Sinning Across Spain Updated Edition

With those words Ailsa Piper sought sponsors for a 1300km solo walk across Spain. She worried people would think she'd joined a cult. She worried her knees would give outandmdash;and not from praying! She worried that 30kms a day for six weeks, with a swag of sins for company, would send her mad. But she went. She began at Easter, a time of sin and reflectionandmdash;but not hot cross buns, as she discovered. She hiked olive groves, searched for lodgings in refuges and sports centres, and did the cryingo for those who'd sponsored her. As a child, Ailsa's plea was andlsquo;Don't cry. Don't cry. Let me do the crying!andrsquo; Her walk took that to new extremes. Like medieval believers who paid others to carry their sins to holy places, and so buy forgiveness, Ailsa's donors confessed to anger and envy, pride and lust, sloth and selfishness, among others. Along the way, their sins became hers. She was tempted and she battled. On one occasion, she was saved by a fellow pilgrim's snoring, proving sharing a room with forty belching, grunting blokes can be a blessing! Miracles also found her. Matrons stuffed homemade sausages into her pack. Angels in name and nature eased her path. And she fell in love: with kindness, strangers, and Spain. She came home changedandmdash;as were many of her sinners. Their stories made her believe in the power of confessionandmdash;acknowledging we're all sinners. All saints. Sinning Across Spain celebrates the blessing of bathtubs, the benediction of bunions, and the simple act of setting down one foot after the other.

Walking has been the constant in Ailsa Piper's life. Setting down one foot after the other takes her to a transformative-and transcendent-place. Her bestselling memoir Sinning Across Spain was inspired by the tradition of medieval walkers who were paid by others to carry their sins to holy places. The cargo included anger, envy, pride and lust. She hiked alone through the endless olive groves of the Camino MozBrabe, from the legendary southern city of Granada toward the centuries-old pilgrim destination, Santiago de Compostela, in the far north-west of Spain. In dusty pueblos and epic landscapes, miracles found her. Angels in both name and nature eased her path. When faced with the untimely death of her husband, Peter, her 'true north', Ailsa returned to the Camino trail, this time in France, to walk through her sorrow. This second pilgrimage is the story of a walk where the burden is her own grief, not the sins of others, and which ultimately sees her walking into life and hope.

The word "bibliophilia" indicates a love of books, both as texts to be read and objects to be cherished for their physical qualities. Throughout the history of Iberian print culture, bibliophiles have attempted to explain the psychological experiences of reading and collecting books, as well as the social and economic conditions of book production. Bibliophiles, Murderous Bookmen, and Mad Librarians analyses Spanish bibliophiles who catalogue, organize, and archive books, as well as the publishers, artists, and writers who create them. Robert Richmond Ellis examines how books are represented in modern Spanish writing and how Spanish bibliophiles reflect on the role of books in their lives and in the histories and cultures of modern Spain. Through the combined approaches of literary studies, book history, and the book arts, Ellis argues that two strains of Spanish bibliophilia coalesce in the modern period: one that envisions books as a means of achieving personal fulfilment, and another that engages with politics and uses books to affirm linguistic, cultural, and regional and national identities.

I'm Off Then has sold more than three million copies in Germany and has been translated into eleven languages. The number of pilgrims along the Camino has increased by 20 percent since the book was published. Hape Kerkeling's spiritual journey has struck a chord. Overweight, overworked, and disenchanted, Kerkeling was an unlikely candidate to make the arduous pilgrimage across the Pyrenees to the Spanish shrine of St. James, a 1,200-year-old journey undertaken by nearly 100,000 people every year. But he decided to get off the couch and do it anyway. Lonely and searching for meaning along the way, he began the journal that turned into this utterly frank, engaging book. Filled with unforgettable characters, historic landscapes, and Kerkeling's self-deprecating humor, I'm Off Then is an inspiring travelogue, a publishing phenomenon, and a spiritual journey unlike any other.

In Sins against Nature Zeb Tortorici explores the prosecution of sex acts in colonial New Spain (present-day Mexico, Guatemala, the US Southwest, and the Philippines) to examine the multiple ways bodies and desires come to be textually recorded and archived. Drawing on the records from over three hundred criminal and Inquisition cases between 1530 and 1821, Tortorici shows how the secular and ecclesiastical courts deployed the term contra natura—against nature—to try those accused of sodomy, bestiality, masturbation, erotic religious visions, priestly solicitation of sex during confession, and other forms of "unnatural" sex. Archival traces of the visceral reactions of witnesses, the accused, colonial authorities, notaries, translators, and others in these records demonstrate the primacy of affect and its importance to the Spanish documentation and regulation of these sins against nature. In foregrounding the logic that dictated which crimes were recorded and how they are mediated through the colonial archive, Tortorici recasts Iberian Atlantic history through the prism of the unnatural while showing how archives destabilize the bodies, desires, and social categories on which the history of sexuality is based.

Cannabis, or hemp, being just a plant, is illegal in Spain: its use, possession and trade can be punished with prison sentences. Is that because of health reasons, because cannabis can be harmful? This essay will demonstrate that that is not the reason. Is cannabis illegal because it’s addictive? Because it’s psychoactive? Because it’s a drug? Again, no, and this essay will unveil why cannabis constitutes one of the most important crops for humanity, and the actual reasons that lead to its criminalisation. More than 250 million people in the world used drugs in 2018, according to the UN World Report on Drugs. Of all of them, the most popular is cannabis. In Spain, according to the 2020 European Drug Report, in the year 2017, more than five and a half million people used illegal drugs; beyond that year, the number of adults admitting to having used illegal drugs at least once in their lives reaches 35%, some 16 million people. These figures are a cause of concern for an ample spectrum of society, which link drug use to severe damages to physical and mental health and personal relations, economic ruin, and, ultimately, death. This essay primarily focuses on the history and legal status of cannabis in Spain, but the majority of facts and conclusions could be extrapolated to other drugs and countries, and it’s based on the latest scientific and medical research and statistics; but, above all, this essay unveils a conspiracy whose consequences negatively impact the general public in Spain, in a number of different aspects ranging from health, to politics, to corruption, to the economy, to the media, and to the rights enshrined in the Spanish Constitution of 1978.

The Eve of Spain demonstrates how the telling and retelling of one of Spain’s founding myths played a central role in the formation of that country’s national identity. King Roderigo, the last Visigoth king of Spain, rapes (or possibly seduces) La Cava, the daughter of his friend and counselor, Count Julian. In revenge, the count travels to North Africa and conspires with its Berber rulers to send an invading army into Spain. So begins the Muslim conquest and the end of Visigothic rule. A few years later, in Northern Spain, Pelayo initiates a Christian resistance and starts a new line of kings to which the present-day Spanish monarchy traces its roots. Patricia E. Grieve follows the evolution of this story from the Middle Ages into the modern era, as shifts in religious tolerance and cultural acceptance influenced its retelling. She explains how increasing anti-Semitism came to be woven into the tale during the Christian conquest of the peninsula—in the form of traitorous Jewish conspirators. In the sixteenth century, the tale was linked to the looming threat of the Ottoman Turks. The story continued to resonate through the Enlightenment and into modern historiography, revealing the complex interactions of racial and religious conflict and evolving ideas of women’s sexuality. In following the story of La Cava, Rodrigo, and Pelayo, Grieve explains how foundational myths and popular legends articulate struggles for national identity. She explores how myths are developed around few historical facts, how they come to be written into history, and how they are exploited politically, as in the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 followed by that of the Moriscos in 1609. Finally, Grieve focuses on the misogynistic elements of the story and asks why the fall of Spain is figured as a cautionary tale about a woman’s sexuality.