Visiting Estepa: More Than Just Mantecados

I sometimes confused Estepona, a beach destination on the Costa del Sol, with Estepa, a town nuzzled up to a hill at the far reaches of the Seville province. During the multiple car trips crisscrossing Spain’s southernmost autonomous region, I’d often watch the small village with its church spires punctuating the horizon pass by quickly. Being known for its holiday goodies, particularly mantecados, it’s always been a place in the back of my mind to visit.

Javi met us at the aptly name Hotel Don Polverón – a homage to one of the city’s baked moneymakers – and we steered our car along the roads of the industrial park near the highway, its streets named for the basic ingredients of the mantecados: Almendra, Azúcar, Canela. It’s common in Spanish households to have an anís bottle set out next to mantecados when the Reyes Magos come, so we feasted like the Three Kings for the better part of the morning.

The visit first brought us to La Estepeña, one of the most universally known brands.

La Estepeña features a visit to the factory, where a workforce made up almost entirely of women use traditional methods of preparing and wrapping the goodies, though the actually baking is no longer done in an oven. We visited the belén made entirely of chocolate and the small museum before marveling at the gorgeous Christmas tree in the foyer of the museum.

Most of the famous mantecado brands have been making the pig’s lard Christmas treats for generations, so Javi pointed us in the direction of La Despensa del Palacio, where the cakes are still baked in a wood-burning oven after being hand-kneaded. The mantecados are crumbly and leave your mouth dry, so we were then whisked away to the small anisette factory – the Spanish abuelo’s favorite – for a sampling of anís seco in Anís Bravío.

Cravings satisfied, we climbed Cerro San Cristóbal, the city’s highest hill. The rainy morning haze seems to have stayed in la capital – the day was bright and welcoming. Smack dab in the autonomía of Andalusia, one can see the provinces of Seville, Málaga and Córdoba, much like the Hancock building in Chicago.

Estepeños not interested in mantecados trek up the hill to the convent, where a turnstile still offers cloistered nuns peddling homemade treats, and the lavish baroque chapel not open to the public. Violeta was waiting for us here, key to the capilla in hand.

“They know me here, ” she smiled. “One of the perks of the job.” She and Javi accompanied us around the rest of the sites on the Cerro, including a small museum dedicated to the city’s culinary treasure that was once the kitchen the nuns used to make the sweets.

The adjacent Santa María church was originally intended for the Orden de Santiago, the church has been reconstructed and now contains a small religious art museum, complete with relics of petrified fingers and locks of hair.

A rickety octagonal tower sits just west of Santa María. This was the defensive tower used for the Orden de Santiago, and the views facing the Balcón de Andalucía, the pueblo’s mirador that looks down on the whitewashed houses that seem to crawl down the hill, were stunning after a few days of rain and a lucky break in the weather pattern.

Back down the hill, we found parking just in front of As de Tapas on Estepa’s main street. This is what I love most about the pueblos in Seville: good, hearty food, the steady hum of chattering in castellano and a cold beer.

Sending thanks to Javi and Violeta of Heart of Andalusia for their generous offer to show Caitlin and me around the Ciudad del Mantecado and the other lovely sites of Estepa. As always, all opinions expressed are my own.

Seville Snapshot: The Plaça Reial of Barcelona

Over the holidays, my parents and  sister arrived to Barajas jet-lagged but 15 minutes early. I was typing away on a story at the cafetería next to the arrivals gates and just happened to see my mother, bewildered, looking around. A wave of relief washed over me that they’d not been delayed 15 hours like their previous trip and, five years late, I could show them Spain my way (and be able to full translate a menu and not just say, “Uhhhh, I think it’s a pig part”).

Winter is one of my favorite times to travel, and my family was blessed with unseasonably good weather, making our days in Barcelona and beyond bright and perfect for exploring. After their bodies adjusted a bit, we were out to explore La Boquería and my favorite little rincón of Barcelona, Plaça Reial. I’ve watched concerts in the shade of its palm trees, shared hunks of cheese and a baguette next to its fountain and gone underground to a disco right near the arched colonnades. Even in winter under a dull morning sky, the yellow facades popped, livening up my familia.

I’ve got loads to share about Cataluña and New Year’s in Madrid over the coming weeks! If you’d like to contribute to my weekly snapshots, send me an email at sunshineandsiestas @ gmail [dot] com, or you can see more photos of my trip on Sunshine and Siestas’s Facebook page.

Tapa Thursdays: The Mercado de San Miguel, Madrid

When I came to Spain to study, my first meal was far from memorable – a slop of mayonnaise, potatoes and nothing else discernable. I was convinced that I didn’t like Spanish food, nervous to move back and not whiddle away to nada.

Turns out, I like Spanish food, and a little too much.

I was invited on the Signature Tour of Madrid Food Tours, a relatively young business venture designed to showcase the Spanish capital’s culinary treats. Mercado de San Miguel was one of our locations along a route that included several stops and twice as many tapas.

The market was bustling, even at 11:30 in the morning. Stands ring the outside of the glass-plated hall, with high tables in the middle, making the market an idea place to mingle. Vendors sold everything from vermouth and Spanish wines, to pintxos and paellas that were ready to eat, to dried legumes and fresh seafood. A treat for both my eyes and my stomach, as we stopped to sample several foods along the way.

The market has a long history – from the times of Napoleon when it was an open-air market! The market then moved indoors, as an iron and glass structure was made to house it. In 2009, it reopened as a gastronomic capital, becoming popular with tourists who visit Madrid for its proximity to the historic center.

If you go: the Mercado de San Miguel is mere steps away from the Plaza Mayor and Calle Mayor in a square of the same name. From Sunday – Wednesday, vendors are open from 10am until midnight, with hours extended until 2am on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Go with an empty stomach for nibbling!

I was invited as the gracious guest of Madrid Food Tour, but all opinions expressed are my own.

Making the Choice to Live Abroad (and Stay)

My first steps in Spain landed in a big wipeout.

Armed with two suitcases, a carry-on and my laptop bag, I tried to hoist my backpack onto my bag, using a round, aluminum can as a platform from which to ease my arms into the padded straps.

Yes, I brought all of that with me. Two free pieces of luggage? Those were the days.

 

And I fell, right on my culo. I roared with laughter, falling over on my side and howling. That’s just kind of been my story in Spain.

After five years of living abroad, I’m often asked why I’ve chosen to live a life abroad in sunny Spain. The reasons that have kept me here are quite simple – ask any of my dozen friends who have been here to visit over the last few years, question my parents, read this blog start to finish in one sitting to really swallow the heartbreak of defeat, the uncertainness of a new relationship, crap work experiences. I have slowly made my life in Spain, from the first few shaky steps and the fall on my butt to establishing my version of happiness in my little burbuja in Seville.

—–

Studying abroad is what made me want to move away from the US in the first place. Perhaps after reading too many of those Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul books, I decided that living abroad was ever going to happen, it needed to be right after graduation.

 

Just days before commencement, the North American Language and Culture Assistant Program offered me  visa and the promise of a job in a high school somewhere in Andalucia. The summer before leaving was full of hurried preparations, tearful goodbyes, and a yo-yo like inner peace with my decision. I kept telling myself it was just eight months, and that no one would be mad at me if I messed up and came home.

My reasons were simple enough: to learn Spanish and travel during a second chance at studying abroad. DJ Yabis, the blogger behind Dream Euro Trip had similar intentions. He writes: I wanted to study and live in Europe so I applied for a prestigious full scholarship (read: tuition, roundtrip flights, insurance and monthly allowance for 2 years) sponsored by the European Commission and GOT IT! Similarly, Mariann Kun-Szabo of tiny girl with a big bag said: I was selected for a scholarship to spend my internship in Spain, with all the costs covered, then I could not stop traveling. Like DJ and Marianne, I had an opportunity fall right in my lap to obtain a visa, work and live in Europe for eight months.

Then suddenly, a week before my plane took off rumbo Madrid, I felt like Spain was where I needed to be. On the plane I went, waving giddily to my parents as I skipped through security at O’Hare and into the International Departures terminal.

My year was not without its ups and downs – I struggled to learn Spanish, had trouble making friends and tried to not think about the life I was putting on hold for a year. Facebook became my enemy, my Skype calls home barely concealed my homesickness. I felt that every label I’d ever used to describe myself had suddenly been stripped away, leaving me fumbling for some sense of self-awareness. But I met the Novio, and he was worth sticking around for. My Spanish Adventure began to take root.

—–

I have started looking at my life in terms of school years, just as I always have. After all, I’m a teacher and a student, and my worklife is measured in school years. My mother said, “Think of Spain as your super senior year of college.” Poor woman didn’t know I’d be on super senior year número six already, but giving myself a few months’ break in between keeps one foot in each bucket – one in España and the other in America. No one is really making my choose just one yet, but I’m sure that will come.

Seville throws me curveballs every other day it seems. If it’s not dropping my clothes out of the window when hanging them to dry (no tumble dryer), it’s the sting of not knowing if I’m always making the right decision. But the feel of the sunshine on my face, the fresh produce and the andalú that has kept me here. If I had to put it down in 25 words or less, I’d write that the folklore, the daily challenges and the blunders have kept me here, not to mention love.

—–

 

When I put the question to my readers, it was clear that moving abroad is a change that many have decided to make. Be it the draw of adventure or to try something new, the promise of fresh love, language learning and running your fingers along walls that have existed far longer than you have. Spain is the romantic realization of sultry Latin dreams and of wild jet-setter nights.

Many of them wrote that they, too, had been lured by Spain’s familiar, yet exotic traditions and the chance to live a new adventure. Jackie’s response that she ended up in her happy place, Shannon remarking “I’d love to live in a place where something centuries old is still considered new. I want the romance of history, culture and new adventures,” and Robin of A Lot of Wind just wanted the adventure: We chose to live abroad because we wanted to reach out and grab a bit of life that wouldn’t have dropped into our laps otherwise! And I just love how Marianne of East of Malaga summed it up: It’s a land of beauty, wine and dance – with always a hint of a little romance ;)

 

And I’m not the only one to follow my heart when it came to sticking around in Seville for more than just the sunshine and siestas. Four readers met their partner while on short-term stays in Spain:

Natalia’s husband danced right into her heart on a week-long trip to la Hispalense: Feria de Sevilla, 2009—I spotted a charismatic Sevillano in a caseta and asked him to dance. Happily married and still dancing sevillanas! while Kaley met hers after a pick-up basketball game in Salamanca while studying abroad: 2009 Salamanca. Basketball win. Hemos quedado. Spilled the wine. Climbed the cathedral. Fell in love. 3 years later: I said yes! And Steph of Discovering Ice uses her boyfriend as the perfect scapegoat for her wanderlust: I was in love with a Colombian who was literally half the world away…we just used travel as an excuse to be together! :)

I sometimes think how different my life in Spain would have been had I not accepted the invitation from Kate to go out the night the Novio and I met. Like Melanie: I met my Spanish husband on a bus traveling from Madrid to Cáceres. One seat away then could have meant a world of difference now.

—–

Travel Bloggers’s responses interested me, too. As I make connection with like-minded travelers, I find that we have much more in common than the T-word. When it comes down to it, an adventurous spirit and the will to do something about it. When I think back on the times when Spain almost didn’t happen because of my own fears or the unwillingness to miss a Hawkeye Football season, I cringe at being so stupid. Alexandra Kovacova of Crazy Sexy Fun Traveler said: I hate boredom and wanted to learn more about this amazing world out there and different cultures. Raymond Walsh of Man on the Lam confessed: I wanted to cover the earth before it covered me.

Some worldly parents, like Talon Windwalker of 1Dad, 1Kid, 1Crazy Adventures said he “wanted my son to see the world and be raised as a global citizen & I wanted to get more living into our life,” whereas Durant Imboden told me that he “didn’t have a choice” because his parents took him along. My parents encouraged my traveling – even if it was just running from one end of the house to the other when I was a kid – and I feel I owe them for instilling an adventurous spirit and apetite for me, and taking me abroad when I was just old enough to have it stick in my head and put me on a direction for life.

Ash of The Most Alive hit the proverbial clavo on the head: Decided to build my life on the principles of adventure, learning and justice – not the social norms of 9-5 mortgage and retirement…
 
…now there’s something to live and travel up to.
 
Lex of Lex Paradise had the mentality for why I came, seizing a pasing opportunity and fulfilling a dream. He wrote: Well, I am now living in Spain as well ;) never thought but it just happened as it suppose to be ;)” which is why I’ve chosen for him to win the $15 Amazon Gift Card. I loved this project and the responses, so don’t forget that Karen’s book, Dancing in the Fountain: How to Enjoy Living Abroad, full of loads of laughs and sage advice, is available on Amazon for purchase (in paperback and Kindle format).

Seville Snapshot: The Cabalgata de los Reyes Magos

Not too many years ago, I asked my high school students what the Reyes Magos had brought them. In the midst of a financial crisis, I was shocked to hear they received computers, souped up cell phones and other goodies.

After all, Santa Claus and his team of reindeer don’t have any Spanish children on their list because Spaniards have the tradition of the Reyes Magos, or the Three Wise Men of the Orient. They roll into town on big floats, called carrozas, and Melchor, Gaspar and Balthasar pelt everyone from the little kiddies to the abuelitas who elbow you out of the way with hard candy and small gifts.

I usually watch the floats on Calle San Jacinto from the refuge of Java Cafe, occassionally venturing into the crowd-choked streets for a better view or a few pieces of candy that have fallen between hands, bags and upturned umbrellas and onto the ground.

This year, as the Novio is still away, I watched the city parade and its 30 floats from the front row with some friends. Grabbing candy off the sides of floats, I nearly got my head taken off by the parade of horses, brass bands and floats as my shoes became sticking from the crushed candy under them.

I took loads of great pictured from right in the front, but I can’t seem to get them off of my camera! No worries, I’ve got fistfuls of caramelos!

Got a photo of Seville or Southern Spain to share? I’d love to see it! Send me the photo, along with a short description of where you took it and links to any pages you’d like included, to sunshineandsiestas [at] gmail [dot] come. Look for a new photos every Monday, or join me at my Facebook page for more scoop on El Sur! What’s your favorite Spanish holiday tradition?

The Harbin Ice and Snow Sculpture Festival: The Songhua River’s Annual Swan Song

Crouched in near racing positions, we listened as Vicki laid out the rules.

“You have twenty minutes. Do not spend money. Do not even THINK about running. Do not take off your jackets. See you back here in twenty minutes, or we leave you.”

My sister, Margaret, two-and-a-half years younger by birth but five older in maturity, looked at me. Something devilish in her smile told me we’d be spending money, running and risking being left in the middle of the tundra.

“Let’s go, Doug.”

As with the 19 other red puffy coat-clad girls on her synchronized skating team, Margaret took off running, her Ugg boots sliding under her as she headed towards an enormous pagoda, lit up in electric blue and green hues. I followed, suddenly relieved that the less adventurous of us had finally found some cojones. Two minutes lapsed.

The day earlier, I’d arrived to Harbin, China with my family for the 2009 Winter Universiade, an amateur sports competition. As a member of the Junior Synchronized Skating Team at Miami University of Ohio, Margaret was chosen as a member of Team USA and an ambassador of US Figure Skating, competing against teams from Scandinavia and around Northern Europe.

For me and my parents, it was an excuse for an extra stamp in our passports and a two-week break from work.

Harbin was a mind-bending mix of Chinese characters and Russian Cyrillic, as Harbin is a mere two hours’ drive  from the border with Russia. With a population of the urban area straddling 10 million, the hub of northeast China is European in attitude and character: we’d swapped dumplings for goulash and pulled on all of our extra layers, relying on taxis to take us three blocks for fear of literally freezing our buns off.

The Universiade coincided with one of Harbin’s biggest tourist draws (apparently the other is fashion, but all I saw were stouter women and unflattering coats with just the eyes and tip of the nose peeking out of the hoods). The Harbin International Ice and Snow Sculpture Festival is considered one of the top winter festivals throughout the world, with artisans perfecting their craft around the world and creating hundreds of sculptures in winter  weather that hovers just about 0°F.

Fearing my sister would twist an ankle or knee and be unable to skate, I begged her to slow down as we reached the pagoda. Margaret had other plans, as she scrambled up a set of stairs carved of snow and slide down an ice slide. I followed suit, and we ran from the pagoda to a giant Buddha, an ice castle and various other Chinese landmarks immortalized in ice that had been excavated from the Songhua River and lit up with bulbs frozen right into the blocks. 14 minutes lapsed.

That afternoon, my family and I had also toured the Zhaolin Gardens between Margaret’s training breaks. Snow from the city’s Sun Island park had been sculpted to create a replica of the Bird’s Nest from the Beijing Olympics, animals and even a gigantic spider. Like a child, I was captivated as the lights fell at 4p.m. and the statues took on an eery glow from the help of flood lights.

My sister pulled out a fistful of yen notes and waved them in front of my face. “Miami gave me bills, let’s take our picture with some Step Arian wolves.” I glanced at my watch. 18 minutes lapsed. Two fluffy white wolves, no larger than a beagle, huddled close together under heat lamps in front of a stand selling candied apples.

Vicki could shove it, for all I cared. We only had twenty minutes to witness one of Asia’s most beautiful festivals, a product of a harsh coach not wanting her athletes’ ankles rolled or muscles pulled. We handed over a few yen and squinted against the lights that set the park aglow.

Skidding into the parking lot a few minutes later, Vicki shook her head at us, but Margaret turned and high-fived me. “That was awesome, Doug.”

If you go: The Harbin Ice Festival is an annual event that takes place between December and February, with the official kick-off on January 5th. We were fortunate to be there in the first place, but our trip was towards the end of February, and some of the artwork had suffered damage and melting. Harbin is also one of the foremost producers of beer in China, and simple leaving it out near your windowsill ensures it stays cold! I lost all of my pictures from Harbin, so these shots were taken by my father, Don Gaa. For the BBC’s report on the 2009 festival, click here.

 Have you been to a famous winter festival? Leave me a message in the comments!

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