Painted rocks and Catholic mass

When I came to Spain, I expected to see many great works of art. Picasso, Dali, Velazquez were all on my hopes of seeing one of their paintings in a museum. This weekend, on a day trip to a nearby Galician town, I had the honor of seeing another one of Spain's great artist's works: Augustin Ibarrola.
Augustin paints rocks.
Augustin paints trees.
Augustin paints like a 5 year old who was given a giant paintbrush and free reign of a forest.
Our last stop on our Saturday day trip to a small, beautiful town named Allariz was to a "bosque pintado", a painted forest using biodegradable paint. The premise sounded pretty neat, but upon arrival we realized that we had seen similar "art" when babysitting charges had run amuck. There were 28 painted rocks, all using bold colors and simple patterns, located in a beautiful meadow alongside a forest and river. Had we gone to appreciate nature, the group would have been less disappointed, but the artwork itself fell flat. Here's an example:

Yes. It is a giant rock with lines on it.

Try to hold your amazement in.

This was actually one of the more complicated patterns, my favorite being the rock that was entirely painted blue. Solid blue. Nothing but blue paint. If I start to run out of money here, I know that I can at least be succesful in the crafts business.

The trip was not a complete loss, we did have fun frolicking around the "artwork", and I had one of the best pastries of my life at a local bakery. It was also sunny and warm, which is truly a miracle in rainy Galicia. It was nice to spend Valentine's Day with the entire group, starting the evening by watching the KU-KState game and scaring the locals with our beloved Rock Chalk chant.


This morning I went to my first Catholic mass in the famous cathedral of Santiago. When I decide to attend mass, I do it right. The service was completely in Spanish, and it is always exciting to understand something outside of the classroom. The inside of the cathedral is breathtaking, there's always something to look at when the sermon got a little repetitive.




Here's my view of the altar, don't worry, I took this before the service got started, I didn't want to be THAT tourist...

However, I think my favorite part of the whole church experience was after mass, when we wandered around the huge cathedral and saw the tomb where St. James is buried. We came upon a little door, which Katie put her ear up to to see if she could hear anything. She heard chanting and singing, started to think she was having a religious experience, gasped in disbelief, and was quite disappointed when I had to inform her it was just the angry pharmacists outside, protesting for more rights in the cathedral plaza. Poor Katie...

Futbol>Football

This past Sunday, Superbowl Sunday to those of you in the States, I went on a day trip to a nearby city, A Coruna. For lack of a way to watch the Superbowl, we decided to celebrate by going to Spain's favorite pastime, a futbol game!
The trip was very fun, but was doomed to chaos from the beginning, as it was planned by the boys in the group. The plan was such: "OKAY. Let's get drunk and watch futbol! Then, let's drink some more after!" It shouldn't surprise anybody that two Irish boys were behind this brilliant strategy.
As result of rather beer focused planning, the day was off to a rough start. We literally ran to the train station, 40's sloshing in our hands, darting across multiple lanes of traffic to get to the train just in time to have the conductor slam on the breaks, as it was already in motion. We were THAT group of foreigners on the train, yelling from row to row, hiding beer from the attendants. For my mother's sake, I would like to note I did not begin drinking substantially until the game. Manners first, fun second.

The actual game was really fun, if somewhat male dominated. Fortunately, Spanish people are so passionate about their futbol, that nobody noticed the confused, easily targeted American girls complaining about the lack of soap and toilet paper in the primitive bathrooms. I learned many new and interesting curse word combinations, in multiple languages. Irish people are both creative and enthusiastic in their usage of cuss words.

The team my roommate, Juan, told me to root for, won, to the stadium's pleasure. Even if you know nothing about futbol, you can follow the game easily based on the crowd's reactions. It's a caliber of involvement I've never seen in the US, even when Bryan watches close baseball games.

Look how close we were seated! It was nice to be underneath cover, as it ALWAYS rains in the Galicia, the region where I am living.

I am sad I missed out on Superbowl commercials, but not so disappointed that I didn't have to fake interest in who won. Go Steelers?

This Thursday will be the official month mark for me being out of the country. Weird, but after looking at my calendar, I am realizing just how fast this whole experience is going to disappear. London in 2 weeks!