Halloween has never been a part of Spanish tradition, but it's gained popularity in recent years-- American and British influence, I guess.
I'm teaching English at a secondary school in the province of Seville. On Friday, my 12-to-15-year-old students brought in pumpkin cookies, pumpkin cakes, and jack-o-lanterns. Each student wanted me to try his or her baked goods, and since I work with five classes, I ended up feeling a little ill.
They had prepared a poem, a politer version of "Trick or treat/Smell my feet/Give me something good to eat," which they then recited to me in exchange for candy (provided their pronunciation was good enough).
The jack-o-lanterns were very creative. Pumpkins aren't extremely common in Spain, so some students improvised with watermelons or other gourds. One student spray-painted his pumpkin gold. At the end of the day, some of the pumpkins were abandoned, so I brought two of them home (one of which now belongs to my landlord's daughter, who was looking for one).
One of the girls told me that she would be having a Halloween party that weekend. Guests would come dressed in all black or all white. They'd watch scary movies.
On Saturday night, Henri drove to Córdoba from the international airport in Madrid. It took about five hours; it was around 2 AM when he finally found the train station. He had initially wanted to drive straight to my apartment, but I insisted that he arrive at a big landmark because Córdoba is such a confusing city by car. It's lucky I put my foot down; he had to stop and ask for directions several times.
We managed to find free parking in Ciudad Jardín, a half-hour walk from my studio.
At the market on Sunday, Henri introduced me to a food whose name I can't remember-- a kind of nut that's marinated like olives. It's roughly the size of my thumbnail, yellow in color, and is a rounded-square shape. It's coated in thin skin like that of a chickpea, and you have to bite a hole in the skin and pop it out to eat it.
Other than Henri and myself, only two people showed up to my philosophy class on Monday. Today, Tuesday, is All Saints' Day, and there are no classes. Our professor, after a half-hour lecture, took us out for coffee.
What fun! I love the bit about the other gourds used in Spain. When I first came to Belgium, some used to carve up turnips or beets and put the candle-lit root in the front window. The function is still the same, to scare off the evil spirits and invite those of your loved ones in to share some food (so to speak). That nut sounds interesting. Find out what it is and report back.
ReplyDeleteI like the black and white party!
ReplyDeleteI have always liked All Saint's Day. Much more subdued than Halloween. Everyone puts beautiful flowers on their loved ones' graves which die days later with the first frost. I always tried to get plants that would survive the winter - purple and magenta heathers and a bit of green. It was shameful if you didn't put something on your graves. But then the same graves would lie empty and grey all spring and summer.