We're expecting... houseguests!!!

One of my best friends is coming at the end of month for a visit. We’ve been chatting back and forth about what they (she and her wonderful hubby) must see while they are here. It’s her first time to Spain and his first to Europe, so I want to be sure they have a wonderful time.

It’s been interesting to see what recommendations other friends have given them. Some have recommended avoiding places I love and others have suggested some spots I don’t think would be high on my list. But that just reminds me how personal the experience of travelling is and how minor details can greatly impact your impressions of a place. I had a horrible case of food poisoning on my one and only trip to Paris and I certainly don’t have a good impression of the city. On the other hand one plate of fried, salted strips of pumpernickel bread has me craving a return trip to Yekaterinburg, Russia – not exactly a tourist hot-spot.

So we’re currently debating the virtues of a short plane-trip down to Granada (50€!!) vs. the charm of a road-trip around Castilla-Leon (Salamanca, Avila, Segovia). It’s not an easy choice. La Alhambra and tapas vs. the aqueduct (we’re engineers) and suckling pig… I suspect the south will win out as it is, in general, the face of Spain to the outside world, but we shall see.

Regardless, I am hopeful that the native-guide aspect will ensure that their 10 days here are memorable for all the right reasons. I’m taking it as a good sign that I saw the other day that City Hall plans to turn on the already-hung holiday lights the last week of November – just in time for my friends’ visit. And sparkly lights, like fried bread, make everything better.

Heading North

Yesterday was a holiday (La Almudena – patron saint #2 of Madrid) so Nacho and I headed up to Edinburgh to visit my sister and brother-in-law. When we were heading to the airport last night nacho commented that to him the UK is like a midway point between Spain and the States. He meant figuratively (not physically, although it is…) in terms of personality and living style. Now, our family that lives there has found more than a few causes for culture shock; even so, in many ways it’s true – life in the UK settles in nicely between life in the States and la vida de España…

1. People eat in public. Eating on the go is a “far-west” phenomenon as best I can tell. Eating a cereal bar, piece of fruit or premade sandwich while on the metro or bus in Madrid will garner you more than a couple of stares. It’s simply not done. Food is meant to be enjoyed. And, to the Spanish at least, you can’t do that while on the go…
2. Many stores are open on Sundays. They might have more limited hours, but they are open.
3. They have bagels.
4. Lots and lots of restaurants deliver. Most of them also have websites. (On a side note there is one delivery service in Madrid that is quickly gaining ground. It’s a very “far-west” concept – order online from dozens of different restaurants and the middleman handles the delivery…)
5. People generally go about life in a bit more business-like way. They hustle along on the sidewalks and in stores. Efficient. Spain is a strollers’ paradise.
6. There are many more elderly people out and about in Madrid than I’ve ever seen in the UK – either in Edinburgh or in London – or in the States (barring Florida). Perhaps this is because Spanish social life revolves around being out and about with friends and so it’s something that people are accustomed to when young and just keep on doing it as they age…

Some of these things are positives and others are negatives. It’s not a matter of choosing a favorite, but rather of simply observing. The truth of the matter is that arriving in the UK makes me feel “at home” to a certain degree. It could all be due to the language. But, then again… the bagels probably have something to do with it too…

Stamp Collector

After work tonight I am heading to the post office to send in my application for a new passport. Mine expires in barely more than a month and I have clearly left this task until the last possible moment. I am actually quite sad about it. I have become incredibly attached to this stupid little blue book. It has been my constant companion over the past 8 years and rarely have more than a couple of months passed without my needing to pull it out of the drawer. But, its time has come. Not only is it on the verge of expiring, but it is also completely full. I counted this morning. 58 stamps and a big-ass visa sticker cover the 7 available pages.

Years ago (8 years ago, actually, when I was in the UK after graduating college and right before moving to Spain) I made a “Life’s To-Do List.” #46 was “Fill a passport with stamps.” Check.

Three Hours

My sister and brother-in-law moved to Scotland yesterday. The move’s finally come to fruition after about 6 months of negotiations, and I couldn’t be happier to have them so close. Granted, Edinburgh is still a good three-hour plane ride away, but compared to twelve that’s pretty reasonable! It’s like the trip from Fort Lauderdale to St. Louis. I find it hard to resist comparing the continent of Europe to the county of the United States. I can only figure that, as an American, I look for something of similar size to which I can compare my homeland. Distances, populations, time zones – they are only comparable if I look at Europe as a whole. Like that old line, “pick on someone your own size!” I tell Spaniards that I went to college 13 hours by car from my home or that each summer we spent over 20 hours in the car to reach the Florida beaches, and they start to figure how close to Russia they could get in that much time. But Russia will have to wait for me. Edinburgh is next on my list!

Flying Business

I'm back and as a follow-up to my earlier post about business class...

I think that on an international flight, if you can easily afford it (or get it with airmiles like I did), business class is completely worth the price. There was actually no First Class on the Delta flight, so I don't actually know if business class is similar on other carriers or if this was like first class...) I was totally impressed with the service, food, and comfort. Meals are served on china with crystal and real silverware (and tiny-little S&P shakers!) and the flight attendants are extremely attentive. On the domestic flights, it was still a nice treat to have free drinks and good service, but I don't know if it's really worth the price (unless of course you get your company to foot the bill!!) Another major bonus is the business lounge that you have access to during layovers. Open bar, snacks, and a totally stress-free ambience is a welcome respite from the noise and bustle of the airport terminals. I was spoiled by the whole experience.

Hopping the puddle

Tomorrow I'm heading back to the States for a couple weeks. I'm stopping first in South Florida for an engagement party and some good, old-fashioned American house parties. Then it's on to St. Louis for family time. I'm expecting lots of fun in both places, not least of all because my birthday is this weekend. So I'll get to celebrate it three times - once in Florida, again in St. Louie and lastly when I get back to Madrid. For the short-term I am mostly excited about getting to sit in First and Business classes for the bulk of the trip. (Thanks to Delta for giving that bonus on the air mile award tickets.) I'll finally get behind that mystical curtain!! We'll see if it's worth all the fuss. If the urge strikes, I'll blog from St. Louis. If not, see you in a couple weeks!

En el campo

Like many Spaniards, the summer weekends mean an exodus to the pueblos to escape the heat of the city and, hopefully, enjoy the cool of a private pool (see previous post on the pueblo). Such is the case for Nacho's family. Now that his parents are retired they spend more than just the weekend there but we, obviously, don't yet have that luxury. Last weekend we took the bus to Nacho's parents' house in their pueblo - La Adrada - up in the mountains - la Sierra de Gredos. It was a relaxing weekend of pool time, cool breezes, and home-cooked food. We were treated to chipirones en su tinta con arroz (little squids cooked in their ink and served with rice) - delicious, I swear - and merluza a la cidra (hake fish cooked in cider) as main dishes. But I can't forget the albondigas (meatballs), empanadillas, and pimientos (roasted and stuffed bell peppers) that came first! One of the best parts of the weekends up in the mountains is the food!!! But the view was pretty nice too. The mountains in front are a popular launching pad for paragliders so we had something to watch. :)

AVE

I'm attaching this video taken from the AVE to try and show how it felt to ride along at almost 200mph, though I'm not sure it really captured the speed. Nacho tried to add some drama in there at the end. :) It was a really cool trip, extremely comfortable and a new experience. There's a debate going on about whether it's worth the money or not. Our roundtrip tickets Madrid-Taragonna cost 125 euros each. I think it's worth it, especially since our final destination was Reus and not Barcelona, meaning we saved our hosts 2 2-hour roundtrips.

Reus & Taragonna

A couple weeks ago Nacho and I caught the AVE over to Tarragona to visit one of his old coworkers. She actually lives inland a little at Reus but we spent most of our time at the local beaches. Friday we went to La Pineda and Saturday to Altafulla. The beaches there are beautiful; the sand was fine and white and the water was absolutely perfect - clear, clean, and cool. On Friday I bought a green raft and that made all the difference. I could have spent hours floating in the water. Altafulla was a charming setting with little rental houses right along the beach boardwalk. We went to a little place famous for its paella for lunch and were not disappointed.

Sunday we went into Taragonna for some sight-seeing and the aperitivo. Turns out Taragonna was once the capital of the Roman province of Hispania and the city (and the region) are filled with ruins. On the road from Reus to Altafulla we came across this funeraly tower from the 1st century.

There is a pretty hefty Roman ruin route in Taragonna where you can see the amphitheater, forum, and various walls and ruins.

Taragonna also has it's own more modern customs, such as that of building the human towers during the fesitvals of San Magi. On their Ramblas (which I found out refers to a wide boulevard ending at the ocean) you find this statue commemorating that tradition. By the way, I think the festivals were this past weekend and the human towers went up without incidence.

Overall we enjoyed our trip to the region. Reus is, in itself, a cute city (100,000 inhabitants) with a charming old quarter, main plaza, and church. But not a day went by when we didn't spend at least an hour in the car. Combine that with the mildly limited entertainment options and we were glad to get back to Madrid.

A Mallorca voy con mi cancion

I’ve always been amazed by the vast differences in terrain and climate that exist within the boundaries of Spain. Pine trees and palms, mountains and beaches. Mallorca, it turns out, has those same extremes all within its small island.

This weekend Nacho and I headed to the Mediterranean with his cousins and their partners for some sun and relaxation. We went to an all-inclusive hotel in the Arenal beach area – a typical tourist area with wide, beautiful, white sand expanses, a lively boardwalk, chiringuitos (beach-side bars), and lots of Germans. Arenal is about 6 miles from Palma de Mallorca, the capital of the island and the largest city. Our hotel was a respectable 3 stars with a good-sized pool, jacuzzi, lots of bars, and unimpressive food offerings. So Saturday night we decided to go into Palma for dinner and a walk around the city. Hugging the curving line of the bay, Palma is a pretty city with a cozy historical quarter and an impressive duo of hilltop monuments. Sitting next to each other and overlooking the bay are the Palau Almudaina (foreground, a palace started by the Moors [not Moops] in the 13th century and later adopted by the Catholic Kings) and the city’s cathedral (background, one of the world’s largest – started in the 14th century and finally finished by Gaudi in the 20th).



Unfortunately the neighborhood around the monuments is a tourist hub and the service in the bars and restaurants reflected that. (In fact, in addition to its unique terrain, Mallorca has a unique dialect, mallorquín, which is derived from catalan. Most of the signs in the city are, at a minimum, in mallorquín, castellano, and English.) It was clear that a lot of the establishments in the area had adapted themselves to the most prevalent tourist – the northern European (German and English) – and in the process lost a fair amount of their Spanish charm. Perhaps it was a factor of the sheer number of people looking for dinner but even the typical Spanish act of getting a beer at the bar was frowned upon in a couple of the places we visited. When we finally found a good place for dinner (complete with crotchety old Spanish barman) we noticed that, interestingly enough, a majority of the other patrons were also Spaniards. It was a lesson in culture – the floor littered with toothpicks and napkins and the grumpy bartender put off most of the tourists while, for the Spaniards, those same characteristics promised good food and good prices. About 85€ for 6 of us complete with about 10 raciones, drinks, dessert, and coffee at the foot of the cathedral. Not bad at all.

Sunday we rented a car (well, a huge 9-person Mercedes Vito for the 6 of us – extremely comfortable) and headed to the northwest coast of the island. We went in search of the calas – small, secluded beaches – that pepper that coast. We headed on the highway towards the town of Valldemosa passing olive groves as we traversed the interior of the island and then began to climb the hills of the Sierra de Tramontana. We headed to the picturesque town of Deía and its famous cala, stopping along the way at a mirador for a glimpse of the ocean and its characteristic rocky formations. Unless you follow a winding road down to the water’s edge most of the coastline in this area is set on top of sharp cliffs and the views of the ocean below are breathtaking.

The first time around we passed by the handwritten sign directing us down a “road” to Cala Deía. But when we turned back and found it the trip was well worth it. We got to the cala at about 11:30am which was, though we didn’t know it at the time, perfect timing. There were only a handful of people then and the sun was warm but not burning yet. The beach was small and rocky, painful for the feet, but easy on the eyes, and the water was a perfect cool temperature. We stayed for a couple of hours and had our aperitivo (pre-lunch snack) there on the beach. By the time we left the beach was filling with people and the beachside bars were packed.

We continued along the coast to the beachside town of Sóller and its harbor and boardwalk. The town is set around a natural bay and harbor filled with sail boats, colorful houses, and citrus trees, giving it an air of the French Riviera and St. Tropez. There we got lunch and found some shade during the peak of the day. The boardwalk is lined with small cafés and restaurants that overlook the bay and the train tracks of the trolley that parallels the beach. Hugging the cliffs above the beach and the first line of buildings sit multi-million dollar mansions, with flower-covered terraces and hidden entrances.

Refueled from lunch we continued our trek towards the north in search of our final stop – Sa Calobra. We think that means la culebra, or the serpent, and refers to the hair-raising 6 mile road that leads from the mildly less hair-raising highway down to the beach. I found a picture of a portion of the road on Google Earth. What you can’t quite get from the picture is that each switchback and hairpin turn is on the edge of a cliff and the road is only just wide enough for two passing cars (on more than one occasion those two cars being our 9-passenger van and a commercial bus).

The trip down to the beach took about 30 minutes and we passed one minor accident on the decent. The entire way down we kept saying, “This has better be worth it.” It was. The cala at Sa Colobra is smaller than that at Deía but just as rocky. We arrived at about 5pm and, again, had perfect timing, as most of the people had already left for the day. I’ve since read that the beach can be quite touristy with the gift shops and restaurants and daily boat trips in from Sóller, but we escaped all of that and almost had the beach to ourselves. The highlight was a raised concrete dock, designed for the boats, and perfect for a good leap into the water. One of our companions, Peri, was by far the most graceful and I managed to snap this incredible picture.

From Sa Calobra we headed back towards the highway and on to our hotel. Even when you aren’t looking for anything in particular, you follow a curve in the road and come across another incredible sight, like this mountain lake. We snapped a quick shot and then moved on. After all Real Madrid was playing for the championship later that night…

My hero, the porter

I've never been one to use the porters at the airport. I prefer to flex my muscles and carry everything myself. However, when I arrived at the St. Louis airport last Friday I knew full well that a porter was needed. I had 3 BIG suitcases, all of which I suspected of being overweight. I was definitely right about that. Jeffrey, the lucky porter, helped me carry the bags into the international check-in where I expected to pay my overweight dues and be done with things. Whoops - what I hadn't realized was that there is an abolute maximum weight limit of 70 pounds for a suitcase to Europe. On a constant diet of shopping with Mom, my suitcases had packed on the pounds recently - two of them were over that limit and all three were packed to the gills. Definitely no room to move things around to make up the difference. No worries. Jeff offered to stay with my bags while I ran downstairs to buy another suitcase. Not only did he wait for me, but when I returned and started pulling things from my bags he ran with them back and forth to the scale until we got the big guys down under 70 pounds. Not even then did he abandon me. Finally after I had all 4 suitcases checked to Madrid and he had carried them over to the TSA crew for screening did we say our good-byes.

My overage on the luggage cost me $335 - including $40 for the new suitcase - but the most valuable money spent was the tip Jeff earned. I simply couldn't have done it without him. Or perhaps I could have but never so calmly and efficiently. My peace of mind on the roughly 12 hour trip was saved by that man.