The Soul of Andalucía 安達(dá)盧西亞心靈之旅

馬玉芳

說(shuō)起安達(dá)盧西亞，許多中國(guó)人會(huì)感到陌生，但還記得著名真人秀節(jié)目《花兒與少年》2014年花少旅行團(tuán)的最后一站嗎？是的，那就是安達(dá)盧西亞！它寧?kù)o、質(zhì)樸、節(jié)奏緩慢，有熱烈的陽(yáng)光、徐徐的海風(fēng)、風(fēng)格迥異的建筑群，節(jié)目組也將他們到過(guò)的這個(gè)地方稱(chēng)為“最美的‘私奔之城”。怎么樣，這樣的一個(gè)地方有沒(méi)有讓你動(dòng)心？

Traveling to Andalucía， a part of Southern Spain， has always been a dream for me. Ever since first hearing the name in Paulo Coelhos novella The Alchemist， the land has stayed in my imagination as one of a fierce sun and a tranquil lifestyle， with hints of the North African desert drifting over the Strait of Gibraltar.2 As I delved deeper into my studies of history， I discovered that the land was steeped in a rich history of intercultural exchange between the Muslim and Christian societies.3 Under Muslim rule from 700 AD to the fall of the last Muslim stronghold of Granada in 1492， communities of different faiths lived side by side， not in perfect harmony， but evidently well enough to transform Andalucía from a province on the edge of the Western world to one of the most vibrant lands at that time， leading in the fields of science， art and religious tolerance.4 And with many Western countries such as the United States and France roiling with tensions among different ethnic communities，5 perhaps I wanted to see with my own eyes how we balanced harmony and tension in society in the past， and whether we can apply those lessons to the present.

I found evidence of this interplay between harmony and tension at the Mezquita at Cordoba.6 Originally built as the second largest after the Kaaba Mosque in Mecca， the Mezquita was converted into a cathedral after its conquest by Spain in 1236 AD.7 Despite its tumultuous history， this structure captured how differences can contribute to creating wonders， both for human heritage and for me.8 As I stepped into the Mezquita， the Spanish sun melted away to the cool embrace of shade speckled with sunlight.9 Looking up， I lost my breath at the Moorish double arches， painted in an alternating pattern of red ochre and beige， that criss-crossed the entire building.10 They created the illusion of an endless reflection，11 as if they were placed between two mirrors that were positioned face to face. Venturing deeper into the building， saying “wow” at every turn， I stepped into where the cathedral was built， and was whisked to another world.12 There， the Renaissance architecture of snow-white marble lined with gold guided my eyes to look to the heavens.13 While both architectures were spectacular in and of themselves， the most interesting aspects appeared where they intersected， like where the arches melded right into the edges of the cathedral.14 There was certainly a clash， but also a strange harmony as each style showcased elements inspired by each other.15 In other words： reflections of the same beliefs in a rippling16 pool. Seeing the Mezquita brought my imaginings of the Andalusian lifestyle into reality. The building recognizes that at the time， there was always a tension bubbling underneath the coexistence of Muslims， Christians and Jews.17 And yet， even after the Reconquista， one community could still acknowledge the achievements of another to turn something beautiful into something breathtaking.18

Perhaps this spirit of seeing the beauty in each aspect of life is what animates19 the Spanish people. On the one hand， this appreciation of milking each moment validates the stereotype of Spanish people.20 They truly take life slowly. In the afternoons， they stroll along their boulevards lined with palm trees， letting the sun nourish their bronzed skin.21 Even in the heat， the men young and old dress in full suits and ties， complete with shiny leather shoes22. They walk with slow steps， knowing that they are turning the heads and hearts of every lady they pass. As the night finally rolls around， the Spanish start eating dinner at 10 p.m. with a jug of their fruit-infused red wine called sangria and endless rounds of their small dishes called tapas， chatting away with friends until 1a.m. in the morning.23 Its a way of living that maximizes happiness， （and as the joke goes， minimizes GDP）.24 But on the other hand， this attitude also inspires seeing the best of each person they meet. Just like their weather， the Spanish are known for their warmth. Even though neither I nor my travel buddies spoke Spanish， every person we met stepped up to help us without hesitation.25 From little things such as pointing us in the right direction to explaining why my friend couldnt withdraw money from the ATM， they rambled on and on until the problem was solved.26 The most striking27 example was when we were in a fast-food restaurant in Granada. While munching on fresh tomatoes， the waitress gestured at us and spoke in rapid Spanish.28 Understanding nothing， we nodded with a smile and the waitress dashed off29. Within five minutes， she returned with a plate and a knife， and began to cut our tomatoes into bite-sized slices，30 just as a mother would do for her own children. Again and again we said “gracias31，” and the waitress simply smiled. While we may have been just lucky to have met kind people， those we did meet demonstrated that there is joy in believing in the best of those around you.

But what capped off this trip to Andalucía was just a fleeting moment，32 but one that I will remember for a lifetime. On the train back to Seville from Cordoba， I pulled up a soundtrack from an album that showcased some of the best of Spanish music.33 Scrolling34 through the options， I landed on the song titled “Al Andalus” named after the Moorish name for Andalucía， and hit play. The high-pitched plucks of strings rang out while the dim hum of castanets whispered in the background like the heat of the Spanish sun.35 The music began to layer on the rhythmic clapping of flamenco music as the strings played increasingly intricate tunes.36 At that moment， as the train whistled through the Andalusian countryside of rolling hills covered with dry grasses and low pines，37 the memory of my first breath of Spanish air filled my mind. It was a breath that flooded my lungs with a gust of heat， infused with scents of the desert and of the mountains， of a culture that toed the line between festivity and chaos， of a spirit of a land that said “come， let us build our happiness together.38 Come， let us live side by side， just like family.”