A Spanish Christmas

To the left, the craziness of a Spanish Christmas. Haha, just when you think you’ve seen a nativity of all shapes and sizes, the Three Wise Men (canine style) on the streets of Madrid.

What a blessing this Christmas has been! Although vastly different from anything I’ve ever experienced before, I’ve learned and experienced so much. This morning, we woke up to a breakfast of traditional Spanish sweets, bread with dipping chocolate, hot tea, hot chocolate, milk, muffins, chocolates… the whole nine yards. We ate breakfast with Mille, an architecture student from Argentina who is in Spain for her Christmas vacation, and after a lazy morning in the hostel, the three of us ventured out to the cathedral for Christmas mass. It was amazing to celebrate the birth of Christ with bells and the smell of incense, cardinals and bishops, a large cathedral, with hundreds of voices raised in this massive hall of worship. Despite the different language and style of worship, we got the main gist of the service, testifying to Christ’s love and sacrifice. Amazing.

It’s been said you aren’t an art major until you get kicked out of museums for trying to stand too close to the paintings. In fact, it’s been noted that art historians take this a source of pride, never mind degrees and fellowships. Generally, conversations go like this: “I’ve been kicked out of the Prado on three occasions.”… “Well, they almost arrested me at the Lourve”… you get the picture. It’s just one of those things about artists; something you learn as a precursor to getting your art degree. Being only sophomores, we haven’t risen to the level of distinction just yet, but Sarah came pretty darn close to getting kicked out at the Reina Sophia, with a guard following her every move after she offended a few too many times at the Picasso exhibit. Mrs. Walker, you would be proud. You’ve taught us well.

Merry Christmas to all…
To my parents, to Wayne and Frank- eat some of Nana’s Christmas cake for me.