Today was the Holy Grail. I don’t mean this figuratively. I mean we saw THE HOLY GRAIL people!! (A professor who seeks the Holy Grail…where have I heard this story before?)
Guided by our local tour guide, Julio, we explored old town Valencia. The history here is difficult for this American to fathom. Some of the architecture dates back to the 11th century. Churches are flanked with gargoyles and images of witchcraft. If you’re wondering whether any of those old gargoyles ever break and fall off of these buildings, the answer is yes! It turns out this is the precise reason that they moved bull fights, which also originated in Valencia, out of the center city. A gargoyle actually fell and killed 12 people.
We learned of the origin of the term bankruptcy (when a banker would break a table as a warning to those who couldn’t pay) and the mafia (a Spanish invention later adopted by the Italians). And a weird story about a priest who was a cannibal (ask Julio).
The highlight of the tour was a visit to the Valencia Cathedral, a church that took 500 years to build and is home of the Holy Grail. This church (which is a collection of many chapels) is nothing short of incredible. Every inch of the interior is a masterpiece in its own. And it turns out what we see on display is only part of the grail (the dark part is original). The actual grail was unfortunately broken when a priest raised it above his head and dropped it during mass. (Insert Homer Simpson yelling “Doh!”) It is said the priest died “of natural causes “ only a few days after this occurred.
After “class” I visited the church of San Nicolas (you might know him by his red suit and jolly disposition). This is a short walk from the cathedral and was described to me as “The Sistine Chapel” of Spain. Upon entry (11 euro), it’s easy to see why. The architecture is gothic but the decoration, which literally covers every cm (metric system baby) of wall and ceiling is baroque which must translate to “over the top”. The audio tour is incredibly well done. In it, the narrator tells the origin story of St. Nick in which he gives gifts of gold, always without being seen. (Rudolph seems to have been left out of this tale unfortunately.) Collectively, I feel like I have seen two of the most impressive sights of my life, in just one day. And I’m very grateful.
I close with today’s fun lesson of the day. Valencians do not speak Spanish. They speak Valencian, a language I’m told is very difficult to learn and is actually more similar to French. Valencians are forgiving of foreigners for not speaking the native language (thank goodness), but are less forgiving of Spaniards. In fact, they may refuse to speak to a Spaniard, out of spite, if they do not engage in Valencian conversation. One of our guides, Lluis, a local who understands Valencian but cannot speak it, was compared to a dog (understands but can’t speak) by an elder native Valencian (ouch). Speaking the language is a point of great pride, especially considering it was suppressed during the previous Spanish dictatorship.
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