Remember the princess who lived on the hill

There's just no pleasing me. Speaking Spanish all the time is hard and makes me feel like an idiot, but the sound of American tourists makes me want to run screaming. Segovia felt like tourist hell when I first got here, made me want to hightail it to the nearest pueblo. Right, because I fit in so well with rural Spaniards. I am so full of shit. Segovia is touristy, but for good reason.

It looks like a fairy tale. The cathedral is huge and beautiful and there's an aqueduct and this castle with what used to be a moat. (Another confession: I don't really understand how aqueducts work. But the one here is big and old and impressive nonetheless.) It's hilly, so there are all these great views of the countryside with cute Spanish houses and more churches and mountains in the distance. And it's surprisingly easy to find places where tourists don't go.

I went to church today. I can explain. There's this monastery. Visits are free and I have a strange affection for monks and I had read that they chant at 1pm. So I went. While poking around the part of the monastery that they let you see, I got just a little bit envious of the monks. They live in this incredible building, surrounded by beautiful countryside and looking over a valley to the castle. It's so pretty and peaceful, and what do monks have to worry about, really? Anyway, I went to their daily mass to hear the chanting. Far be it for me to judge (I really mean that, I'm not being obnoxious), but it wasn't that good. Which makes sense: Chanting is a lot like singing (they were doing more singing than chanting, even), and not everyone can sing well. I bet you don't have to pass a singing test to become a monk, and there were only eight of them--not surprising that they didn't form a great choir. They were kinda fun to watch, anyway. One of them kept yawning and another one kept coughing and there was this short bald one who was adorable (Sleepy, Sneezy, Dopey?). And a young one, who fascinated me. He looked younger than me, and had a cool haircut and a vaguely trendy beard sans moustache. And he's a monk. I mean, I guess most of the old monks were once young monks (at around what age does one generally become a monk? I dunno), but monkdom is just one of those professions (like school bus driver or professional Santa Claus) that you only picture older people doing. (As an aside, speaking of facial hair, the moustache sans beard remains popular among older Spanish men. I get a kick out of it, but the Magnum PI look is a little dated.)

So anyway, I'm one of five people in the audience at the eight-monk mass. Luckily there were people in front of me so I could follow their lead for sitting, standing, kneeling, and crossing myself. The kneeling part really hurt. I spent the last half fretting over communion. I'm not Catholic; I can't take communion. That would definitely fall under the category of fucking with religion. But what if I'm the only one who doesn't? What if they offer it to me? I know how to say "I'm not Catholic" in Spanish, but should I maybe not even be here if I'm not Catholic?

....It was fine, of course; I didn't have to explain myself and wasn't ostracized or expelled. Churches do make me nervous, though.

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In a span of about 24 hours here, I met four north Africans. One is a dead ringer for Art Garfunkel. I got an earful from a Moroccan guy about how George Bush is evil and wants to kill all the Muslims. He doesn't like Spanish people because they're closed and drink too much (he doesn't drink or smoke or eat pork or have tattoos), but he bought me a beer. And I had an Egyptian guy, in the context of Iraq, tell me that the US has a right to defend itself but that he doesn't want to go to the US until after Bush stops being president. I read in the paper today that the number of foreign workers in Segovia province has quadrupled in the past year or so.

I also met this old Spanish hippie. He had a really long beard and was smoking a cigar and told me that he lived in New York in the 1960's. But when I asked him where, he said in the Kennedy airport terminal. Whatever.