Andalusia: A Love Letter in Photos

The immortal Amigos de Gines sing, Andalucia es mi tierra, yo soy del sur. Andalusia is my home, I’m from the South. While I can’t claim to be a full-blood sevillana, I have certainly grown to love my adopted home. My skyscraper-dominated landscape at home now has just church spires and the Giralda piercing the sky, my all-beef hot dogs replaced by acorn-fed ham.

Tomorrow is Día de Andalucía, the day in which Andalusia was ratified as an autonomous state within the newly formed Spanish Republic just 33 years ago (fun fact: Andalusia is six months younger than the Novio!!). We get a day off of work, and many private places open their doors to the public, like the Town Hall or the Congressional Palace.

And why not celebrate? This is the land that has given us the Iberian Lynx and Jerez Stallions, given rise to Antonio Banderas and Paz Vega, cultivated olive oil and sherry. García Lorca wrote homages to his native land, Washington Irving made the Alhambra famous, and Velázquez and Picasso left Andalusia to become two of the most famous Spanish painters in history. Steeped in history and architecture, folklore and culture. Columbus set sail for La India from its very shores, and the last Muslim emperor was expelled from Granada, signalling the reconquest of Spain. Camarón put flamenco on the map from his chabola in San Fernando, while David Bisbal rocketed to fame with the pop hit, Bulería. It’s a place where a si, claro because a ahi, aro illo!

My visual homage to lovely Andalucía:

The landscapes and cityscapes

Seville

Granada

Santa Cruz, Sevilla

Estepa (Seville province)

The beach at Bolonia and ruins of Baelo Claudia

The pueblos blancos, or white villages

Tarifa (Cádiz)

Iglesia del Carmen, Zahora de los Atunes (Cádiz)

The food and drink (and la marcha!)

The folklore and culture

La Manera de Ser

Have you ever visited Andalusia? What do you like about this region? Can you believe I’ve actually never been to Jaén or Almería?

Seville Snapshots: Merry Christmas from Sunshine and Siestas

Christmas used to mean bickering in my family. The chores, the frantic house cleaning and cooking, the rush of kisses from the in-laws after finally deciding who would be hosting. The constant car trips, the Christmas Mass standing up, the incessant carols blasting from every car radio – I could have done without it.

Then I moved to Spain.

I escape not only the bickering, but also the Christmas carols (I swear I know just the chorus of a handful of Spanish villancicos), the tree hunt looking for Nancy’s perfect Douglas Fir, the snow in Chicago. And somehow along the way, Christmas has become one of the best opportunities I have to see my family. Over the last six navidades that I’ve found myself in Spain, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel around Andalusia and Ireland, to Morocco, to The American Southwest. Gone are the holiday traditions we’ve had since forever, as my family and I create world travel as our Christmas treat to one another. I miss watching Morgan step gingerly into the snow when it’s higher than her head and treating Aunt Pat to lunch at the Walnut Room after seeing the windows at Field’s, but helping my family make travel as important to them as it is to me is what fuels the magic for me during the season.

To you and yours, Merry Christmas from me. I am forever grateful for my readers who seem like family more and more each day. Estés donde estés, enjoy this wonderful season, and don’t worry so much about your waistline (dude, Spain has lard cookies as its holiday indulgence, so you can’t be any worse off than me!). Wishing you all the very, very best for 2013 from Spain!

Besos, Cat

Seville Snapshots: Arcos de la Frontera, Cádiz

Having just arrived in the southwestern Spanish village of Arcos de la Frontera with a government grant to teach English, the first two thoughts that I crossed my mind were the following: This Andalusian town is stunningly beautiful, and These Andalusian women are stunningly beautiful. As a photography enthusiast (and perhaps at the risk of discrediting myself), I have to admit that taking impressive-looking pictures in any of Cádiz’s pueblos blancos is, ahem, just about a sure shot.
When I started dating Esmeralda, a preschool teacher at that school and who is now my wife, it was springtime in southern Spain, which is of course feria season. While Sevilla’s April Fair is by far the most famous, nearly every village, no matter how small, boasts its own week of colorful festivals, and within a couple weeks of each other, both Jerez de la Frontera and El Puerto de Santa María each throw formidable (and fully open to the public, as opposed to in Sevilla) spring fairs.
Needless to say, the first time I saw Esme in her flamenco dress at one of these fairs, I was floored. I told her that I would love to do a photo shoot of her in full feria garb on my apartment building´s azotea (rooftop area of most Andalusian residency buildings, mostly used for hanging clothes to dry), which had a privileged view of the village, with the San Pedro and Santa María churches, and the Moorish castle, crowning the almost proto-cubist stacks which form the medieval white Old Town of Arcos.
These photographs are just two of a series which carries a great deal of emotional, and aesthetic, significance for me. I no longer live in Arcos de la Frontera — we moved to the Sevilla area a little over three years ago — and my understanding of this region and this country has grown far more complex over the last few years. But they say that first impressions can last a lifetime, and I’m determined to hold on to this vision of Spain’s simple luminous beauty as long as I can, especially during one the darkest period’s in this country’s history.
You can reach Lincoln by checking out his text and photo blogs:
I also want to give a shout out to this Antena3 initiative to defend Spain’s image in the fallout from the infamous NYT article: http://www.antena3.com/noticias/sociedad/buscamos-fotografias-espana-que-publico-the-new-york-times-participa_2012100300098.html
If you’d like to contribute your photos from Spain and Seville, please send me an email at sunshineandsiestas @ gmail.com with your name, short description of the photo, and any bio or links directing you back to your own blog, Facebook page or twitter. There’s plenty more pictures of the gorgeous Seville on Sunshine and Siesta’s new Facebook page!

How to Get a Carné Jóven Andaluz

Ah, youth. The period of your life where everything is confusing, the future is uncertain and where you rely – perhaps more heavily than necessary – on others to stay afloat. Even as a 27-year-old living in another country, I still feel like I’m in this not-quite-an-adult limbo (like the Britney Spears song).

But don’t worry, guiri friends. The government has got your back on this one!

With the unemployment rate in Spain climbing as fast as our taxes, the Andalusian government became the first autonomy to amplify the carné jóven, a sort of discount card that can be redeemed at places all around Andalucía and Spain. Valid until the day you turn 31, shops, beauty parlors and even hotels will give you discounts by simply presenting the card and a photo ID. It’s similar to the ISIC card and can save you oodles on all types of services.

What you’ll need

  • Your NIE and one photocopy (in its absence, your passport and proof of residency in Andalucía)
  • Form Anexo 1 (available here)
  • Proof of being Andalusian or proof of residence in the Andalusian community (usually your NIE will suffice, if not, a housing contract or bill will do)
  • 6€

Where to go

The Institutos Andaluces de Jóvenes, as well as some local banks and any offices of información juvenil in your village, are authorized to process your paperwork and give you the rights to own a card. But, as with many things in Spain, you’ll have to turn in your paperwork and THEN go to a bank with form Modelo 46, wait in another line and pay a fee, called a tasa, of 6€. Cards can be processed in the same day if turned in before 10a.m., or sent to your residence.

Similarly, there’s an online portal.

Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/General Tamayo, 23
04001-Almería
Tlf: 950 00 66 00
Fax: 950 00 66 20
E-mail:informacion.al.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
Alameda Apodaca, 20
11003-Cádiz
Tlf: 956 00 75 00
Fax: 956 00 75 20
E-mail:informacion.ca.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/ Adarve, 2
14002-Córdoba
Tlf: 957 35 22 40
Fax: 957 35 22 41
E-mail:informacion.co.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/ Ancha de Santo Domingo, 1
18009-Granada
Tlf: 958 02 58 50
Fax: 958 02 58 70
E-mail:informacion.gr.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/Rico, 26
21001-Huelva
Tlf: 959 01 19 50
Fax: 959 01 19 51
E-mail:informacion.hu.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/Arquitecto Berges, 34 – A
23007-Jaén
Tlf: 953 00 19 50
Fax: 953 00 19 70
E-mail:informacion.ja.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/ Carretería, 7
29008-Málaga
Tlf: 951 04 09 19
Fax: 951 04 09 20
E-mail:informacion.ma.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/O´Donnell, 22
41001-Sevilla
Tlf: 955 03 63 50
Fax: 955 03 63 60
E-mail:informacion.se.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es

source

Where it’s valid

Good news – if you’re under 27, you get a 20 – 25% discount on train tickets for the AVE and media distancia trains. Bad news: I turned 27 two months ago and no longer receive these amazing deals. Still, the card is valid all around Andalucía and in many other regions of Spain at youth hostels and hotels (10 – 15% off full price), private doctors and opticians (up to 20%), along with gyms, cafés and courses. A full list can be found clicking clicking here.

The Carné Jóven is also valid in 40 European countries if you’re 26 or under, much like an ISIC card.

If you’ve used a carné, tell me where! My main purpose for getting the card was for Renfe discounts, but I now don’t know where to make my 6€ count!

An Inside Peek: The Ayuntamiento of Seville

For all of the places I’ve visited in Seville, several are behind closed doors, off-limits to me and the common folk: Palacio San Telmo, cloistered monasteries rumored to be breathtaking, that silly old pijo club in Plaza San Francisco where you need a member’s card to get a gintoncito.

Thankfully, many of these clandestine places open their doors during special feast days and holidays, and Seville is no exception. The Morón Air Force Base holds an annual public day before Christmas, and Andalusia Day means places like the Parliament and Town Hall are open during the Jornadas de Puertas Abiertas, and last year I got a peek of the city’s newest museum, the Antiquarum. No work in city offices = come one, come all.

Laying between Plaza Nueva and Plaza San Francisco, Seville’s town hall building, called the Ayuntamiento, is a 16th Century stone brick that houses the local government. Everything to budget cuts to weddings take place here, and the plaza that lies out front is home to the city Christmas tree, protests and large-scale outdoor markets, as well as where the “ball drops” on New Years Eve.

While the stately building’s neoclassical design is as beautiful on the outside Eastern façade as it is on the inside, I was more transfixed by the details, both ornate and emblematic of Seville.

Y nace en Santa Cruz.

Saturday, 9:53 am. Bike is parked next to Alfonso XIII, heavy with a layer of dust. No one is out, save the old men, hands clasped behind their backs in a slow, statuary salute.

Early Saturday mornings mean the city is entirely for me: no camera-toting tourists to dodge, no street performers belting out their tired anthems. The sting of smoke from the chestnut vendors blinds me from the soft, golden color of the sun, long before it drowsily roars with its midday strength.

La Esquina de Arfe becomes my fueling stop, just a brisk walk away from the nondescript churros stand. The woman twisting the long coils hands a doughy stick to a young boy, snatching it away at the last moment. Niño! she scolds, ¡Que te vas a quemar! I take my coffee templado and my toast a bit burnt with tomatoes.

Saturday mornings mean solitude – in the streets, in the Hospital de la Caridad, in my own head. I wander the streets of El Arenal watching vendors receive their fresh goods, feeling the sunlight on my face. After ducking into Plaza del Cabildo for a quick look at the antique shops, I burst out onto Avenida de la Constitución. In the City That Never Socializes Indoors,  the streets have filled with strollers and shoppers.

María Praderes Dolores once sang that Sevilla has a special color. I imagine that it’s the color of the sun that sets in Triana and is born in Santa Cruz, illuminating the Giralda spire on early Saturday mornings.

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