Singapore: Any woman’s Paradise

Last December I lived every woman’s dream: I traveled to Singapore, a place with unlimited shopping malls where you can spend hours strolling down aisles window shopping, and buying clothes.

While many women would have felt in paradise in that situation, I was the protagonist of my worst nightmare: everywhere I looked I could only see shopping malls, and more shopping malls.

As usual, I wanted to escape the touristy area and find a place where I could interact with locals, ask them about their culture and their country’s traditions. However, in this city-country-island in the South of Asia,and the South of the Malay Peninsula, it was practically impossible to escape this labyrinth of shops and bag carrying people.

I think Singapore probably has an area that is shopping mall free. Yet, considering in 1997 the city already had 19.800 clothing stores, I am not surprised I was unable to find it.

After fighting crowded streets for hours, my brother, my mother and I decided to take a Boat Quay down Singapore River to escape touristy conglomerations: we sailed down the Riverside, observed the English style houses built along the river and noticed a great number of skyscrapers. From the boat we could se that this island-city-country was very modern and cosmopolitan.

Surfing through Singapore’s official website after my trip I discovered there are various cultural tourist attractions that I was unaware of when I visited the country.

Visit the site, so you don’t miss them when it’s your turn to go there: http://www.visitsingapore.com/

Chulapos Parade Along Calle Mayor in Madrid to honor the City's Patron

I have few words to describe San Isidro’s celebration in Madrid, Spain.

After attending Seville’s Fair, where colors and diversity took hold of the streets, it is hard to describe the celebration of the capital’s patron, where very few people are wearing the traditional dresses.

While we walked through Madrid trying to find a place where we could see how locals celebrated this special day, we run into a parade of the Agrupación de Madrileños y Amigos en la Calle Mayor.

This group of locals were wearing traditional clothes, only sadly, most of them were older citizens. This makes me wonder what will happen to the celebration after these traditionalists are gone. Enough said. Enjoy the parade!

From the Land of Natives, to Segovia, the Land of Castles

“Do you have castles in Latin America?” asked one of my Spanish roommates while we had dinner Sunday night.

I was speechless. I stopped eating, and just looked up without knowing what to say.

Throughout my childhood, my mom had frequently put me to sleep reading Fairytales with princesses, dragons and castles. However, I could not remember ever seeing a castle in my continent.

When I first wrote the Spanish version of the blog, I actually thought there were no castles in America (read continent). But then, some of my readers verified there are several castles in different parts of Peru, Colombia, Mexico and Venezuela.

Nevertheless, I still insist that those castles hardly resemble real castles, like the ones that we see in storybooks, with thin towers, thick bridges, protecting walls, etc…

Taking advantage of the fact I was living in Spain, I took a bus to Segovia to visit a real castle.

Even though my blue prince was not waiting for me inside the castle, I had the opportunity to walk over cobblestones eroded by the royalty, and then by millions of tourists who came before me.

I decided to visit the castle during lunchtime so I could enjoy every corner of it without needing to fight against tourist masses.

I took a long and careful look at the collectio of armors with curious curved feet that make you wonder if noblemen really walked and fought with such heavy and uncomfortable looking suits, or if these armors were simply decorative statues that some imaginative person then decided to include in myths and legends.

I also looked at the detailed decorations that covered the metal suits: some where full-body metal armors, other only covered half the body; some were plain while others had intricate motives carved into the chest and hands’ area.

I also climbed up the thin and claustrophobic stairs to the terrace where the wind messed up my hair, and obliged me to feel free. I stayed there for a while enjoying the view, extending the fantasy of beign inside a castle until my stomach’s growling became unbearable. It was already 4:30 p.m. andif I did not hurry my way down, I wasn´t going to find a place open where I could have lunch.

Seville, Spain: Food Worth Dreaming of

After dancing so much, there is always space for a food dish, something that was always present when I visited Seville .

For breakfast, we would have toast with red butter to recharge our energies for the day. For lunch, one day we would eat, fried breaded camembert cheese with raspberry sauce and eggplant musaka at the terrace of Plaza de Los Terceros. Another day we would have “pulpo a la gallega” or some pinchitos (meat on a stick) at Betis Street.

At night we would delight ourselves with more exquisites like: the typical fried fish (pescaito frito, as people from Seville call "fried fish"), chicken with mushroom sauce, cod with asparagus sauce or tender pork with whisky sauce….

One delicious dish after another, in company of good friends, a cold "tinto de verano" (red wine mixed with orange soda or fresh fruit) or a "rebujito" (local spirit drink), a lot of dancing and nice views, were the perfect ingredients to live Seville’s slogan : “the construction of a dream.”

Spain: Sensuality in not only Covered with Polka-Dots

The great variety of dresses, add-ons and accessories shook away my ignorance: flamenco dresses are not only made from spotted fabric as I thought. Actually, the polka-dot dresses were reserved to touristy souvenir shops. Locals instead, displayed variety and color.

During April's Fair’s first years, rancher’s wives would attend the fair with traditional country suits adorned with some twists. With time, high-class women began to participate in the fair, dressed with more elaborate dresses. Soon after that, the other women felt inclined to incorporate changes to their attires, until flamenco dresses became a fashion statement that change and adapt to become more modern every year.

The dresses can have a triangular, rounded or square cleavage cut, twists or no twists; women can choose to complement them with hoops, long earrings, bracelets, flowers, “peinetillas”, colorful laces or “Mantones de Manila”, depending on that year’s fashion trends.

Fashion changes, but the flamenco dress, also known as “guitar body”, continues to be tight, to highlight women’s sensuality and disguise their flaws, according the AndaluNet.

But at April’s Fair, women are not the only ones who dress to impress. Men also emphasize their masculinity with short suits, with matching pants, jacket and hat. Even though the male’s attire hasn’t evolved as much throughout time, it also follows the fashion trends of the time.

On a differnet note, we cannot ignore bullfighter’s suits; its colors and elaborate needle work represent an artwork in itself. If you pay attention to the intricate designes in their suits, you can differentiate the main bullfighter from the rest.

As people begin to dance to the rhythm of sevillanas, typical of April’s Fair, the suits seem to become even more sensual and beautiful. AdaluNet explains that sevillanas date back to the times of the Catholic King and Queen; they are usually composed of four verses of seven odd syllables, with consonant type of rhyme; its chorus has three verses, where the first one and the third one rhyme.

Even though sevillana’s themes are varied: some talk about the sea and sailors, others about life in the country and the South of Spain, others narrate daily events or talk about feelings, love affairs or politics, and even about the beautiful Seville and its neighboring tows. Regardless of the songs' theme, people dance each song with the same happiness, enthusiasm and Southern pride.

Planning a Trip Upside Down: Seville’s Fair

The tip to La Feria de Abril in Seville, Spain, was planned upside down: first we got the return ticket, and then we searched for a way to get there.

After running around Madrid, going through several train and bus stations and different travel agencies, we finally found tickets to get to the Fair. Even though we hadn’t started out journey, our adventure had already began.

We had a hurried, stressful and reckless start. But once we got to Seville, the locals made sure to change everything around: their cheerful nature, and never ending hospitality, their dances, music and food, ensured we had a wonderful trip.

The Fair of Seville is different from all the other Fairs that take place in Spain. In Seville, the fair was first organized in 1847 to showcase the cattle, while the rest of the fairs in Spain were first organized to venerate a Saint or the city’s patron.

The original Fair of Seville had around 19 “casetas” displayed at Prado de San Sebastián, an area in the suburbs of the city, while today, the fair summons close to 1,000 “casetas” in the center of Seville.

Groups of friends, neighbors, work colleagues or large families get together to collect enough funds to be able to reserve a spot and a “caseta” at the Fair. The hostesses decorate the “caseta” as they please. Yet, the “farolillos”, flamenco music and laughter are a must in ever "caseta".

At the Fair, women did not have hands; their extremities were brushes that painted elaborated drawings in the air. Even though I looked at their hands thoroughly, I found it impossible to copy their movements.

In the past, whenever I heard flamenco, I only heard screams and lamenting voices. Yet at the Fair, the dancers’ smiles, the colorful flamenco dresses, and the energetic clapping that accompanied the synchronized dances transformed flamenco into vigorous and happy songs.

In this context, “sevillanas” and flamenco music took on a new meaning for me.

Laying Down in the Valley of those who have Fallen

During Holy Week, we left Madrid searching for a place where we could find peace and tranquility. Searching the web, we found a place that seemed to meet our needs, took a bus and traveled to Guadarrama and the Valley of those who have Fallen. Once there, we hiked for a couple of hours, and then laid out our pic nic in front of the Jarrosa Reservoir.

Its incredible how the landscape transforms itself after a short bus ride: the tall buildings become extense prairies and green mountains, and the noise from the cars becomes inaudible.

Apart from the trails that we hicked through, you can go to Guadarrama’s website, to take a look at the various trails and choose the ones you want to use so you can rest and realx as you walk through them.

I hope I can soon return to lay down and rest on the grass of some other corner of this peaceful valley.

Alcalá Henares, Spain: Now and Forever a City of Immigrants

I went to Alcalá Henares, Spain, to visit a friend with some friends from my Masters' program. We went there to have a good time and discovered a historic city and interesting Holy Week Parades.

Never underestimate the visits to your friend’s towns in Spain, since you never know what you can find. How could I have undervalued the crib of Miguel de Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote de la Mancha, one of Spain's most famous literary pieces.

The population of the city has doubled in the last couple of years with the arrival of immigrants from Eastern Europe, Latin America and Africa. However, as we walked down the streets we noticed that Alcalá Henares has always been a city of immigrants where Christian, Jewish and Muslim people cohabitated for many years.

Even though Jewish people influenced the architecture of the city and its culture very little, the Muslim influence is imminent wherever you look, especially in the houses’ wide galleries and numerous arcs.


Nevertheless, as in the rest of Spain, the Christian influence continuous to have the greatest influence in the culture, especially during Holy Week, when Christian Processions leave a trail of incense that takes hold of every street corner.

After visiting Alcalá Henares I understood why my friend was so proud of his hometown, and why the city was declared World Heritage by UNESCO.






Religious Procession
This is how Spanish people celebrate Holy Week. They wear the veil to become anonymous, and despite the similarity suits that resemble KKK attires, although the two pieces of clothing and their significance are not related in any way.

I say Goodbye to Pamplona with Tears and Illusion

I left Pamplona with a tear and an illusion.

A tear because I was living in a city that made me feel at home, a place where I felt comfortable, where I was happy.

And an illusion of moving to a more diverse place, with more movement, and an open door to the working world.

When I got to Madrid I found that I continued to be happy and I still felt at home. I was still surrounded with the majority of the people who had made me happy in Pamplona. On top of that, I found a sunny city, inhabited with kind people and less contamination than what I remembered.



Madrid is a large city, with a town-spirit: office hours are relaxed, lunches are long and people pause to talk to you.

There are a lot of places to visit: from cienmas and theaters, to museums, parks and bars… And if you don’t feel like doing anything, you can still entertain yourself watching the diverse individuals that live in this city.

Madrid is a chaotic and disorganized city, where everything is far, yet everything is connected by the wonderful underground metro system.

At this time I wonder, How long will this illusion last? When I leave it, will I shed some tears as well?

Getting to Pamplona from Madrid:
Bus: Continental Auto
Intercambiador de Metro Avenida América
Phone: 917 45 63 00

Spain and France: Borderless Countries

There were no barriers, police officers, or immigration offices that indicated we had changed countries. We realized we were no longer in Spain when we noticed the street signs were now written in French.

After driving for several hours, we arrived at "Saint-Jean-de-Luz", a beautiful coastal town of the of the Pyrénées-Atlantiques département, France, situated between Biarritz and Hendaya.

Despite the closeness to Spain, it was evident that we were in a different country. The rock houses with small windows had been replaced with petite white houses. The dark, narrow and rustic Spanish bars had been replaced by small lighted restaurants and creperies with terraces.

Everything was calm. Everything was joyful. Nothing could ruin the moment or erase the city’s enchantment. Not even the thin drizzle that welcomed us to the city.

After walking through the little cobblestone-streets lighted with the dim street lanterns'light, we were captivated by the aroma of home made bread of “The Creperie”, and we decided go inside to eat.

I had tried crepes before. But it was the first time I tasted salty ones. And what a first time! The cheese hugged the jam that easily covered every inch of your tongue with a salty-cheesy sweetness.

The food became more and more delicious with every bite I made, and the city became increasingly embellished with every breath.