#zaragoza spain sights

[wanderlustphotosblog]

Plan Your Perfect Trip with this Zaragoza, Spain Travel Guide

Discover the hidden gem of Zaragoza, Spain. Immerse yourself in its fascinating history and explore its stunning architecture and rich cultural tradition with this comprehensive travel guide.

This Zaragoza, Spain travel guide post contains my Hotels.com, Expedia, Vrbo, and Viator affiliate links. I may receive a commission when you book a hotel or tour from this article, though at no additional cost to you. I hand-pick and recommend only the hotels and tours that I have thoroughly researched and feel comfortable recommending. While other cities in Spain may get more attention from…

[jmarquezp]

El pilar y puente de piedra #zaragoza #aragon #españa #spain #vacaciones #holidays #turismo #tourism #naturaleza #montaña #mountains #nature #aventura #adventure #viaje #travel #vistas #sight #travelphotography #travelpics #instatravel (en Zaragoza, Spain) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck4PG8TsFs_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[nytb]

Punch after punch

Click here first <3

A born and raised Zaragozan, surrounded by boxing for her whole life, Y/N. A cocky persona, an undefeated record - everyone wanted to take her down, but Alexia only desired to be taken out by the Spaniard.

Both stars met at Mapi's new apartment festivities - that woman always had an excuse to throw a dinner party. After many attempts to turn the invite down, Y/N caved - Mapi was one of her childhood friends, that meant a lot to Y/N.

Little did the boxing star know, it was a setup.

Mapi had been led down the "it could turn out to be the romantic story everyone dreams of" road. Alexia had her way with words, sweetening a manipulation scheme into a cute little invite to the dinner party a certain Y/N would happen to attend.

To be completely honest, Alexia had been pining over the boxer for a while now. In Spain, any female athlete that rises to the top that fast is going to show up on people's radars.

In Alexia's case, Y/N's first appearance in the midfielder's life was through an iPhone screen - a pool party at a rooftop in Zaragoza, both Y/N and Mapi's home-town. The boxer was the center of the party, women practically threw themselves at her at any possibility - but Y/N remained respectful, putting space between anyone who so much as dared to approach her body.

That detail was engraved in Alexia's mind - well that and her body. Boxers are known to have the body everyone dreams of, especially during fighting season.

Alexia had made it her mission to be one of the first people to show up, something that alerted Mapi - the midfielder loved to be fashionably late, to be the center of attention when she arrived anywhere.

As people showed up, Alexia's demeanor changed. Person after person walked through the door, Y/N was nowhere in sight. Was she a no show? Was her word worth nothing?

That was until high pitch squeaks came from the door. Y/N had arrived and the dinner guests knew it. The boxer, now tangled with two beautiful women on her neck as they welcomed her, didn't even fight against the invasion of her private space.

Odd - that's all that Alexia allowed herself to think of the situation, jealousy wasn't yet an option.

As Y/N made her way to the terrace, where Mapi was entertaining her Norwegian girlfriend's friends, Alexia made it her mission to stay on the sidelines. She wasn't about to be caught gravelling for someone's attention.

"I see you still love throwing parties" Y/N hugged Mapi, everyone around them eyeing the boxer up and down.

Tight T-Shirt, ripped Jeans, simple sneakers. A simple fit but paired with a godlike physique could be the downfall of anyone.

"And I see that you're still a workaholic" the defender replies "Didn't even have time to dry your hair or is this a quick visit?" she questions.

The boxer was quick to reply "Do you really think that I would do that to you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time"

Mapi had grown accustomed to the little time Y/N had for friends or family.

"In my defense" Y/N started "That time I didn't know that it was a stay over party" she joked.

"Let me introduce you" Mapi grabbed Y/N and threw her to the wolves. "Seeing as how this might be my only chance, it's your time to meet everyone" she laughed mischievously.

As the party went on, Alexia - still holding on to the not catching me groveling tactic - decided that enough was enough.

Making her way to the terrace, hoping to come up with a good excuse to leave the party early, Alexia was snatched by a tall Norwegian.

"Everything ok?" Ingrid questioned, full worry on display.

"Oh yeah yeah..." the midfielder replied, clearly her excuse was still being workshopped in her head "I - I don't.. "

The Norwegian cut her off "I think that the excuse you're looking for is over there" pointing to a corner of the terrace.

Y/N, sat on the floor, leaning back on her arms behind her back. All alone.

"Go" Ingrid surely knew something. "Don't think that you insisting on joining a random dinner party went unnoticed by me" she smiled.

Fuck.

"How- " the midfielder began to question only to be cut off again "Go quickly, I'm pretty sure that someone else is eyeing her, so don't waste your chance" and with a smirk and a quick turn of her hips Ingrid was off, back to her girlfriend's arms.

"Not like the noise?" Alexia asked as she joined Y/N's side.

"More like I would rather be sleeping and not have hawks eyeing me down like I'm their next prey" the boxer replied.

"Wha-"

"Oh, you're doing it too" Apparently everyone is cutting Alexia off tonight.

"I see that you didn't need me to introduce you girls" Mapi jokes, clearly not knowing how sour the introduction had gotten.

"Actually, I wanted to go say bye to you" Alexia hugged Mapi "I have to go, you know- stuff" the midfielder didn't even try to come up with an excuse.

"That was odd" the defender turned to see how Alexia was actually leaving. "I feel like I missed something" she scratched the back of her head, clearly puzzled by the interaction.

"Yup, my fault" Y/N stood up. "I'll go fix it, see you later" the boxer excused herself, picking up her pace to not be stopped by any guests as she made her way to the door.

Apartments having an underground parking was never this useful, even if Alexia wanted to leave, she wouldn't be able to do so before being seen by Y/N.

"Hey" the boxer exclaimed, hoping to catch Alexia's attention. "Sorry about that" she excused herself, clearly acknowledging that she was an utter dick to the midfielder previously "Tough day at work" she approached quickly.

"We all have those" Alexia replied, cold voice, standoffish. "Not really a good excuse though"

"Yeah because your having stuff to do was a good excuse" Y/N joked, it falling flat as Alexia didn't seem the slightest bit amused by the comment.

"Maybe we don't all eye you like hawks" the midfielder attacked back.

"Maybe I want you to"

"Hello, I'm Alexia and I have stuff to do" the midfielder mocked the boxer's previous failed introduction as she turned her back to the boxer, reaching for her car's door, wanting to flee whatever was happening.

"No" Y/N kept the midfielder's car closed, now positioned at an arm's reach between the boxer and her own car "Not going anywhere until I at least get your phone number"

The midfielder turned around "Has this move actually ever worked?" she scoffed.

"Maybe its the first time that I try it"

"You should try harder, this isn't going to work on me"

"So there is something that would work on you?" The boxer smirked, slowly entering Alexia's personal space. Slowly forcing the midfielder's back against her own car, the midfielder allowed whatever was happening.

"I thought that you liked keeping your personal space - private"

"Scared of what happens when I don't?" the boxer questioned, whispering mere inches away from Alexia's lips.

"No" a whisper that came off like a soft moan slipped her mouth.

"So if I kiss you, right here" the boxer graced Alexia's bottom lip with her thumb, pulling her closer "You wouldn't fight it?"

The midfielder's hands slid to the boxer's abdomen "You missed your chance", she whispered against Y/N's lips.

"Are you sure about that?" Y/N looked at the midfielder up and down, hunger in her eyes "Because your body says differently"

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Maybe I would start by kissing you" the boxer pinned Alexia's hips with her own "I would start here" she whispers against the midfielder's neck, Alexia throws her head back from sheer pleasure. "Maybe I would lift you up into my arms, place you on the bonnet of your car" Y/N kept Alexia fantasizing "I would devour you right here - " her hands hover against the midfielder's body and before she could finish her sentence Alexia pounces.

Bringing the boxer's lips against her own, digging her nails into Y/N's lower back.

That's when Y/N took back control of the situation, pinning the midfielder against the car, holding the midfielder's head firmly in place as she worked her mouth.

The kiss quickly turned rough as Y/N picked up the pace, slipping her tongue into the midfielder's mouth as Alexia's quiet moans turned louder.

Y/N's mouth went straight to the midfielder's neck, gently nibbling at it as she picked the midfielder up off the ground. Alexia's ankles locking behind the boxer's back, bringing her even closer to her body.

"More" she begs and Y/N obliges, laying her on Alexia's bonnet, just like she promised. Tugging at the midfielder's dress, slowly lifting it while she deepened the kiss.

"More" Alexia moaned.

"Command me" Y/N nibbled at the midfielder's ear "Tell me what you want"

"You" she begged "Here, right now"

That was all it took. Y/N grabs Alexia's body and places her lower, letting her legs dangle from the bonnet. Settling herself on her knees Y/N devoured the midfielder, at first slowly, gently licking her from entrance to clit, reaching up to play with her nipples but as Alexia begged for more Y/N obliged.

Rough licks, putting pressure on her clit before introducing a finger into the midfielder and as she moaned, rolling her hips as she looked for a release of pleasure.

"Still." Y/N ordered "Stay. Still." She punctuated every word.

For a minute she followed the instructions given to her but as Y/N introduced a second finger into the midfielder she broke. Grabbing the boxer's hand that was previously stimulating her hard nipple, playing with it between thumb and forefinger.

Y/N stopped, lifting herself off the ground and hovering over Alexia. Keeping the midfielder's hands pinned against the bonnet, grabbing her wrists.

"I told you to stay still" Y/N groaned, pure lust displayed in Alexia's beautiful hazel eyes, mirroring her own. As the midfielder reached up, trying to pounce, taking advantage of how close the midfielder was, Y/N pinned her harder.

"No" Y/N muttered "That's not how this works"

The boxer grabbed Alexia's hips, leading the midfielder onto her feet. "You get what I give you" Y/N commanded "Now turn around"

Alexia didn't fight it, quickly turning on her feet and as Y/N pulled her flush against her body she moaned.

The boxer's hands travel down Alexia's body as she sucks on her neck, nibbles her ear, releases the midfielder's hair from the loose bun.

A quick attack as from one second to the next Y/N bit Alexia's neck, this time roughly, as she inserted a finger into the midfielder making her moan in the process. Her head flew back giving Y/N even more access to her neck and as she grabbed the boxer's hair, Y/N attacked her mouth.

Her tongue slips into Alexia's mouth, in total sync with her finger as she adds another. The midfielder's hips rolled again but this time Y/N pinned her hard against her body, not allowing the midfielder to move a single inch.

"Still" Y/N repeated.

Alexia moaned, each time louder as Y/N brought her close to release.

"Let go" the boxer ordered and seconds later Alexia crumbled, coming on Y/N's fingers, her hips shuddering. A loud moan threatens to leave her lips as Y/N muffles the sound with a deep kiss, this time softer. "Beautiful"

[etapereine]

Trick or treat 🐈‍⬛

you get a treat in the form of a snippet of the never-finished second chapter of why, why (did i ever let you go?)

most day's i'm fairly certain that i've abandoned that work but then some days i'm like. but what if....? it's just a hard one because i wrote and published that first chapter in a way that i was very happy with at the time but once i started getting into plotting the rest of it, the timeline of it all just made less and less sense. so coming back to it for real would involve a lot of work and most days i just can't quite bring myself to commit to that. maybe someday.

anyway snippet set post stage 13:

for one night, tadej allows himself to bask in the glow of happiness that radiates all the way from his teammates in spain, to live vicariously through their joy and celebration, to forget about blond hair and blue eyes and a yellow and black jersey.

and then jonas wins on the tourmalet.

tadej had seen it, the video from days before when jonas had said that he wanted a stage win to match his teammates, that he had unfinished business from the tourmalet. tadej hadn’t let himself think about his own stage win just two months ago, about how he was part of whatever business jonas had left unfinished. he hadn’t let himself imagine that jonas could be thinking of him on the road to zaragoza, mapping out the next day’s climb in his mind. 

but jonas wins on the tourmalet. tadej is on his couch in monaco and jonas is on a bike in france, but as jonas makes his attack and flies - here tadej feels they are closer than they’ve been since paris.

and tadej knows what jonas looks like from the back when he attacks, knows the sight of black and white and yellow across his shoulders, but on the television it’s different - the way jonas speaks into his team radio before he goes, the way tadej can see the attack building in jonas’s legs before he’s off like a shot and leaving juan behind him in the dust, the way the distance grows and grows and no one can catch him, the roll of muscle in his back and hips as he soars upwards.

the jersey gives you wings, van aert always says, but jonas isn’t wearing the yellow jersey now so maybe the wings are simply part of him, the part that always seems to be just out of tadej’s reach.

jonas blows a kiss as he crosses the line, eyes shining, and tadej has to look away.

tadej

you crashed?

you’re okay right?

the kingmaker

i’m okay tadej

hurts like hell but i’ll be fine

tadej

i will know if you are not

sebas will tell me

🔪🔪🔪

the kingmaker

like the little snitch he is yeah

the real question

is are you okay ;)

tadej

????

the kingmaker

your boy won today, yeah?

that’s kind of hot

tadej

i

that’s not

ugghhhh

yeah

the kingmaker

ahahahaha

joão is right

this is so funny

tadej

ANYWAY

the kingmaker

there there

imagine i’m patting your shoulder

joao said you’re waiting for him to text, yeah?

tadej

you talk about me?

rude

the kingmaker

obviously

but maybe just give him some space, yeah?

gotta be patient you know

tadej

it’s been a week

the kingmaker

a week at a grand tour

its different, no?

marc says he is really focused on the race

not even looking at his phone

tadej

i guess

wait

how does marc know that

scary eyes sus

the kingmaker

got it from sepp kuss i think

tadej

👀

SCARY EYES SUS

[thepastisalreadywritten]

The first Marian apparition in history appeared to Saint James the Apostle, the brother of Saint John the Evangelist, on the bank of the river Ebro in Saragossa, Spain.

Unlike every other recorded apparition, this one took place during the earthly life of the Mother of God.

According to tradition, she had promised Saint James that when he needed it most in his difficult mission to the pagans in today's Spain, she would appear to him to encourage him.

In the year 40 A.D., while praying one night, the Virgin appeared with the Child Jesus standing on a pillar.

The Virgin asked Saint James and his eight disciples to build a church on the site, promising that “it will stand from that moment until the end of time in order that God may work miracles and wonders through my intercession for all those who place themselves under my patronage.”

The Church of Our Lady of the Pillar in Zaragoza is the first church dedicated to Mary in history.

It remains standing to this day, having survived invasions and wars.

During the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939, three bombs were dropped on the church and none of them exploded.

Our Lady is also said to have given the small wooden statue of the apparition to Saint James, which now stands on a pillar in the church.

Nuestra Señora del Pilar is the patron of Spain and all Hispanic peoples.

12 October 1492: The Feast of the Virgin of the Pillar is the day Christopher Columbus first sighted American land and when the first Mass in the Americas was celebrated.

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Megan Gwynn/Pixie:

Ever the artist, Megan has some interesting questions for Matt Murdock.

"Boss, can you feel different colours?"

Megan was reorganizing her desk space, having recently returned from a month-long artist residency in Spain. She held a pair of small, framed textile squares - one that she had made, and one from a village in Zaragoza - deciding where to place them.

Pausing his podcast and removing his earbuds, an act that was more performance than required since Matt's enhanced hearing meant that he didn't really need to remove them to hear her clearly. "Excuse me?" he asked, more for time to have a mental reset than a real need for clarification. "Feel...colours." Taking his glasses off, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replacing them.

"Sorry if that's a weird question. As an artist dependent on a narrow band of frequencies, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to interpret the world in a different way. I just spent a month designing fabric. But without sight, does this particular vibration called 'red' feel distinct?" Megan ran her fingers over the red vines flowers and vines forming a repeating pattern over a white and gold background in one of the textiles. But of course different areas had taken in different amounts of pigment and it wasn't truly two-dimensional, even without counting the embroidered detail.

"Ah," Matt reached out, taking the piece to run his fingers over it lightly, "no. Vibration...I don't have synesthesia. I feel the variation in the embroidery and can make out the pattern, but colour doesn't have any sort of differentiation I can detect. Maybe if I could see and had enhanced vision, things might be different with wavelengths of light, but...not as things are now," and if he could see suddenly, he suspected he wouldn't know how to process the input from his eyes, it had been so long since they'd worked. "It is a nice pattern though."

"Thanks, I made it! I picked up some Spanish, too." Megan was practically glowing with energy. "I feel really inspired after my trip, so thanks for letting me take the month off! I'm thinking of organizing an art show later this year at the mansion, want to come? Or if you have any ideas on how I can make an art show more inclusive and special to mutants, I'm still working on the details."

"Absolutely," Matt agreed, wanting to be supportive. "And art can be inclusive, you just have to get a little creative. Pun intended. Check out the...Moma? Or the Guggenheim? I forget which one, but they have great interactive options for the blind if you call ahead," he hadn't been in years, but it was one of those memories that stuck out because he had been so against going, determined to have a terrible time, then had really, really enjoyed himself and discovered that sometimes, art was pretty damn awesome.

[allaboutjoseph]

Our Lady of the Pillar, pray for us!

Today, October 12, we commemorate the Our Lady of the Pillar, the first Marian apparition in history. Nuestra Señora del Pilar appeared to Saint James the Apostle, the brother of Saint John the Evangelist, on the bank of the river Ebro in Saragossa, Spain. Unlike every other recorded apparition, this one took place during the earthly life of the Mother of God. According to tradition, she had promised Saint James that when he needed it most in his difficult mission to the pagans in today's Spain, she would appear to him to encourage him. In the year 40 A.D., while praying one night on the tobrt bank, the Virgin appeared with the Child Jesus standing on a pillar and asked Saint James and his eight disciples to build a church on the site, promising that “it will stand from that moment until the end of time in order that God may work miracles and wonders through my intercession for all those who place themselves under my patronage.” The church of Our Lady of the Pilar in Zaragoza, is the first church dedicated to Mary in history and it remains standing to this day, having survived invasions and wars – in the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939 three bombs were dropped on the church and none of them exploded. Our Lady is also said to have given the small wooden statue of the apparition to Saint James which now stands on a pillar in the church. Nuestra Señora del Pilar is the patron of Spain and all Hispanic peoples. October 12, 1492, the feast of the Virgin of the Pillar, is the day Christopher Colombus first sighted American land, and when the first Mass in the Americas was celebrated. Our Lady of the Pilar, pray for us! ---------- Source of photo: Manila Bulletin News Source of caption: Catholic News Agency | Nuestra Señora del Pilar (Our Lady of the Pillar)

Photo and text from Hugot Seminarista. 

[hectorino1]

Camino II: DAY 5 Calahora

Signs are getting fancier

Somethin wishing me a buen Camino

I finally met another person doing the same route as me, in the same direction. His is a Spaniard named Ray who also started in Zaragoza. There is a good chance on that our paths we'll meet again tomorrow

Getting closer to Logrono which is where the Camino del Ebro meets up with the French route

I finally found a fig tree where the fix were ideal for picking!

My first sighting of a pomegranate :-)

It looks like Spanish Disneyland castle!

-------

You'll have to cut the cord!

I woke up today, later than usual, being that today would be a shorter walk. I decided to enjoy breakfast at the albergue with the hard of hearing, 82-year-old man that maintains the place. We started a conversation and he told me that his favorite thing in the world is to climb mountains. I was thinking that he was either referring to the past or he meant hiking in general.  But as the conversation continued, he told me how recently he had to be rescued via helicopter, twice, while climbing. Looking dumbfounded, I asked him how long ago was this? Nonchalantly he said it was this year, about several months ago, and that he had been scaling with ropes and that his fingers gave-out unexpectedly. Before he had time to react by leaning back on the harness, he was pulled down by gravity and the force compressed the harness into his ribs, fracturing two of them.  Another mountain climber saw this happen and called a rescue team. The next thing he knew he was harnessed onto a helicopter and yanked off the mountain. The man tells me this was no big deal, as it had happened to him before, a couple of years ago. In that case it was a broken toe, and once again a helicopter rescue. So here I am sitting, drinking coffee with an 82-year-old man who has lived an adventurous life, still loves to rock climb, and will continue to do it until either he no longer physically can or, in his words, the rescue team gets tired of rescuing him and decides to simply cut the cord. What a life!

Comparing the French route and the Camino del Ebro route

If I were to compare my experience on the Camino Francis (French route) with that of the Camino del Ebro, I would say that the French route has lovelier towns, rolling hills and mountain sides, wheat fields, corn fields, sheep, cows, and horses. It is also much more frequented with pilgrims, as it's the most popular route. I hiked it in the spring when the wheat fields were green and swayed with the passing winds.

The Camino del Ebro, on the other hand, is a much easier trail as it is pretty flat and runs parallel to the Ebro River. This trail crosses through tons of apple, pear, and peach orchards. In addition, growing wildly on the side of the trail you find tons of raspberry bushes and figs trees. You will also pass by wild almond, chestnuts, Walnut trees. The Camino del Ebro, being a lesser traveled route than the French route, provides a much more solitary journey. Being that most fruits and nuts are in their peak in the spring, I find it an ideal time to do this route.

Both the French route and the Ebro route cross la Rioja so both of them have grape vines along the way. Regardless of the route, I think visiting this region in the fall as much nicer than say the spring.

Overall, I would say that if you were to decide on doing one versus the other I would consider the time of year, as I think springtime is a great time to do the French route and the fall or late summer is a great time to do the Camino del Ebro.  If you are looking for solitude, the Camino del Ebro provides more of that then the French route.

Really anytime is a great time to do the Camino, with maybe the exception of winter - in that case you're probably better-off starting in southern Spain where it's not as cold (then again, what would I know as I've not yet done that route).

Funny thing about Spaniards

When saying goodbye Spaniards often have a tendency of saying 'hasta luego' which translates to 'see you later'. Taxi drivers do it, store owners do it, pretty much everybody does it. In many cases, such as a taxi driver, you may never see these people again, nor would you expect to.

So, I happened to be walking the Camino when I pass by a farmer. I greet him with a 'Buenos dias!' and he responds with an hola followed by an 'hasta luego'. Trust me there will not be an hasta luego as I've still got a long way to go and I'm not planning on coming back.

Well sure enough, 10 minutes later he passes by, waving from his pickup truck. I guess he knew better after all!.

[the-necessary-unnecessary]

Mapi Leon's coming out story: the impact of words.

Being the first professional Spanish women’s footballer playing in Spain to publicly come out she caused waves amongst the media and general public (Laura del Rio had previously given interviews about her sexuality but that only when she had moved to the US to play). I have translated the article in which she came out on this day two years ago below because google translate won’t do it justice, but I also wanted to give a bit of backstory about the impact that her coming out had. Now Mapi isn’t just any Spanish player, although obviously not that well-known, she made headlines for being the first female Spanish player to have a transfer fee attached to her when she moved from Atletico to Barça. The fact that she had a higher profile than most other players makes her coming out so publicly even more of a big deal, because her larger platform meant she had more to lose but also meant she understood the power of her words in influencing her audience. Although people just living their lives on social media and casually mentioning their same-sex partners in interviews without a coming out moment is very important, her doing an interview for the national press openly talking about coming out as well as discussing her footballing career is essential too.

Six months after coming out she did another interview talking about the reception that she got on social media after coming out. She said that ‘she didn’t stop receiving messages: “Thank You”, “I saw you and you gave me strength”, “I’m not alone”. Women and Men from all over Spain recognised her gesture and saw themselves reflected in it. “I read them all, but I wasn’t able to reply. I didn’t think that it would turn into something so important for so many people.”’ Her coming out resulted in her being invited to be part of the opening events of Madrid Pride 2018. “When I came out publicly, I became aware of the significance of the action, and that it was much bigger than a single moment or my private life.” She also recognised how different parts of Spain reacted dissimilarly to her coming out and being a public figurehead: “In Barcelona they said ‘well okay great,’ but maybe in less urban areas like Zaragoza [where she is originally from] it wasn’t all like that”, even if bigger cities are more accepting there are places that needed to hear her words more.

Not only was it an influential moment in many supporters’ lives, she also had an impact within the women’s football community itself. She said that as a result of her coming out she saw “more photos, more nods towards players being in relationships with women on social media… as if now one’s sexuality matters even less [in women’s football]. Before you shied away a bit, at the end of the day we’re footballers, not just people, we represent a club, a country, a supporters base… and maybe that was why there was a bit of shyness online. Now I see that everything is done more naturally, without shouting about it on rooftops, but indirectly doing just that.” Even though she didn’t know how much of an impact her words would have at the time, her coming out story helped so many people and continues to be a beacon in Spanish LGBTQ+ visibility – which isn’t always as holistic as it’s sometimes portrayed to be on here.

I have left the translated version of her initial coming out news article below the cut.

Woso Pride Month 2020 [Day 23/30]

FC Barcelona’s defender is left-footed like Messi, she’s just one the Copa de la Reina and in August she will be called up to the national team. She thinks that it is important to “stand up for everyone’s rights”

“I was never very into dolls. I preferred to play ball with my brother and his friends.” And did you beat them? “Well, if I had been bad at it the boys would have kicked me out.” Maria Pilar León is tenacious and tough, perhaps that’s why she’s a centre-back. This blonde 23 year old woman kicks a ball with her left foot like Messi, has a tattoo sleeve on her arm that reminds one of Sergio Ramos’ and they compare her with Piqué due to the ease she has with playing the ball out of the penalty box… although at first sight she looks more like Shakira. Like them, she steps onto the pitch with the fierceness of a warrior. Only a few weeks ago she won the Copa de la Reina with Barça, a goal in the last 10 seconds of the final gave them the victory over Atletico de Madrid. There’s another trait that makes her similar to those footballing icons: she openly and naturally lives with her sexuality, for she also likes women. “And there’s no issue with that. This is who I am and there’s nothing wrong about it”.

Mapi, like they call her on the pitch, doesn’t want life to catch her offside. In a sporting environment with notoriety of being sexist and chauvinist, she wants to score a goal against homophobia. “When you’re a public figure, you have some sort of responsibility. I think that it’s important to stand up for everyone’s rights, there is no need to hide. We often hear pretty disgusting things in football stadiums, not only homophobic slurs but also racist ones, and I believe that we – as the people in sport – need to send a clear message about tolerance and against hatred.” Fair play was about this.

Here we can return to the first paragraph. Mapi is tenacious and tough, she’s also brave and not only on the pitch. You need a lot of courage to talk publicly about something that male footballers are silent about. “I can understand their silence given how chauvinistic football can be. There are a lot of closed-minded people who would insult them, although that kind of insults tell you more about who says them… There’s a lot of pressure in a match, you have to be extremely concentrated and to stand up to that kind of thing is tough. So, in that sense, I understand why they don’t come out. But, on the other hand, it’s something so natural that it escapes me for as to why they don’t do it, I think if they were open the mentality would change bit by bit. In this sense, we have to move forward and progress.”

Chants such as “Michel, Guti (or whoever else), faggot” are common place in stadiums, but Mapi rests assure that she has never suffered from any homophobia on the pitch. “It’s true that there are players whose parents think that this is an illness, but I’ve been lucky in this respect. My parents told me that they would love whoever I loved. And never have I been insulted by anyone nor nothing like that. Maybe it’s because football is, above everything, chauvinistic and sexist. So the bottom line is that a lot of people aren’t thrilled that we women play. I guess those that come and see our matches a more in favour of equality. They are more open minded. They like seeing us play, they enjoy it.

And it’s true, every year more and more people enjoy women’s football. In other countries, like the US, the sport is clearly booming. 1,500 universities have their own teams and there are stars, like Alex Morgan, who take photos alongside Messi. In Spain the situation is a lot more modest, although it is beginning to change. Mapi, for example, has almost 45,000 followers on Instagram. A lot more than well-known actors like Bárbara Lennie or Emma Suárez. “Yes, one could say that I have fans. There are three girls who always come and see me play. It’s pretty cool when you see them with your shirt on. Thanks to her speed and her tactical intelligence she is one of the leading figures in the Liga [now Primera] Iberdrola. In fact, she was the first female Spanish player to be a paid transfer in women’s football. Barça paid 50,000 euros for her transfer from Atletico de Madrid. A big milestone for women’s sport, and something that felt impossible to this woman who collected Ronaldinho stickers when she was younger.

“I wouldn’t be able to explain to you what I felt when they signed me, I felt complete joy. It meant that I hadn’t be mistaken in choosing football as a career. To be honest I wasn’t a great student, I scraped through. In the 4th year of ESO [Year 11/Grade 10] one of my teachers always said: ‘be careful because next time you might not pass…’ He basically told me that I wasted too much time by playing sports and I should stop playing football. Now I think about him a lot. He didn’t see me having a future, but I stuck with my passion and it ended up being the right decision.”

Mapi has played since she was a young girl, but her career started when she was 17, when Real Club Deportivo Español made her an offer. She was forced to leave her parents, Javier the mechanic and Pilar, a caregiver, in Zaragoza and jump into this adventure head first. “They were sad that I left home, but they always supported me.” The next season she received an offer from Atletico de Madrid. With them she won the league. And from there came the famous signing with Barcelona. Now, having finished the season, the centre-back will meet up with the national team to train for two matches in preparation for the 2019 World Cup in France. They have already qualified and are ready to bring the cup home. “Hopefully the men will also win in Russia”.

QUESTION.- Don’t you fear your club’s or the Federation’s reaction after talking about you being homosexual? You are the first professional player in the league to talk about it publicly…

ANSWER.- I don���t think it will be a problem. My personal life is my own and shouldn’t bother anyone else. I hope that they will support it because football needs to start opening itself up. If there are now people who are openly homosexual even in government, how could there not be homosexual people on football pitches?

Q.- And in the changing rooms? Could that not be weird? Prejudices still exist…

A.- I once talked to a [male] friend about this. He got quite caught up about it, but it’s stupid. Your teammates are like family, like sisters. With the tension you have about a match you aren’t focusing on whether they’re looking at you or that kind of thing. There’s a lot of familiarity between us.

In some ways, Mapi has cracked a glass roof, but the financial figures that women’s football deal with, compared to the ones the men deal with, are still ridiculous. A mediocre player in La Liga can win around a million euros per season, whilst most female players earn around a thousand euros per month. There are agencies, such as Carlos Rodríguez’s UPro, who manages Mapi, that try to improve the situation, but the gap here remains an abyss. “There’s always a lot of talk about the difference in salaries between women’s and men’s football. I understand that they earn a lot of money because they generate that kind of money and I’m not against that. Although it’s also true that the figures are exorbitant, everything has got exponentially higher… In the end, we do the same that they do. We dedicate the same amount of time to the game but few follow us, it may be the case that people like us but what’s missing is more promotion.

Q.- For example Doña Letizia didn’t go to the Copa de la Reina final [this means the Queen’s Cup. Leticia is the Queen of Spain and the men’s tournament called Copa del Rey after the King is always attended by him]

A.- I don’t know why she didn’t attend it. Maybe she wasn’t made aware of it, but if the King goes to the guy’s cup final she should come to ours as it carriers her name. It would really help up as it would attract a lot of attention in the press. Hopefully she’ll go next year [Spoiler: she did!]

Q.- Your male counterparts are currently playing in the World Cup hosted in Russia, a country that has a legislation which contains a crackdown on LGBT rights. What do you think about a competition like this one being played in a country like that?

A.- It’s a mistake. In some way it seems like they’re backing the homophobic legislation. In Chechnya there have been concentration camps for homosexuals and that’s something that Putin tolerates. We shouldn’t look away when presented face to face with such issues. This isn’t only about LGBT rights; these are human rights. That’s not the message of tolerance and respect that sport, and specifically football, should affiliate itself with.

Mapi is very certain about this. The match against homophobia in football can be won. She has scored the first goal. Now what’s left to do is for a lot of other athletes to join the team.

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

ZAOREJAS

I think this post was long overdue, I wanted to make a post about Cris’ town, hope you like it :)

So, first of all:

This is the town of Zaorejas. It is located in the Province of Guadalajara, autonomous community of Castilla-La Mancha (if you want more info about the different autonomous communities of Spain here’s a post I made about it), at about 128 km (79 miles) from Madrid:

It’s at 1225 meters high, has 189 km2 and 116 inhabitants. It is known as “the capital of the High Tagus”, as it sits in the middle of the Alto Tajo Nature Reserve (Tajo is what we call in Spanish the river Tagus), which apparently was a filming location of Game of Thrones’ season 6 so that’s that. Here’s it’s location, as you can see, it takes a big chunk of the Guadalajara province:

And here are some pics of the reserve!!!

So yeah, it’s basically an outdoorsy area with lots of nature and cool sights, my uncle told me he went rafting here some years ago!

Some stuff you can find in Zaorejas proper:

Gancheros Museum: A museum about the gancheros, an abandoned job that consisted of the transportation of logs through the Tagus river

Interpretation Center for the High Tagus: Exactly what it says, Zaorejas wouldn’t be the capital of the High Tagus if it didn’t have a museum about it

Roman Aqueduct: 1 km away from the town, you can find this aqueduct that crossed the Fuentelengua Canyon. It was at one point 12 meters high and under it passed a Roman road. It is unclear why it was here, as there’s no sights of  Roman settlements in the Zaorejas area.

Celtiberian Ruins: There are Celtiberian ruins in La Cabezuela, part of Zaorejas, that indicate Celtiberians, one of the “original” inhabitants of the Iberian Peninsula, populated the area. We know the name of the last tribe that inhabited that town, the titti. 

Roman Road: Zaorejas appears to be located in the mansio (kinda like an inn, they were placed by the side of roads) of Carae. Through the Aqueduct there are remnants of the Laminio - Caesaraugusta road. Laminio is the modern Alhambra (Ciudad Real) and was an Iberian oppidum, and Caesaraugusta is the modern Zaragoza, a very important city in Roman Hispania. 

Also of notice is, apart from the town festivities, one in honour of the male saint, Saint Anthony of Padua (June 13th) and another, more important, in honour of the female saint, the Nativity of Our Lady (September 8th), they celebrate the High Tagus Ganchera Festivity, a festivity in honour of the gancheros. I just want a clip with the girls attempting ganchero’s work please.

Finally, some history. Apparently, during the Civil War, Zaorejas was divided within Nationals and Republicans, and there’s a tale of two inhabitants that were assasinated and buried beside the Roman Aqueduct. Yikes.

That was it!!! Hope you liked it!!!

[wander-yet-wonder]

Parting the veil - Spaus

Fandom: Hetalia Pairing: Spaus, (Spain / Austria) Word count: 2319 Rating: All audiences Warnings: Historicised attitudes towards Islam do not reflect the author’s views.  Summary: Roderich isn't the best at travelling. Still, he'd gladly do so in order to spend time with his new husband. The Spanish landscape betrays things about Antonio he'd rather keep silent himself. It seems like Antonio has separated himself from his past through a sheer curtain and when visiting Roderich feels like he can almost see through it, see the ghosts that move on the other side. Everything is so foreign to him, will he be able to eventually harmonize with Antonio? Read on AO3: X

I was requested to write a Spaus drabble, apparently, I can’t write drabbles and instead put out a whole ass fic. So um- have this? @fandomghost I hope you like it. Special shoutout to @katemarley  for recommending me Innsbruck ich muss dich lassen when I was nerding to her about German renaissance music <3

At least there were mountains. Roderich was grateful for the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees that decorate the horizon visible from his window. They were the only familiar sight because he was in all other aspects “fast entheimt”. Unfortunately, now that they had reached Zaragoza, a city with a name so foreign that he wouldn’t have discredited as the name of an ancient Persian magician in a novel, the mountains were far more distant and only visible on clear days. The name of the city wasn’t the only thing that was foreign to him, when he and his consorts had crossed the mountains he had felt like the very bedrock that Spain was made of was unlike his own, down to the small crocus like flowers that bloomed in the meadows that their guide had explained to him were rare ‘false saffron’. In Zaragoza, he’d been given a room in the palace of the catholic monarchs that had taken residence there after Isabel I of Castile had married Ferdinand II of Aragon but that in the streets was still referred to by the people as the palace of Aljaféria. Though that royal marriage had unified Spain and was the reason he could stay there to visit his Antonio, Aragon was by no means gone. Her belongings and her culture were still found all over the province. However, he wasn’t to meet her until later that month. He felt like in a way, simply by travelling the land he already had met her. She wasn’t the only shadow of a nation that he felt. Besides Spain, that is to say, Castile and Aragon, there was a third presence within these castle walls, an invisible presence, a ghost from the past.

 Roderich had never fully realised the reality of the occupation by Arabic forces in the peninsula. When he had Antonio in front of him in Aachen, a fierce proprietor of Christendom, speaking Latin with a quintessentially Romanesque tongue… He had somehow thought that as the occupiers left the peninsula, Antonio was a roman again. That when they left, they took everything with them, left no traces, that whatever was left was carefully purged by his new husband. Yet these walls told a different story. In a moment where he’d been free to roam the halls, he’d let himself be spellbound by the strange arabesque masonry, the ever-spiralling geometrical decorative patterning in the friezes, the archways, the capitals. One gallery from where he could reach the stonework, he had secretly pressed his fingers against it, half expecting it to give way like bee’s wax due to how much it resembled a honeycomb. He let out a quivering breath and whispered the name: the Umayyad dynasty, the caliphate of Cordoba. That strange shadow that seemed to hide in the corners in the palace. Had he made a mistake when marrying Antonio? How much of his husband was still Moorish?

 Antonio was always secretive and defensive about his time isolated from the rest of them. Roderich never pressed him for answers. He’d lie in bed next to him and watch Antonio’s quiet breathing and think to himself that Antonio must’ve suffered a lot. Yet he looked at how his own hand looked like porcelain against Antonio’s chest, and he wondered.

 These thoughts were tumbling over each other as he was staring out the window, his letter to the bishop abandoned in front of him as his quill was resting idly between his fingers. He felt sick to the stomach again, he’d always get such bad Heimweh, if only Toni could just always visit him in Austria… that would be a perfect world.

“Ah, there you are!”

Antonio snapped him out of his reverie by materializing in the doorframe and looking at him like he was trying to figure him out, like studying a puzzling little flower, like a false saffron, and wondering whether it was edible or not.

“Have you truly been cooped up in here all-day writing? Come, this won’t do, come out and catch some fresh air.”

He’d already strode over and made to pull Roderich along by the arm despite the young man’s protests that it was too hot outside and that he’d tan.

“I gathered some courtiers, we’re going to play music in the courtyard. If you sit in the gallery you won’t tan. Just join it’ll be great. Did you play that Viol a lot?”

 ‘That viol’ was the lovely Soprano viol that Antonio had given to Roderich when they parted ways after their second visit. Roderich had been familiar with the more European Vieille already and had taken to the instrument like he’d never played anything else. It helped that it was a gift from Antonio, so whenever he missed him too much he could take out the viol, lovingly caress the little wooden face that was carved into the end of the neck with incredible craftmanship, and then by playing and studying bring Antonio a little closer. He’d carefully press down on the strings and would imagine Toni listening and smiling. He’d been playing it when sad or lonely so often he started to feel like he expressed his feelings better through music than through words. So to Antonio’s question, he gave a firm affirmative nod and looked at the case that contained it when he brought it with him here.

“Well bring it! I want to hear!”

Roderich’s heart quickened. He had fantasized about what would happen if he’d play in front of Antonio, that Antonio would listen and understand- that he could say what he wanted to say without words. That Antonio instantly recognised that he’d studied hard just to please him. But now that the moment was here, he felt suddenly nervous.

“Ah, very well, I’ll play for you. But not for your court.”

Antonio looked a little taken aback but then agreed with a smile

“We’ll have fewer instruments then, but it agrees with me.”

 Roderich tried to read Antonio and see if he wasn’t upset but he couldn’t tell. He took the dear instrument and tagged along, all the while trying not to be deafened by his heart nervously pounding in his ears. Antonio retrieved his vihuela de mano from the group of courtiers and declared they wouldn’t be joining them until later. They seemed a little disappointed, but Roderich observed from the doorway that the confident way in which Antonio declared he wouldn’t be present, rather than asked to be forgiven for not joining made no one even think of questioning him. He smiled; this is what he adored in Antonio.

 Antonio took him to one of the palaces many open courtyards and sat him down underneath the strange honeycomb arches on a railing. With just the two of them in an enclosed garden Roderich thought of the many courtly romance novels he’s read and blushed a bit. Antonio caught on and with a grin took his hand and kissed it.

“So, are we going to play music? Or was this all an elaborate plan of yours so we could exchange kisses?”

Antonio was already scooting a bit closer and his smirk grew. Roderich frowned as his blush deepened but couldn’t hide a smile.

“Don’t tease me, Antonio.”

He leaned in and gave Antonio a small kiss on the cheek.

“I had every intention to play music for you."

 Antonio nodded and sat back a bit and gave Roderich a tender smile that sent a warmth spreading through his chest. Roderich got in position and put the viol between his legs. He took a deep breath and took the bow to the strings. He took a deep breath and started to sing. It was the song he’d been singing ever since Innsbruck’s precious valley had been swallowed between the pine trees as they had crossed that fateful bend in the road that meant saying goodbye. Roderich had never been good at travel, he was in his essence a very rooted person. He needed the mountains, the pine trees, the fresh crisp winter air, he needed his home. At first, he had thought that this crippling nervousness that took hold of him when he was in unfamiliar territory had to do with the type of creature that he was: wouldn’t it make sense for countries to have to be close to their lands? But the more other’s he met, the more he learned that isn’t necessarily the case. He sang the first tender lines of ‘Innsbruck ich muss dich lassen’, which he had been practising to bring him solace ever since he had left. He had adapted the original choral piece by giving the higher register to his viol and himself singing a fragile tenor second voice.

 “ISbruck, ich muß dich lassen ich far do hin mein strassen in fremde land do hin mein freud ist mir genomen die ich nit weiß bekummen wo ich jm elend bin.”

 It had every property of a learned piece of music, despite its secular subject. In his opinion, the choral harmonies showed a Pythagorean harmony and evoked the harmonies of heaven. It was in every aspect a thing of technical ingenuity. But it was out of place. Singing about Innsbruck and his land in the Spanish summer heat just fell flat. All the emotion he could usually put into it, about missing home and struggling with travel didn’t seem to communicate either.

 “Groß leid muß ich yetz tragen das ich allein thu klagen dem liebsten bůlen mein ach lieb nun laß mich armen im hertzen dein erbarmen das ich muß von dannen sein.”

 The second verse, about parting from your lover was yet another thing very recognisable for him, as he and Antonio often spent large stretches apart from one another. Antonio, however, seemed more concerned with picking dirt out from under his nails than listening. He knew Antonio didn’t know much German, but he hoped he would at least get the gist of it. His voice wavered slightly as he tried to keep Antonio invested in the music all through the last verse.

 “Meyn trost ob allen weyben dein thu ich ewig pleyben stet trew der eren frumm nun muß dich Gott bewaren in aller thugent sparen biß das ich wider kumm.”

 A pledge of faithfulness to the one you’re leaving. It was silent for a moment between them after he finished and Roderich felt like he’d swallowed a brick. Antonio perked up again and took his vihuela.

“You did not enjoy it.”

He must’ve looked hurt because Antonio winced and reassuringly pet his hand.

“Ah no! It was good! I could tell it was technically perfect.”

Antonio was a terrible liar though and with one stern look, Roderich managed to get him to sigh and tell the truth.

“It was just- all the same. And a bit sad, but mostly just that it was the same thing three times, and all the rhythm stayed the same and the distance between the cords stayed the same… It made me feel like I was either at church or just- really bored.”

Roderich was confused, “But- isn’t that what music is supposed to sound like? With regular harmonies? I read in a book-”

Antonio cut him off: “That’s exactly it! It sounds so learned, so lifeless! Shouldn’t music be sweeping? To slowly build and make you feel this- this- Ecstasy! wait, I’ll show you what I learned!”

He started strumming the vihuela. “Ok, you clap along.” Roderich uneasily started clapping, a little off-beat because of the strange rhythm Antonio was creating.

“This is an old one Roderich so you might know it. Hmm, maybe not the words it’s easy, you just sing the refrain with me I’ll do the stanzas. Ok, it’s Santa María, Strela do día, Móstra-nos, pera Déus e nos guía. Got that?”

Antonio was tapping his foot to the rhythm and slapping the wood of his vihuela in between the plucking. Then he suddenly stopped and took a ring of keys of his belt and handed it to Roderich. “Here, shake this- hmm this would be better if we had more players.” But he kept playing until Roderich got the hang of it. Then he started singing with it, the refrain was relatively straightforward but once Roderich got it, Toni started to make strange variations on it that threw him of again.

“No, it’s ok Roderich, you just keep singing the regular version and I’ll vary upon it. Also, the rhythm is rha-pa-pa-pa, rha-pa-papa-pa-pa. Yes, like that.”

Once they sang together like that for a while Antonio inserted stanzas between the refrains where the end of the sentences ended in long drawn out undulating notes. They were unlike anything Roderich had ever heard in a church at home or even at the fair! Though they were singing about Mary, about asking god forgiveness for sins, Roderich felt strange with what was happening. He wasn’t very good at it, but it felt like Antonio was pulling him along in a wild dance. Just as he’d gotten the hang of it, Antonio sped up and harmonized with him. Roderich could feel his body sway from side to side, almost without his will and they moved in perfect unison, rising and falling. He felt his sadness slowly fading and he smiled while singing. The thing Antonio had said about sweeping you away, about ecstasy, he was starting to understand it now. This strange rhythm, and the way Antonio intuitively reacted to what he was doing… it was almost sensual. When they finished his cheeks were red and he was slightly out of breath. Any passer-by would’ve suspected them of exchanging kisses in the garden after all. Perhaps he might as well… He enthusiastically threw himself forward, wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed Antonio on the lips. Nothing as chaste as before, the vihuela awkwardly between them. Antonio was clearly surprised but not complaining.

 Hi! Welcome to this fic exploring the musical differences between Antonio and Roderich (and perhaps, by extension in their personalities). The music, however, isn't the only historical reference going on in here.

 This fic is set very shortly after their marriage so anywhere between 1520 and 1525. They're still trying to figure each other out and getting to know the other's culture. Or at least, Roderich is.

 The Moorish occupation of the Iberian peninsula was in that time seen as a very dark page in Spain's history and after the Reconquista Spain was portraying itself as an extremely Christian country (perhaps overcompensating slightly?). The time in Al Andalus, however, was a time when music, poetry and science flourished in Spain and the land and culture are still very influenced by it. The palace they're staying in is evidence of that. (Look up a picture it's gorgeous).

 Roderich is starting to notice these Islamic influences in his new husband. And as a Christian man living in the 1500's they make him warry (not to speak of the attacks of the Ottoman empire on Austria in that time). However, the thing he ends up enjoying immensely about Antonio in this fic, his music, is something that is extremely Moorish.

Moorish music was seen as highly skilled and highly superior music even after Christianisation and Moorish musicians were still employed by the court a lot for special events.

 There are two characters in here that aren't canon: the kingdom of Aragon and the Caliphate of Cordoba. The Kingdom of Aragon is a fierce lady that's the bane of Antonio's existence even though right now they're unified.

 The pieces that both of them play are from their respective countries, and links are included in the lyrics. Roderich's is a contemporary piece by Henrich Isaac. If the lyrics look strange that's because that's the original 16th-century german. Antonio's piece is older, It's one of the many cantiga's de Santa maria. These canticles were written for King Alfonso X, who made a great contribution to early Spanish Christian culture. They're in the Galician dialect of Spanish that's super close to Portuguese.

 As for their instruments, there are three instruments mentioned. The first being Roderich's viol. This is a predecessor to the modern-day violin, but also to the cello. It belongs to the family of the 'viola da gamba'. it was developed in 15th-century Spain. They are played upright in the lap with a bow. You can see one in use here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLgJPBDzS6o

 The viol bore some resemblance to the vielle, an older and more northern European relative to the instrument, that is actually played underneath the chin. The experience with the vielle is what made it easier for Roderich to learn the viol.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdps64D-u-g

 finally, Antonio is playing the vihuela da mano. While this seems yet another instrument of which the name resembles 'violin' it actually resembles a guitar more!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duHMeCndpjo

 And let's not forget about the important percussion instrument: Antonio's keys.

 Have any questions about historical things I forgot to explain? please don't hesitate to shoot me a message or comment on this fic and I'll gladly elaborate.

[faithofthefountain]

The first Marian apparition in history appeared to Saint James the Apostle, the brother of Saint John the Evangelist, on the bank of the river Ebro in Saragossa, Spain. Unlike every other recorded apparition, this one took place during the earthly life of the Mother of God.

According to tradition, she had promised Saint James that when he needed it most in his difficult mission to the pagans in today's Spain, she would appear to him to encourage him.

In the year 40 A.D., while praying one night on the tobrt bank, the Virgin appeared with the Child Jesus standing on a pillar and asked Saint James and his eight disciples to build a church on the site, promising that “it will stand from that moment until the end of time in order that God may work miracles and wonders through my intercession for all those who place themselves under my patronage.”

The church of Our Lady of the Pilar in Zaragoza, is the first church dedicated to Mary in history and it remains standing to this day, having survived invasions and wars – in the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939 three bombs were dropped on the church and none of them exploded.

Our Lady is also said to have given the small wooden statue of the apparition to Saint James which now stands on a pillar in the church.

Nuestra Señora Our Lady is also said to have given the small wooden statue of the apparition to Saint James which now stands on a pillar in the church.

Nuestra Señora del Pilar is the patron of Spain and all Hispanic peoples. October 12, 1492, the feast of the Virgin of the Pillar, is the day Christopher Colombus first sighted American land, and when the first Mass in the Americas was celebrated.

Pilar is the patron of Spain and all Hispanic peoples. October 12, 1492, the feast of the Virgin of the Pillar, is the day Christopher Colombus first y American land, and when the first Mass in the Americas was celebrated.

(catholicnewsagemcy.com)

Below is a photo of the column or pillar where the statue of our Lady stands, venerated by the pilgrims.

The last one is a photo of the basilica dedicated to our lady of Pillar.

Photograph by madre Blanca Alonso

Servants of Jesus of Charity

 

 

[timeoutotour]

Clear Sky, 31°C

Paseo Cortes de Aragón, 17, 50300 Calatayud, Zaragoza, Spain

Saturday 1st June 2019

A very quiet night was spent by the lakeside and much to our surprise, we were once again the only wild campers at such a beautiful location. We put this down to a lack of service points in the national park area and this morning we were very much in need of services , laundry and LPG. Fortunately we were only a 30 minute drive from Calatayud , a reasonably sized town on the periphery of the national park. Calatayud seemed to tick all the boxes and we arrived at the free aire to find that the self service laundry was only a five minute walk around the corner. Result! After sorting out water , waste etc, we walked around to the laundry and found it all a bit confusing but fortunately for us a lovely local lady came to our assistance and demonstrated how to use the various machines etc. Once we had our washing whirring away in a machine we decided that I should try to secure the LPG whilst Rhian remained to guard our precious smalls ! I had to drive for fifteen minutes onto a motorway to secure the LPG which once again proved to be a bit of a trial but fortunately this time a successful one. When I returned to join Rhian she said she had been overwhelmed by the kindness of the aforementioned spanish lady who she said had helped her out when she had misunderstood the pricing of the tumble drier and that the lady had voluntarily put in a one euro coin of her own money to start the machine. Rhian was able to pay her one euro back but the point was that the lady needn't have bothered at all and it was a simple act of kindness to a visitor she would likely never set eyes on again. Today marked 10 weeks into our road trip so we decided to treat ourselves to lunch. A short distance from the aire was the main street where a very wide promenade was full of pavement cafes and bars , all of which seemed to be fully occupied . It took a bit of strolling around before we finally managed to find a free table. The town was not at all touristy and all the people seemed to be local(always a good sign). There was no menu displayed outside any of the cafes or indeed on any of the tables and our chosen cafe was no different. As soon as we were seated the waiter asked about drinks and we ordered a couple of beers and I asked for tapas. The drinks were delivered post haste but then......nothing for about twenty minutes. We wondered if perhaps the bar did not serve food as most people were just having drinks but there was evidence of a bit of tapas here and there. We were just about to throw in the towel when the waiter finally delivered a menu. Once the food had been ordered it was once again delivered post haste and was tremendous in taste and in value and we both very much enjoyed our respective dishes, which has not always been the case on this journey. The promenade , as I have called it was a great area to people watch and we spent a good 2 1/2 hours eating in that relaxed continental atmosphere . People were dressed very smartly , sometimes casually but mostly with a sense of style that would not be seen on most UK high streets on a typical Saturday afternoon. We reflected how my mum and dad, both quite snappy dressers themselves, would have enjoyed such a place. After our extended lunch it was once again time to make some progress and we travelled for about 90 minutes mainly on a very impressive motorway through some magnificent and some not quite so magnificent scenery to arrive at tonights overnighter , a large reservoir within sight of the spanish Pyrenees. We are about 90 minutes from the French border but will probably do another Spanish stop tomorrow evening and cross into France on Monday

Beunas noches

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[my-camino]

Life in the big (?) city

As we stumbled into Pamplona a little more than four years ago, mom and I felt as if we had finally found a “big city.” 

We weren’t completely wrong. After a week of wandering from tiny French village to tiny French village, this bustling place of 200,000 people was our new Manhattan. It is the first major landmark on the Camino Frances, and in late June, the town is fully alive with pilgrim activity.

Fast forward to 2019. I am now living in Pamplona, it’s the middle of January and there are no pilgrims in sight (none that I can see, at least). It’s wet, cold and dreary most days. And I laugh at the mere idea of Pamplona being a big city.

The reality of being a Pamplonite instead of a pilgrim has definitely set in. 

Let’s be clear: I’m not complaining. I am truly having the time of my life here in Spain. In just three short weeks, I have visited castles and basilicas in Zaragoza, danced to the beat of the drums in San Sebastian and consumed an unhealthy number of pintxos in the Old Town. 

Yet I can’t shake the feeling of being misplaced. Before leaving for study abroad, they warn you about culture shock like it’s the Black Plague. “Depression is real,” they said. “You’ll not want to do anything for two weeks, and it will be awful and you will probably want to come home.” That’s not what happened to me. I made friends pretty quickly and have spent most of my time out of the house. But there are times when I *do* want to come home, which I never anticipated. I sometimes long for the familiarity of my campus, or to hear English when I order a coffee, or to lay in my own bed. They’re fleeting moments, but they do happen.

I have chosen to embrace these moments as part of the experience. And I am so glad to have chosen Pamplona as my city. Small as it is, I am happy every time I see the yellow arrows and remember the Camino is close by. I like to sit in the cafe and people watch. I like to go to class (what?!), because it makes me realize how quickly I am absorbing the Spanish language.

Pamplona may be little, but it has a lot to offer. Tonight I will celebrate a friend’s birthday in the Old Town (there are so many great restaurants here!), and this weekend I will be heading to Barcelona for a 3 day trip. So yes, I am grateful for these, the little things, and for the many months I have left in Spain.

From Pamplona on January 22, 2019.

[husheduphistory]

“You Need Not Trouble”: The Sinister Stove of Spain

The Palazón family were at their wits end. The screams and maniacal laughter at all hours finally crossed the line and they needed to take action. The police were called and the questioning began, "what do you want?" The answer was simple....and it chilled everyone to the bone.

The problems first began for the Palazón family of Zaragoza, Spain in September 1934. Their home was a duplex apartment located on Gascón Gotor Street, and at first nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were shrieks, noises, and laughter that the family assumed was coming from their rowdy neighbors and drifting through their walls and into earshot, especially when the stove was opened. It was a perfectly rational theory, but it was completely shot down on September 27th 1934. On that evening the family maid Pascuala Alcocer was washing dishes in the kitchen when the cackling once again began to trickle into the room from the stove's chimney. But, this seemingly normal night took a sharp turn when the stove began calling her by name with a coarse male voice. The disembodied summoning was followed by a loud sinister laugh that sent Alcocer running to the head of the household in terror.

An investigation into the source of the voice that night proved fruitless with the cackling and shrieking continuing from the stove and chimney with no obvious source. But from that night on, the vocalizations began to get more and more personal. Starting as early as five o'clock in the morning the stove began to address Alcocer and various members of the Palazón family by name. It would reiterate conversations and accurately report any of the family's actions that took place within sight of the stove. It began answering questions and teasing anyone who walked by. These taunts were unnerving, but they would quickly become outright terrifying.    

The original building located on Gascón Gotor Street.

The Palazón family did not keep the phenomena unfolding in their kitchen all to themselves and in a desperate attempt to confirm their own sanity they brought neighbors into their home to hear the voice. To the shock of the visitors they were greeted with a hello, and sometimes a name, before hearing the unidentifiable noises and growling emanating from the stove. With so many witnesses adding credibility to the Palazón's stove the theories began to sprout. Clearly the culprit was not a crafty neighbor, it was a duende.

The word "duende" refers to a creature found in Spanish, Portuguese, and Filipino folklore. Belonging to the same realm as sprites, elves, and fairies, these goblin-esque creatures have a reputation of being troublemakers who, depending on the story, lure children into the forests away from home, clip the toes off of unkempt children, and live in the walls of homes with young ones living inside. 

An illustration of a duende.

As the spectral harassment and stories of the Palazón family increased, so did the crowds of people wanting to hear the goblin for themselves. With thousands of curious people approaching the building, the London Times writing daily reports about the "Zaragoza Duende", and the sanity  of the Palazóns being sorely tested, the police finally decided it was time to "put an end to this circus.”

When the Zaragoza police entered the duplex in mid-November they were probably expecting to quickly debunk the ridiculous claims they had been hearing, but it was proving much more difficult than they anticipated. The stove began to address specific people by name and somehow knew when people entered and exited the room. When someone would turn off the light a devilish voice would scream "Light! Light! I cannot see!" The police began to question the stove directly, and the answers it gave brought them no closer to comfort or a conclusion.

“Do you want money?”

"No."

“Do you want a job?”

"No"

"Then who are you, what is it that you want, man?"

"Nothing. I am not a man."

The Palazón family temporarily left their duplex because of the investigation, but with no answers in sight the police ordered an extreme measure, the building was to be evacuated and the entire block quarantined in order to pin down the culprit. According to the November 24th 1934 issue of the London Times an "architect and some workmen" went into the building to investigate and after a thorough search of the entire premises they found themselves without an answer. While standing in front of the offending stove one workman commented that the opening of the stove's chimney should be measured. The stove responded to the suggestion by saying "You need not trouble, the diameter is just 6 inches." The goblin was exactly right.

An official inspecting the stove.

With no answer to the question resting on thousands of minds the police amped up their investigation and decided that not only would the building remain empty, all communication was cut off and the perimeter was to be guarded at all hours to ensure no one could enter or exit the premises.

Then the next day, as suddenly as it showed up, the mystery voice stopped. The building was again searched, a priest sprinkled holy water on the stove, the guard was called off, and after two days of silence the residents, including the Palazóns, were able to return home feeling safe and glad that the entire ordeal was over. Their nerves were completely shattered the morning after their return when daybreak brought back the harrowing sound from the stove. "Cowards, cowards, cowards, here I am!" it declared before announcing its ultimate plans, "I will kill everyone inside.”

The Palazón family left the building, and this time for good.

It was November 30th 1934 and the governor of Zaragoza had had enough with the Zaragoza Goblin. He had the entire Palazón family brought in to the police for severe questioning and on December 4th a statement was released explaining who had caused such torment...the Palazón family maid Pascuala Alcocer.

A  photograph possibly showing Alcocer standing with the stove and chimney.

According to the statement, after being studied it was determined that Alcocer was suffering from a condition called "“unconscious ventriloquism" which caused her to throw her voice without being aware she was doing so. Alcocer herself firmly denied the allegation and many people called attention to the facts that not only was the phantom voice male, but that the young maid was without question nowhere near the duplex when it was being investigated by police, the architect, and even branches of the army. Despite all of the evidence pointing to her innocence, officials would not budge stating that they watched her carry it out and that it was "a psychic phenomenon produced only in certain circumstances.” Firmly stating they had the matter solved, residents were urged to simply go back to their normal lives. The Palazón family and Alcocer parted ways, never returning the duplex in Zaragoza. 

The goblin was not heard from again.

The explanation of the evil voice from the stove was never fully agreed upon and the building was torn down in 1977. When a new structure was built on the site its name was emblazoned on the stone wall near the entrance in glittering gold letters. It reads “Edificio Duende,” the “Goblin Building.”

The “Goblin Building” today.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

The first Marian apparition in history appeared to Saint James the Apostle, the brother of Saint John the Evangelist, on the bank of the river Ebro in Saragossa (now Zaragoza), Spain.

Unlike every other recorded apparition, this one took place during the earthly life of the Mother of God.

According to tradition, she had promised Saint James that when he needed it most in his difficult mission to the pagans in today's Spain, she would appear to him to encourage him.

In the year 40 A.D., while praying one night by the banks, the Virgin appeared with the Child Jesus standing on a pillar.

She asked Saint James and his eight disciples to build a church on the site, promising that “it will stand from that moment until the end of time in order that God may work miracles and wonders through my intercession for all those who place themselves under my patronage.”

The church of Our Lady of the Pillar in Zaragoza is the first church dedicated to Mary in history.

It remains standing to this day, having survived invasions and wars – in the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939, three bombs were dropped on the church and none of them exploded.

Our Lady is also said to have given the small wooden statue of the apparition to Saint James, which now stands on a pillar in the church.

Nuestra Señora del Pilar is the patron of Spain and all Hispanic peoples.

12 October 1492, the feast of the Virgin of the Pillar, was the day Christopher Colombus first sighted American land and when the first Mass in the Americas was celebrated.