¡Zambomba!

Jerez guitarist at a zambomba

Christmas in Spain is yet another great reason to have a party.   The holiday remains staunchly rooted in the Catholic traditions with a charming twist and wicked sense of humor provided by Andalucia’s flamenco culture.  We spent time this year melding our German and American traditions with our newly-acquired Spanish villancicos in an attempt to throw our very own zambomba.

Tuning up for Christmas

A zambomba is an instrument used mostly during December to accompany the villancicos (or Spanish Christmas carols).  People gather at bars, restaurants, private homes, out in the street, parking lots, shopping malls, and anywhere else the Spanish hang out.  Many of these gatherings are planned and sponsored by bars and restaurants (a great way to sell a drink), but some also occur spontaneously in the streets or neighborhoods.  Since the zambomba (the musical instrument) is not the easiest to carry around, they tend to be a local phenomenon.  Here is a video from my friend Carolina’s zambomba-maker friend:

click here to see pictures and a video of a zambomba

Me playing a zambomba at a zambomba

Also common to a zambomba (the party) aside from a zambomba (the instrument) is one or several singers, and people who know how to clap (this might sound simple, but believe me, I’ve spend the last two years learning how to do it!).  Guitars, tambourines, and anis liqueur bottles scraped by a spoon round out the sound, but are not required.   Throw in a bonfire, and you’ve got yourself a zambomba.  Now all that’s missing would be friends to share it with!

Dancing around the fire at our first-ever zambomba

I invited everyone I knew for my first zambomba attempt in early December.  And, given the highly social nature of southern Spain, most everyone showed up, the most delightful people you could imagine.  My flamenco teacher, Lola de Cai, came to sing along with her guitarist Alejandro, and we spent the evening way into the morning hours singing, dancing, eating the Christmas potluck dishes everyone brought, and generally making a lot of noise, as Todd wanted to show off our amplification system.  Lucky we live next to two discos—no one complained.

(party?)

The rest of December was marked by zambomba after zambomba, most of which we didn’t attend.  Every corner bar had their own zambomba schedule, and I tried to drop by those I might have a chance to dance at.  Finally, at the zambomba in Vista Hermosa, with my family arriving just in time to videotape me, I got my chance, having practiced for hours and my courage bolstered by my friend Charo dancing first:

Click here to see me dance!

So where is the wicked sense of humor (aside from the goofy dancing)?  In the villancicos, of course.  They have been "flamenquized" in both their rhythm and words.  Here is a translation of one of my favorites; I had to check to make sure I was understanding the words correctly!

The Virgin, since she's a gypsy,
Is loved by the gypsy men
St. Joseph, since he's not a gypsy
rebels against all this attention

We don't give madroños to the Child
Because they could make him drunk!
Oh yes!  Oh no!  Rocio is the name of the mother of God

Here’s a link to the song, as well as several others that we’ve learned to love:

La virgen como gitana

La Marimorena

Los peces en el rio

Wise Guy Griffin Gaspar

Another zambomba we attended was at the kids’ school, Nuestra Señora de la Merced.  Adrian had a cameo as a shepherd boy, Griffin was the second of the Reyes Magos, Gaspar, and Tia and Sasha spearheaded their Christmas Dance presentations.  I came in to help the 5th and 6th grade sing “The Little Drummer Boy” and “The Friendly Beasts” in English as part of our conversation classes I’ve started there!   We finished it off by dancing swing to a Christmas remake of “In the Mood.” 

Click here to see us swing!

cameo appearance

In a word:  Christmas in Spain is FUN!

Three Sisters in Portugal

 

Sunny homeland

We finally coaxed Aunt Simone to come visit by promising her a huge palace penthouse overlooking a castle and several trips to Portugal, our homeland (“Rico,” after all, does come from the Azore Islands, part of Portugal; my great-grandfather stowed away on a boat to California!).  Before she arrived, Tia and Sasha stole off to St. Tropez with Aunt Suzi and Uncle Ethan while Aunt Steph whipped Ado, Grif , and Todd into shape at her home military academy. 

Beach beauties

High Style in St. Tropez

Aunt Simone arrived at the end of September to the delight of her nieces and nephews,  and we showed her a good time around Puerto, Cadiz, and even hit the last of the ferias in Arcos de la Frontera! 

Speaking of ferias, we also made it to the feria in Villamartin, which holds the honor of being our very first feria when we got here in 2011.  This year we took Suzi and Ethan along with the boys to hang out with our friends Begoña and Carmen.  Highlight of the evening:  Ethan learning the sevillanas with Begoña! 

¡Óle Sasha!

¡Que maestra excelente!

But the highlights for all of us was our trip to Portugal.  Todd and I had only made it as far as the coastal resort of Albufeira, a former fishing village now dolled up for tourists.  This trip packed the nine of us into a 7-seater Renault Espace, complete with a bucket seat made out of—yes—a bucket squashed between the two back seats to provide an eighth seat.  Yes, you counted correctly: with Aunt Simone we squashed NINE of us into the Renault!

(picture of  us in the car)

We drove out to Huelva first (not much to see), and stopped in Palos de la Frontera, home of the museum housing replicas of the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria (named for the Virgin but also because it was from Puerto!).  The museum is worthwhile and you can climb all over the little boats, marveling at the chutzpah of sailors willing to travel in these tiny wooden tubs across an unknown sea.

This is what they dared cross the wild Atlantic in!!!

Then off to the golden sands of the Algarve we went.  We’d found a outrageously cheap condo on airbnb.com in a little, unknown (to us) town called Manta Rota.  There we found a stunningly beautiful wide beach a five-minute walk from our condo, as well as some of the most delicious food we’ve had since being in Europe.  A little beach restaurant called Cha Com Agua Salgada (“Tea with Salty Water”) (!!), owned by an architect couple-turned-restauranteurs, was not only beautiful but also a delightful dining experience.  Paolo, the owner, catered to our every whim, creating dishes for the kids not on the menu and making us feel special. 

Sun god and godesses

Overlooking Tavira, Portugal

We love Aunt Simone

Back in Puerto, Aunt Simone babysat while Todd, Steph, Suz, and Ethan dressed up for the Navy Ball.  Suz gave Ethan a new haircut which went terribly awry—only to be saved by some creative trimwork. 

All dressed up...

...and lookin' sporty

Finally, Aunt Simone’s month in Spain came to an end just before Halloween. We had one last big Moroccan dinner at El Jardin de la Califa in Vejer de la Frontera. 

Moroccan dreams

She would have loved the party we threw for all of the girls in the 5th and 6th grades as well as a bunch of the boys from the 1st and 3rd grades; what a cultural exchange!  Come back soon, Simmie!

Quite a troop

The pumpkin contest was a success

Happy Halloween!

¡¡Ya Ha Lllegado Mi Hermana!!

Most of August we spent preparing for the arrival of my sister Suzanne and her family.   While going through the stresses of my mom’s illness, she and I dreamed of a time when we would all live in Spain in a palace next to a castle as a big communal family.  Now that dream was coming true. 

Can we afford THIS palace?  Well...maybe it's a little big.

We’d practiced communal living in Los Angeles and were convinced that sharing common Spanish space—kitchen, living room, pool and patio—would be easy compared to the gyrations we went through in LA (moving from the Valley Spring house to the Clybourn house and back, ongoing hospital stays, and the need to change at a moment’s notice).   So my sister and her husband Ethan packed up 14 big Home Depot boxes with stuff needed for a year’s stay and mailed them off to us while we searched for a palace.

A palatial vision for rent

Turns out we found it right in our own building.  The architect-owner of our palacio is currently working mostly up in Madrid during the ongoing financial Spanish crisis, and he agreed to rent us his offices.  So we began furnishing this gorgeous space with Rota Yard Sale and thrift shop finds. 

Our palace is the blue-tiled one!  View of our palace from the castle across the street

The upstairs of our palace--perfect!  Even decked out in thrift-shop.

And on the 19^th of August, they arrived!  My sister is here!  We are a big extended family living in Spain in a palace!  We have a whole year to explore Europe and live as a commune!

Exploring the streets of Sanlúcar together

My sister’s arrival is a form of healing in the aftermath of grief and loss following my mom’s death.  Being in Spain, with the excitement of a new culture, the challenge of a new language, and the welcoming hospitality of friends, has been a balm to me, and now I could extend it to my sister.  Suzi had been at the epicenter of my mom’s illness, coordinating her medical care in Los Angeles, and while we all returned to our lives far from this center, she stayed in LA, surrounded with the painful bittersweet memories of those intense eight months and left to pick up the pieces.  

Time tunnel: entrance to the Clybourn house, LA

And Suzi, being who she is, leapt right into being Spanish, insisting on conversational Spanish at dinnertime, agreeing to attend a bullfight, making friends with the owner of a fancy sherry bodega, and clicking away with her camera to capture this new life. 

El Puerto de Santa Maria at sunset

Toro and Tio Pepe greet you as you come into El Puerto

Our little castle next door

After we hit Aqualand (Aqua-fresh-land-ia to my nephew Ado) to overcome their jetlag, we planned our long-delayed trip to Northern Spain.  Our friends Sharon and Gidon own a beautiful farmhouse in the countryside of Cantabria which we had rented last summer but never saw due to our emergency trip to California.  Now we were on our way in a seven-seater Euro-van, traversing the sunlit Spanish mesas as we’d planned so long ago.  First stop:  Salamanca.

In the Plaza Mayor of Salamanca

This was Suzi’s idea, and the sandstone beauty of this medieval university town made it thoroughly worthwhile.  Our little pension Los Angeles was on the Plaza Mayor, and we wandered the cobblestone streets for an evening and a morning before heading north.

Laughing with the kids on the streets of Salamanca

The farmhouse was even lovelier than the charming website depicted, and we settled into two days of craggy Northern beach surf days before the famous rains set in.   Tia and Sasha learned to surf the gentle Atlantic waves, while Griffin and Ado tore it up on the boogey boards.  We walked the 40 minutes to the beach through rolling fields and farmland dotted with black-and-white milk cows. 

Surfer girls

Idyllic Northern Spain

Check out more of this gorgeous farmhouse by clicking here

On the way to the beach

Sure enough, the skies clouded and the temperature dropped 20 degrees; we were glad we’d brought long sleeves, pants, and jackets.  But the rainy weather didn’t stop us from visiting the beautiful little town of Santillander Del Mar (narrowly avoiding a thunderstorm) nor the deliciousness of Casa Poli, a sidreria (ciderhouse) just across the border in Asturias.  The area is also famous for its spectacular caves; we hit El Soplao and marveled at the crystal formations. 

Outside a typical rock house

The Santillanans must have been dwarfs

Awesome cave formations in El Soplao

But perhaps the best part of the vacation was the luxury of sharing an ancient farmhouse in the middle of cowfields, apple orchards, and corn patches.  We wandered the gravel paths, meandering, picking blackberries, and meeting the neighbors, the kids getting their first experiences with stinging nettles (all part of the bargain).  Now the trick will be to get my sister Simone here—soon!!

C'mon, Aunt Simone!!!!