Set-Up & Pay-Off: The Shroud of Turin

Note:  So it was pointed out to me that this blog post is being discussed over here.  On that note, I'd just like to say that my intention is not to provide scientific information or discredit the Shroud in any way.  I'm certainly not qualified for that and I don't pretend to be.  Rather, the point of this post is to use the exhibit, which indeed has a room in which it claims the Shroud is resistant to temperature, water, etc., as an example of problematical set-up/pay-off.

The exhibit itself is hardly a scientific journal article.  There are no signs with information, no pamphlets…Nothing except an audio guide with a very clear goal:  to tell a story.  It's not the story itself I wish to focus on; it's the telling of the story, which left me and others very disappointed.

A few weeks ago my roommate told me that the Shroud of Turin was currently in Sevilla, which is a big deal, since it usually lives in Italy.  My response:  "What's in the world is the Shroud of Turin?"

"It's supposedly the shroud in which Jesus was wrapped when they took him off the cross," she explained.  "It has his image on it."

A negative photograph of the Shroud of Turin.

Interesting, indeed.  As a sometimes-wannabe-pseudo archaeologist, I like old stuff, and if this really was the shroud in which Jesus was wrapped, then that's pretty old.  Besides, I like to make checkmarks on my "List of Cool Things I've Seen in Museums" (which so far includes St. Peter's bones and Abraham Lincoln's hat, among others), so I decided to make a visit to the exhibit titled La Sábana Santa, which translates to "The Holy Shroud."

I wasn't really expecting much--just a piece of cloth--but it turned out to be a pretty neat exhibit, one that told a story.  It began with the discovery of the shroud in Medieval France, then proceeded to discuss the nineteenth-century photograph that revealed it to be a giant negative of a man who looks suspiciously like Jesus Christ.

Could it really be Jesus?  And the even bigger question, how is the image on the cloth when there's no signs of paint, ink, embroidery, or anything else of an artistic nature?  (Plus, the question that resounded in my wannabe archaeologist's mind:  How could a piece fabric survive 2000 years?  Fabric is one of the most degradable materials, which is why archaeologists rarely ever find it, and when they do, they only find tiny threads.)

These are the questions the exhibit tried to answer.  Slowly.  Each room offered a little bit more information, more clues:

• Carbon dating -- Do the dates match Crucifixion?
• Pollen samples -- Scientists are able to analyze pollen in the threads, which indicates where the fabric has been.  Indeed, the shroud had bits of pollen from plants that only grow in and around Jerusalem.
• Forensic studies -- What do the blood stains and the positioning of the limbs indicate?

Each room added a little bit more; the entire time, the suspense built and built.  Soon enough, I was ready to scream into my audio guide, "Just tell me if it's real!"

Then, the rising action right before the climax:  the tests.

• The shroud is impervious to water.
• The shroud is impervious to temperatures, both hot and cold.
• The shroud is impervious to light.  The image hasn't faded.

After thousands of years, the shroud has not deteriorated at all, something absolutely unheard of in the archaeological world.  Which makes one wonder if it really is a miracle…

By this point I'm bouncing on the balls of my feet with anticipation, wishing the audio guide would go faster (there were no cards next to the displays, so unfortunately I couldn't just read my way through).  I needed to know.  Then, finally, it told me to proceed into the next room.

The climax.  Now, after about an hour, it was finally time to actually see the shroud of Turin and find out what scientists have concluded:  is it really the shroud?

There it is.  Hanging on a wall behind glass.  I walk toward it, holding my breath, and--

"What you're seeing is a reproduction of the shroud of Turin.  The original is only taken out every twenty five years so that it doesn't deteriorate."

Wait…What?  Rewind, I need to hear that again.  Reproduction?  So that it doesn't deteriorate?

This is what I saw behind class.  Yup…It really is just a strip of fabric.

Sorry, but the exhibit was just asking for the string of blasphemies that escaped my mouth.

Nobody said anything about a reproduction.  A reproduction?  Of a strip of fabric?

That's hardly the worst of it.  The whole time the museum strung me along:  despite my doubts in the beginning, as I went along, I became pretty convinced.  The science seemed thorough, the evidence pretty solid…

Then the penultimate room.  The one with the tests:  impervious to water, impervious to temperature, impervious to light, impervious to time…

Then the last room:  "The original is only taken out every twenty five years so that it doesn't deteriorate."

Wait, but you just said…?  I thought…?  What happened to being impervious to everything?  Even time?

One sentence, and the museum lost me.  Nope.  If this were a book, I'd have thrown it across the room.  Yup, this exhibit is a great example of what books shouldn't do.

When you pick up a book, you're putting your faith in the author.  You're trusting him with valuable hours of your life:  his book had better satisfy.

I'm not saying it should be predictable.  It should, however, have good set-up and pay-off:  they should match each other.

What do I mean by set-up?  Pay-off?

Set-up is information you need in order for the pay-off, another action, to be believable.  For example:

Joanne has to stop a bomb from detonating.  Fortunately, she has the instruction manual.  Unfortunately, it's written in Greek.

The set-up would be that Joanne knows Greek:  earlier in the book, we witnessed a scene in which she speaks Greek to her neighbor, who happens to be from Athens.  The pay-off would be that she can easily read the instruction manual and stop the bomb.  That's a good set-up/pay-off situation.  A bad one would be:  By the way, Joanne knows Greek.  We learn that she can speak it at the same time she needs it.  That's not very believable.

The Shroud of Turin exhibit had excellent set-up.  With every room, it gave just a tad bit more information, continuing to pique my interest as it tugged me along.  A little here, a little there, so that by the end, I wouldn't have been able to "put the book down."  I couldn't wait for the big reveal.

So set-up, great.  Pay-off, not so much.

Just like you can't have a good pay-off without a good set-up, if the pay-off isn't good, then the set-up is meaningless.  It's excess information, completely unimportant.  Which is how I felt after the exhibit: that the set-up was a waste of my time.

Moral of the story:  set-up/pay-off problems can go both ways.

Have you ever been really disappointed in something because of set-up/pay-off problems?  Movie, book, museum?

Virtual Tour: Barrio Santa Cruz

Since I just moved to a magical land known as Barrio Santa Cruz, I decided to do a blog post that documents my ever-exciting walk to the metro every morning.  It's like a virtual tour!

I wake up, often to flamenco singing or accordion music wafting up from the street.  As I open the shudders, I'm greeted with this view:  a stereotypical Spanish street.  Narrow, winding, with houses painted in shades of red, white, and gold.

I leave my house, which is the pink one to the left.  As you can see, it's across from a bar and a variety of shops.

This shop is my favorite.  I pass it every day, often several times a day.  Even though the shop's fragrance covers the whole street, each time I walk by I have to stop and smell the loose-leaf teas and spices, especially the piña colada tea.

I continue toward the metro, making my way through streets like this one.

Soon I emerge from the neighborhood (Santa Cruz) through this entrance.  Yes, it's bordered by the outer walls of the Álcazar, which is indeed a giant castle.

This is the main entrance into the Álcazar.  Every day, I have to make sure not to get run over by these black and yellow carriages, which are all over the city, but especially prevalent in this area.

As I leave the neighborhood, the Álcazar is to my left.  To my right?  The Cathedral, which is the third largest in the world.

I continue forward, leaving the castle behind me and passing by the Archivo de Indias, or the Archive of the Indies (that's the big square building on the left).  This is where records and all official business regarding the Americas were kept.  It currently houses an impressive collection of pictures/statues of Hernán Cortés

I arrive on Avenida de la Constitución.  To the left is a corner of the Cathedral (it's REALLY big) and to the right the Archivo de Indias.

 I walk down Avenida de la Constitución, which is always bustling with tourists, street performers, and locals just trying to get to Plaza Nueva or Calle Tetuan.

Finally I arrive in Puerta de Jerez, where I can hop on the metro, grab a coffee, or go relax by the river.

A - Z Challenge: SEVILLA

SPAIN

I'm feeling lazy, so today I'm just going to post photos of my beautiful home (Sevilla) away from my home (Williamsburg) away from home (Philadelphia).

The Guadalquiver River.

The entrance to the Alcazar.

This is me in front of the gate leading to the Feria de Abril fairgrounds.  (Feria is a week-long celebration that involves flamenco dancing, carnival rides, horses, food and drink).

Part of the gardens of the Alcazar.

The Plaza de España, as seen in Star Wars Episode II.

The Cathedral, which is the third largest in the world!

Las Setas (The Mushrooms), a popular hang-out spot in Sevilla.  Good for tapas.

ORANGE TREES EVERYWHERE.

A - Z Challenge: LEFTOVERS (ROME & MOORS)

SPAIN

The Iberian Peninsula has been inhabited for centuries, most notably by the Roman and Ottoman Empires.  To this day, you can see many leftovers in Spanish cities, especially in the autonomous community of Andalusia, the name of which comes from the Arabic Al-Andalus.

Architecture

This Roman aqueduct is right by my house!

Moors maintained a presence on the Iberian Peninsula from 711 to 1492.  That's 781 years.  Comparably, Spain has only been "Spanish" as we know it for 521 years, which is very strange to think about.  It's been asked if the Reconquista, or the Reconquest (when Catholics led by Ferdinand and Isabel expelled the Arabs from Spain), was actually a reconquest, or if it was just a conquest.

I believe these columns were supposedly
placed here by Hercules himself.  (Hercules
founded many cities in Spain, including
Sevilla and Barcelona, according to legend.)

Traveling through Spain, you'll find a lot of architectural leftovers from Rome and Moorish occupation.  In Sevilla, for example, there are several Roman columns.  My street even has the ruins of an old aqueduct :)

A patio in the Alcázar.  These archways are a
signature element of Islamic architecture.

As for Moorish influence, it's everywhere.  Courtyards, rounded archways, and tiles all have their origins in Arabic architecture.

The Alcázar, for example, was originally a Moorish fort, converted into a royal palace.  Though there are certain Gothic elements, most of it is Islamic design.

Sevilla's most famous site, the Cathedral, was actually originally a mosque.  The Giralda served as a minaret from which someone would issue the call to prayer.  It was converted into a Cathedral, yet it still has lots of Islamic architecture.

The Cathedral in Sevilla.

Language

While Spanish is a romance language that has Latin roots, its filled with words that come from Arabic.  Some of these include:

Andalucía - from Al-Andalus, the Arabic name for the region.

Ojalá - I hope, from law šhaʾ allāh "God willing".

Alcázar - palace, from al-qasr
Zumo - juice, from zum.  Spain is the only Spanish-speaking country that uses "zumo" for juice.

And hundreds more!

WRITING

When writers build worlds, they often draw from real cultures and civilizations.  Stereotypical fantasy worlds are usually based on medieval Northern Europe (the Holy Roman Empire is probably closest in comparison); and when they name characters and places, they often pick a language to act as the "root language."

Why is this a good idea?  So that the made-up words sound as though they belong to the same family, the same culture.  It helps to make the world believable, and that's extremely important :)  So as you create world, make like Spain and let other civilizations influence you!

P.S.  I'd love to read a fantasy in which the world is based on North Africa or Middle East, so if you know of any, please let me know!

A - Z Challenge: JUAN TENORIO (DON JUAN)

SPAIN

Most likely you've heard of the infamous Don Juan, but have you ever paused to ask yourself, "What, exactly, is his deal?"

I know I didn't.  Not until I came to Spain, anyway.  I knew that Don Juan was a notorious lover, but that's it.

There are various versions of the tale.  In general, however, it goes something like this:

Don Juan supposedly lived in Sevilla, specifically in Barrio Santa Cruz, where today there are plaques denoting his house and the house of one of his lovers, Doña Inés.  He was wealthy, handsome, prone to gambling and violence, and extremely proud of his prowess.

The plaque in Barrio Santa Cruz.  It reads something like:  "Popular rumor says that in this part of the old neighorhood, on Chorro Street, there was born a gentleman whom nobody could surpass in games, in fighting, or in love.  He died and was redeemed in Seville by Doña Inés, and the pen of Don José Zorrilla, in his retelling of the legend, gave him life in the universal work of DON JUAN TENORIO."

After seducing Don Inés, her father Don Gonzalo challenged him to a duel.  Don Juan, always the better fighter, won, but had to flee the city.  Shortly thereafter, Doña Inés died of sorrow.

Then Don Juan sees a vision of his own death.  His own burial.  Plot twist!  Don Juan was actually killed in the duel with Don Gonzalo, and here is where versions split:  sometimes, Doña Inés redeems him and together they go to Heaven.  In others, he is swept into Hell as punishment for his philandering, violence, and vanity.

WRITING

The Don Juan legend is one that gets a lot of retelling, at least in Spanish literature.  What with shows like Once Upon a Time, books like Cinder, and movies like Jack the Giant Slayer, retellings are big these days.  I really like retellings, especially when they involve more obscure legends, though my all-time favorite is Ever After.  Not exactly obscure, but how can you go wrong when the fairy godmother figure is Leonardo da Vinci?  Right now, I'm reading This Dark Endeavor and Such Wicked Intent, both retellings/prequels of/to Frankenstein, written by one of my favorite authors, Kenneth Oppel.  If you like retellings, I definitely recommend them.

What's your opinion on the retelling trend?  What are you favorites?  What would you like to see?

A - Z Challenge: GASTRONOMY

A lunch my host mom serves regularly.  Mostly peas
and chorizo.

SPAIN

Ah, the obligatory post on gastronomy, or in less fancy words, food.

The Spanish diet is, without a doubt, the single most interesting diet I've come across.  Not only for the type of food, but for food's place in culture and daily life.

Breakfast:  7:00 AM

Breakfast isn't a big deal in Spain.  Usually it consists of tostadas, the Spanish phrase for toast, with butter or jam, and café con leche (coffee with milk).  It's eaten whenever you get up in the morning, which for me, is usually around 7:00 AM.  Since lunch isn't served 'til 2:00 in the afternoon, I tend to break away from cultural norms and put peanut butter on my toast for some added protein.

(Peanut butter is not common in Spain.  Spaniards don't eat it, and though you can find it in the grocery store, it's very expensive.)

Lunch:  2:00 - 3:00 PM

A few weeks ago I attended a cooking class.
Here, our chef Carlos helps me make a
chicken and vegetable paella.

Lunch in Spain is not a mere sandwich or salad, as it is in the U.S.  Nope, lunch is the largest meal of the day, and that's large.  Every day, my host mother brings out huge portions of the main course, bread, cheese, salad, and fruit.  This is why the siesta is such an important aspect of Spanish culture:  people come home from work for lunch, so everything shuts down (most businesses are closed from 2:00 - 5:00), and afterwards, people relax, often taking a nap.

So what does the main meal consist of?

Spain's signature dish is paella, which consists of rice, chicken, chorizo, seafood, and vegetables (though you usually won't get meat and seafood mixed).  Paella, however, isn't an everyday food, unlike bread and chickpeas.  Being quite an ordeal to prepare, it's usually made on special occasions, oftentimes as a family activity.

It was my job to cut the squid!  To my
surprise, we used the entire squid.  Head,
tentacles, everything except the cartilage.

Most dishes I've had are stew-like:  white beans, chickpeas, or peas with bits of chicken and chorizo.  Spain, being located on the Iberian peninsula, also consumes a lot of seafood:  tuna, salmon, shrimp, and especially squid (often in an ink-based sauce).

If you have to eat on the run, you'll probably pack or buy a bocadillo:  a baguette-type bread with either chorizo, cheese, chicken, tuna, or tortilla española.

Our final products!  Paella!

Dinner:  9:00 - 11:00 PM

Dinner is small in Spain.  For us students, it usually involves tortilla española, which is usually made with eggs, potatoes, and sometimes vegetables.  It's very similar to quiche.  We eat it every day, sometimes with pumpkin soup, pasta with tuna, or a plate of vegetables.

Dessert

Usually dessert involves fruit:  bananas, oranges, apples, kiwi, strawberries.  I like fruit, but not as much as I like chocolate, so I had to do some good snooping in the supermarkets.  Here's what I found:

Principe cookies are like reverse Oreos, except they put Oreos to shame.  You can't get them outside of Europe, so I'm going to need a whole suitcase just for my supply of Principe Cookies.

Milka is one of the big "non-fancy" chocolate brands over here, equivalent to Hershey in the States.  The regular one is good, but you haven't lived until you've tried Milka with Oreo.  It's like a chocolate covered Oreo…but better.

Tapas

This is in Turkey, not Spain, but you can see the spit.

If you tend to get hungry between lunch and dinner or after dinner, Spain is your kind of place.  The streets are lined with tapas restaurants, where you can pay two or three euro and get small plates called tapas.  Morcilla, fried brie, croquetas, and more!  They're kind of like appetizers.

Random

Döner Kebab - You know how the U.S. has quick Chinese food on every corner?  Well, Spain has Turkish fast food in the form of döner kebab, a pita filled with chicken or lamb that's roasted on a spit.  My friends and I frequently make late night döner runs.

Helado - The ice cream in Spain is the best ice cream I've ever had in my life, plus it comes in all kinds of neat flavors, including Kinder and dulce de leche.

Churros con chocolate - Fried dough dipped in thick hot chocolate.  It's rough on the stomach, but it's worth trying at least once.

A - Z Challenge: FLAMENCO

SPAIN

For me, the best part about flamenco is it's authenticity.  Unlike the bullfights, it's not a spectacle put on to attract tourists.  No, flamenco is deeply entrenched in Spain's culture.  That means that most everyone, especially in Andalucía, can sing or dance flamenco, at least to a certain extent.  It's not exclusive to the professionals.  If you're in Spain long enough, chances are you'll come across someone singing flamenco at the top of his lungs as he walks down the street.

Flamenco dancers in Sevilla, Spain

Walking through Sevilla, you'll find dozens of dress shops.  These dresses are pricey.  The cheapest you'll find is 75 euro (about $100), and that's the absolute cheapest.  For many girls, they get a new dress every year, which they adorn with flowers and ribbons, and will don during the week of Feria, a celebration based on flamenco, which happens to begin two weeks from now.  All night the people of Sevilla gather in casetas, personal tents set up on designated fairgrounds, where they dance flamenco 'til dawn.  Not to impress anyone, but just for fun.  For tradition.

Feria in Sevilla.  This is in two weeks.

WRITING

Many Spanish romantic writers, such as Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, incorporated flamenco into their writing.  They referred to is as the poesía popular, or the popular poetry, and drew on its themes and rhythms to compose short stories and poems that reflected Spanish pop culture.  To them, flamenco was a source of endless inspiration:  it embodied passion, beauty, and pain in its potent vocals and intense movements.

Here's a video of some flamenco:

A - Z Challenge: CORTÉS

SPAIN

So I love history, and especially Latin American history, so instead of talking about Catalonia or comida or las Carlistas or a million other topics that begin with C, I'm going to share a little bit about one of Spain's most famous historical figures, Hernán Cortés.

Assuming you've taken some sort of history class, you probably know Cortés as the conquistador behind the fall of the Aztec Empire in Mexico.  You might also know him as that guy from The Road to El Dorado (which is a great movie, by the way):

Right.  So a Spanish version of Johnny Bravo.  (Can you tell I'm a 90s kid?)

Anyway, history at its most basic will say that Cortés marched through Mexico to Tenochtitlan, the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and with only a few hundred men and some horses, took down thousands upon thousands of natives, largely due to the smallpox they brought with them.

But that's not what makes him interesting.  Conquests had been going on for centuries, and though it's interesting that the Aztecs might have believed him to be a god (though there's a lot of speculation about that), it's not what intrigues me.

Hernán Cortés

Nope, I'm fascinated by this little anecdote:

In 1518 the governor of Cuba, Diego Velázquez, sent Cortés on an expedition to conquer Mexico, but soon changed his mind, and revoked his permission.  Cortés ignored that, and when Velázquez arrived on the mainland in person to tell Cortés off, he replied with, "Sorry, gotta go," and quickly fled.  He then founded a town and made himself leader, which hypothetically excused him from being under the Governor of Cuba's authority.  Hypothetically.

Of course, some of his men had doubts.  Cortés didn't exactly have experience leading an army, and who was he to defy the governor of Cuba?  Cortés, sensing that many of his men wanted to desert, scuttled every ship except one, which he sent back to Spain, literally trapping everyone on mainland Mexico, with no choice but to proceed.

To me, this little anecdote is what makes him most interesting.  Are these admirable actions?  No, definitely not, especially considering that it led to the deaths of thousands of natives.  But it was ridiculously courageous--and certainly insane--to scuttle his own ships, stranding himself and some 600 men in a place that very few Europeans had ever visited.

Don't get me wrong:  by no means do I condone his actions.  In fact, he's ranked pretty darn high on my list of historical jerkwads.  But there's no denying that he was, well…a badass, at least in some respects.

Here in Spain, you'll find quite a few paintings and statues dedicated to him.  The General Archive of the Indies in Seville is filled with them.  It's definitely interesting, since in the U.S., his history is always tinted with negativity:  "Hernán Cortés, a bad guy."  Since being here, my opinions about that haven't changed--Cortés and the conquistadores brought a lot of misery--but it's strange to see memorials to them.  But it goes both ways:  Why is Andrew Jackson, the man behind the Trail of Tears, commemorated every time we pull out a twenty?

WRITING

There are two sides to every story.

America doesn't like Cortés.  To most, he's a mass murderer.  But to Spain he's technically a hero, even if nowadays a lot of Spaniards don't exactly approve of his actions.  His conquest of Mexico was the beginning of Spaniards taking over the rest of mainland Latin America, save Brazil.  Keep in mind that Spain only became one unified country in 1492, so how awesome must it have been for this brand new country to 1) "discover" the New World, and 2) exploit its resources until it was one of the richest nations around, which enabled it to have an armada to rival the British Navy.  In less than a century, it went from being a cluster of very divided kingdoms, largely controlled by North African Arabs, to the most powerful empire in the world.  An evil empire, according to the French and British, who felt both jealous and threatened.  C is for Competition, right?

Spains rise to power, which has a lot to do with Cortés, reminds us that there are two sides to every story.  A villain isn't a villain to everybody, and the same goes for heroes.  The best characters are those whose good/evil alignment isn't clear, and it all depends on your point of view.  The one that immediately comes to mind is Ben Linus from ABC's Lost.  Three years after the end of the show, I still have no idea whether to consider him a good guy or a bad guy.  ABC is doing it again with Once Upon a Time:  Where on the scale does Rumplestiltskin/Mr. Gold lie?  (Interestingly, these characters also tend to be the best actors).

Ben Linus, played by Michael Emerson, from ABC's LOST

How about Javert from Les Miserables?  He is the "bad guy" of the novel/musical/movie, but if you look at the story from his perspective, he's doing what society normally approves of:  attempting to stop a wanted thief.  If Les Miz were not fiction, but was a true story playing out in our own modern society, we would probably applaud Javert for seeking a potentially dangerous criminal.

"Of course not," you might say.  "Jean Valjean is a really good man."

"Yeah," I'd reply.  "But how often to you stop to chat with the criminal about his emotions, morals, dreams, family life, etc?  You don't."

But because Les Miz gives us Jean Valjean's PoV, we view him as the hero, while Javert is stuck being the villain.

So keep that in mind when writing!  To some, your bad guys might not actually be bad guys--and those kinds of characters tend to be the most interesting.

A - Z Challenge: ANDALUCÍA

Andalusia in red.

Spain

Like most countries, Spain is far from uniform.  Rather, it is divided into seventeen different autonomous communities (and two independent cities located in North Africa), which work kind of like states.  (Though it's a little more complicated than that; these communities don't have as much independence as U.S. states).  Many of these autonomies used to be kingdoms before Spain became a unified nation in 1492.

I'm staying in the community of Andalusia (spelled Andalucía in Spanish), in southern Spain, the capital of which is beautiful Seville (where I live).

So what makes Andalusia unique?  Well, a lot.  I'm just going to cover the basics because otherwise, we'd get into novel territory, as far as length goes.

Seville's bullfighting stadium.  Yes, it's still in action.

When you think stereotypical Spain, you think Andalusia, whether you realize it or not.  Here is where you'll come across flamenco, bullfighting, and typical Spanish architecture.  It's also a place of immense historical importance, where you'll find:

• Archivo de Indias - the home of the paperwork regarding the conquest of the Americas.  It's lined with images and sculptures of conquistador Hernán Cortés.
• Cádiz - where revolutionaries wrote the Constitution of 1812, the first Spanish constitution.
• Ronda - Hemingway set part of his Spanish Civil War novel For Whom the Bell Tolls in this city.
• Granada - The last city to expel the Moors from Spain in 1492 during the Reconquista.  For this reason, a symbol of Ferdinand and Isabella is the granada, or the pomegranate.

The Andalusian countryside viewed from Ronda.

Writing

For those of you who don't know, my blog is mostly about finding inspiration in real life, then applying that inspiration to my fantasy world.  That is, my writing.  In a way, living in Andalusia has been one big research project.  Mostly, in terms of setting.

I'm a sucker for cool settings.  Though, I admit, I've set many a story in places like New York, Washington, D.C., and London, I much prefer more exotic places (usually within the real world).  I'd love to see more books set in Eastern Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, and especially Latin America.

Spain is a cool setting (at least in my opinion).  It's warm, it's colorful, and it has a very distinct culture that screams "¡VIVA ESPAÑA!"  But as far as books in English go, it generally takes a backseat to the U.S., U.K., France, Australia, and many other countries.  Which is actually kind of sad, considering it's the birthplace of the novel as we know it today.  Unfortunately, we English-speakers tend to forget that.

A courtyard in the Alcazar, a palace in Seville.

So for your next project, consider setting it in Spain.  If you're not sure about setting, ask yourself how important the setting is:  Does it make a difference if it's set in L.A. or Barcelona?  If your character is American or Spanish?  Obviously, it does, but that difference could be what makes your story stand out in the slushpile.  Personally, if I were an agent looking at two similar urban fantasies, both with strong characters and plots, and one was set in New York and the other in Seville, I'd choose the one in Seville, just because it's unique.  (Though I'm not an agent, so what do I know?)

Andalusia would also be a great place from which to draw inspiration for high fantasy.  Unfortunately, high fantasy is usually pretty predictable when it comes to setting.  Most of the time it's based on medieval Northern Europe, so the kingdoms that made up what is now France, Germany, and the U.K.  Stone castles, fairytale-esque villages, dense evergreen forests.

Andalusia also has castles.  Andalusia also has villages.  Andalusia also has forests--and mountains, and deserts, and beaches, and cliffs.

Only it's castles are often inspired by Islamic architecture, like the Alcazar in Seville.  Those villages, like Ronda, are sometimes situated hundreds of meters high.  And while you'll find "regular" forests, you'll also come across a ton of palm trees and oranges.  So why not pick the former kingdom of Al-Andalus as the basis for a fantasy world?  Star Wars did it.  The Plaza de España in Seville was used for scenes shot on the planet Naboo.

The list goes on.  Long story short, Andalusia is important to Spanish history and culture, despite being primarily an agricultural autonomy.  It's significantly less industrial than the rest of Spain.  Rather than huge metropolises, you'll find a sprawling countryside adorned with sunflowers, oats, barley, wheat, olives, and especially oranges.  In fact, orange trees line the streets of many Andalusian cities, including Seville
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The Plaza de España, which was featured in Star Wars:  Episode I.

The Dreaded Middle

Believe it or not, my life in Spain is not all fun and games.  Like any extended life experience, there are ups and downs, but this week has been the most trying yet.  I've felt emotionally unstable, both sad and stressed, and I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I've arrived at the dreaded middle of my Study Abroad experience.

Halfway there, and as my friend put it, the honeymoon period is over.  The veil we referred to as a "new cultural experience" has somewhat lifted from our eyes.

For example:

Two months ago:  "Wow, I guess Spaniards like cold showers.  Woot!  Time for cultural immersion!"

Now:  "Uh uh.  No way.  I ain't immersing myself in anything less than 100 degrees Fahrenheit."

Don't get me wrong.  I love Spain, and I love its culture, but I'm reaching that point of mild homesickness.  What I wouldn't pay for a steak.  For a cup of real American coffee.  For a snuggle session with my kitty.

Yes, the middle stretch is always the most difficult, whether studying abroad, running a 5k, or writing a novel.  It's when the fun starts to wane a bit, when you suddenly realize, "Hey, this is actually hard work."

As for writing, maybe you don't know how to move forward.  Maybe your characters are getting on your nerves.  Or maybe you're just sick and tired of everything; all you want to do is get to the end.  But just as I can't fast forward to the end of my semester (not that I want to), you can't jump to the end of your manuscript.

So how do you push through the dreaded middle?  How do you make it to the end?

Everyone has their own methods, but I have something I like to call a driving scene.  It's one scene toward the end of the story, though not necessarily the climax, that I envision over and over again, so eager am I to write it.  But I don't.  Not until it's time.  Because if I write it to, say, get it out of my system, then it's free.  It's no longer driving me.  But when I keep it bottled up, it pulls me forward, dangling in front of me as a reward for perseverance.

Sometimes I describe it in one sentence or paragraph, as it would stand in a synopsis.  For example, the one for my drawer novel was, "The last grain of sand falls and the hourglass shatters."  That's not even a scene; it's just one image, and to anyone who isn't me, it probably doesn't mean anything.  But I know the details, so for me, it's powerful enough to pull me through however many chapters precede it.  Anyway, I'll take that driving scene sentence and scribble it into my notebook, or paste it above my desk, so it can act as a beacon toward my final goal.

My drawing is about as good as my singing (so not good), but sometimes I'll sketch the scene, too, and put that drawing where it will encourage me to keep going.

I have a driving scene for everything I write, even short works.  In fact, it's such a part of my writing process that I've even come to apply it to my outside life.  For example, I have a driving scene for this whole Study Abroad experience.  It's different than looking forward to something; when I just look forward to something, it's hazy, vague.  No, this is a clear image.  One image, and though I doubt it'll play out exactly as I have it in my head, it's the image I envision whenever I'm feeling down.

It's greeting my family at the airport in Barcelona, after not having seen them in six months.

Arte como arma / Art as a Weapon

Ladies and gents, I give you my new catchphrase:  "arte como arma," or in English, "art as a weapon".  If you're wondering why it's in Spanish, it's because I first read it in Spanish.  No, unfortunately I can't take credit for it :(

I'm enrolled in a course at my university called "Seville and the Community."  Essentially, it's a class about social and political issues in Spain:  homelessness, poverty, poor education, etc.  This week I gave a fifteen-minute oral presentation on "arte como arma," and in the middle of my powerpoint, realized, "Hey, this isn't just for a grade.  I actually have something interesting to say about this."

Before I begin, what exactly do I mean by art?  Well, everything:  painting, sculpture, drawing, carpentry, fashion, music, dance, poetry, prose…

My basic argument:  art is great for recreation, but it can also be used as a weapon against hardship, whether that hardship is poverty, depression, social exclusion, unemployment, etc.  Of course, it isn't going to do away with these issues:

Art is a spiritual expression, an activity that generates joy, entertainment, and knowledge.  A poem, a song, a play, surely cannot change reality or defeat misery, but it can act as a tool through which people can express their experiences, their stories, and aspire to better lives.  This is what's called social art. - La Gaceta [translated from Spanish]

OK, social art.  Basically, it's a way to cope with suffering:  through self expression.  However, I'm not sure if I completely agree with the above quote.  Is it true that art cannot change reality or defeat misery?

I asked this question during my presentation and it generated a little bit of debate.  Most people argued that art itself cannot change reality, but it can inspire people to change reality.

Well, of course.  If people start munching on oil paintings in an attempt to end hunger, then we have a bigger problem than we thought.

I asked for some examples of art that has changed reality.  Unfortunately, we were a little short in this area, so maybe La Gaceta has a point.  But how about Uncle Tom's Cabin, which changed the United States' view on slavery leading up to the Civil War?

Whether art changes reality or not, it's still a way to lessen the pain of hardship:

Art is a solution.  It's a sign of culture, and culture is what gives comfort in the face of the certainty of chaos and the forcefulness of the horrors that have been occurring for a long time.  Culture is an analgesic, not an anesthetic.  Culture is what provides serenity in the face of disaster. - Laura Fleischer, El arte como herramienta de intervención social [translated from Spanish]

So, culture to cope with disaster.  Sounds about right.  We were able to come up with more examples for this, like:

• The Golden Age of Hollywood - The Golden Age of Hollywood began in the late 1920s, around the same time as the Great Depression.  Though people struggled to put bread on the table, they didn't often begrudge a trip to the movies.   The escapist films of the 1930s offered comfort to a society in crisis.
• "A Modest Proposal" - Jonathan Swift's satiric essay deals with poverty and famine in Ireland during the early eighteenth century (the potato famine came later).  He uses grotesque humor to point out society's problems, and if there's any one way to cope with hardship, it's humor.  If you're interested, you can read the whole text here.
• Guernica - Arguably Pablo Picasso's most famous painting, Guernica came as a result of a bombing during the Spanish Civil War.  It was put on display at the 1937 World's Fair, thereby bringing the War international attention.
• Slave culture - Slaves in the Americas used song and dance, usually with African or Native American influences, to help cope with the hardships of slavery and preserve their own cultural identity.

Guernica, by Pablo Picasso

But it's not just that art provides a coping mechanism; rather, there are tangible results, believe it or not. A twelve-year national study showed that underprivileged students who are involved in the arts generally have a higher success rates:  they achieve more after high school graduation, they do more volunteer work, and they participate in politics.

So why did I choose this topic?  And now, it's not because, as a writer, I strongly believe in the power of words (though that's true, too).

It's because of Polígono Sur, the neighborhood in which I teach English.  Essentially, Polígono Sur is a chabolismo, or as we would call it, a slum.  As one of the poorest areas in Sevilla, it has a reputation for crime, a reputation that's only augmented by its large gypsy population.

This fence in Polígono Sur is very close to my English class.

But damn, does Polígono Sur have art!

I'm talking flamenco.  Not touristy flamenco, either, with the main goal being to entertain.  No, this isn't some sort of spectacle.  It's intensely personal, an expression of human emotions through music and dance; yet at the same time, it's communal.  It brings people together, and as long as the flamenco lasts, those people are one cohesive group.  They celebrate together, struggle together, survive together.

It's how they cope with poverty.  With drug abuse.  With the stigma associated with their community and their culture, especially if they're gypsies.  By pouring their emotions into flamenco.

If you're interested in seeing flamenco in Polígono Sur, you can check out this documentary.  Even if you don't know a lick of Spanish, you'll be able to see what I'm talking about within the first ten minutes:

Now to wrap up, I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute.  We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.  And the human race is filled with passion.  And medicine, law, business, engineering…These are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.  But poetry, beauty, romance, love…These are what we stay alive for. - Dead Poet's Society

What do you think?  Can art be used as a weapon against hardship?  Can art change reality?  Can you think of any examples in which art has changed reality?  How about when culture has helped cope with disaster?