A Winter in Mallorca - George Sand and Chopin

The French writer and feminist George Sand came to Mallorca with her two children and her lover, Frederic Chopin, in December 1838. At first they lived in Palma, but the two houses they had were unsuitable to the winter-cold climate and they found refuge in a former monastery in Valldemossa, a village only about a dozen miles northwest of Palma, though in the 1830s it was a much longer 12 miles than it was on the rainy December day we drove there.

Wandering through the monastery's many cells was surreal. We were outside the regular tourist season and usually succeeded in avoiding the one busload of tourists simply by removing ourselves to a different room: the chemist's cell (apothecary), the two library rooms, or the several cells that may have been the homes of the couple, her children, and their servants. There are two pianos reportedly used by Chopin during his visit, the one that was transported from his home to the island (though delayed for a long time in customs) and the one he borrowed in Palma in the meantime.

Sand wrote in A Winter in Mallorca of the lovely natural scenery in Mallorca--and of the unpleasant people! No doubt the native Mallorquins were afraid of catching Chopin's tuberculosis and also were disgruntled that the couple never appeared at church, even on Sundays.

On a misty day and with free range to wander through the rooms and gardens at the monastery, and away from the hustle and bustle of other tourists, it was easy to imagine the couple in this place, and how nature and relative isolation could apparently give Chopin some peace to compose so much lovely music in the barely three months he spent here.

Mar de Lenguas - The Sea of Languages

The language most commonly spoken in Mallorca is Mallorquin, a version of Catalan, which is itself one of Spain's four official languages. While in Palma one rainy morning, we went to see a traveling exhibition called (in English) The Sea of Languages: Speaking in the Mediterranean.

I was astonished at how many languages are spoken in the large area that surrounds the Mediterranean Sea--24, according to the official brochure, and that includes several that you have probably never heard of. Those spoken by more than ten million inhabitants of the Mediterranean area are Tamazighi/Berber (20 million), Arabic (152 million), Spanish (31 million), French (70 million), Greek (11 million), Italian (55 million), Romanian (23 million), Serbo-Croatian (17 million), and Turkish (56 million).

Catalan has only 9 million speakers and is the official language of Andorra and a co-official language in the Spanish regions of Catalonia, Valencia, and the Balearic Islands. Catalan has been spoken in Catalonia since the 8th century and spread to outlying areas through the conquests of King Jaume I in the 13th century. It began to lose dominance to Spanish in the 16th century but began a resurgence in the late 19th century. The use of Catalan is a political issue (also evidenced recently when the Frankfurt Book Fair honored Catalan in 2007), but politics was light and culture predominated in this exhibition.

It was fortunate for me that the numerous interactive exhibit posts were available in Spanish and English in addition to Catalan, though it is amazing how much can be understood from the written Catalan if you also know a couple other Romance languages. In addition to the political and linguistic map of the Mediterranean (seen above), the other highlight was a large three-screen video of young people talking in and about their multiple languages. The assumption of these youths was that they would speak several languages in various situations throughout their lives.

If a language is spoken by children, went the theme, it will survive. Also necessary for survival: radio, TV, the Internet. Not a word about books. But I do think they were talking about spoken languages, not necessarily written languages. Of course, some might argue that a language is not a language without some form of written expression.

The exhibit was prepared by Linguamón--House of Languages, a body of the government of Catalonia that aims to promote the world's languages (plural) as a

• vehicle for communication, civilisation and dialogue
• source of personal development, human creativity and heritage of mankind
• right of individuals and of linguistic communities.

The Holiday Season

Official holidays in Spain are of two types: National holidays and local holidays. Here in Torrevieja we are in the midst of both.

The first week in December is a big holiday season all over the country; it's the puente of December. Literally "bridges," puentes are not unlike "long weekends" in the U.S. If a holiday falls on a Friday or a Monday, it's generally a three-day holiday, and that's long enough for the travel industry to start advertising short puente holidays to other regions of Spain, especially the Balearic or Canary Islands, or to European capital cities. Of course, if a holiday falls on a Tuesday or Thursday, it's much better--a longer holiday, perhaps a longer trip. And if it falls on Wednesday, you've hit the jackpot: Your bridge to the weekend is even longer.

There are lots of puentes; if there isn't one this month, there will be one next month. The December puente is special because it is anchored by two national holidays, one political, one religious. Constitution Day is December 6 and the Day of the Immaculate Conception is December 8). That means two days, separated by a single one, in which stores and businesses are closed, airports and highways are busy, and people are generally unavailable. Of course, many people take both days plus the bridge day between as their holiday. This year is unusual and perhaps somewhat disappointing; the puente between these two holidays consists only of Sunday. But think of the possibilities when either of the holidays falls next to the weekend, or, better yet, when they fall on Tuesday and Thursday! You may be able to stretch your puente to the entire week and two weekends.

Both Constitution Day and Immaculate Conception are national holidays, and because I've been in Spain for a few years, I was aware of them in advance. But since we've been in the Torrevieja area for less than a year, I didn't know a thing about the local holiday that has caused banks to close at noon every day this week. Judging by the people gathered outside the banks between noon and 2:00 (the usual closing time), a lot of locals didn't know, either. I found out about Torrevieja's local festivities honoring the city's patron saint the way I get most of my local news--from one of the free English-language weekly newspapers, after the fact. That's the difference between national and local holidays: national holidays are noted on standard calendars all over the country; local holidays are noted in passing, and I write them in my diary and try to remember to look in advance next year, so I know they are coming.

In our family, we have another holiday on December 9, a birthday. So this year our puente is taking us to the island of Mallorca, not far off the Alicante coast in the Mediterranean. More on that next Sunday in Spain.

And you probably thought I was going to write about Christmas!

Spanish Tortilla

We've been traveling by car, and that means that I have been eating tortilla. A Spanish tortilla is nothing like a Mexican one. It's often translated as "omelet," but that's not right, either. True, tortilla española does need four or five eggs, and it's cooked in a round skillet on top of the stove. But an omelet is light; a tortilla is solid. That's because, in addition to four or five eggs, it also has four or five potatoes. The basic recipe is to sauté the potatoes (raw, unless you have leftovers) in olive oil, but don't let them brown, maybe add a little onion, then add the beaten eggs, and cook very, very slowly until solid. Flip over to brown the top, which then becomes the bottom. Cool, cut in pieces as you would a pie, and serve.

Every cafetería and bar along a highway--probably every cafetería and bar in Spain--has tortilla in its glass case displaying various tapas and snacks. If you don't see it, ask. And if they don't have it, it's probably because you got there too late. It's the ideal thing to eat with the café or agua con gas or even a small glass of wine (if you are not the driver) on a short stop during a long trip.

There are as many recipes for tortilla in Spain as there are for meatloaf in the U.S., and almost as many ways of serving it. You may get a wedge measuring anywhere between an inch or three at the circumference. Last week I got two one-inch wedges, laid tip-to-tip on the small tapas plate. The height of these two pieces was shallow--only about an inch--but on the same trip, different restaurant, I got a gigantic piece that was two inches or more in height, and rather difficult to eat with the accompanying cocktail fork. You almost always get two or three slices of baguette to accompany your little plate, and once I even got a lovely little garnish of tomato.

Janet Mendel, an American who has written the book (in fact, more than one) on Cooking in Spain, makes it sound difficult to cook this humble but delicious treat, and it is true that it can be tricky. I've done it a few times at home, but I much prefer to take tortilla as a staple almost every time I'm traveling, and often when I just go out for tapas. It's always a little bit different. But it's almost always excellent.

Spanish for Intermediates

I spent the afternoon looking through my shelf of Spanish books. That's because tomorrow I begin Spanish classes again after a sabbatical of six months. I don't think my language ability has decreased in the past half year, but it hasn't improved, either.

I'm not a beginner. I don't have trouble making myself understood in simple daily situations, like shopping, ordering in a cafetería, even making bank deposits. I can read recipes and tourist brochures, most newspaper articles, and lots of computer instructions and Web pages in Spanish. But half the time I open my mouth to speak Spanish, Danish comes out--that's the only language other than English that I can speak. My long-term goal is to speak Spanish as well as I speak Danish, which isn't perfect by any means, but which is fluent. It does flow out, without inhibition and sufficiently recognizable so Danes respond to me in Danish, not English.

I'm hoping that four hours a week in two separate sessions will make a difference, pushing me to fluency. My short-term goal is to be able to carry on a spontaneous conversation on fairly mundane topics. Spontaneity is the key. With advance planning, I can usually get out a credit-worthy first sentence. It's understanding the reply and formulating a comeback of my own that I haven't yet mastered. Particularly on the telephone. When telemarketers hang up on you before you hang up on them, you know you are not yet worth talking to.

Lots of hard work and headaches in front of me for the next few months, I think.

Celebrating Shellfish

The unexpected little pleasure in Alicante city last week was the Jornadas Gastronómicas del Marisco. We stumbled upon it--after climbing the stairs to exit level from the underground car park at a midpoint along the harbor in city center, we were unable to exit. A huge white tent was being erected over the stairway and a great deal more--or was it being torn down?

We asked the workmen, and with luck, we found out that the Jornadas were just beginning that day. They would be opening around mid day, which, of course, could be anywhere from 12:00 noon to 2:00 PM. I was skeptical that this makeshift meeting hall could be transformed in only a couple hours. Nor was I certain what to expect. The word jornada means roughly " a day," and can refer to a working day (jornada continua or jornada partida), a distance (as in dos jornadas for a journey of two days), and a conference or symposium. Would there be small stalls of exhibits? a conference room, with speakers? Would it be open to the public, or reserved for trade visitors? Whatever, would there be free samples?

Returning in early afternoon to the huge tent, we found a lively group of at least 100 people at one continuous table finishing a repast of what was obviously the fruits of their trade. We had apparently missed the speeches, but the kitchen was still serving. We ordered arroz con mariscos for two and got a huge platter of rice generously dosed with olive oil and flavored with saffron, with four or five different kinds of seafood in the casserole. Fortunately we found a table outside facing the sea and away from other people. The only eating utensils provided were flimsy plastic forks and knives--totally inadequate for removing mussels from their shells or cutting squid. I don't know how those 100 business people managed to eat their selections politely at the big, long banquet table, but I was glad that I didn't have to keep civil company while eating Tom Jones style!

Driving Me Crazy

It's past time for me to become a legal driver in Spain. I had been told that my U.S. driver's license is not valid here after six months of residence. But how to do it? None of my English or Danish friends could tell me what to do to get a carnet de conducir. Being citizens of another European Union country, they can just use their native license.

My Spanish teacher said I probably had to go to Alicante, the capital of the province, 30 miles away. I couldn't believe that a city the size of Torrevieja (about 100,000) didn't have a drivers registration office--after all, there are motor vehicle inspection stations in every little berg--there's even one on our street! Surely if they make it so easy to regulate the cars, they wouldn't make it so hard to regulate the drivers, I thought.

I haven't found anything like a Yellow Pages in Spain, so, of course, we tried Google, And we found the website of the Dirección General de Tráfico (DGT). But understanding and responding to information needs is not the best thing that Spaniards do. I saw dots on a map showing where provincial offices were located. Apparently the nearest one was indeed somewhere in Alicante city. No address, no telephone number, no email address.

We dropped in at the police station around the corner. These would be the people who would stop me and demand to see my license if I ever dared drive without one, I reasoned, so they should be able to tell me where to get one. Well, not exactly. They gave me two phone numbers in Alicante city, but no address. One number didn't answer. The other one was busy.

So I headed out to Alicante on a sunny Thursday with the legitimate driver in the family. We planned to ask for the address at the tourist office or the Alicante police, whichever we came to first. We found the tourist office first, though that also was not without asking three times--there's something wrong when you have to ask where the tourist office is when you've seen it on a map and also have observed the traffic sign telling you to turn left! The office staffer only looked a little puzzled when we told him that the tourist attraction that we were most interested in finding in Alicante was the DGT.

But we got the address and traipsed to the office in the city center. It is commonly understood that in Spain, if you need to do government paperwork, you allow a full day (that would be the whole day the government office is open--until 1:30 or 2:00 in the afternoon.) There were seemingly endless lines with at least a hundred people. But I spied the small sign that let us skip picking up a number and pushed us toward the Información counter. Only two people before us, and then a young lady listened to me telling her that I have a valid license from the U.S: but that I have residencia in Spain now. She scanned the list of countries with which Spain has agreements, did not find EE.UU., and gave me a one-page flyer telling me I would have to apply for a carnet as though I were just learning to drive: take a theoretical test and then a practical one. Oh my! Within the past five years I have taken the theoretical test in Indiana and then again in Ohio. They were hard enough, and they were in English.

The usual way to learn to drive in Spain is to take a course at one of the numerous driving schools, but you can also take the tests at the DGT, we learned. Of course, I'm not really learning to drive all over again; I'm learning to drive in Spanish. Or more accurately, I'm learning how to pass a multiple choice test about driving rules, in Spanish. After I get beyond that hurdle, I'll worry about actually driving in the Spanish roundabouts, I mean, rotondas.

I had to go to another office upstairs to inquire about the test preparation book. No, you can't get it here, they said, with more than a little surprise. You have to buy it, but you can get it "in any bookstore." And by the way, it also comes in English. You can't take the tests in Alicante in English, but you can if you go to Murcia or Valencia, the provinces to the immediate north and south of Alicante province.

I haven't found "any bookstore" with the test prep book yet, in Spanish or in English, but I've seen sample tests online. Passing the driver's tests has become my winter project and the new focus of a specialized language course. I have every intention of at least studying the book in Spanish. Whether I actually take the test in Spanish or in English depends on how much weird stuff they pack into those questions. I'll never forget having to know all the rules about driving farm machinery in Indiana, though I do admit I've forgotten the rules themselves. But I haven't driven any farm machinery and have no intention of doing so. I do, however, intend to drive on Spanish roads.