In case you didn't know, people dress up in KKK-looking outfits and parade around carrying life-sized dolls representing Jesus and the various saints.
(Photo of Semana Santa in Zaragoza by "Willtron," via Wikimedia Creative Commons)In sitting down to plan, I came to the sudden realization that our time off starts Friday. So yeah, we were a little bit late in getting to this, and plane tickets outside of Spain were basically off-limits. I'd thought of going south, to Cadiz, Tarifa, and maybe Gibraltar, with a day trip to Morocco. But Ian pointed out that we could do something like that on one of our 4-day weekends pretty easily. So we shelved it until later April (after our next paycheck).
"Let's have coffee in Huesca," I suggested, half-serious.
In George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia, "coffee in Huesca" is something of a grim joke among disillusioned Republican/Loyalist soldiers. Orwell, as a volunteer for a Communist regiment fighting Franco's fascists, took part in the siege of the town in 1937. The commanders tried to prop up the morale of their badly armed and ill-trained troops by promising them, "Tomorrow we'll have coffee in Huesca." The siege lasted rather more than a day, and the promise seemed more absurd as weeks passed and casualties mounted. The town remained in fascist hands, and Orwell was shot through the neck during the offensive. Returning to Britain, he wrote of a desire to fulfill that promise, even if only symbolically. "If I ever go back to Spain I shall make a point of having a cup of coffee in Huesca." He never made it back.
Ian, who had also read the book on this trip, agreed, which I wasn't really expecting. And so the trip planning was underway. Ian was keen on Galicia, so we added Santiago de Compostela (the endpoint of the famed Pilgrimage of St. James). Barcelona is the furthest north we could get by plane, and near enough to Huesca, so we threw that in there. Since we were going west across the northern coast, we added San Sebastian and Pamplona - no running of the bulls, though, that's not until summer. And, just for the hell of it, I suggested Andorra.
Now, I don't know much about Andorra except that it's really small. But check out their tourism site: the first image that appear in the top banner is a woman posing against a snowing mountain with shopping bags and...wolves! Freakin' wolves! (I couldn't figure out how to extract the picture and post it here, but the link should do.) As far as I can tell, the whole country is based on ski lodges and duty-free shops, but hey, a hilariously small country to add to the places I've been.
Some Andorra facts: Population 74,000. Area: 181 sq. miles. According to nationmaster.com (I never heard of it either), tourism is 80% of its GDP.
So anyway, we rented a car, bought plane tickets to Barcelona and train tickets from Santiago to Madrid. We leave tomorrow, an hour and a half after leaving work.
After this week, I'm ready for a vacation. I can't complain too much, given that I work about 15 hours a week. But we're rehearsing English-language theater (did I mention that I wrote 5 plays?), and it's getting dispiriting hearing the lack of progress. The kids can't seem to understand that you need to pronounce the entire word, not just the first syllable. They do it in Spanish, but that's no excuse. They're especially wild, with the onset of warm weather, and we're down two teachers - Steven is recovering from his injury and Juan Bosco's wife just had twins. Plus, I made one of my favorite kids cry.
Ismael, who is a special-needs third-grader, speaks comically slowly but is really sweet when he's able to focus on something. He also gets really nervous, so when I asked him to get up on stage with the rest of the kids to practice the play, he burst out into tears. Sheesh.
But today, one of my other favorite kids, adorable Maria Carmen (again, a not-so-bright third-grader) made up for a particularly bratty performance by her class by, well, reaching out and taking my face in her hands as she said goodbye to me at the end of the school day. I was sitting in my chair, looking at my notebook, saying absent-minded goodbyes, and it took my off-guard. I think she just wanted to touch my still-awkward beard, but she grinned with impish eyes and crooked teeth, and melted my bad mood.
Anyhow, I'm bringing my laptop with me, and I'll try to update from the road occasionally. Until then, I gotta pack.
Andorra, bitches!
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