Matthew Hirtes2013-05-23T13:23:04-04:00Matthew Hirteshttp://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=matthew-hirtesCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Matthew HirtesGood old fashioned elbow grease.Sevilla Miatag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.28675412013-03-13T12:08:53-04:002013-05-13T05:12:01-04:00Matthew Hirteshttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/matthew-hirtes/
On one memorable occasion, John Peel happened to be sitting barfly style with one of his producers. They'd escaped a radio awards do but seemed to be more interested in hearing about the White Stripes gig my pals and I had just been to. I got John to confirm why The Undertones' Teenage Kicks was his favourite track of all time. The fact it clocked in at under three minutes seemed to have a lot to do with it.
So attached to My Seville did I become that when I got married, the honeymoon just had to be in Seville. So that I'd be able to fully savour an appetite whetted by many a nocturnal adventure. Except we got married in September when temperatures hit 50 degrees in Seville, capital of Andalucia aka the Frying Pan of Spain.
Talked out of Sevilla by my Spanish in-laws, we settled on Galicia. Where we spent most of the time in bed, no not in that way. After conducting a virulent bout of food poisoning following a seafood-heavy meal in Vigo. But that's another story, for another blog post.
It would be 15 years before I actually set foot on Sevillan soil. December 2012 and the temperature was closer to 15 than 50. The Cruz Campo advert at the airport with the greeting Bienvido al Sur just seemed plain wrong. Seville felt more northern European, especially as the first stadium I saw on the shuttle bus taking me to the city-centre was a rugby rather than football one.
The Independent sent me to Seville to write about Past View. This is a new tourist attraction which allows you to step back in time. Literally, as you don special glasses to see how buildings looked like in the past along with video recreations of famous moments in local history.
I also got to meet up with Shawn Hennessey, of Azahar Sevilla Tapas Tours. Our rendezvous was Plaza Alfafa's bustling La Bodega. Where Shawn was drowned in sound from neighbouring tables, I was blinded by the lights and rather garish decoration.
Shawn wanted to give me a taste of one of her tours. So whilst we tried to hold a civilized conversation , I munched on traditional tapas starters such as tortilla española and cabrales cheese and tomato on toast. They certainly lined my stomach for a night exploring Alfalfa, an area which is traditionally popular with students.
The next day the freshly-squeezed orange juice was the highpoint of the buffet breakfast at my hotel, chiefly for curing me of my morning-after-the-night-before sickness. But then when I went for a paseo, stroll, around the city I couldn't move for orange trees. I knew Seville was famous for its oranges. But they were FRICKING everywhere.
Orange trees are not the only fauna in greener-than-you'd-think Seville. Indeed, Andalucía has many stunning parks and gardens. One of my favourites was Parque de María de Luisa located next to the stop the airport shuttle bus terminated at. Later, what looked like mist hovered in front of the ancient cathedral. The fact that it turned out to be smoke from the hot-chestnut stall didn't stop me muttering, "Ah, Sevilla Mia".]]>The Canary Islands: The Seven Wonders of the Mid-Atlantictag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.22700312012-12-11T06:49:21-05:002013-02-10T05:12:02-05:00Matthew Hirteshttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/matthew-hirtes/
El Hierro, the most westerly of the isles, is where the wild things live. Where juniper trees, swept back by the wind, are made to look like contortionists. Whose piscinas naturales, think giant rock pools, were the perfect hangover cure for the members of our football team, visiting on a post-season tour, not going down the beers-for-breakfast hair-of-the-dog route. I.e little old me.
Fuerteventura, over on the other side of the islands and in Gran Canaria Province rather than Tenerife, is all about its beaches and, erm, its goats who outnumber people. They're a little bit embarrassed about these horned mammals, however. With the name of the capital changed from Puerto de Cabras (Port of Goats) to the less snigger-worthy Puerto del Rosario.
Gran Canaria, where I've lived for the past eight years, is a mini continent: it's Sahara-impersonating south contrasting with the more lushly tropical north where you can even holiday next to a banana plantation. Or spend a weekend exploring its capital Las Palmas, a Havana, according to fellow GC blogger Alex Bramwell, for the short-haul traveller. It's also a great destination to acquire an all-over tan, with plenty of nudist beaches to, ahem, let it all hang out on.
La Gomera is the great survivor. Its forest blazes, begun by twisted firestarters, decimating but not destroying the 11-million-year-old Parque Nacional de Garajonay. A National Park which is 40 square kilometres of Amazonian rainforest on Canarian soil. I reported for The Independent on the island's recovery from the latest round of arson attacks back in September this year.
You'll certainly see stars on La Palma, but of the celestial rather than the Hollywood variety. On a good evening, the naked eye will be able to gaze at 3,000 stars whilst a telescope helps you make out both Andromeda and Saturn. Visit the world-famous Observatorio del Roque de los Muchachos during the day and if you're lucky you'll have Sheila Crosby as your guide. Elsewhere, check out the 2-million-years-young Caldera de Taburiente for a trek you won't forget in a hurry.
Lanzarote gave birth to Cesár Manrique and he returned the favour by preserving the island's unspoilt nature in the face of tourist development. And so the architect, artist, and scupltor's creations are sensitively designed to work with rather than against Lanzarote's landscape. A landscape, it has to be said, that's often more lunar in appearance than temporal. For evidence, look no further than the La Geria wine region and the Parque Nacional de Timanfaya where guides pour water into the volcanic ground to create mini geysers right before your very eyes.
Nature is very much to the fore on Tenerife too. Where Spain's tallest mountain, 3,718m-high Teide, stands sentry. Ascend to its level by foot or by cable car, although you'll have to hike the last 200 metres to reach its summit. The lost village of Masca in the west of the island and the historic university town of La Laguna in the north provide further day-trip possibilities to escape from the resorts.
And there you have it, surf, turf, and urban, the Canaries tick all the boxes. They're perfect for an island-hopping adventure because of the excellent transport infrastructure facilitating inter-isle travel by ferry or plane. So, can it be entirely coincidental there are seven Canary Islands?
Matthewhirtes.com]]>Spain's New Dictatorshiptag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.21750142012-11-25T19:00:00-05:002013-01-25T05:12:01-05:00Matthew Hirteshttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/matthew-hirtes/
20 November 2011. Exactly 36 years after the passing of Franco, Spain's PP return to power. With the election of Mariano Rajoy as Spanish president. The PP, or Partido Popular as in People's Party, were famously formed by Franco henchman, Manual Fraga - one of his most repressive ministers.
Unsurprisingly, #RajoyAño1 started trending on Twitter. So it seems a perfect time to take stock. Just what's happened to civil liberties under Rajoy?
Traditionally, the misnamed People's Party have represented the pijos, the sector of Spanish society which put money right at the top of their list of interests. So, that's Rajoy's focus group: right-wing Spanish snobs. If he's got them on their side, that's all that seems to matter.
On a recent press trip to cover the forest fires in La Gomera, I met a PSOE politician. This socialist could see why voters increasingly found little difference between the two major parties. However, they were adamant their party wouldn't have got rid of public healthcare for immigrants if they'd stayed in power. "That's so typical PP", they told me.
During the Franco years, even when tourism started to take off, a visit to Spain felt not dissimilar to taking one to Eastern Europe. Spain was very much a police state back then. And it looks like it's becoming so again.
The increasingly hard-line policies by Rajoy have resulted in dozens of demonstrations; the right to protest the keystone of any democracy. Perhaps people are protesting while they still can. For, in Madrid at least, the PP's main representative there, Cristina Cifuentes is determined to put a stop to them. The Delegada del Gobierno de España den la Comunidad de Madrid is hell-bent on changing a law regulating the right to congregate and protest she deems "broad and permissive".
Although there has been some anti-social behaviour by protestors, for example lobbing bricks through banks' windows, the vast majority of people attending such demonstrations have been peaceful. Which only goes to highlight the bully-boy tactics of the police. Tactics which have included autographing plastic bullets with the message 'Souvenirs of Spain' in Pamplona, mistaking people's heads for baseballs in Madrid, and concealing their identity badges in order to "give it them hard". Them being the demonstrators of course, although sometimes it's hard to tell who's who. Especially as the police have taken to infiltrating protestors and acting as agent provocateurs to encourage them to break the law. As reported by The Guardian's man in Madrid, Giles Tremlett.
The police were at their most brutal, last week in Tarragona. Where they attacked a 13-year-old boy. His crime? Merely being at the protest. Clearly, this government now has blood on its hands.
Famously, Franco was a shy individual. Rajoy seems to be that way inclined too. As can be seen on a clip which has become a YouTube classic. Watch his reaction to being asked questions by the press. Yes, he really does just turn around and walk in the opposite direction. I mentioned this to a friend and he gave me the shoulder-shrug before replying, "Matthew, he's Galician." Worryingly, so was Franco. One would hope history doesn't continue repeating itself.
