic with an assistant which turned out really well. I can only imagine the courage it takes to stand your ground as this huge deadly animal is running the entire length of the ring directly at you.
And here's a pretty good video of it too.

After a quick signal from the band, two horses and riders now enter the ring. The assistants now try to lure the bull over to charge the horseback rider, at which time he pierces the bull with a lance in the shoulder area. This part of the event usually had one or two such attacks on the horseback riders. The horses were wearing some padding and were blindfolded so they didn't run away or get gored. In the old days apparently they didn't wear protection and would often be killed.

This is what it looks like when the bull attacks a rider and is lanced.
After another signal from the band, the riders leave and the assistants return. However, two of them are now each carrying two small sharp staffs called "banderillas". Their job is to get the bull to charge, dodge at the last second and plant the staffs into the bull's shoulders. Many of the assistants we had were unable to do this correctly, and I admit it looked quite difficult.
Here's a video of both assistants seeming to get it right. Notice how the staffs dangle and stay in the bull if done correctly.

This part of the process also ends with a signal from the band, and now the matador (which literally translates to "the killer") enters. At this point it's just him and the bull, and he starts by acknowledging the crowd and then proceeds to use his red cape to have the bull charge him.
A good matador is supposed to hold his ground with a totally rigid body and lead the bull from side to side without moving or having the cape leave the ground. This must be quite difficult because none of the three we had even came close to pulling all these conditions off.

Notice how this bull is light-colored compared to the traditional black ones. It was fascinating because it became apparent just how much the bulls were bleeding by this point. Notice all the color around it's neck...
Eventually the bull tires from exhaustion and blood loss, and the matador walks to the side and takes a sword from an assistant. This is a great picture which shows what it looks like.
And a video of the matador controlling the bull.

Finally, he then temps the bull to charge a few more times, then eventually makes a pose where he points the sword directly at the bull, which signals at the next charge he will attempt the death blow. If done correctly he will strike directly between the shoulder blades and into the heart. If he misses the bull is still often immobilized and quite injured, and then an assistant will come and deliver the final blow with a dagger between the eyes.
After this the crowd will cheer based upon their satisfaction of the matador to both control the bull and to deliver a quick and respectful death. Depending on the level of cheering the matador may be awarded either: 1. nothing, 2. one ear, 3. both ears, or 4. both ears and the tail. I don't know what the matadors were awarded during my show.

The bull's body is then dragged away where the meat is sold in high-end restaurants, and then the next bull comes out and the process starts over again.
And a video of the spectacle. This was really a sobering moment for me when it left a trail of blood in the sand.

Of course things don't always go as planned. Here is one of the assistants having to run out of the arena after messing up the placement of his banderillas.
And a video of a similar experience.

And although no one was gored during my show, it does happen with some regularity and here's what it can look like.
And this one is one of the most famous and experienced matadors from earlier this summer.
Here's a video I took of one matador attempting a deathblow which goes awry. Try to focus and follow his sword.

This is a great shot of the stadium right after sunset but still during the show.
Afterwards, all 25,000 of us are leaving together and trying to get into the same one metro stop. Fun stuff.
In hindsight I found it to be a very interesting experience, although not one I would likely seek out again. I've never seen anything like it, so I'm glad to have gone in the sense that I gained a small insight into the culture here.

For additional pictures, click here.