I’m trying to update more often, even though I’m no longer bouncing around Spain (or the European continent). Since I’m not inspired by my current Portland-based adventures, I’m going to do a series based on some of my random favorite photos from Europe. Today is inspired by one of my best friends, former roommates, and fellow awesome traveler: Quila Doyle.
Backstory: We were hiking down a mountain, searching for an old monastery. Why? Because there was a giant Galician folk concert and massive party. Galician folk music manages to combine bagpipes and tambourines into something cool, not awful, and the foliadas were always wine-soaked celebrations of awesomeness.
Now, in my 2nd Spanish year, both of my roommates were very into the folk scene–they also both were learning to play the Galician tambourine (the clanging noises of them practicing weren’t as loud as badly played bagpipes, so I told myself it could always be way worse).
On this day, Quila and I, plus our other friends, were headed for an all day, possibly all night party (details here).
Now, why is Quila crouching in the ferns?
Well, she’s getting a foxglove flower to pop. We’d just learned that if you take a foxglove blossom and pinch both ends just right, it makes a loud popping noise. So naturally we were grabbing the foxgloves, os estalotes in Galician, and popping them left and right–like a herd of five year olds let lose in the forest.
We were also singing random Galician folk songs–well I was trying to sing them. As anyone who’s heard me sing knows, my voice is less than gorgeous. Also, I didn’t know most of the words.
But that was okay, because Javi, Quila and Laura were discussing all the implications of them–specifically the fact that most folk music is really, really dirty. Apparently every plant reference in the songs could be interpreted as a doble sentido, and it was always about sex.
They had quite a debate about a certain song about a miller who had flour in his beard. A miller with a floury beard, sounds normal right? Well apparently the flour’s sticking because his beard is damp. And his beard is damp because of love. So my dear pervert friends were debating if that meant it was damp with the tears he’d cried over his love, or it was damp with–let’s say, other bodily fluids.
Remember what I said about popping the foxglove blossoms? There’s Galician folk songs about it. Yeah, think about that for a second. Think longer if you don’t keep your mind in the gutter.
(yeah this is a second image, but it’s from Google so doesn’t count!)
This series to be continued…
To my FB friends, if you’ve seen a picture on my feed and want to know the story behind it, make a request!