¡ZAMBOMBA!

Time for some Christmas spirit and Christmas cards!

December ushers in the Christmas season, although Spain, like the U.S., has also started its holiday advertising sometime right after Halloween.  And to my delight, a thousand zambombas erupt throughout Puerto, Jerez, and probably in the rest of Andalucía.  (But not in Madrid!  The streets were quiet the first weekend of December when we visited our friends Carlos and Annette, who are now stationed there with the Air Force.) 

Carlos and Annette were fabulous hosts, zambomba or no zambomba!

But December’s weekends here are all about zambombas.   A zambomba is both a musical instrument (see below) as well as a flamenco Christmas party, often outdoors, and  traditionally around a fire.  The streets overflow with song and dance, providing me with multiple forums to dance a pataita de bulerias.   Although I’m still not very good (and I’m realizing, the better I get, that I will NEVER be very good, having started much too late), I seek out every opportunity to dance, unlike many of my Spanish friends, the vast majority of whom are much better dancers, but they just don’t like to show off like I do. 

The Christmas lights are always gorgeous

Click here to see me dance in my teacher Lola's zambomba!

This year I was part of my dance teacher Jaime’s singing class that worked up a bunch of villancicos.  Thus far, I’d learned only popular ones:  Peces en el Rio, La Marimorena, Campana Sobre Campana.  But this group taught me the more ancient and traditional flamenco villancicos: Carita Divina, Azucar y Canela, Los Caminos Se Hicieron.  We learned about 10 new ones in a very short time, and again I fell head over heels in love with the rhythmic harmonies of Andalucía. 

The tubs of water are for wetting down your hands!

Click here to hear La Carita Divina
Click here to hear Azucar y Canela
Click here to hear Los Caminos Se Hicieron

Once we had some of these songs down, one Saturday we took to the streets of Jerez after an excellent lunch in Plaza Platera.  Jerez was an explosion of singing, dancing, and the zumming, thrumming sound of the zambomba, that funny percussive instrument made from a clay jar with a stretched covering with a reed poked through it. You moisten your hands and glide up and down the reed; the resulting zzzuuubbb-zzzzuuuubbb matches well with the most traditional villancicos.

Singing around the fire

 Click here to see me playing the zambomba in Jerez

Every plaza seemed to be throwing its own zambomba, and as we were a group of some 20 strong, we were our own moving zambomba.   Every time we stopped and sang, passersby would stop and join us, until we had a impressive-sized group, all singing, with the occasional dancer entering the center of our circle to whirl and twirl before gracefully exiting.   And so Jaime guided us through the streets of Jerez until we wimped out to go home at 11 pm, leaving the rest of the group to continue until who knows when!

Singing and dancing until the wee hours

And of course I organized my own palatial zambomba.  With my favorite bring-a-plate-of-tapas-and-a-bottle-of-whatever, these parties are easy, and all I had to do was arrange the music and find plenty of chairs.  My friend Jesule and his group led us through villancicos, sevillanas, and of course the bulerias.  (These musicians have stamina during this season, sometimes playing 3-4 parties per day on the weekends!) 

Rumba with Paqui

Time for the bulerias

Jaime bailando: This is what I aspire to...and it will take me another 20 years to get there.

After they left (for their next event!), we began singing and dancing with no need for music other than the accompaniment of our palmas (clapping).   In my premiere, I sang bulerias for the first time in public with the gorgeous copla Mal Alma, much to the amusement of everyone. 

Todd gets roped into dancing--what a good sport!

Begoña and Juan Pablo sing around the fire

Fiesta fun

To my delight, my friend and former student Timothy Hurst came to visit just in time for the zambomba.  I learned to teach at Our Lady of Perpetual Help (OLPH) in Anacostia, Washington, DC, also known to the kids as “Our Little Prison Home.”  Timothy, a young 11-year-old in 7th grade, was in my class my very first year of teaching.  He’d found me through Facebook, as have many former students, and as he was stationed in Crete, Greece, I’d invited him and his family to come stay with us.  It was strange and familiar at the same time to get to know him and his wife Natalia, a strikingly beautiful Puerto Rican, and to play with their two small boys Gabriel and Massimo. 

Teacher and student

We took Timothy, Natalia, and the boys to Todd’s former patient Mr. Suitt’s farm in Chipiona.  Not a zambomba exactly, but we made off with freshly harvested potatoes, carrots, and oranges.  Perfect loot, just in time for the arrival of Suzi, Ethan, Griffin and Ado for the holidays!

Bugs Bunny's dream: Nascent carrot farmers

Autumn in Spain

Thanksgiving means Sasha's birthday!  Feliz cumpleaños to our little turkey! (Purple hands courtesy of tie-dying activity)

I find myself feeling a little sad and nostalgic as we head into the home stretch of our time here in Spain.  The end of September marked the beginning of our last year here, and so from here on in everything takes on the color of being “the last time…”  at least for a while. 

Rustic rural:  Benamahoma house near Grazalema

Autumn is a good time for this kind of mildly maudlin reflective mindset.  And so when my friend Maribel told us about a lovely house close to Grazalema in the nearby Sierra de Pinar mountain range, just after a energetic game of padel with Mati and Charlotte, it seemed a perfect opportunity for an impromptu weekend getaway to view Spanish fall colors in the mountains.  

Another pueblo blanco of Andalusia: Benamahoma

Within three days, Maribel, Mati and I had the house rented for the following weekend, and had recruited Angeline, Trev, and their family, as well as Mati’s sister Laura and her kids. 

Playing games.  The house is as beautiful inside as it is outside.

Three sisters??  All we know is, we love Trev.

And so the first weekend in November we found ourselves in a rustic country house perched on the edge of the well-traveled hiking trail from Benamahoma to El Bosque.   Benamahoma (from the Arabic for “Sons of Mohammed) is a small pueblo blanco nestled on the border of the Sierra de Grazalema Natural Park.  

Green and ghostly: legend tells of spirits roaming these paths

It houses the natural spring that gives rise to the Rio Majaceite, which in turns flows into the Rio Guadalete and on down back to our home town of El Puerto.   

A bunch of hikers

The foot paths running alongside the Rio Majaceite are well-loved by the Spanish, and this weekend was no exception; the gorgeous fall weather brought out hikers of all ages, and we joined them for several hours to hike down to El Bosque.

Javi cooks up the paella for a late lunch after hiking.  We were hungry!!

The weekend flew by, playing guitar and games at night and breakfasting all together before hiking until the traditionally late Spanish lunch.  

The digital version of charades

More old-fashioned: game of spoons

On Sunday we hiked an almost completely abandoned trail; we had to search for it carefully, and the beauty and wildness of the area was enchanting.   

First arrivals: Paloma, Steph, and Sasha

We reached the cross keeping watch over Benamahoma and continued on through the arroyo, while the girls amused themselves plaiting flowers into their hair and playing tag.  All too soon we returned to Puerto tired and content.

Flower girls

A fun group!

Another fall tradition loomed large at the end of November: Thanksgiving.  Having celebrated with a mix of people, both American and Spanish, many of whom were already very familiar with our most American holiday, we decided to cook our own turkey and celebrate again in the palace (in part to assure a smooth supply of leftovers, my very favorite part of Thanksgiving).  

Ready to eat

We invited Spanish friends who had never had the chance to eat a proper Thanksgiving meal: my friend Charo and her husband Miguel; my friends and neighbors Maria and Enrique; my beloved friend Antonia, the very first flamenco compañera who complimented me on my dancing, no matter that it was very beginner; and my flamenco teacher Jaime, who not only has taught me a huge amount about flamenco in a very short time, but who loves to learn about new traditions and customs. 

My best effort to date!

And to my credit, I made the very best turkey ever in my life.   Moist, tender, and juicy, crispy on the outside, delicious moist-bread stuffing on the inside, with cranberry and mashed potatoes and green beans and gravy, all prepared so that it came together in one fragrant delicious smorgasboard.  

The perfect place for Thanksgiving

Pumpkin, apple, and pecan pies rounded out the meal, and oh, what a setting…there is no better than our splendid dining room at the palace. 

American turkey and Terry fino:  the best of both worlds

And so time flows on, turning more quickly than I would like, pushing forward through the weeks with a stealthy speed that I would love to slow down.  But as the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun.  And so it is!

Welcome to Thanksgiving at the Palace

Mixing It Up: Spano-American or Ameri-Spanish?

Aall black and white

One of the things I love about living here in this area is that I can fully integrate myself into the Spanish lifestyle here, and also get a kick out of being an American.  There are multiple venues where the Spanish and Americans intersect, and for the first time in my life I can navigate pretty fluently between two worlds, and also enjoy fully these convergences.

Another great intersection: Alejandro is the son of our friends Mati and Ignacio, both very Spanish!

One of the most obvious places of overlap is the Base Naval de Rota.   This base belongs to Spain; they fly the Spanish flag, it is guarded by the Spanish Navy, and it houses a large Spanish fleet, including their aircraft carriers.  The United States leases part of the base and operates there under the SOFA (Status of Forces) agreement between Spain and the U.S., which was first signed by Francisco Franco in 1953 in exchange for economic and military assistance. 

Franco and Eisenhower in 1953, when the first American presence in Spain was felt

This year’s U.S. Navy Ball was held in the gorgeous Jerezana bodega Gonzalez-Byass.  The crowd was a good mix of both Spanish and American, as the CO of the American side of the base, Greg Pekari, and his wife Ebru have been very successful at strengthening ties with the Spanish.  

Practicing our new moves

As Spanish as I can manage

Then there was the smooth arrival of four U.S. ships now permanently stationed in Rota (a first), which almost doubled the U.S. population on the base, sending even more Americans out into the nearby communities of Rota and El Puerto. 

Strolling off to the ball

The setting was fabulous, as was the food, catered by the famous Portuense restaurant El Faro.  I couldn’t resist dressing as Spanish as possible, and a friend announced to me, “Oh, when I told my sister that you were American, she said she thought you were from Sanlúcar!”  Ah, sweet success of at least looking Spanish, as long as I keep my mouth shut!

Mixing it up at the bodega

Another think I love is making friends with other like-minded Americans who love nothing more than to explore this region, culture, and foods.  Kell Killian is one of those, a chef by profession who is here (like me) as a ama de casa while his wife works as the head OR nurse up at the base hospital.  Kell has made it his mission to discover everthing—and I mean everything—cool about the surrounding area.  

Kell and friends in the kitchen

From visits to the local honeybee farmers to checking out the local goat cheeses, to visiting his farmer friend to take part in the carrot harvest, to making himself an expert in the private small bodegas, Kell knows more about at least the culinary part of Andalucía than I ever will!  (And he even learned how to dance bulerias!)  

And Kell has a sense of humor, too.

And so it was natural for him to host a Pulpo contest one bright sunny September Sunday.  Everyone had to make a dish that used pulpo—octopus—in some way.  There were judges and prizes, and all-around good eats.  

Pulpo of all kinds!  Chris's third-place Thai curry pulpo at the bottom middle.  Fabulous!!

With some 20-odd entries, the judges had it tough, but my friend Mati’s traditional Pulpo a la gallega won second place, with the first place going to some very creative and non-traditional pulpo-mango skewers from Eileen!  

Mango avocado pulpo kebabs, yum!

The winners: Eileen, Chris, and Mati

Again, there were about the same number of Spanish and Americans, with plenty of Spanglish spoken.  Todd felt right at home.

Very traditional but absolutely delicious Pulpo a la gallega

Mati making magic in the cocina

One thing that amazes me is that the Spanish have taken a real liking to the very American Halloween holiday.   I bemoaned the spread of Halloween in Spain to my Spanish friend Carmen, saying how crass and commercial a takeover it was.  

Carmen looooooves Halloween

She came right back at me with a cellphone full of photos of her cousin’s Halloween party, saying what a great time she had, and how fun she finds this celebration!

They strictly follow the spooky theme...

...and have a great time with it!

And indeed, this is another fiesta where Spain and the U.S. overlap.   Our kids love to Trick-or-Treat up on base, and they take their Spanish friends with them.  

All treats, no tricks.

Celia learns how to carve a pumpkin!

We went to a Halloween party on the American side of the base which was well-attended by the Spanish military folks, with plenty of crazy costumes.   This year we re-invented our theme used two years ago at Carnaval, the Runners of Pamplona, with a Halloween twist (but the same old Bullrilla).  

Get ready to run...some more...

Todd had to be a nurse this time, along with Brent and Scott.   The rest of us needed nurses, badly, to treat our road rash (courtesy of the Bullrilla and Montse the makeup artist). 

Definitely the ugliest nurse ever...

...but he had some good competition from other lovely ladies

So in the end, I get to have the best of both worlds—my roots and homeland, and my beloved Spain, all mixed up together!

Help...socorro...I think...

Las guapas