Those clever Romans always took care of business, making sure the water supply was adequate however far afield they marched and conquered. In Segovia, they left behind a monumental aqueduct of graceful arches constructed of 25,000 granite blocks assembled without mortar. It still stands.
The successful cultivation of industry based on Merino wool at the end of the Middle Ages swelled the city’s population to 27,000 before 1600. Major declines countered by investment by royals punctuated by Rip-van-Winkle periods combined to create a picture-book city unspoiled by modernization. This is a city where they care enough about aesthetics to pay attention to the textures of building walls and how every window is framed.
With a population of little more than 50,000, Segovia is a city of narrow streets and a multitude of plazas where pedestrians rule. On streets where cars are allowed, few automobiles venture. The going within the old city walls is simply too slow to tempt drivers to navigate there unless absolutely necessary. Large trucks and buses just don’t fit. In other words, residents and tourists can wander freely and fearlessly.
And the setting of the historic center is beautiful. Outside most of the ancient walls encircling the city’s 3,000-foot hilltop perch, one is plunged immediately into verdant countryside framed by a few low mountains whose tops still are stained by snow. Plus, this place has the most magical merry-go-ground I’ve ever seen.
Once again, I’ve fallen in love, so am throwing a few random photos your way….
A century ago, a San Antonio businessman dressed in drag to parade around as the Duchess of Frijoles to lampoon Fiesta royalty. That Fiesta San Antonio tradition continues somewhat in the form of the rowdy and bawdy Cornyation – now 50 years old.
King Anchovy reigns over the colorful pageantry in the Empire Theatre. King Chris Hill arrived on stage crowned with a slice of lime and perched on his throne, “rocks” in a salt-rimmed margarita glass. As appropriate for someone who recently purchased El Mirador, Hill’s royal court was Especial Number 2. The ingredients pranced around separately before reclining on a platter to create a whole enchilada dinner. The only complaint with his court was the giant, protruding, glitter-covered jala-penis of one of King Anchovy’s attendants continually blocked camera shots, resulting in extreme camera angles (although I often shoot that way).
No current event, politician or celebrity is too sacred to escape being targeted by the elaborate skits, amplified by commentary from emcees Rick Frederick and Elaine Wolff. This year included the ride-sharing versus taxi battles, with ride-sharing representatives wearing chestlights and taxis stripping down to reveal their checkered undies. The conflict was lorded over by the Duchess of Bumbling Bribes and Bumming Rides.
The Duchess of “I Hunt. It’s Legal. Get Over It, HUNTIES!,” represented “the positively true adventures of the selfie-taking, varmint-wasting Texas cheerleader.” Skits captured the tumultuous transition of Bruce Jenner and the ample hindquarters of Kim Kardashian. Along with Ricky and Lucy, the Castro brothers of Cuba appeared, although, on their flipsides, they assumed the roles of the Castro brothers from San Antonio.
At one point in its history, Cornyation was performed in the Arneson River Theatre as part of the San Antonio Conservation’s Society NIOSA. Not sure what transgressions caused the event to be banished from the NIOSA kingdom, but the 50th anniversary edition certainly wouldn’t have passed the society’s rating system without yards upon yards of additional costuming.*
The costuming is elaborate, although, by the end of numerous skits, much of it is barely there. You find yourself praying for no wardrobe malfunctions, as you already are viewing more than you want. Everything is so fast-paced, though, you generally only get quick glimpses. But still photos seem to focus and freeze on lots of butts, without the benefit of the accompanying music and moves, bringing back memories of being on the front row during a showing of John Waters’ Pink Flamingos as Divine lowered “her” bottom towards me.
Director Ray Chavez has been staging the choreographed chaos of Cornyations since 1982. He lost one of his major collaborators this past year with the death of Robert Rehm, so the final skit honored him in a fittingly wild fashion. Robert definitely lived his life as a “the-show-must-go-on” kind of guy. I briefly was able to make his acquaintance and interview him when working on a December 2012 feature on Jumpstart for ARTS on KLRN-TV.
Since becoming a nonprofit organization, Cornyation has contributed close to $2 million to charities and to underwrite scholarships for theater students. It continues through Friday night.
Hey, Ben and Tim, thanks so much for including us!
*Although many of the defenders of the Alamo were exposed to San Antonio’s wild fandangos, I was relieved to see no cormorants in attendance. Think they’d be better prepared for haunting NIOSA.
Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life,
The middle Tree and highest there that grew,
Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life
Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death
To them who liv’d….
Paradise Lost, John Milton
Satan disguised as a cormorant to spy on Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden seems apt to me.
USDA photo
The gloomy-looking double-crested cormorants always spook me. They love to pose on the chains by the dam by the marina, stretching their pterodactyl-type wings as though offering to lift the chains for the barges to cruise right under, dramatically plunging to the level below.
I feel a little bit better about this display now that I know they have no oil glands to repel water; they have to spread their wings to dry out their water-logged feathers. They can’t help it.
But cormorants pop up suddenly from underwater, seemingly out of nowhere, as you walk along the river’s banks. Like Lola Fandango swimming in the tank in Where the Boys Are, these expert fishermen can hold their breath as they swim underwater for a long time. More than a minute.
Even one of river’s cormorants can give me the willies. That’s why this Hitchcock-like gathering of the birds on the Mission Reach seemed particularly ominous the other morning. For birds added to the list of those protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act in the 1970s, this had to represent some kind of major powwow. Fortunately, their eyes focused toward downtown, the water buzzards let us pass by them unharmed.
What could the convention of cormorants portend? The Irish part of me heaved a sigh of relief – at least the sea crows were not perched atop a church steeple.
Some cultures consider cormorants noble, but, while I’m trying to regard the glass as half-full, I can’t sell myself on that one.
Fishermen regard their sighting as good luck; the fish they seek should be found nearby. One plus for the cormorant.
According to the USDA, greedy cormorants keep fish from overpopulating the river. They actually are an environmental indicator species, meaning the environment of the Mission Reach is healthy. So our cormorants are bearers of good news. Chalk up one more for the cormorant, plus one for the work of the San Antonio River Authority.
In old Norwegian legends, a trio of cormorants bear messages or warnings from the dead.*
But we encountered a whole army of them ready to invade downtown. There were maybe 100 of them. Maybe even more than 200 (Okay, I’m not sure how many. But we definitely were outnumbered.).
But good ol’ Cliff helped me figure this out. Norwegians also believed the dead used the cormorant guise another way as well – so they could fly home for a visit.
the noble spirits of defenders of the Alamo?
So, based on my extensive research, my interpretation of the meaning of the gathered army follows.
Obviously, those cormorants were the defenders of the Alamo, rising up to celebrate the anniversary of the defeat of the Mexican Army at San Jacinto in 1836.
What do you think of that brilliant idea, my friend, Phil Collins?
Fiesta San Antonio must be their favorite holiday for rising from the grave. Betcha they come back next year.
*I have to stop right here and make a confession to the spirit of Mrs. Masterson. Some of these concepts came from CliffsNotes.com. But I promise. I never opened one of those guides once in your class in high school. Not for Milton. Not even when Moby Dick threatened to swallow all time for social life. Plus, I knew you could smell a CliffsNotes’ idea in the answer to a discussion question before the ink dried. Toward the end of the book, though, I did start reading only every fifth chapter…. That was still a whale of a lot of pages.
Postcards from Barton Springs 