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...