I’ve just returned from a trip to Spain and Sweden. Summer holidays are a break from one’s daily routine and grind for some, but for Pakistanis with the privilege of being able to travel, it is a reminder of how unwell our country is.
Travelling has been part of my life since I was born, but I have craved a ‘return to home’ no matter where we were. Of late, returning home induces increased anxiety manifesting physical and emotional turmoil.
Pakistan makes me tense.
I do not like this feeling because this is home. Shouldn’t home feel welcoming, safe, clean and full of joy? How long has it been for Pakistanis to remember that feeling! Joy. Real happiness encased in contentment. Peace.
When one steps outside of our country, it is then, in particular, that the contrast is magnified.
Waking up, stepping outside, anywhere, walking on any road enjoying the air and environment, or strolling into a café, having a simple coffee watching the world walk by, listening to people play music or watching them dance, reminding us of the music of life, as people of all kinds in all sorts of costumes, get on with life in peace and prosperity.
The simplicity of life’s joys.
Two weeks outside of Pakistan were enough, I was ready to return home. Recently I noted, that feeling and urge to return to the comforts of one’s bed, home and familiar routine has diminished. There was once a time when I only missed the variety and specific foods – my Peruvian cuisine haunts, eggs benedict and the brunch cultures, my coffee and teas; the theatre and music. That’s what I looked forward to when I travelled abroad.
That is no longer what I miss.
I closely follow all things Pakistan: cricket, politics etc. It’s depressing and disquieting to say the least. Avoiding and shunning what’s going on in Pakistan is essential for one’s peace of mind. But is it really possible? How much and for how long can one deny or stick one’s head in the sand-even for one’s sanity.
To leave even for briefly is to reconnect to the beauty of life.
Spain is rich in culture and histories - and a wonderful destination for those who would like to recharge their batteries. We landed in Barcelona first. The Sagrada Familia, a Gaudi masterpiece, is beyond breathtaking. Why? Because it is not only an architectural wonder, a visual feast, but the incredible capture of blending faith with modern human sentiments, through the life of Christ. I have never seen so many architectural styles in one building. Like the celebration of the multiplicity of humanity! For hours, I was sitting inside, as the tourists of the world passed by, admiring corners and nooks, necks craned upward, or gazing below at hidden mystical details wrapped in Christian symbolism. Sitting and absorbing. It’s a living church, a tourist magnet and everything in between. Incomplete after 100 years, it signifies human-ness at its sublime.
Having lived and travelled extensively throughout my life, I have seen many wonderful cathedrals and churches, in Moscow, St Petersburg, Istanbul, London, Rome etc; the Sagrada Familia stands apart. It is difficult to describe the emotive experience. I wish I had the repertoire of Allende or Marquez. All I can muster is: Gaudi has shown us what a human being can create. Manifesting a human being’s potential. In today’s world of everything available on the internet and ‘creating’ digitally every human creativity real or imagined, how many wow moments can we expect?
Wow.
Another memorable moment was in the southern Iberian town of Malaga. A Mediterranean port city associated with seaside entertainment. I love the ocean but warm waters and like with all things a deeper look always reveals a lot more than what is on the surface. Beautiful no doubt, Malaga will always remain as the town full of gorgeous comfortable shoes. The Spanish are well known for their shoe craftsmanship. Espadrilles are traditionally made from natural materials such as cotton, linen or leather for the upper parts and jute, hemp or sisal for the sole.
Recently I noted, that feeling and urge to return to the comforts of one’s bed, home and familiar routine has diminished
I have a curiosity for details and history and in character wondered about these unbelievably comfy fashionable sandals. Espadrilles originate from the Catalonian areas of the Pyrenees, on the Spanish and French borders, from the 14th century. Espadrilles are the footwear for Catalonia's traditional dance and also part of the Basque culture, since the King of Aragon's soldiers wore them too. Something I did not know, the French fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent, made them trendy in the 1970s, by adding a wedge heel to the traditional flat sole.
In Malaga, for 20 euros one can pick up a smart pair of sandals/ shoes. I thought to myself: why can’t we develop our footwear industry like they have? I know the answers, but I can’t help feel the tinge of regret because it is possible – but it also quite impossible given the current social political priorities.
I have always felt music art writing poetry dance defines a culture. It is a bias but I am enthralled by the relationship of our inner soul to these outward vibrations in all their beauty. The Spaniards are associated with Flamenco dance. We had a chance to see several in different parts of Spain as we moved from one town to other cities.
UNESCO actually has recognised it as part of the World’s Intangible Cultural Heritage. This dance is a complex art form which incorporates poetry, singing (cante), guitar playing (toque), dance (baile) a male or female or both in union, with polyrhythmic hand-clapping (palmas), foot stomping, and and finger snapping (pitos). The audience is also expected to respond (jaleo) with encouraging shouts. Nobody really knows where the term “flamenco” originated, but all agree that the art form began in southern Spain—Andalusia and Murcia—but was also shaped by musicians and performers in the Caribbean, Latin America, and Europe. My personal observations were instinctively noting both the Ataan dance movements of the Pukhtuns and Khatak traditional south Asian classical dance. The demeanour, the movements are so similar it is uncanny. There is a theory that the gypsy Roma migration from Rajasthan to Spain brought the musical instruments, such as tambourines, bells, and wooden castanets, and an extensive repertoire of songs and dances.
Today Flamenco is part of every Spanish tourist trail and promoted as an essential part of Spain. Owned and celebrated. However, the relationship between the flamenco art form and Spanish national identity has been fraught for more than a century. The world’s fascination with flamenco created internal tensions within Spain, where the performance was once considered a vulgar and pornographic spectacle. Over the years, many Spaniards considered flamenco a scourge, deploring it as an entertainment that lulled the masses into stupefaction and hampered Spain’s progress toward modernity. Flamenco’s shifting fortunes show how a nation began to own various complex national cultural practices and in fact celebrating it as integral to national symbols. Evolution and inclusion.
Travelling on, the Basque region in northern Spain is another lovely part. This is a region with a distinct set of people who straddle two nations, live in both Spain and France in areas bordering the Bay of Biscay and encompassing the western foothills of the Pyrenees Mountains. Basque literally means a corset but the origins of their language are unknown, and are pre romance languages, it is difficult to pin down a lot of the distinctiveness. The Basque Country (Euskadi) is now defined as an autonomous community with very strong sense of a separate cultural tradition, distinctive and celebrated cuisine with a distinct language that pre-dates the Romance languages.
An area once conflict ridden fighting for separation from Spain, today has come to peaceful terms once Spain conceded space and rights allowing freedoms to express their uniqueness in peace. The roots of the Basque conflict trace back centuries, linked to the distinct identity, language, and culture of the Basque people. The roots of so many conflicts east west south north all are the same. The human desire to be free and to be respected. It’s quite simple really. I do not understand why we continue to ignore this instinctive survival behaviours.
The sense of separation from the rest of Spain and France has been a central aspect of Basque identity and serves as the foundation for the political conflict that has ensued. Basque, areas are at peace and are a huge part of Spanish tourism. St Sebastian is the Macca for gastronomy. Michelin star restaurants aside, the confectionary is divine, although the Basque burnt cheese cake, well known outside of Spain was a tad disappointing. The Basque are much prouder of the Pantxineta/ Pnanchenta typical puff pastry desert with a thick custard sprinkled with almond shavings. It is always so much more revealing when one visits and experiences the local directly.
Spain is known for its many wonderful beverages, Sangria notwithstanding, I was curious about the most locally enjoyed. Even the Sangria we know which has a wonderful array of cut fruit, locals enjoy the cool drink without fruit. In fact they ask tourists, “Would you like it as we have it or as tourists think we have it?” Quite hilarious!
A little off the beaten track, I realised there were 19 cider breweries in one small town, outside of St Sebastien, in Astgarraga alone. I was keen to visit a cider museum! I couldn’t resist, since I come from a province which has the most incredible apples this was beckoning my curiosity.
Astgarraga has 90 varieties of apples (sagar means apple) growing all over rolling green hills producing cider, cider wine, liquor and everything in between – at a single farm. There are 19 farms dotted all over the green countryside.
A 30-minute bus ride away from St Sebastien it a glimpse into ordinary extraordinary life of regular Spaniards in a small village. I hung around a grocery store, after wandering around the village for 20 minutes, it was so small. Few speak English in Spain, but their smiles and warmth makes up and is never an impediment. The grocery store owner made her own cheese, and the large wheels of goat and cow cheese on her counter were so inviting, I couldn’t resist.
The cider farmer and tour guide were fascinated by Balochistan and Gilgit Baltistan apples – we spoke at length; exchanging stories and whatever little I knew. The museum of cider had visual documentation of the evolution of how cider was made, along with the traditional tools and presses all on display. Tastings in traditional and modern barrels were also part of the tour. She explained that cider making tools were also musical instruments and used for ancient communication, letting the neighbouring farmers know when to come and taste the cider. Seasonal festivals and competitions around apple growing, picking, making cider and tastings have become annual competitive events. Today there is a quality control board which ensures standards developed over centuries by cider and wine making experts remain intact.
Listening to her, I could not help think, we have the same agricultural products, perhaps more, and yet we have not developed anything. Pakistan has little to show for its agricultural output in spite of its breadth.
Imagine a food museum in a small village!
At the heart of everything is freedom and pride.
I have visited Spain in the past but never outside of Madrid/Toledo. I was keen to visit Granada, Cordoba and Seville in particular. Some of you have known the Iberian Peninsula was once ruled by a descendent of the Umayyad dynasty of Syria/Sham. Spain and the surrounding areas were called Al Andalus in Arabic, different Muslim rulers/ states controlled these territories at various times between 711 and 1492 AD. These boundaries changed constantly through a series of conquests; Western historiography characterises this period as an occupation and the return to absolute Catholicism as the Reconquista. Point of views really matters. Traveling through Spain, as a Muslim, even mere cultural Muslims one is made aware of the divergent lensing of historical events.
As we walked around the cobbled first capital of Spain, Toledo our tourist guide walked us through the former ‘Jewish quarter’, there are larger ones in Granada, Cordoba, Seville as well. The Spanish government has recently passed a law, allowing the Sephardic Jews expelled during the Isabella I of Castille’s reign, also known as the Catholic Queen (1474-d 1504), to get Spanish citizenship if they can prove their heritage. I asked our guide if the law also includes the children of the Muslim Spaniards who were either forced to leave upon threat of conversion or death from the inquisition of the same period.
They were most perplexed at this question.
The Cordoba mosque-church is beautiful. Once an Umayyad masjid built first by ʿAbd ar-Raḥmān I in 784–786 with extensions in the 9th and 10th centuries making it one of the largest mosques in the world. Today it is a church with full catholic mass and other religious services. A wonderful blending of Islamic architecture and Gothic designs. Some of the columns of the old masjid and the original mehrab have remained.
As is tradition, I was keen to say two rakats of salam. I chose to sit in a corner, quietly saying my 2 rakats. As I was praying, two guards came and stood inches away from me alongside our guide. It is absolutely forbidden to pray here, other than in the Christian rituals- in Spain.
One respects local laws and traditions, notwithstanding. Alhamdulillah, I completed my Salam, but this hypocrisy has stayed with me. Are we not children of the same Creator? Spain has remained a Christian cultural nation since the 16th century, but has become effectively a modern secular society. In fact, the support to Palestine was evident in every city we visited: flags on so many buildings, balconies and even the graffiti painted across walls bridges and tunnels across Spain.
At first, I thought these were because of the many Arabs who have immigrated but the fact that Spain is one of the three European countries that have recognised Palestine as a country, in the middle of the ongoing genocide is a testament.
While the rest of Europe funds and watches the genocide, Spain has not. This is incredibly commendable also a testament of its evolution as a polity society which once committed its own religious persecution and religious wars.
In Toledo’s Cathedral also built on a former mosque, a most unusual sight stands a carved statute of Abu Walid a Muslim Qazi of the Mosque conquered by the Christian King Alfonso VI in 1085. the Saracen Emir of Toledo, Yahia, capitulated without resisting to protect his subjects; the indispensable condition he laid down was that the Muslims who chose to remain in Toledo should continue to pray at this masjid. King Alfonso accepted this condition. While the King remained in the city the treaty was strictly observed. But when he left to visit his domains in Leôn, Queen Constance, on 29th October 1087, they broke into the Masjid and burned parts of it and established a Church. Alfonso the king was distraught at the news and his solemn promise violated. He immediately imprisoned the Queen Constance and ordered her execution. Abu Walid stepped in and requested the king to pardon Queen Constance to avoid further bloodshed. Honouring Abu Walid gesture his statute is placed in the most honoured of positions at the right side of the alter amongst Christian saints.
Over the ages, there are so many stories which retell the human capacity to forgive amidst strife and cruelty. This story as we roamed the many churches and cathedrals across Spain which were once masjids are placed in context so beautifully by this story.
A country that purposely developed a culinary tradition around pork products to distinguish themselves from Jews and Muslims has come a long way.
As a result of 500 years of pork food-cultural development, Spain is recognised today as having one of the most sophisticated hamon products. This was not a natural or organic development, it has a very fascinating and specific history. This food tradition is rooted in distinction to ensure Muslim and Jews were rooted out from local and public society. No other meat was allowed to be sold or served publicly.
This is a very powerful example of how food played a pivotal role in political identity development. I always wondered how the Iberian Peninsula with warm Mediterranean tendencies developed a cold-climate pork culinary culture? I was told Queen Catherine the Catholic had banned all non-pork meats during her reign as a national policy; triggering the expansion and development of pork products. There is a museum of hamon in many cities we visited. Quite an amazing history. Ancient Spanish or medieval Andalusian culinary culture did not have pork in their recipes or culinary traditions. Who would have known?
Food for thought.
Today’s Spanish capital Madrid is such an under rated hidden gem. Plazas’ galore the quintessential European squares/plazas open windows into so many histories and stories of the town and cities; each more interesting with their own unique architectures, fountains, monuments, dedications, churches and history. Walking Madrid is a joy, destination unknown walking through one Plaza on to another, weaving up and down, through alleys, winding and broad, stopping for a bite a tappa (bite size snacks with or without bread) or a pintxos (bite size snack always on a piece of bread).So much healthier smaller meals, enjoying a variety tasting through the various neighbourhoods.
We took a food tour across this lovely city, visiting pubs and restaurants which were 1000-year-old, with cider and cellars maintaining brews and recipes carrying down generations. The food culture is alive, thriving; the eateries incredibly painted in the Spanish yellow mustard tones, beautiful tiles inside and outside-decorations very much part of the celebration and pride. A visual feast for the passer by and the cliental.
I love seafood and if you enjoy octopus, squid you are in heaven! I love my macchiato but heaven forbid one asks for one here- a solo or café con leche or a cortado! I should have known better, a culture where coffee nuances are sacred, I should know the terms before asking for one!
There are many food and travel stories I savoured across splendid Spain. It is a beautiful country very proud of its complex histories and has splendidly persevered it for themselves and for those interested in visiting.
We happened to be in Madrid while the Mexicans voted in their general elections between two women candidates. I did not know what was going on so we stopped to speak to the thousands gathered in a square. Later I realised outside of the Mexican embassy. I interviewed a couple of people, force of habit! It was wonderful to see thousands of non-resident Mexicans excited and actively engaged in politics thousands of miles away.
The stars were aligned for us on this trip, the Real Madrid football team game in the European cup final was a wonderful experience. We watched it in a local pub, men women children in the trademark shirts. Even more miraculous we saw the team two days later drive pass us as we strolled through one of the plazas.
Our next stop was Stockholm, Sweden to meet a cousin. My late aunt was Swedish from the southern town of Malmo very near Copenhagen Denmark. We lived in Copenhagen in the 1980s. Sweden Denmark traditional rivals in Scandinavia, I was curious how similar Sweden would be.
The land of Marabou was our next destination. A short trip but a memorable one. Stockholm is a gorgeous city, a ‘city’ which is a series of islands 14 to be exact. On the banks to the archipelago where Lake Mälaren meets the Baltic Sea. The city centre is on the water. If ever there is a walking city it is this. Castles, fortresses, bridges, blending with the refined aesthetics – they usher in calm and contentment.
Everyone speaks English here, from the train conductor, to the corner store owner. The warmth and helpfulness of the Swedish was surprise. The reserved stoic almost cold Scandinavian social perception is shattered at every step in Stockholm.
The food is of such high quality you can feel it in every bite. Cured herring for breakfast, lunch or dinner is unbelievably delicious. The dark dense multiseed breads that I associate with Germany and Denmark were aplenty.
Marabou is a local Swedish chocolate brand, which Maha my sister and I enjoyed since we were children. Scandinavia for us will always be marabou. Now it is available in every flavour and dark, milk and with all sorts of nuts; but plain marabou is nothing short of Manna.
Randomly, as one explored this wonderful city; we met a Pakistani immigrant, a business owner. I recognised the accent through the Swedish she spoke to my cousin. She was quite overjoyed to meet desi’s that she could speak to in Urdu. The Swedish government have a wonderful program of training retraining and integration of immigrants and existing citizens. Amazing services to insure everyone who lives in Sweden is productive and able to be self-sufficient with the skills needed and required across Sweden. This is life.
Reality check.
On my return journey home, at Doha airport, ting ting my phone went, and the first news, Pakistan had lost its match against India in the T20 tournament; typical from a position of strength. I couldn’t help feel disappointment although I wonder why. I know we deserved to lose; but how does one accept this truth easily?