Zaragoza

It was Zaragoza that first introduced me to the bull fighting. Siesta. Eating dinner at 11pm, or later. Tapas. Alien street art. Steak tartare. (Yes. It was good. But please Lord, let it be beef -- not horse.) And the Spanish festival -- fiestas.

Sitting on the banks of the Ebro River, Zaragoza, capital city of the region Aragón, is perhaps best known for its splendidly ornate cathedral -- the Basilica of the Pillar (Catedral-Basílica de Nuestra Señora del Pilar). Surrounding this place of pilgrimage are Zaragoza's historic quarter (Casco Histórico) and the Tube (El Tubo), a maze of narrow alleys which nurture innumerable cafés and tapas bars.

Originally a Carthaginian military outpost, Zaragoza was colonized during the reign of Augustus as the Roman city Caesaraugusta. The Romans also called the Ebro River the Iber -- hence the Iberian Peninsula, since it is Spain's largest river. It later became part of the Arab Emirate of Cordoba (714), renamed Saraqusta, which eventually evolved into an independent Muslim state. (Today, the influence of Muslim culture is readily evident in the abundance of Mudéjar brick architecture.) Later it was conquered and incorporated into the Kingdom of Aragón (1118). Zaragoza also witnessed the martyrdom and Jewish repression of the Spanish Inquisition (1480-1530); Napoleon laid siege to Zaragoza twice (1808-1809); and it was brutalized during Spain's Civil War (1936-1939).

Within this rich and complex environment, I stumbled upon its festival. Quite accidentally. Completely unaware.
Zaragoza’s Pillar Festival (Fiestas del Pilar) is celebrated annually on October 12th and the city comes alive with parades, theater and music to honor the Virgin of the Pillar. Not only is October 12th the Día de Nuestra Señora del Pilar in Zaragoza, it is also the Día de la Hispanidad, Spain’s national celebration of Columbus Day. During this time, it’s impossible to miss the random and abundant paths of flowers which lead one to the Plaza de Pilar. For the newcomer, it is evident that something of significance is going on here.

The beginning of this festival reaches back to 40 AD when Saint James the Apostle was evangelizing pagans in the area. As the story goes, the Virgin Mary appeared to him on a marble pillar and asked him to build a church on the land upon which he was standing. She left, the pillar remained. A small church was subsequently built around said pillar -- and over the years more grandiose structures evolved. The current basilica was designed in 1681, altered in the 18th century and completed in the 20th. The pillar on which the Virgin is supposed to have descended is displayed inside the Holy Chapel (Capilla Santa). Hundreds of pilgrims visit the chapel every day to kiss a small piece of the pillar which is unprotected. Oh.

The Spanish festival, this one included, takes to the streets. There are processions of big heads (gigantes y cabezudos) which have to mingle with the crowd. Excelente. But they entice little children to cry, amidst an ongoing barrage of music -- jazz, pop, rock, reggae, and folk. Spontaneous flamenco dancing erupts without warning. And no, you can’t just stand and watch. If you’re caught watching, locals drag you into the melee. It is even worse if you are caught snapping pictures. Dance class and you're now the star. The Festival of the Pillar is about total participation. Partake or flee.

Although this festival is officially recognized on a singular day, festival activities themselves last for nine days. All kinds of events occur, reoccur -- carnivals, one act plays, neighborhood firework displays. Pedestrians pack the streets at night. Spanish festivals run their cultural course. Uninhibited, uninterrupted.

And as it is a tradition in Spain, bull fighting is a central theme of this celebration. Everyone seemingly awaits the appearance of the bull. The bull must come. Celebrity -- beast and man. Perform and die well. For whom and why are we cheering? On a pleasantly warm October Sunday afternoon, I witnessed six matadors confront six bulls. I heard the bell toll, more than once. I learned the next day that a matador had in fact perished. Gored, ruptured femoral artery. Grueling. Haunting. Olé.

Since I have reflected for several years on the visits I have made to Zaragoza, this will probably evolve into several posts. Please excuse me.

Introducción. Por favor perdóneme.

Cantilevered

Sometimes we miss the obvious. I think I certainly did in this case. Ferris wheels. Now there's a quite large one on the bank of the Thames, across the river from Parliament and Big Ben. The London Eye. It is pretty hard not to notice. I've seen many, noted them, but have never been on one. Why? Well -- perhaps they are just a big, slow moving amusement ride -- for the weak kneed or enthralled romantics.

The original Ferris wheel was built for the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois (1893), to rival the main attraction of the 1889 Paris Exposition -- the Eiffel Tower. I've seen the Riesenrad (1897), a first generation observation or big wheel in Vienna's Prater (an amusement park). It's old and traditional and if I was going to spend money for an amusement ride, there's got to be a little speed involved. Employ unexpected g-forces, positive and negative -- you know the routine. Drop, turn, spin. Hold on, scream, wince or squeal. After all, I am part of the original Disney generation -- I've stood long enough in line for this thing, paid my dues, now entertain me -- and more than just a little, please.

When it was built, the London Eye (also called the Millennium Wheel, since it was dedicated in December of 1999) was the tallest Ferris wheel in the world. It is now just the largest wheel in Europe, being surpassed by two newcomers in Asia. Because it is supported by a frame on a single side, it is also termed "the world's tallest cantilevered observation wheel." But what caught my attention -- and forced me to give this one a go -- was the fact that the wheel carries 32 sealed, air-conditioned passenger capsules attached to its external circumference -- pods, dangling, supported on the outside of the wheel, pods which can hold up to 24 people. That's upwards of nearly 800 podnaughts on board at any given time -- a communal habitat. Though seating is available, individuals are free to walk around inside the pod, socialize. One revolution takes about 30 minutes, slow enough that that riders easily can walk on and off without the Eye ever stopping. And the London Eye is the second most popular place in Europe for "popping the question." The Eiffel Tower is first. No surprise -- popping the question is often a weak kneed affair.

The fare for a standard ride on the Eye is just £15.50 for adults and £7.75 for children. Private capsules can be had from £299 to £1200 -- with champagne of course. I'm sure that cost also encouraged me to be even more disinterested. And since Eye rides are considered "flights," tickets must be booked via British Airways. I'm not quite sure I completely understand -- but that's okay. The Eye, as all big wheels, exists to fulfill a single function -- to lift people up from the ground, take them round a giant loop in the sky, then put them back down where they started. In self-supporting habitat-bubble-things. With spectacular views. So simple, so clean. I just may have to give this cantilevered Eye another dawdling whirl.

Chippy

"Chippy" is British slang for a local fish and chip shop. I lived, worked and went to school in England a couple of decades back and I quickly learned to endure the rather large que at our local chippy. It would only open for a couple of hours in the late afternoon on select days -- the fresh catch of fish was prepped, cooked and sold. Until depleted. Sorry, see you next time.

Legend has it that fried fish shops, spreading north from the south of England, merged with fried potato shops descending from Scotland. The fish is traditionally Atlantic Cod or Haddock, battered or breaded -- and the chips are slab cut potatoes. All deep fried. Simple, fresh, hot.

As with a lot of English fare, fish and chips became a standard staple with the working masses. The emergence of trawl fishing and rail transport in the second half of the nineteenth century allowed the North Sea's fresh catch to remain cheap. Mass distribution, then popularity. Chips may also have appeared at the same time -- first mentioned by Charles Dickens in his A Tale of Two Cities. Welcome the Industrial Revolution, Capitalism and their benefits (most frequently maligned). Yes, there are many ways in which labor is rewarded. In this case perhaps, symbolized by a bit of malt on one's blue collar.

I've never had better fish and chips.