Spanish Meal & Social Evening (Sunday October 14th)

Spanish Meal and Social Evening (Sunday 15th October) 28 guests attended our evening to celebrate both our friendships with Spanish and it's fabulous culture. 

The itinerary for the evening followed the previous events:

1. Welcome address.

2. Main Course with three options, paella (a type of seafood risotto) with a vegetarian option or Tortilla Española (Spanish omelette).

3. Dessert of either tarta de santiago (almond tart) or miguelitos or torrijas (type of eggy bread) with custard or ice cream

4. A toast to the people of Spain using the Spanish national drink of Sangria or a liqueur (with a non-alcoholic option).

Following the toast Dr Christina Diaz-Navarro, gave an excellent talk on Spanish history from ancient to modern.. 

Part of the evening’s purpose was to try to get a flavour of Spain not just through food so whilst people enjoyed the meal an overhead projector was used to display photos of landscapes, cityscapes and seascapes also we had Spanish guitar folk music play in the back ground. And to get a flavour of Spanish art, three artworks were found on the internet and which are shown below. We made A2 copies to put on the wall for people to also enjoy during the meal (see below) and before the toast  a poem, 'Cantares' or 'Songs' by Antonio Machedo: wonderfully read out to the guests by Dr Diaz-Navarro's daughter.


Everything passes and everything stays,
but our fate is to pass,
to pass making paths,
paths on the sea.
I never looked for glory,
nor to leave in the memory
of mankind my song;
I love subtle worlds,
lightnessful and gentile,
like soap bubbles.
I like to watch them painting
of sun and garnet, to fly
under the blue sky, tremble
suddenly and break...
I never looked for glory.
Walker, your treads are
the path and nothing more;
walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking.
When walking the path is made
and when looking back
you see the path that never
has to be walked again.
Walker, there is no path,
but trails in the sea...
Some time ago in that place
where woods dress with hawthorns today
the voice of a poet was heard, screaming
'Walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking...'
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse...
The poet died far away from home.
He's covered by dust of a neighboring
When going away, they saw him crying.
'Walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking...'
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse...
When the goldfinch cannot sing.
When the poet is a pilgrim,
when praying has no use.
'Walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking...'
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse.

*********************************************NOTE: Painting Info to be added shortly.********************************************

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