Life: Idiotropic

Living Local in Gillrath

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 10:56:00 +0000

This post has been entered into the Grantourismo HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition.

We stayed in a small German village for Karneval in an old house on the main road. Gillrath was celebrating with its first parade in 30 years.

The street was lined on both sides with locals of all ages almost entirely in costume. Even onlookers dress up here, so we dressed up as well. I wore my favorite pink wig and a 70’s style satin dress. My husband was a pirate.

Cold in February, we kept our front door closed, but had hot chocolate ready and our front window unlocked leading to the dining room. Only two feet from the sidewalk it opened inward like a door. People hopped in and out getting cocoa and using our bathroom, friends and perfect strangers too.

The parade began with a big green John Deere tractor loaded up with confetti and balloons. Groups followed wearing matching costumes. A cooking group handed out Vienna sausages on toothpicks. One chef gave our elderly neighbor a head of cabbage. Everybody laughed.

Kids held umbrellas upside down to catch the candy thrown our way. One was pelted with a boxed smoothie drink. I watched for the adults holding small plastic shot glasses in one hand and a bottle tucked under one arm. It was common to see people passing out candy to kids and booze to adults.

A large chicken came up with something caramel colored. There was no label, but I got a shot from a chicken. It tasted like Bailey’s.

Merry Christmas!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 21:11:00 +0000

Thanksgiving will return to boxes this week while we haul out just a bit of Christmas. Here's our first bit... a card that will be mailed to mailboxes around the world as soon as it reaches mine. :)

Enjoy the entire holiday season with all the tradition and beauty it holds.

T

Card design by Shutterfly. Love their holiday templates! Too fun!

Happy Thanksgiving...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 25 Nov 2010 23:20:00 +0000

I am thankful for two coffee dates today including one with my husband who isn't usually available on the weekdays, an entire afternoon free to cook and organize, a tomorrow filled with pie baking because we'll be celebrating with too many friends on Saturday who I am also very thankful for.

I am thankful for 10 days with my dad and Angie with food and day trips to fill our time, 9 days with a dear friend from Germany who I wish could have stayed for Saturday's feast, and thousands of pictures taken over those 19 days of visits that I hope to one day cull through and post just one or two and possibly even blog a big...

But... though time isn't abundant, friends are. And food. And the ability to share the latter with the former.

I am thankful for a housekeeper who is also my friend who will come early on Saturday "so I can sit and rest a little" even though we all know that is nearly impossible for me to do because I am me and I don't sit well unless I'm surrounded by friends and have a mug of coffee in my hand.

I'm thankful for a kitchen full of delicious smells and a dishwasher full of clean dishes, clean counters and full refrigerators, and a dog who will help clean up the "oops" that's bound to happen.

Thankful for the gift of words and fingers able to type them. My family. My friends. My crazy dog. My imbecilic cat. My pillow. 'night.

Albufera

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 21:09:00 +0000

Just south of Valencia lies Europe's largest freshwater lake, or at least it used to be. I'm not sure if that claim by locals is figured off of the current lake size or what it used to be before much of it's circumference became home to the rice paddies that grow the regions paella rice. Which ever the case may be, it's still an impressive lake and a different kind of way to spend your day while visiting Valencia.

Only 15 minutes from the city, it's an easy escape from the crowds and the noise. The only crowds you'll see here are the birds.

I've been here before with the aid of my handy dandy GPS, but a wrong turn and a missed turn led me to the other side of the lake where there are no access points except by small fishing boat navigating the tiny canals and rice paddies.

My impeccable sense of direction led me in the right direction (of course), towards the lake through a maze of narrow dirt roads raised above the flooded rice paddies below. The only problem with my sense of direction is that while we were absolutely going the right way to get to the lake, I didn't realize then that there was no way to actually connect to a main road or access the lake from that point. So, with an empty tank of gas and fumes pulling us along, we really did enjoy a magical drive through the paddies enjoying the reflections of the traditional white triangular homes in the water and the dance of the great blue heron as they startled one by one and crossed in front of my van in flight to another paddy opposite.

I found myself at two dead-ends today, one forcing me to back track and the other causing an amusing "off road" moment when my van went Rambo and powered over a little hill between roads. This mini adventure in route to our final destination taught me two things. 1) Getting lost in the rice paddies is a great idea, but only 2) if you are not out of gas. Thankfully, I didn't have to learn the latter the hard way.

El Palmar is a tiny fishing village with rice paddies in one direction, the lake in another, and a wide canal on the other that leads to the sea just a couple kilometers away. It was once filled with these quaint little homes called barracas. Now just a few exist among the fields of rice and along the edges of the lake.

The only way to see the lake is by boat as there are no paths around it to walk. A typical 45 minute boat ride will cost about 10 Euros/person. We arrived in El Palmar and parked by a sign advertising "paseo en barca." The gate was open, but we didn't see anyone, so we cautiously walked down the long narrow path from the street to the edge of the water looking around for any sign of someone working there. As we arrived, so did the boat that belonged there. The middle-aged man invited us on as a group of college aged girls got off and we began our tour of the lake making our way through lanes flanked by tall reeds and bamboo with birds nesting along the edges. The heron here took off as they saw our boat giving us ample photo ops of birds in flight.

Though this is Europe's largest fresh water lake, it is certainly not the deepest. At the deepest point, according to our guide, it's only a couple meters deep, but that is deep enough for the fish that live there. Along the sides of the lake strung up on rows of posts lie these tubular nets made especially for catching sleek, black freshwater eels that are popular here. Called anguilas, you can find them at all the local restaurants and sold alive at local markets.

One of the small islands is marked off as a nature reserve providing homes to thousands of birds who apparently can read the signs because they are thicker there than anywhere else. It's a great place to park the boat just on the edge and watch fuzzy headed ducks and other fowl with binoculars and a telephoto lens., but my favorite place is the quite among the reeds. This is where our guide was quiet as well, just steering the boat and listening to the gentle hum of the motor and the distant call of birds. The reeds rustled in the wind and we watched for the heron who are quickly becoming my favorite bird.

Our ride ended, but our guide gave us a business card for a local restaurant that he recommends with "good food and good prices." La Sequiota is a long narrow restaurant with a tiny kitchen protruding in halfway forming a little hallway next to it connecting one dining area with the other. The open windows allow you to see in to watch the cooks and to give your compliments as you leave. And compliments, you'll give.

Hungry, but not starving, we ordered a few appetizers. Our waiter recommended tellines and puntillas which were my favorites of the meal along with a delicious bread with tomato, a common Spanish tapa and breakfast food.

Tellines are these tiny purple and white shells I've seen often washed up along the Florida beaches, but never imagined you could eat until I moved here. I've eaten them several times before at one of my favorite tapas restaurants and they are ok there, but I've never like shellfish and thus, would only eat a few. Today, sharing this plate with my friend, I ate my full portion - half the plate - without even thinking about it. They were so delicious and completely different from any others I've eaten before. I asked the waiter who told me that they are caught each day here and delivered daily at 1pm which gives the restaurant just enough time for the small shells to "spit out" the sand and the restaurant to cook them up. Yum!

Puntillas are tiny whole squid battered and fried. It may sound strange, but they are delicious and the batter covers them up enough that you aren't overly aware of each little hood and tentacle. With or without lemon juice, these are my favorite local fish snack and would be a great movie snack - like popcorn shrimp.

A fishing village, if you're not catching the fish or cooking the fish, you're making nets or repairing boats. El Palmar has character and is a beautiful place to spend the day and enjoy some quiet. I think next time I'll bring the girls and may be even bring a paella on the boat with us for a lunch out on the lake!

Teruel

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 20:40:00 +0000

Along much of Spain's coastline lie a chain of mountains enabling those living in one to enjoy the other. As in Granada where you can ski all day, then dine on the beach, here in Valencia, you can do the same with ski resorts just one hour away in the Teruel Province of Aragon.

Knowing this, I should know that the climate is a wee bit different, but of course, I forgot and though it warmed eventually, I was met by a shocking cold when I first got to Teruel today.

This was a day trip to see this town famous for it's lovers which I hadn't seen before. It also contains two beautiful churches and a collection of Mudejar (Moorish style) towers sprinkled throughout the town which you can climb for a small fee.

Known for it's ham and pottery as well, I was able to see the latter and enjoyed a walk around the town with a friend poking my head into little shops, walking up one tower, and seeing the main cathedral. Sadly, we missed three attractions in town which happen to be all grouped together in one area with one entrance and one ticket. These all close at 1:30 which is ridiculously early even by Spanish standards and extremely irritating for me.

So, with that all closed and time to kill, I thought I'd go taste some of this ham that Teruel is so famous for, but all the little restaurants and cafes that were open earlier were now closed, which doesn't make a bit of sense, but then again, this is Spain and I've learned to accept the quirks. We walked instead to the steps near the train station where a nice carving of the lovers adorns the wall and the teenagers at the school below stand around smoking. Lovely.

I would share this all with you now, but in my flurry of activity these days trying to upload photos and make space on my computer for more, I ended up only partially downloading my photos and then deleting the rest. Sad. I guess this just means I have to go back...

It is, after all, the capital of the Teruel province and a city that has beautiful architecture and an interesting history along with it's famous legend of the two lover's, the Romeo and Juliet story of childhood lover's torn apart by families and ill-timing whose mummied bodies were exhumed and buried side by side so that they could at least be together in death.

Instead of lunch, we munched on old triscuits on the hour drive home, then stuffed ourselves on leftover chicken and home made spaetzle from the night before.

Along with these photos, I did leave with one other souvenir, a beautiful piece of white and green pottery that is typical of this region. I bought it from the artists wife and was able to meet and photograph the artist himself when I came back to pick up my vase later. Sadly, this photo was one that was lost along with others of his magnificent little shop with the tiled floor.

Peñíscola

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 21:08:00 +0000

Peñíscola at midday.

Sunny Sundays are for lazy mornings, slow starts, and striking sunsets. They are for a plan without a timeline. It's a good thing. So often my early morning push brings me home too early to see the evening lighting in the places I visit. Our late start, coupled with the earlier sunset blessed us with a spectacular evening in Peñíscola. I should sleep in more often.

I've hoped to return here ever since I left it the first time, but time is the all elusive with so many things to see and repeats are a luxury, so I had to wait until now when the sand is moist and doesn't squeak like it did before.

A strange view today. We'd just missed two days of extreme biking events that took over the tiny streets of the old town and the hill getting to it. Wooden ramps covered stairs and tires blocked poles and sharp corners making it a bit difficult just to get to the top of the hill where the castle stands. Today we'd go in the castle. Children up to age 12 are free. Adults cost 3.50 which includes a souvenir post card.

Most of the castle rooms are sparsely furnished if at all, but they are good about putting up informative plaques on the walls in Spanish, Valenciano, German, and English so that you know a bit about where you're standing. It's quite impressive actually.

It's hard to know when the original castle was built or what it must of looked like because of so many changes that have happened over the centuries. King James the First rebuilt it after the conquest in 1234. Since then, it's been the witness and catalyst of an incredible history here in this little town. Declared the third papal see by Pope Pedro Luna who ended his life there, it was also the headquarters of King James himself, and the Order of the Templars from 1294.

This is one of two doorways built as part of the new facade between 1294 and 1307. The other was destroyed during the Independence War.

The self-guided tour allows you to relax and even picnic in the many open spaces within the castle walls. The roof itself is even spectacular with stairs leading all the way to the top. So spectacular that my 9-year old reached the top first and exclaimed, "Holy Cow!" The next one arrived at the top of the stairs and exclaimed the same thing. Now it was a game. Elise, the youngest, arrived last and we all waited for what we thought must come next. She looked from side to side and exclaimed quite loudly, "Holy Duck!"

The forecast storm passed north of us both saving us from a good soaking and giving us a view of the streaks of grey in the distance and a rainbow that painted the entire village beneath it in stripes.

This is one of those seasonally touristy towns that serves up the most horrid food on earth for abominable prices and people smile though it because either the view is nice or they really think paella should taste that way. It's pretty sad. There are a couple good restaurants, but this is definitely a place to ask a local. I've eaten average here and I wasn't going to eat average again. In fact, we were heading back for dinner, but the kids were hungry, so we thought we'd stop at a local bar for a snack. Blech. Worst bar experience ever. We ordered three items. Two came and were barely palatable. The third was not what we'd ordered - at all. And I'd spoken in both Spanish, English, and pointed to the picture. The waiter was not apologetic nor sympathetic despite the big-eyed starving look from my 6-year old. He explained that they were out of the baguettes and brought it on a croissant instead. "But it's not even tuna! We ordered tuna." He looked confused. I picked up the top crunchy overtoasted croissant and showed him the serrano ham and anemic tomatoes underneath. He said he'd go get a tuna sandwich. It never came. No apologies. I went to pay. They charged me for everything. These are the stupid people that give places and countries a bad reputation.

The moon assuaged our post bar funk.

A full moon lingers briefly above the edge of the castle wall
that Jaime built long ago after the Moorish fall.
Where Papa Luna spent his days and nights
and the Templars staged their fights.
The wars called just and holy though by means hardly so.
It was long ago.
And now I must leave too soon.
A walk along the beach shooting the moon.
Digging my toes into the sand that's seen it all.

My first visit: http://estrogenpalace.blogspot.com/2010/05/peniscola.html

Shop to learn.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 22:30:00 +0000

The large glass cylindrical building in the background is the largest El Corte Ingles in Valencia and thus, the Mecca for Spanish shoppers here. Ask where to find something and "El Corte Ingles" is almost always the reply with all items from groceries to fine clothing to pet toys and patio furniture. It has every fancy shmancy brand as well as some
nice, yet normal brands that common people like me can afford. It is not known for being affordable, however.

But, being the Spanish shopping Mecca, it is an interesting place to peruse because you find, invariably, what is posh or what is the "look" that locals want to attain. You also find, if you are not wearing skirts and really tall leather boots, that you are not posh and thus must be looked at with the head slightly cocked to one side to imply that may be you just don't belong there.

Fashion: It's all about the accessories, baby. Yep. Wear whatever you want no matter how hideous it looks, but wear smashing tall high healed leather boots and carry a big blingy purse and you are nearly there. Cover it further with a bunchy scarf, BIG jewelry and lots of it, and you are ready for a night on the town. Seriously. We saw some crazy ugly things today, but somehow the Spanish pull it off. It's all in the accessories. A little attitude doesn't hurt either.

Home Decor: While most home decor isn't too different from what I would buy, they do have quite a few local artists creating big haired statues that mimic Valencia's own Dama de Elx. Horses are popular as are bull horns.

Christmas: This disappoints me. May be it's my fault. After all, you don't find Christmas, real Christmas, that is, in the department stores. But here in Spain there just aren't a plethora of Christmas markets in which to find artisional things. I thought that may be that there would be some interesting decor - something special that is only Spain. In foods, yes, they have it, but in decor? We saw tons of glass balls in different colors with ribbons to match, lots of stuffed animals, and a lot of dancing gyrating things like the hula-hooping hippo and the little gerbil who kept running off the table. The only thing that looked remotely "special" i.e. not made in China were the porcelain ornaments by Villeroy and Boch. Basically, the Christmas department at El Corte Ingles is exactly what Luci's version of Christmas is in Charlie Brown's Christmas. A bit tacky at best.

Right. Wrong.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 21:01:00 +0000

When faced with an exquisite piece of architecture, there are really two options for the photo junky like me. A) To take a photo of the building alone or B) to take a photo with a person in it. Intriguing architecture is creatively inspiring and fun. It makes us think and dream and play with shapes and patters and perspective. These Calatrava's that make up Valencia's City of Arts and Sciences do just that. They evoke the imagination. They provoke thoughtful conversations. They entice the photographer in all of us.

And that, my friends, can be the problem.

Exhibit A: Valencia's Palau de Musica as the backdrop for some ballerina attitude. Macaira is a professional ballerina traveling here. She thought this building would make a fantastic background. I tend to agree. This is a good example of where to pose and perhaps, how.

Exhibit B: Yikes. What is it with the bad wedding shoots this week? Unless that guy is some serious palentologist, this is a major fail. Love the dinos, but having wedding shots done in front of a giant mass of B-movie rubber that jiggles profusely as he moves his neck from side to side and roars with the sound quality of grandpa's old LP is not what screams romance and beauty. Nor love. Angle it down a bit. Yes! Now the dino looks like he's eating the bride. Perfect! Photoshop in some gore and you really have something to remember your special day.

Great location. Great architecture. Just another spot, may be? Please.

Open Doors 2A

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 08:32:00 +0000

Open Doors. It's a little like an open house. It's a lot like a fish bowl.

In past schools this type of event would be interactive with your child. In this one, they are fish and you just watch them swim. It's a bit odd.

We arrive on time. The kids are all sitting quietly listening to a lesson on shapes. The teacher is speaking painfully slow. I realize later that it's to help the children who don't yet speak English well. I also realized that the British pronounce the "gon" at the end of their shapes like I pronounce the "gon" in my home state of Oregon - more like "g-in" instead of "gone."

Parents arrived in the dim room and lined the walls and stood. That was it. They stood and talked and watched their children "make a shape person" quietly by themselves at their tables. Parents took time off of work for this.

After we went to the playground to stand around and talk and watch the kids play. Now I know why Elise comes home so filthy. The entire playground is covered in a thin layer of fine taupe-colored powder.

Seems this is more an opportunity for the parents to network than it is a time to be involved with the kids. Networking can be good though. I talked with a mom who's father had a home by the Ayuntamiento. We've been invited to watch a Falla mascleta from it in March!

Saguntum

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 15:25:00 +0000

On the list of things to take visitors to is the old Carthaginian city of Arse, now known as Saguntum on top of the hill overlooking Sagunto just 10 minutes from our house by car.

This week I have a visitor thus, to Arse we go!

Fortunately, instead of dying from complete boredom, I am able to find new things each time I go. It's also fun to see what my guests notice. My friend Julie notice (and squatted playfully by) the old toilets. Today's friend likes the prickly pears so much, I think it would be great to pick one. Not smart. They're really a lot more prickly than they look!

Today I discovered three new things:

1) This view. I usually take the shortcut up the hill and don't bother with the road. Today we took the road. A nice walk, a different perspective and this view where I can actually sort of fit the entire "old" Roman theater in my camera view with part of the camera and the sea too. It's nice. They have concerts here. I'd like to go to one some day.

2) There's a long rectangular building of no particular interest along the long stretch of path between one part of the city and the other. It's been there, but I've never cared to go inside. Today I did. Apparently here in this not-horribly-publicized place there resides the largest collection of epigraphs in the Iberian peninsula. It's pretty impressive with many column heads and engraved stones from the first century A.D. and even a few B.C. stones as well.

See this one? This is the top of a column. You can see the tiny cut marks where it was carved into the coil.

3) A cute cafe. La Taverna de la Serp is a tiny little bar/cafe just below the theater where we stopped to have a cafe con leche and a small snack. They serve tapenades here of various types with bread. We had one of olives that was absolutely delicious and one with bacalao and potatoe that was good, but didn't quite have the kick that I hoped for. I ordered from my table to the man behind the bar, the only one in the tiny cafe at the time. "Dos cafes con leche y..." The man behind the counter looked at me and asked in Spanish, "Do you want the coffees after your meal or now?" "Now." Again, I get the inquisitive look like I surely must be mad. It's just one of those things. Americans, I tell him, will drink coffee at any time of day and with just about any food. Yes, I know it's strange, but we just really like our coffee. So he brought them and they were good and I've now discovered a nice little place in Segunto to go for a bit of something. The service is inquisitive, but nonjudgmental and quite friendly.

Whisky and Beer

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 16:18:00 +0000

"Want a whisky? What a beer?" "One whisky, one beer."

These are the phrases that we heard repeated several times in the opening scene of the year 5 rainforest play today. I've heard them for weeks actually as the lines seem quite catchy and until now I had no idea really why my nine year old daughter would be talking about whisky and beer. Hardly seems appropriate, but today, in front of my eyes, I saw two 9-year old "businessman" sitting in a bar ordering around a little bar maid who brought whisky and beer to all the gauchos and other "men" who would cut down the trees in the rainforest. It was strange. I get the point, but really? Nine year old kids. Seems that those lines could have been changed or left out all together.

But, the highlight for me is always my girl, whichever girl that would be at the moment and today's moment belonged to Arianna who's had a tough year so far, but delivered her lines well and had more lines than anyone else in the play. I'm so proud of her.

Here are a couple video snippets. The macaws spoke several times during the play and I am video inept so missed the first couple times that Arianna spoke.

Video 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=11a-eNyHMd4

Video 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49DDi8Y576c

Valencia.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 14:28:00 +0000

Another tour with another friend. This is a blessing of having lots of company in town... repeat excuses to tour a city that I don't tire of. Besides... there's always something new and interesting photo-ops.

Stop one on the standard Valencia tour: Mercado Central.

I love the central market because it's always changing with the seasons, a bustling, colorful, maze of stalls with all their sights and smells and textures. It's inspiring and fun. Today it's November and fall is finally upon us with temperatures dropping just enough to suggest a sweater in the morning. It's the season for these orangish greenish tan mushrooms that look like a fungus, but are supposed to taste great. They scare me a bit, so I'm just as happy photographing them.

It's orange season as well, so some vendors previously selling a mixed lot of produce will switch gears and only sell sweet juicy clementines many with the stems and leaves still on. It's easy to eat five of these in one standing. These are the only type of pumpkin I see here in Spain with any frequency and this is how they're eaten. It's similar in other European countries who like to eat them roasted and don't sweeten them quite like the Americans do. They are surely missing out.

The olives are in season as well, but don't try eating one off of the tree. Yuck. Been there, done that, long minutes of frantic spitting ensued. It wasn't pretty. I have no earthly idea how anyone got the idea to eat these things given their particularly rancid taste straight from the tree nor do I have any idea how they discovered olive oil, because I've stepped on plenty and have not noticed any liquid gold clinging to my soles. Any rate, a good brine for a few months will turn these into Spain's favorite tapa, the best snack with beer, and something I could eat hundreds of while watching a movie - so much better than pop corn. The mixed bags are not two different types of olives. Green and purple do come from the same tree, they are just picked at different stages of ripeness, similar to the green bell pepper that we prefer to buy red and sweet. The purple ones are riper and not as tangy.

Ahhh. Now this is Christmas. Like candy cane to the USA or a Printen to Aacheners, these turrones bring Christmas home for the Spanish. They come in all flavors and varieties with each region having their speciality, but no matter what the flavor, locals love them and buy them in slices to take home and share.
Turron de Alicante is a sweet white crunchy nougat full of almonds. You'll also find loafs of nut filled chocolate, mazapan, and yema, Spain's answer to egg liqueur.

And in grosser subjects. Isn't is lovely how the Spanish don't waste anything? Yes, it's a good thing. Or at least that's how I'll choose to think about it.

The fish market isn't quite as disturbing except that several are still quite alive which always makes me feel a little sad for then sitting there on ice out of water. The fishmongers were at their grouchiest today now putting up signs at several stalls that prohibit photography. As if a photo will disturb either their business or the flavor of the fish. Hmph.

Today it rained. I tell you this because it was the first rain in a month and my feet were ill prepared (in $2.50 Old Navy flip flops). Couple that with the sad fact that most of Valencia's sidewalks are large squares of slick marble and I was practicing my ice skating skills all over the city much to my fright and embarrassment.

Our next stop was just a slide away across the street: La Lonja.

This magestic building that is free to enter is the place where the silk traders met to, well, trade silk. I've been here a few times. Didn't bother to take photos until we got to the upper room which I don't always go in. I'd forgotten how beautiful it was. The ceiling is all wooden, intricately carved and painted, and made us stop and stare long enough for my feet to dry.

I'd love the know the stories of the characters here. Both men and creatures mythical and real are depicted here. The sheer number of different faces is amazing. There are no repeats.

Our next stops were more like skids by as I scuffled like Charlie Chaplin to avoid skidding. Macaira said it was like having an old Asian lady at her side, one with bound feet and a tight fitting dress to my ankles. Sliding through the Church of Santa Catalina, Plaza Redonda, Plaza Reina, The Cathedral, the Basilica of the Virgen de los Desamparados, the Plaza de la Virgen and... back to the Plaza de la Reina to Valor Chocolates for a snack.

Ahhh. This is a taza de chocolate unlike any that I've ever tasted in Spain or out of Spain for that matter. After living here over a year, I have finally found the best, and rightly so, at the well known Spanish chocolatier, Valor. Here the chocolate is dark and rich and smooth with added flavors if you want that aren't overpowering, but aren't so subtle you can only smell them. It is heaven in a cup. The latte by its side was just about perfect and to go with all this was the perfect order of churros, not greasy like those of street vendors at Fallas, but tender, sweet, and delicious. The chocolate clung to them just right and we walked away, no I skated away, quite content with my chocolate lunch.

So it's raining. Not hard, but enough to wet the slick streets making them slicker. Enough to tread lightly and with great trepidation. Enough to send us to the shopping district. What else are two girls to do with time to kill and a need to stay dry?

And I made my friends proud. I went local. I walked straight into the store of all stores in Spain, El Corte Ingles, and found a beautiful sleek pair of high healed dress boots and I bought them. Of course, I had to leave them there, run down 4 floors to buy a pair of socks, then run back up to buy them and put them on straight away so that I could jog to the train station, but it was totally worth it. I now am the proud new owner of "big girl shoes." No more rainy day flip flops for me! ;)

A sunrise

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 09:10:00 +0000

I will miss this. Sad. Though I still have a few more months, I am becoming poignantly aware that I'll be moving soon. Summer seems soon and if I am not extremely careful the simple thought of leaving will reduce me to tears in a millisecond, partly because my age has created an overly emotional creature that I hardly recognize who will cry in a 30 second comedic commercial or the last couple minutes of a cartoon. But even more so, because I've come to love Spain and everything about it with all of my being. May be because it was harder at first. May be the pain of fitting in has made the bond that much stronger. But I do love it. With every quirk and flaw and frustration. I love the culture. I love the people. I really love this sunrise. [Sigh]

Something strange at Port Soplaya...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 15:22:00 +0000

I've found in Europe more than anywhere else, that something strange is about to happen. Really. No day is really complete without a good chuckle or shake of the head. Like the man last month with a real life rabbit riding on his shoulder. I've found since that he's a bit off his rocker, but still, it takes some talent to train a rabbit, bonkers or not and it does qualify in my book as something a bit odd and rather entertaining. Yes, I'm easy to entertain.

So, today with a bit of time, I took my newly arrived visitor to Port Soplaya for a quick snack before picking up the girls. My normal place was closed forcing us to eat elsewhere, but that was fine because we had a good show.

First: The wedding photo shoot.

Blue skies. Aqua Valencian beaches. Sand. Palm trees. Could be amazing and you're picturing it, right? Ok. Now move the lovely couple with the handsome man in his nicest clothes and the bride in her long white gown with the train trailing after her.

Got it? Ok... she has a train trailing after her as she walks and poses all over the beach. And this is a Valencian beach in November which means that no one has looked at it or thought to clean or take care of it since August because once September first hits Spain, beaches are abandoned except for the occasional pale tourist. The beach was the dirtiest I've seen it and the sand was wet.

They aren't even posing in the middle of the beach with the sea behind them or near the palm trees growing out from the sand. No, they are huddled together kissing on a rock sitting among a pile of ugly rocks next to the pier. Add some large red metal equipment of some sort floating in the sea beyond and the waves not splashing up majestically, but lapping up just enough behind the rock to wet the beautiful silk gown with the buttons up the back. Photographers gather behind them where they can get her shoulder tattoo and her bra strap and tag as well. A woman directs, but doesn't think to tuck in that tag. The poor bride is walking awkwardly in her heels. We watch them on and off for a good 40 minutes. The final photo. Sitting in the surf. Yes. Every bride's dream. I'm going to wear my beautiful $1000 + bridal gown to the beach and then sit in the wet sand and let the waves wash over me. Oh yes, that's romantic. Hope she knows a good dry cleaner.

Second and third: Valencia in not and has never been known for surfing. To try, well, is like trying to build an igloo in Tahiti. Not likely to work. And, thanks to these two men, I think we have proof. Don't go to Valencia for a surfing vacation.

Guy on the left decided to paddle out past the waves and wait. May be those itty bitty 2' waves were too big? Guess it takes real talent to surf the flat.

Or a paddle. Guy on right decided to use his surf board as a raft standing there proudly with his little paddle working his way out to sea. I'm not sure why. Again, notice the waves? Nope. I didn't either.

The News

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 22:12:00 +0000

The headlines:

The "Kree-sees" is a buzz word here as it probably is everywhere, but with rumors that Spain could be the next Greece, locals and radio personalities like to rant about the times.

Inflation at 2.3% in Spain
40% of Spain’s Unemployed have a Hard time Finding Work
44% of Spaniards Suffer from Crisis-related Stress

Real estate prices are dropping. Houses sit vacant. Shoppers are cutting back. Unemployment is on the rise. Yada yada yada.

Marbella to spend 280,000 euros on Christmas lights
Spain Spends 5,000 Million Euros to Fight Obesity

And yet... there's new road construction all over the place. New train lines are being put in. Infrastructure is on the rise. And Marbella is installing Christmas lights. Hmmm. I also find great satifaction in the latter since Tiara's classmate declared loudly on several occasions to her and her fellow classmates that Americans are fat, lazy, and only eat at McDonald's.

Boat with 20 Tons of Hashish Seized Southwest of Cadiz
An 86 year old man kills his wife by driving over her in Mallorca

These last two, I find morbidly humorous, especially because:

1) The smugglers on this particular boat were Dutch. Nothing against the Dutch. I love the Dutch. But... it does sort of fit with their adventurous spirit, tradition of trade, and current drug laws.

2) Because I have reason to believe that Spain is extremely lenient with senior drivers resulting in a terrifying number of ancients on the road who absolutely should not be driving. Apparently, though, this particular driver was competent enough to hit his target. Sad.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 11:26:00 +0000

It's November thirteenth and I've awoken on a day so warm that my patio door is wide open and the sunlight is streaming onto my bed. I woke up here this morning bathing in the peace and quiet that is unusual for my house of six, stealing moments (ironically) to finish The Book Thief and peeking up occasionally from its pages to observe the silver streak of sea beyond my balcony and the still silhouettes of high rise apartments on Valencia's beaches.

It is a perfect morning. Arianna cooked breakfast for her sisters. They've played together happily (mostly.)

And I'm up now with a splitting headache and the feeling that I've been beaten up, bruised, battered.

I was.

By the book.

It intrigued me the moment I picked it up, pulled me in bit by bit and even when I thought that may be I didn't like it, I began to love it and each character within, every rough edge and curse word, every unsettling moment and act of thievery.

It's the first time I heard Death tell a tale. At least that I can remember. And if I had to judge Death by his reading here, I'd say I liked him and might possibly invite him to Thanksgiving in a couple weeks. He can come for the turkey.

I just took the last swallow of my coffee with four Advil after standing in a daze in my kitchen for the last hour busying myself with dishes and idle chatter.

The hour before I'd been sitting in my Spanish paradise with tears streaming freely down my face while I mourned these rough Germans in this tiny town near Munich who have long since passed if they ever existed. It's a perspective I haven't heard much before. A new sad twist to a tragedy that is so much bigger than any of us can actually realize. A story that makes me sad for the world, yet happy to know it. The story and the world.

Death's last line. "I am haunted by humans."

I am too. And by this book. Which battered me with words and a story and a truth.

"Blood leaked from her nose and licked at her lips. Her eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of her skin. All from words. From Liesel's words."

Powerful words. Powerful ideas. This book is one to read and lend and recommend, then read again.

Luxe

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 14:25:00 +0000

I love having house guests. House guests bearing chocolate? Even better. Bring fancy Parisian chocolates and you can stay a whole month.

This little gem is the hostess gift that Dad and Angie brought when they visited. It held three layers of surprises with no little folder to tell me what flavor I'd find inside which really added to the fun.

Pure rich buttery flavor, there isn't even the slightest hint of the waxiness of so many American chocolates and nothing to really bite into. Hold it too long and it will melt in your fingers.

If you go to Paris, stop here. Then come to Spain and I'll help you out. ;)

Passion Chocolate

Chocolatier Fabricant

122 Av. Simon Bolivar

Paris

Oropesa, Spain

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 22:59:00 +0000

While walking across the bridge in Montanejos Friday, I talked to a lady from Madrid who told me how beautiful Oropesa is, so this morning, seeing that Oropesa really isn't that far from us, we took a drive about 40 minutes up the coast from Valencia to explore.

I saw it from the highway as we approached it and I almost didn't take the exit. This is it?!!?? It's one tiny little hill with one very ruined old castle on top. The traditional tangle of old sandwiched homes spills down the hill. There are winding streets and narrow passageways. It's all quite typical.

And surrounding this tiny oasis is just another sprawling town. Sigh.

But I didn't want to drive aimlessly, so we stopped, found parking easily, and trudged up the hill to see whatever there was to see.

It's pretty, don't get me wrong, but here in Spain, there is so much amazing and spectacular, that this, frankly, is quite average.

In this old town there are plaques hanging from the lanterns with famous quotes from saints and authors. These are unique and fun to find and try to translate. This one is, roughly, "I live without living and in this way I hope that I die because I won't die."

We walked up to the top of the hill to the castle ruin from which there are nice views of the town and sea beyond. In fact, from that point, I took more photos of the view that I have only a couple photos of the castle itself, but then, there wasn't much to photograph but pieces of crumbling rock walls.

They are proud though of this castle of Muslim origins. "Due to its importance, it was conquered by distinguished historical figures like El Cid in 1090, and King James 1 in 1233 (after falling into the Almoravid's hands)." It was rebuilt in the 14th C and armed in the 16th, but apparently it was "conquered" again because it's in shambles now.

I think it's funny to gage the importance of something by who tried to conquer it, though, now that I think of it, I suppose that's how it works in art, in business ideas, in dating, in war... probably a bit in everything. We just don't think of it that way normally.

Anyway... that was the hill. Short and sweet, cute and quaint, quotable and thought provoking...

And at the bottom was a park where we stopped to placate the kids who were bored with quaint castle topped hills and wanted to swing. They were lucky because there's one of those amazing German backet style swings that swing so high the kids are upside down. The park is also displaying the first prize sculpture winner of 2010 by Miguel Escobar called Mara'm, mira't, mira. Fun to photograph.

The beach is where we had an average lunch and took a walk before the rains came. The kids wanted to sit in the sand and draw. I wanted to walk. We began the game of "Draw a picture, then run to mom, squat, and draw another one. Repeat." It worked really well and between the three of them they filled the beach with Spongebob.

I found out later about this resort supposedly here which looks amazing... but somehow I don't think three children and today's weather would have supported it: http://www.comunitatvalenciana.com/propuestas-de-viaje/castellon-costa-azahar-orpesa/oropesa-del-mar-salud-y-bienestar-en-oropesa-del-mar-0?id_pv=5808

Montanejos and Beyond: A drive near the border of Aragon.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 08:44:00 +0000

Surprises happen here. Though Spain's Constitution is younger than me, life has been going on here since before Christ's birth and so, as with any old country, little treasures just appear here and there without warning. Today was one of those treasure hunts, a drive without a destination really... just an idea that turned out to be better than expected.

Santi is my informant. He's the ever cheerful boy behind the counter at my favorite coffee shop, the enabler of my caffeine addiction and the pusher of all things sweet that I must try because it's something new. He's also my local font of knowledge. Santi knows things. He told me about Albarracin and Navajas. Then he told me about Montanejos. So away we went today knowing that Santi woudn't steer us wrong.

The drive up the A-23 is easy until you exit. My GPS tells us we're almost there, but between us and Montanejos is a up and down twisty turny stomach churning mess of a road though a gorgeous landscape. The landscape makes the uneasy stomach worth it as do the little fountains on the side of the road like this one that are just there seemingly in the middle of nowhere where people can come and fill up their bottles and jugs with clean, fresh, ice cold water for free.

Montanejos is a small village known for the warm mineral springs that surround it. A spa town, there is an abundance of senior tourists there partaking in the therapeutic/healing baths. In fact, I walked into what was labeled as a tourist office to find a the staff behind the counter wearing white lab jackets and calling forth the "patients" from the waiting room to go have their treatments. The "tourist" area was a tiny counter off on the side with brochures behind glass.

From some of the regal homes now sitting in disrepair, it is evident that the town once enjoyed a bit of prosperity. I crossed the bridge over the clear shallow water of the Mijares river to see a school of large fish swimming below. They seemed tame and we wondered why no one was fishing for them. Are they edible? Are they protected? I asked an older man who was crossing the bridge.

Well into his 80's, he didn't want to answer my questions, but did want to talk. "My life is a mystery," he repeated several times telling me about his time in the War and his illness and his cure, how there used to be four big orchards on the hill and the city was wealthy once. He even talked about his first bicycle and the first motor car in town. But as much as I love to talk to locals and to learn, it was so hard to understand him. It could have been his dialect or his slurred "old person" way of speaking, but I only got about 60% which was ok, but not enough. Too many details lost.

This house was my favorite. Three stories in front with a nice patio, an old lady swept it while her cat watched from below the table. She had beautiful flowers growing from pots and a neat row of fruit trees growing along the path from her home to the street. The back became four floors and overlooked the fields and the pretty río Mijares.

The old city center is the typical maze of tiny streets and sandwiched homes that is typical of old Spanish towns. These creep up the hill as well and, also typical, small gangs of stray cats hang out at dead ends and street corners. Five call this covered tractor home.

The bridge leading from the town to a path that leads up the mountain to an old castle ruin was built in 1803 over what was then the Montan river. Now a dry bed, the bridge still stands connecting the two hills. It's called the San Jose Bridge-Aquaduct because a small irrigation channel within takes water to the small pueblo of La Alqueria nearby. Two ceramic panels in the center show paintings of the Virgen of the Dispossessed on one and San Jose on the other.

We crossed it considering briefly to continue up the hill to the castle, but the sign said that it was a 2 hour walk. A nice couple from Madrid chatted a while. They said it wasn't far, but the climb was very steep. Neither of us continued.

Hunger isn't a problem in Spain if you're flexible. People complain about the rigid hours and yes, it's true that restaurants don't open for lunch until 2:30, but if you're happy with some tapas or a sandwich, then you can eat nearly any time of day. So, hungry, we sat at the bar at the hotel with a continual ebb and flow of senior citizens through the doors. Good coffee and a great sandwich. Cheap and good. I don't remember what my sandwich was called, but it had steak, ham, and caramelized onions on it making it moist, flavorful, and delicious. The perfect midday snack for me.

Thanks to Google Maps, I knew that there was something pretty somewhere around the town, but I didn't exactly know where. Thankfully, I am now technologically armed with my iPhone so that even out in the middle of the Spanish nowhere I can get a fabulous map of exactly where I am and exactly where I am going.

We headed NW on the CV-20 towards a big lake, the Embalse de Arenos.

Just a short bit up the road we saw a place to pull off. This was the first of many and a lesson well learned that along this route, at least, if there is a small widening of the road where you can park, then park because there will be something amazing there even if it's not readily apparent.

There's a small green sign there that says "La Fuente de los Baños"with a scribble of graffiti over it. A little trail leads down the hill and a small side on the side of it points to where Arab baths were in the 13th century. At the bottom of the hill we saw the fountain, the rock walls, and a shallow pool of crystal clear aqua water.

A group of men swam and posed while a girl on the rocky beach took pictures. A mid-70's man swam laps back while his wife read in the sun.

It's November, but these waters come from a natural thermal spring that remains at 25 ºC all year.

Almost 150 years ago in 1863, these thermal waters were declared a public utility by a royal order. It's not just a historic swimming hole.

The road elevates from here winding up the side of the mountain while the chasm below gets deeper. There are no towns here, just dramatic views like this one just before a tunnel. This is another little turnoff just after a dam where we saw nothing but the tunnel ahead and the tops of trees, but we stopped anyway, walked to the edge and saw this: Dramatic rocky faces, tiny waterfalls, and an aqua stream.

Inside the tunnel are two more places to turn off just large enough for a Smart car or a crazy camera toting tourist out for a jog.

Another dam a few miles ahead reveals the beautiful Emblase de Arenos, the lake created by a dam built here in 1977. Though the dam is recent, the village beyond it isn't. From here we could see the ruin of an old Arab castle on the hill and a sign nearby told us that the first civilizations here began between 225-205 B.C.

This village, Puebla de Arenoso, is the first in a string of quaint mountain villages strung along the tiny highway from here to the A-23. Some of the villages are nothing more than a tight collection of houses clumped together on either side of the road. Many homes look so run down that only a small kitchen light and a newer car in front give them away from my first assumption that they're abandoned ruins. It's a different life here where people rely more on themselves growing what they need and using the elaborate water systems set up here centuries ago that deliver fresh cold spring water all year.

We drove through Los Cantos, La Monzona, Caserto las Lucas and Los Ibanez Bajos as the road began to climb towards Olba. Here we're going through a valley with picturesque towns creeping down the hill into the valley below, a little stream running through the center with tall aspen trees on either side whose golden leaves are floating on the wind like lost feathers.

In Olba we stopped to see the cemetery there, a typical Spanish cemetary encircled by a stone wall. Inside are only walls of boxes carved with the name and date, inset on some with a photo and with others a vase for flowers fresh or plastic. They're very clean and stark here in comparison to the old French cemeteries with the crumbling carved headstones from eons ago.

Just past Olba where the river Rubielos meets Mijares, is this dramatic view and a small turnout just past. Here are two aquaducts, the older from the middle ages and the newer finished in 1905 and still functioning today to help transport water throughout the chain of villages in this valley. A path leads behind it to a tiny little paradise, as tranquil as it is picturesque with clear reflective waters and this tiny "Fountain of Health" nearly hidden under a rocky overhang.

This is when our time began to run out and though we had six more villages to drive through before reaching the A-23 to get home, we strained our necks and stopped a few times quickly to jump out of the car and take pictures to capture the moments. Hills, valleys, clustered old homes, church spires. And all the while that lazy little river is weaving through it all stitching it all together.

Two more surprises awaited us just before we reached the highway. Goats and sheep.

This herder has 300 goats with him and two dogs. We chatted a bit while his goats grazed, then he moved to cross the street and let his dogs go to work. It was a symphony of bleats and the clank of metal bells. Undisciplined children are these hiding in bushes and eating everything in sight. Even when I thought all the goats had gone by, the man made a curt sound to his dog who took off into the bushes and flushed out 10 more goats several with long strands of green vine hanging out of their mouth.

They aren't for milk which surprises me. I've seen a lot more goat cheese than goat meat on the menus. Not true for sheep who share equal billing on menus with their cheese.

The sheep were controlled by a couple with their two dogs, but they only watched us as we watched them and weren't available to chat.

Yet another great day worth repeating with more time... water, old villages, and farm animals! You can't get much better than that.

Tapas and a walk in Albuixech

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 16:11:00 +0000

What to do when you've had your cake and still have an hour+ to "kill" before picking up the girls from school and having more cake before going to guitar? (My secret to happiness = cake and good coffee)

Talk a walk. (Which is why I won't wear all that cake and good coffee.)

Where? Eh. It doesn't matter. We're in Spain where in every village, even the boring ones, you can find something just a bit strange. And that strange is what's interesting and kind of fun.

So, we picked the village nearby with the funny name that is hard to pronounce without instruction. Albuixech. (Al-Buey-Shek) Emphasis on the "xech."

It's small and relatively unexciting as Spanish villages go. Running along the train tracks to Valencia, it's a cluster of buildings surrounded by fields filled mostly with artichokes and partially with tiger nuts and other random things. But it's a sunny day and we're stuffed from tapas at El Pito, so a walk is the aleviator of guilt, the hail Mary to my culinary trespasses of which, with company in town for 10 days, there are far to many to count. Better walk farther.

I took oh, 50ish photos which isn't many. But it was still cool. This little chapel has a Biblical scene painted onto tile under each cross that lines the courtyard wall. It was closed, but the yard was open to see. It was actually sort of false advertising because this first thing was saw in the village was by far the prettiest. Figures.

Next is the typical farming village view: Old man in horse drawn cart. I'm a bit disappointed though. Just yesterday I saw an old man sitting tall in a white plastic lawn chair in his cart, but was driving and couldn't take the picture. He was far funnier. This guy was just cute in that old man cute kind of way.

Next we found the Casa de Cultura found in nearly every village where children and adults can learn music and art. This one had a large dome on top that looked like some sort of astronomical thing - an observatory or something. The building had a nice garden with this date palm heavy with immature dates. The white triangular house is a barraca, a traditional farm house in these areas that would have been thatched originally. And, finally, a new use for old CDs - to scare away birds.

The most fun I had on this walk was at the end. I've decided that you can't properly do the "stretch-out-your-arm-and-click" style self portraits with a large bulky camera, and since I'm a bit of a control freak with my camera anyway, the chances of actually having photos of myself when I'm quite a bit older and wrinkled to look back upon wistfully are pretty slim.

Thus, my new plan for self-portraits - the shadow portrait! It works well in Spain where there's quite a bit of sun and there's no need for air brushing if I'm having a bad skin tone day! :)

Los Cloticos at Bejis

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 09:28:00 +0000

Autumn has arrived in Spain. In Valencia it's evident in the orange spheres covering the trees. Amazing how quickly it happens that these sweet fruits go from nearly invisibly to painting the countryside in orange. With so many citrus though, there aren't many deciduous trees littering the towns here. It's harder to find fall by traditional definitions.

Not in Bejis. I took dad and Angie here today for a quick trip to drive through the Spanish countryside and enjoy a different kind of travel. The perfect contrast to two weeks in Paris are these rolling hills and terraced olive groves. In Bejis we stopped by the old aquaduct, then pulled off to take pictures of the valley below this mountain topped town. (I use the term "mountain" loosely.)

Los Cloticos was a quick jaunt just long enough to get our toes wet and catch this rainbow in the spray that was a full arch just too long to get in my frame with the rocks hiding the ends on either side.

There are signs of autumn here.

Even in the water where the currents sweep the fallen leaves into patterns and some float like tiny vessels.

It was a quick trip, but at just an hour away, even a few minutes there is worth it. The drive is beautiful and the place itself quite magical. Even better, at this time of year, it's absolutely silent with just the gurgle of the water and the rustle of the trees to keep you company.

See the man? That's my dad discovering for himself just how thin a driveway can be. That little edge of pavement is the top of a sliver of driveway that plunges down to a farm house 60 meters below. He wouldn't believe it was a driveway. "No way! It's too small! No one could get down that!!" And just at the perfect time as if on cue, a man and his wife came driving up their driveway there, smiled as the crazy American's photographing it, and drove away. A little tractor followed with a dog trotting along side it. At the top he stopped, nodded to the dog, the dog jumped on the back, and away they went.

Leaving early now... sick stomachs reign this week in my house. Tiara needs to be picked up from school, so we'll leave Bejis, drop her at home, then head to lunch.

Valencia.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 11:14:00 +0000

Because you never seen the same thing exactly the same way. Or at least I don't. My camera dictates the size of my purse and it is my faithful companion keeping me busy in even the dullest moments.

Today wasn't dull. Today I was on a mission to help Angie shop. Well, I didn't say it was a difficult mission.

And it was a bit fun because I was guided not only by shopping, but by food. We headed first to my favorite Bar Cafe Mundo for a calamari sandwich and a cafe con leche, the perfect mid-morning snack if you're living in Spain. Sandwiches aren't proper lunch food. They are only snack food.

Saw these two guys on horseback being quite smiley. Too bad the sun was in a bad place. I've only seen police on horseback in the gardens here and they seemed just as entertained by me as I was by them.

Took a long leisurely walk to the Turia after our snack to find the mall with three Desigual shops, one of my favorite Spanish brands. The mall actually only has two. One is a double-wide store, so counts as two spaces. Both are fantastic and full and so horribly tempting, but I did escape with only a few Christmas gifts for the girls and nothing for me because everything that I wanted was a bit too much.

Walked around the Valencia's City of Arts and Sciences for the umpteenth time which is ok, because like the Eiffel tower, it absolutely never loses it's charm or awe-power. Anyone with any imagination of love for the camera could spend days there staring at it and imagining it at all sorts of different angles and in different lighting. The buildings are astounding.

It's amazing how quickly a day can fly just walking and soaking up sun and beauty. Snapped this window walking back towards the train station. It's typical here to have a window behind the bar so that people can walk up to the outside of the cafe and grab something quick or stand there right on the sidewalk and have a coffee there. There's seating inside as well, but people seem to like this.

Our day ended with ice cream at my favorite little place near the train station serving home made ice cream nearly all year round.

Jerica, Spain

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 10:52:00 +0000

Jerica isn't in any of our guidebooks or tourist guides. It barely shows up on most maps. But we've passed it several times until today not stopping, but looking longingly out of the car window telling each other that we really need to go there some day.

All I knew is what I saw so prominently displayed from a distance. The tall bell tower rising up from a little hill with another hill extending upwards housing what little remains of an old castle. Then the drop. To where, we weren't certain, but assumed correctly that it must fall to the river Palancia, a thin turquoise green ribbon that springs from Bejis and winds all through the Sierra Calderona.

So today, we went there. Just 20 minutes from my house up the V-23, Jerica is the perfect day trip when you're tired of the sea and need a new landscape. Parking on the outskirts of the town isn't difficult, so we found a spot near that big yellow house and began our walk into the town, past a busy corner and across the street onto the mound, the tightly packed hill that contains the cities oldest homes.

Here the streets wind narrowly up to the top. There is no hurry since no car can speed here. Pedestrians amble freely until they hear a car, then squish themselves flat along the thread of a sidewalk to allow the car to go by. It's a quiet day. The houses are all stuck together as they often are here most standing three stories tall and differing from their neighbor by a slightly different shade of pastel and a different colored shutter. It doesn't take long to get to the top, which we did, to find that though the hill didn't look that high, the wind in this river valley roars with such force that we were walking at a forward slat around half the tower, then were pushed into a run 'round the backside.

Jerica's Mudejar bell tower sits upon a platform of Roman origin, though no one knows exactly when it was built. The tower itself was proposed in 1614 when the city council decided that the bells couldn't be heard from all points in the town. The tower was completed in 1622 and the bells moved. It cost 1,775 libras. The bells that ring from the tower now aren't quite as old. They two oldest are from 1802 and 1790 and are named Santa Agueda and La Virgen. The former weighs 2600 kilos.

Near the entrance on one side lies a tiny little street full of flowers. Three homes face each other seeming to battle over who has the most flowers. The best is absolutely adorable. With terracotta pots both on the ground and fastened to the exterior walls and window boxes oveflowing with geraniums, it looks like something out of a fairy tale. A tiny old lady emerged, so I complimented her on the array. "My son did all this," she said. Then she began to tell me how beautiful this town is on a sunnier, warmer day. She also told me about the path near the river and the waterfalls below. We talked for at least 5 minutes. Could have been 10. People are very friendly in Jerica. Given enough time, we probably would have shared a coffee.

Around the corner is a tiny playground flanked on both sides by enormous fig trees heavy with overripe fruit. From there it's easy to spy the path that leads to the top of another hill. This is where we went next, to another windy spot so blustery, that my dad put Elise and Luci into the mouth of the remaining castle tower worried that they'd blow right off the mountain if left alone.

It was here that my darling youngests discovered and collected old bones, excited and thrilled by their discovery, shoving them in the faces of all who were and were not so interested. "Oh, how wonderful! Old bones!" Blech.

Angie and Arianna stood at the bottom of the hill. The rest arrived here. This was the safe house for the littles while dad and I walked to the back and nervously watched each other as we took turns creeping slowly to the edge to look over and take a few photos. The drop would have been scary enough without the wind, but with it, I moved slowly and crouched low holding onto the rocks so I wouldn't be blown over. This is where you can see the river approach, skirt around, then continue down some falls and into the orchards in the valley below.

Wild pomegranates grow here as do praying mantis. We watched this guy walk across our path, then we held him up precariously on a stick to try to get a closer picture.

Old Spanish towns are just cute. The thread width roads and white painted buildings, the terracotta pots and paint peeling doors. It all lends to a certain charm that I haven't tired of. This village also had these funny stacks of pumpkins in several windows that I've never seen before. I suppose with the cool air, this is the perfect storage space to keep them fresh, but doesn't allow for much a view.

This house had created a mosaic around each arched window and its doorway with old broken tiles of all colors. Apparently this is the street to avoid if you lack the green thumb. Each tiny courtyard here is lined, green spilling out of clay pots of all sizes. Even within the tiny room on the right inside the old abandoned tower, someone is keeping beautiful green plants healthy and alive.

Just to the left of this are two small adjoining courtyards and a little water pump. All of these flowers are cared for by the tiny little lady in the photo below. I talked to her too and she told me to return in the spring when the colors are much brighter and the flowers are flowering more. She proudly told me that she had planted all the flowers in that area and all the ones lining the street down to the end of her house, a house that she was born in over 70 years ago, where she grew up and where her own children were born. She loves Jerica and says that people return every year to ski in the nearby hills and attend the many cultural festivals. Just to the right of her house is a little plaque showing that this street won the "most beautiful street" award in 1994. I'm not surprised.

These tiny plant lined streets led to the church where some famous guy was born just facing it. At this point we were all getting a bit tired and hungry which is why I didn't care at the point who the famous guy was. His picture is on the wall in tile with his name. Wasn't anyone I knew. ;)

The door of the church is made of gold colored punched metal. It's extremely detailed all the way down to the key hole covers and fancy door knobs.

The old city was created in three phases. The oldest part began with the castle an only extended to the top of the hill. Another phase built a wall halfway around the hill and in the final phase, another defensive wall was built at the base. Even now, the hill remains divided in those original rings with the buildings stuck together and wall connecting the open parts with just arched doorways here and there to allow people through. There are fun surprises at every corner like tiny covered passageways with half-timbered ceilings that lead to miniascule courtyards with laundry hanging to dry.

We ended up here near where we started famished and ready for food. There's a "real" restaurant up the street, but this little bar was good enough. We sat outside under a tree where a bird decided to decorate one jacket while we enjoyed our lunch of pork and fries for some, omelets for others, and a couple of really quite delicious beef sandwiches. Not beef like roast beef or steak, but a thinly sliced steak about 1/4" thick cooked and placed on a roll with sauteed onions. Good. Simple, but good.

Instead of heading directly home I thought I'd try to find the river that the lady on the hill told me about. I went the wrong way and ended up driving in the middle of nowhere on a very tiny little road until turning around and trying again. Then, I drove up a road past an old communal laundry with a large stone tub of water where I faced a road tinier than my van with a steep incline, but chickened out, made a thousand point turn, and left. We found ourselves in a parking lot and discovered the trail head. Large golden leaf trees bent low over a sequence of water falls and a stone path snaked along the mountain. The gusting wind blew the leaves which lingered in the air as if they had taken flight on their own, nature's confetti. Dad and I jumped out to take pictures. We wanted to walk it, but it was cold... really bitterly cold with that wind and the rest of our party were already warm and deshoed in the comfort of my car.

Another wrong turn and scary retreat down a really steep narrow road and we were finally on our way home with just one stop for this view.

Jerica is beautiful. With enough time, I'll definitely go back.

Spanish Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 22:03:00 +0000

A bit of Halloween decorations and candy in the stores combined with the lure of sweets and the readily available American programming (dubbed, of course), and the Spanish have figured out what Halloween is. Implementing it... well, that's where it gets tricky.

The kids know. They dress up, grab bags, and head out. The adults, well, that's where things get a bit slow. Probably 90% of the kids want to adopt this holiday while less than 10% of the adults have a clue. Thus, thousands of kids and only a couple houses offering candy = participating homes run out quickly and kids go home with what might fill a small sandwich bag.

Our neighborhood organized the "event." The vigilantes stood watch and slowly drove around the neighborhood. It was posted and mailed out that we would begin at 5:30. At 5:30 there was a huge crowd of oddly dressed kids at the club entrance. At 6, the vigilante told us to start and we all fanned out throughout the neighborhood.

Kirk and Elise passed out candy. They were out in an hour and the doorbell ran for another hour even though the pumpkin was in and the lights off.

A pumpkin on the gate meant that house was open for trick or treating. Not many were. Some streets had one house. It was still nice to be out walking and gave us the chance to gawk at some really palacial homes here. (Mine is quite normal, but I live among mansions.)

With large yards and walls built around each home, it took a while at each house. They'd ring the bell, then wait as the person inside had to gather the candy bucket, leave their house, walk to the gate, then open in and allow the children to choose candy.

An American in the neighborhood created a haunted house in her basement that was really quite scary. A few allowed kids to enter their homes or patios for the candy. I peeked in to see the houses themselves. Amazing.

The Rules of Trick or Treating don't apply the same here. Many houses gave out unwrapped candy. A lot of gummies were thrown in. My kids wanted to eat them... normally, they'd get tossed, but here... yep, they ate them. It's Spain. It's different. In some ways, it's safer. In this neighborhood, definitely. And, most of the time, I saw the families grabbing the candy directly from the bag, so I saw where it came from.

So, after two hours of walking and having a great time doing it, this was Arianna's loot. Luci got about the same. There was nothing left at our house. Sad. I bought some good stuff.

Babies and Firsts

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 18:17:00 +0000

It looked like just another ordinary day at the Oceanografic. It was supposed to rain. We had out of town guests. The kids were out of school. We needed something to do.

This was easy. I expected nothing. I'd shoot a few photos. Nothing special.

But that's not really possible, is it? Nothing is really that ordinary. Nothing is ever really exactly the same twice.

Today we began the same and followed our same usual route. It was fairly typical until we got to the shark exhibit where the sea turtle is usually absent.

Today he was back and busy. He swam all around the large circular room close to the glass so everyone could see him, then down the long tunnel and around the next large circular room before returning to the first. We followed him. The girls were entranced. Arianna demanded I take photos. I obliged.

The route continued. We saw the walruses and the belugas. They did their usual laps. I thought passing through the stench of the penguin room would be quick. The penguins, after all, are smelly and quite boring. They either stand there like statues or just float around.

It appeared that I was right... but then these two kept staring at me. They stared at everyone bobbing their headed up and down in the water to see which view was better, from underwater or from behind the droplet splattered glass.

They kept my attention long enough for the show to begin. Not one that was planned by the Oceanografic, but one that the penguins seemed to enjoy. A high speed chase of Hollywood proportions. Ultrasonic speeds, lightening quick turns on a dime, up and down with such speed and fluidity that it was almost as if they were weaving the water with long smooth stiches, up and down, in and out.

From there another first: a bird show in the dolphin area keeping us entertained until the usual dolphin/trainer show began. That was normal.

But after at the sea lion exhibit we saw three pairs of nursing babies with their mothers. That was sweet.

And then more babies in the tropical area... this time a jellyfish the size of a quarter.

And a supersized starfish showing off on the glass.

And the first time that we've ever had the patience to actually stand in line long enough to enter the bird exhibit where you are close enough to these beautiful birds to touch them though you don't, but they stand there next to you and don't even flinch as you get near. It's really amazing.

Just another day at the Oceanografic. One when the lighting was just perfect... for one fleeting second. And I caught it.