Spanish Sabbatical

FAREWELL

2010-05-24T02:59:00.000-07:00

Alas, the time has come to bid a reluctant farewell to Córdoba. Our Wild & Crazy Adventure has been an incredible life experience. It is difficult to put into words the extraordinary things that you experience and learn about yourself when you leave everything that you know behind and plunge yourself into another culture. You find yourself re-examining perspectives. Different may not be wrong, it’s just different. We will miss the people that welcomed us into their homes and hearts becoming our friends and extended family, sharing their culture and teaching us not only how to be “Spanish”, but also, how to be “Andalus.” We will miss the narrow Old-World cobbled streets that have become all but common place in these past 21 months. We will miss the “Wow” that we feel every time we wander down the silence passages of a church steeped in art or walk past the Roman Temple excavations. “Old” can no longer be quantified and you realize that 200 years is a mere scratch in surface of history. We will miss the tranquil rhythm of life that beckons you to tarry in a quiet plaza and enjoy a cup a something in the shadow of a church. We hope to bring some of Spain back with us, not only as memories, but in lifestyle. And so reluctantly, on Wednesday, we will gather these memories and bid farewell to this town that has become a home to us. Returning to Portland is both exciting and daunting. A lot has changed in our absence, including us. But it will be nice to be surrounded by the familiar again and to see family and friends. The next chapter in our lives, whatever that may be, awaits. So as we go, to paraphrase Dr. Seuss, we will try not to be sad that our adventure is over, but rather, be happy that it happened at all.

Priego de Córdoba

2010-05-23T01:02:00.000-07:00

For our final weekend in Córdoba (sob!), we decided it was time to go visit the pueblo of Priego de Córdoba. This is the home town of José, one of my fellow teachers at Gran Capitán. He had told us about it so many times that I’d have been disappointed if we never saw it. The bus trips coming and going were longer than I’d have liked, but gave us the opportunity to enjoy lots of beautiful Andalucían landscapes. The old town area of Priego is on a hilltop, and enjoys nice views of the surrounding hills. It has a number of pretty Baroque churches, and an elegant fountain dating to the 1500’s. Take a look at the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/PriegoDeCordoba#

Écija and Carmona

2010-05-19T05:39:00.000-07:00

We’re approaching the end of our time in Spain, but we’re trying not to let the sadness get in the way of enjoying our remaining days. This last weekend, our friends Lola and Eduardo took us to visit Écija and Carmona, two pretty pueblos along the highway to Sevilla. We’d passed by both these pueblos before, since they’re right along the main highway, but hadn’t taken the time to explore. We thoroughly enjoyed them, but it makes me wonder how many other treasures there are that we haven’t been able to see. A human life just isn’t long enough to see everything. See the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/EcijaCarmona#

Écija is one of the ancient pueblos of Córdoba. It was founded in the eighth century B.C. by the Tartessos, a pre-Roman tribe. It came under the control of the Carthaginians, and passed to the Romans following the Second Punic War (that was the one where Hannibal took his elephants across the Pyrenees). In 14 B.C., it was re-named Astigi by the emperor Caesar Augustus. It enjoyed a few centuries of prosperity due to the production of olive oil, exported down the Río Genil to the Río Guadalquivir to the Mediterranean Sea and then to Rome. After the fall of the Roman Empire, the pueblo was under Visigothic rule until the Islam conquest of the Iberian peninsula in the eighth century A.D. The Muslims changed the name to Istiya, and made it a provincial capital under the Córdoban caliphate. It was taken by the Christians during the Reconquista in 1240. Much of the city was destroyed in the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755. Afterward, Écija became the base of operations for a powerful group of landowners, who built palacios that make the city a joy to wander through today. Still, my favorite part was the archaeological museum.

We drove on to La Luisiana (I find that name funny) for lunch. It’s the pueblo where Lola works as a special education teacher. La Luisiana is one of the new pueblos built during the 1700’s to guard the Sevilla highway from robbers. It’s interesting to live in an area where the new places were built in the 1700’s.

The next destination was Carmona, a hilltop pueblo almost all the way to Sevilla. It is quite pretty, with well-preserved Roman walls. The owner of an ice cream shop was proudly showing us how they had built around some ancient Roman arches to construct the shop. We went up to the Parador (a nationally-owned luxury hotel chain) to drink tea on the terrace and enjoy the view of the Río Genil valley. What a very pleasant way to wrap up the day!

IN TIMES OF CRISIS… COLORS

2010-05-16T09:28:00.000-07:00

.
Colored pencils as a rebellion against pessimism.
Colored pencils as a symbol of creativity.
Colored pencils as tools for intervention.
Colored pencils as instruments of participation.
Colored pencils as a song of diversity.
Colored pencils as…

Because we understand that the crisis that invades our lives cannot trap us in pessimism, we present our proposal in images of colors as a symbol of creativity, intervention, participation and diversity. All elements mixed in the painter´s pallet which will help us rise above these moments of so much “grey” news.

In times of crisis, in times of grey… colors, colors, colors…

This is the message from residents of Calle de Imágenes. Each year this neighborhood participates in Córdoba’s May Patio and Balcony Festival in their own special way, decorating not only their balconies but their entire neighborhood. It has been fun watching this year´s display evolve and I find their message particularly uplifting, especially in a country that is currently experiencing an almost 30% rate of unemployment. Definitely food for thought.

In times of crisis… colors.

You can see pictures at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/CalleDeImagenes#

Cost of Living in Spain

2010-05-06T03:58:00.000-07:00

When Scott and I were researching Spain, I looked everywhere for cost of living comparisons between Córdoba, Spain and Portland, Oregon. I found very little information. So I thought that it might be helpful to someone else if I wrote down my observations. It is difficult to quantify some prices as many prices fluctuate depending on the time of day, volume of business, or whether the proprietor feels he can get away with a “tourist” surcharge. I will try to provide an outline as of April 2010.

Rent
We are renting a small furnished apartment, approximately 450 sq. ft. in central Córdoba. The apartment is centrally located, just outside the fashionable older sections of the town. For us it is a great location as almost every bus route stops at Plaza Cólon just across the street. Our rent is 570€ a month and includes water. A note on apartments: An unfurnished apartment in Spain may mean that it is completely unfurnished, no kitchen cabinets, appliances… no sink! Beware! Luckily, we found a place that was furnished adequately and even included standard Spanish kitchen necessities (paella pan, deep fat fryer, basic implements and dishes). The apartment is air-conditioned, but does not have heating. This is not uncommon in Andalusía, winters are generally mild, similar to Los Angeles without the smog. If I annualized the electricity bill over the 18 months that we have rented the apartment, electricity is about 90€ a month. I haven´t noticed any drastic rate increases in the past year.

Telephone & Internet
Basic monthly telephone service costs 14€ which includes local calls. Long distance and calls placed to cell phones are an additional charge. Our phone bill generally runs about 30€ a month. Like in the states, there are lots of different cell phone plans. We have a pay-as-you-go service that averages about 12€ monthly. We have a bundled service for cable television and internet which runs about 55€ a month. As in the USA, you can buy packages of bundled services at better rates but most of these require that you sign a long term contract.

Health Insurance
Medical care is socialized in Spain and far cheaper than in the states. My medical insurance costs just under 70€ a month. Scott’s insurance is furnished by the school, so figure a total insurance cost of 140€ a month. (Compare that to the $1,100/month that we paid in the USA.) The insurance pretty much covers everything, except prescriptions. At the end of the year, we receive a bill for any co-pays that we might have incurred. In 2009, this amounted to 18€ for the year. I have been surprised to find that the care that we have received has been as good, and in many times better, than what we have received in the states. I have struggled with a minor medical problem for over 15 years. My PPO doctor in the USA, and then Kaiser, were repeatedly unable to diagnose the problem correctly. Why? Because on these plans it costs the doctor money if he sends you to a specialist, so many doctors won’t do it unless they have no alternative. My Spanish doctor sent me to a specialist, and the condition was correctly diagnosed and treated… after 15 years. Wait times are about the same, if not shorter. Scott broke his arm and had to avail himself of the emergency room care. They were efficient and again, he received excellent care.

Prescription medications are cheaper, however the selection of available medications is limited. There is a master list of medications that you can purchase. If what you want/need isn’t on the list, it is simply not available. Tylenol is among the drugs unavailable in Spain.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that medical care is a hot button in the United States right now. I am only saying that socialized medicine may not always be bad. Of course, I have been told that in Spain, if you have a major medical problem, you want to purchase a premium policy. I expect that these policies are more expensive. I have also been advised that it is wise to know people that work in the hospitals as this improves the quality of your hospital care, should you need it. (I don’t know how much of this statement is Spanish Culture. In Spain, everything is done through personal connections.) And yes, I have heard it mentioned that sometimes doctors will decide not to authorize medical care in cases where the prognosis is poor (I find this completely unacceptable.) However on the whole, the medical care that we have received in Spain has been excellent. Do I think the Spanish system could be duplicated in the United States? Not a chance. We have too many issues that complicate our medical care in America.

Dental insurance is fairly worthless in Spain. The policies that we have reviewed do not really cover anything. From looking at people’s smiles, dental care is largely regarded as unnecessary.

Basic Cost Rule for other necessities of life: groceries, clothes, appliances, etc.
Most items cost in euros about what you would pay in US dollars. Another words, if you would pay $2.00 for it in America, you should expect to pay 2.00€ for it in Spain. The exchange rate over the past 2 years has fluctuated from $1.30 to $1.50 to 1.00€. At the time of this posting, a euro is hovering around $1.35, so I have used this valuation when I quote exact prices.

Bread
Fresh daily, except on Sunday, and cheap. A 30” long loaf of French bread costs 38 centimos or 52 cents (USD).

Fresh Produce
Fresh produce is generally higher quality. It seems fresher, but that may just be that I frequent the smaller Fruterías instead of the larger supermarkets. Fresh fruits and vegetables are seasonable. When something is out of season, you are not going to find it for any price. Produce, if imported at all, comes mainly from the Canary Islands and Western Europe. In winter, you won’t see summer fruits imported from the southern hemisphere. When it is out of season, you are out of luck. This was a source of great frustration to me recently as I searched for fresh basil in late March and April. Pricing generally follows the basic rule stated above, but applied to the prices for organic produce in the USA. Although in many cases, you will not be getting organic produce at this price point.

Meat, Pork, Poultry and Fish
For meat, pork, poultry and fish, it is easier to provide a table for price comparisons. Of course, often times you buy what is available. Generally with enough notice, you can order what you need, but sometimes even that does not work. I ordered 5 kg of salmon from Antonio for the Salmon Feast, but when I went to pick it up, he told me that he had been unable to find any salmon, even after going to 3 different distributors. He suggested that I go to the local supermarket. Luckily, the supermarket had it, but it was more expensive. Be prepared to know where (on the animal) the cut of meat is taken from and what it looks like, often you are ordering from a large slab on meat.
Item                            Price (€/kg)        Price ($/lb)
Ground Beef                   5.79 €                 $3.55
Chuck Roast                   7.99 €                 $4.90
Steak (Rib Eye)             12.99 €                $7.97
Chicken (whole)              3.59 €                $2.20
Chicken Breasts              4.49 €                $2.76
Pork Loin                        3.59 €                $2.20
Anchovies/Sardines      2.90 €                $1.78
Filet of Sole                     6.80 €               $4.17
White Fish Filet               5.60 €                $3.44
Shark Filets                     7.20 €                $4.42
Salmon or Tuna               9.20 €                $5.65

Clothes and Small Appliances
The basic rule generally applies to these items with a caveat: many times there isn’t a mid-range quality. With clothing, expect to pay Nordstrom prices for J.C Penny quality. Alternatively, you can dress very cheaply buying clothing from Chinos or the open air markets, but pay attention to what you are buying. This is like going to a huge garage sale, quality is questionable. Small appliances (this applies to anything small and electrical), if you can find it, prices start at what the high-end price would be in the states, but the quality will be similar to low or mid-ranged priced appliances.

Chinos satisfy the low-end market. These, on a very small scale, are the Wal-marts and K-marts of Spain. They are referred to Chinos as they are run exclusively by Chinese merchants and feature a wide eclectic range of cheap Chinese imports. Think Pic-N-Save, now think cheaper. The items found in a Chino are the equivalent of “third” and “fourth” rate quality goods. However, sometimes the Chino is the only place where you can find what you need. Quality is poor and merchandise is not returnable, but then again, it is very cheap.

Large Appliances and Electronics
We haven’t purchased any of these items, but I have made a point to check pricing as I walk by and they seem to follow the rule. Remember that European CD’s and DVD’s will not play on American equipment. However we have not had any difficulty getting small European computer peripherals (mice, flash drives, etc.) to work with our American laptop. Large household appliances are smaller in general as most people simply do not have the space. Washing machines, dryers and dishwashers start at 350€ (on sale), refrigerators are about 700€.

Automobile Expenses
We do not own a car, but from advertisements and talking with locals, this is what I understand. Cars will follow the basic cost rule with the following note: Cars made in Europe: Fiat, Cleo, Volkswagen will be more economical, followed by Japanese and American imports. Expect most cars to have a manual transmission. Auto insurance for the first year on a basic car runs about 300€ annually. I have been told that insurance premiums decrease over time if you are not in any accidents. The price for a liter of gasoline has fluctuated between 1.00€ and 1.40€ a liter or between $5.20 and $7.28 per gallon. Now before anyone has a heart attack, remember that in most European cities, most people do not need to use their cars like we do in America. We have lived in Córdoba for almost two years, and not owning a car has only occasionally been inconvenient.

Restaurants and Movies
Prices, like everywhere else, vary widely. How much to you want to spend? Where do you want to eat? The first rule for a reasonably priced meal is stay out of “tourist land”. An average cena (dinner) out for four to six people (you simply do not go out alone in Spain) will cost between 50€ to 60€. A quick lunch at a taverna will run about 3.50€ to 5€ a person. Tapas (hors d'oeuvres) hover between 6€ to 12€ per ration which will easily feed 2-4 people. A coffee in a nice plaza is 1.20€, a glass of wine 2€, soda 1.35€. Beware of the tourist surcharge, prices are rarely posted and vary with the time of day. If the server feels that he can charge more, he will. The Spanish do not tip.

The admission price for a first run movie is 7€. In the summer, the late night “Cines de Verano” admission price is 3.50€. You bring your dinner, sit under the stars and watch a movie projected onto the side of a building. Quite the Spanish experience.

Salmon Feast

2010-04-29T04:09:00.000-07:00

As a “thank you” for making us feel so welcome in Córdoba, I wanted to prepare an American dinner for our Córdoban friends. Many have already experienced a Thanksgiving, so this time, I wanted to prepare an everyday meal. At first, I had thought to make a pot roast as that goes straight back to my southern roots. But finding a pot and oven large enough to accommodate a roast for 26 proved problematic, so I decided to focus on the Pacific Northwest and prepare a Salmon Pesto. (I know, many of you will tell me that “pesto” is Italian and I do not dispute that fact. But Scott and I have traveled over a good portion of Italy and I have never seen Salmon Pesto prepared anywhere other than at McCormick’s in Portland. As you simply cannot get more “Northwest” than McCormick’s, I felt that this recipe fit my requirement.)

Of course, this is Spain and I did not realize the difficulty that I would have finding fresh basil in April. It is spring after all. But this year has been cold and rainy. We have actually been experiencing weather closer to that of Portland. There was no basil… anywhere. I think that my Spanish friends have a good laugh when I go off on one of my food quests. But after weeks of searching, I finally found some very small basil plants. I bought 14, and proceeded to pamper them. Luckily, basil grows very quickly. The plants doubled in size in two weeks, even though it was quite grey and cloudy and after 3½ hours of plucking leaves late Saturday night (I do not recommend this method…) I am happy to announce that there was sufficient basil to make the pesto.

Preparing this meal also underlined some basic differences in belief about food storage. In America, we refrigerate many dairy products that are normally left out in Spain. I am aware of this. So when my friend stopped to pick up the food Saturday afternoon, I pointed out the creamed spinach, the cheeses, the homemade Ranch Dip packaged (and labeled “Ranch Dip”) in an old butter container and a few other items, and asked that she put them in her refrigerator. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication. She refrigerated the spinach, but looked at the rest and decided that it was more important that we have cold beer. Cheese will survive a night on the counter, but mayonnaise and yogurt (the main ingredients in Ranch Dressing) spoil. It was an honest mistake, the Ranch Dressing was in a butter container. Even though she speaks very good English she didn’t see my label. Who refrigerates butter in Spain? Luckily, I had brought most of the ingredients with me to make some fresh dressing and had had the foresight not to send my 3 dozen refrigerated eggs the day before. Cultural differences are an adventure to navigate.

So the meal began with basic party hors d'oeuvres, Veges & Ranch Dip, and Potato Skins and some other favorites. The Spanish reaction to the food was interesting. They looked at the raw vegetables, taken aback and said: “You eat the vegetables raw?” I explained that the vegetables were meant to be eaten with the Ranch Dip. I had prepared more than 2 cups of Ranch Dip (fresh that morning). It was gone in less than 15 minutes. Likewise, the Potato Skins disappeared. When asked for the recipe, I explained that you start by baking the potatoes, which baffled my friends. “You just put them in the oven… nothing else?” It is always fun to share food.

Needless to say, the meal was an enormous success and a good time was had by all. This may actually have been the first Spanish event that we have attended without Iberian ham, goat cheese and olives.

COW DIES AFTER SEXUAL HARASSMENT BY A BURRO

2010-04-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

Translation of an actual article from a newpaper in Andalucía:

A resident of the village of San Roque has solicited compensation for the death of a cow, while it fled the sexual harassment of a burro owned by the municipal government. The owner of the cow alleges that the donkey entered his property chasing his animal with dishonest intentions. The cow, trying to escape, fell down an embankment, and subsequently died.

The story began when the village of San Roque decided to acquire a burro for a live Nativity scene that is staged every year at Christmastime. The burro spends the rest of the year on a local farm, which borders on that of the owner of the deceased cow, who dedicates himself to the production of milk.

The farmer’s lawsuit states that it was the burro that entered his property sexually stalking the cow, while the Ayuntamiento (local government) considers that the cow provoked the donkey. Jose Lara, councilor for the Ayuntamiento of San Roque, explains his version of the deeds: “This is about a strong young burro, and of course, when the cow came out completely naked, with her udders exposed, the animal exceeded himself and attacked.” (Note: the word ‘tetas’ can be translated into English as ‘udders’ or ‘tits’, which may add to your enjoyment of the story)

Now it will be the legal services of the Ayuntamiento that will have to decide if it was sexual harassment on the part of the burro.

Fuente Obejuna

2010-04-19T00:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last hike I’ll do with Llega Como Puedas before returning to the USA. And what an excursion it was! I can’t recall a wetter, muddier, yuckier day. Sorry, there are no photos this time; it never stopped raining long enough for me to pull the camera out. It was a shame to finish the hiking season on such a sour note.

It’s been raining a lot during the last week, but they’ve generally been brief rainfalls with sun in between. The forecast was for more rain today, but I can deal with a brief rainfall. I made sure to pack my poncho and an umbrella and my polainas. I saw that other people had done some clever things with plastic bags, but I really think that if you have to go that far to keep your feet dry, maybe it’s better to just stay at home.

The bus left at 8:00 from our normal meeting point. There were a few drops of rain as I walked to the stop, the proverbial Cordoban “cuatro gotas” (four drops). It continued to rain as we drove into the sierra, through Peñarroya, and on into Fuente Obejuna. This pueblo is famous as the site of the play Fuenteovejuna by the famous Spanish playwright Lope de Vega, a contemporary of Shakespeare. It was based on events during the reign of the Reyes Católicos, Ferdinand and Isabella, in 1476. The villagers of Fuenteovejuna (as it was called then) rose against the tyrannical Commander Guzmán and killed him. To avoid having the penalty fall on any one villager, the people would only confess to the royal inquisitors, “Fuenteovejuna did it.” They were all eventually pardoned by King Ferdinand. I’m told that the people of the pueblo put on a performance of the play every year.

It was still raining when we stopped for breakfast, and also when we went on to the starting point of the hike. We had seen the sun break through briefly along the way, so we were hopeful that it might clear up. It didn’t. I put on my poncho that I’d bought in Switzerland, the one with the cool white cross. For the first part of the hike, my feet stayed relatively dry. We got to the first stream, which was pretty high because of all the rain. We found a place to cross, and everyone made it across without getting their feet wet. All, that is, except for two that fell into the water, which was a good three feet deep at that point. We continued on to the Guadiato River, which was too deep to cross. My feet were getting fairly wet by this time. We struck out across the riverside meadows, which were filled with puddles concealed by the grass. By the time we got to the highway, my feet were squishing in my shoes.

I had thought that the bus was going to pick us up at the highway, but Paco the rutero said, “It’s only five or six more kilometers (3 to 3½ miles), and we’re past the worst part.” And it’s true that the remainder of the walk was along dirt roads. However, with the continuing rain, the roads were waterways. Some of the muddy areas were pretty slippery. I was being careful, because I wasn’t particularly interested in taking a fall and breaking another wrist. On the other hand, having your feet soaking wet gives you a certain freedom; I didn’t have to worry much about stepping in the water. I had snagged my poncho a few times, and the wind was beginning to shred it into tatters. By the time we got to the aldea (a village smaller than a pueblo) of La Coronada, I just wadded it up and threw it into a recycling bin.

The original plan had been to eat lunch in La Coronada and continue on for a couple more hours. With the water conditions, however, even the indefatigable Paco realized that it was time to call in the bus. I enjoyed a glass of fino (Córdoba’s signature white wine) and a shot of anise with lunch; that warmed me up nicely. You just don’t expect this sort of weather in Andalucía. A month ago, people were telling me that it was the wettest rainy season Andalucía had seen in forty years. By now, they’re saying it’s the wettest in sixty years. It’s a shame, because the landscape was really pretty, although it was a bit difficult to enjoy it under the circumstances. What a way to finish the hiking season!

South Italy

2010-04-05T13:26:00.000-07:00

The clock is ticking down on the European adventure. For our last big trip before returning to the USA, we spent Semana Santa in Italy. Depending on how you count the border crossings, this was either the fifth, sixth, or seventh time we’ve been to Italy. On all the other trips, we’ve explored the northern part of the country, which is where most of the tour guides will send you. This time, we decided that we needed to explore the south. It doesn’t have the blockbuster attractions of the north (Firenze, Venezia, Leonardo paintings, and so on), but it has a lot of beautiful views. We didn’t get down to the toe of the boot, but we did make it to the arch. We had a wonderful time. Pictures are at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/South_Italy#

It was another driving vacation…we’re far past the point of being nervous about driving in Europe. On the first day, we bombed straight south on a wide freeway that could have been anywhere in the USA (except for the toll booths). The views got prettier after we bypassed Napoli on the far side of Mt. Vesuvius, and began to head down to the coast.

Our first destination was Scalea, a beach town on the Tyrrhenian Sea. This is definitely not the Italy that most American tourists see; I think this is where Italians go on their beach vacations. In the north, you can count on finding people who speak English. Not in the south! The second day, we continued down the coast as far as the town of San Lucido. We ate lunch at a small restaurant which was probably as far out of tourist-land as we’ve ever been. Communication was a real adventure, but Spanish is close enough to Italian that we were able to get along. Scalea is a rather nondescript beach town, comparable to Cannon Beach or Seaside, but probably not as scenic. The beaches were nice, but it was chilly enough that we didn’t consider going into the water. There are advantages to traveling outside of the high season (lower prices, less people), as well as disadvantages (colder weather). The more ancient part of town was old, but really not terribly pretty. Parts of it were falling into rather unromantic ruin. It takes a little bit longer for “old” to turn into “historical.”

We headed north from Scalea along the coast, and had to make a rather long backtrack when we found the road closed before Sapri. If we were locals, we might have known how to bypass it, but our Italian wasn’t sufficient for asking directions. We finally made it onto the road to Salerno, although the road numbers didn’t match those on our map. As we’ve learned, in Europe you have to navigate by destinations, and not get too hung up on being on a specific road. You’ll get where you’re going… eventually.

Before we got to Salerno, we stopped for a few hours to visit Paestum, an ancient site with some of the finest Greek temples outside of Greece. Before the Roman Empire, the Phoenicians and Greeks created far-flung trade colonies throughout the Mediterranean Sea. The most famous Greek colony was Syracuse on the island of Sicily. Paestum was built around 600 B.C. as an outpost to trade with the Lucanian barbarians (at this time, Rome was still a small town under the rule of the Etruscans). It had a strong surrounding wall, and several beautiful temples. We can only speculate what the relations were with the Lucanians, but I have a picture of the elegant, cultured Greeks dealing with the fur-clad barbarians. The Lucanians conquered the city around 500 B.C., and tried to emulate the Greek style of living. This lasted until around 300 B.C., when the Lucanians were conquered by the Romans. The Romans kept the temples, but built one of their characteristically well-laid-out cities alongside. With the fall of the Empire, the site was abandoned due to encroaching swamps, and left to itself for the next thousand years. Today, the site is nearly as well preserved as Pompeii. For me, Paestum was the high point of the trip.

For the next few days, we were on the Amalfi coast for some of the most hair-raising driving I’ve done in Europe. And trust me, we’ve done some hair-raising drives over here. Thin, twisty roads with no center divider, hanging on the edge of the bluffs down to the ocean, with insane local drivers barreling around the hairpin turns. To drive this area right, you’d need to be James Bond driving a red Ferrari convertible, with the henchmen of Dr. No chasing you. The views are beautiful, but you can’t enjoy the view after you’ve had a heart attack.

Tonya timed things out so that we had an afternoon in Rome before flying out the next morning. Of all the cities we’ve visited in the last year and a half, I have to say that Rome is the most pleasant for random wandering. Every time you turn a corner, you see some new wonder. And we made it back to Córdoba in time for the last few processions of Semana Santa. All in all, a perfectly delightful week.

La Virgen de la Cabeza

2010-03-25T07:40:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday’s hike was a little dull; normal Andalucían landscape, gray skies and a bit of drizzle. Dull, that is, until we had put about 20km (13 miles) behind us. At that point, it turned from a natural outing to a cultural outing, enjoying the church and the war monument at La Virgen de la Cabeza. That made the day worthwhile, in my opinion. At Spanish historical sites, it’s interesting to see the layers of history. For instance, the site was a center of Republican resistance during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). Before that, it was a pilgrimage site, where a church had been built in the early 1200’s. Before that….who knows? Andalucía has been continuously inhabited since Stone Age times. See the photos at

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/LaVirgenDeLaCabeza#
Here is my translation of the inscription on the war monument: “When all of the province of Jaen had succumbed to the enemy, the shout of rebellion was heard in these crags. The heroic Captain Cortes, leading 200 civil guards in the sanctuary and 60 in Lugar Nuevo, were responsible for 1,200 women, children, and seniors in the first and 300 in the second. Some fellow countrymen, able to bear arms, had joined with the defenders. The siege began on August 17, 1936, and in the first days of October, the National Air Force began to supply the defenders. From December 31, Captain Haya is another hero, daily defying death as he carries his precious cargo by air again and again to the sanctuary. The days pass. Hunger, sickness, and enemy attacks continue to thin the ranks of the defenders, but their confidence in the protection of the Holy Virgin is not extinguished, and again and again the offers of surrender are rejected. On April 12, 1937, the heroic Lieutenant Ruano happily leads the evacuation of Lugar Nuevo, reduced by enemy artillery to a mountain of rubble. On the 25th, a touching message is released from the sanctuary: ‘Goodbye. Hail Spain.’ On May 1st, Cortes falls wounded for the second time, this time mortally. The munitions run out, the resistance is extinguished, and at 5:00 in the afternoon when the horde erupted into the sanctuary, there were less than 30 men still bearing a weapon. The rest had died or were out of commission, gravely wounded. Walker or pilgrim that visits these places, stop and raise to the Highest an emotional prayer for the soul of those who in these crags honored their homeland making the generous offering of their lives…” This affects me all the more when you realize that “the enemy” they’re talking about were other Spaniards!

Here is my translation of the inscription on the statue of Juan de Rivas, the shepherd whose vision of the Virgin on this hill inspired the construction of the first church: “To Juan de Rivas, shepherd of Colomera, to whom the Virgin showed herself on the 12th of August, 1227, to be the consolation, the glory, the joy, and the honor of our people, this was erected in 1974.”

La Cimbarra

2010-03-17T05:39:00.000-07:00

We may finally be past the worst of the rain, so I’m out hiking again. The hike entered the Parque Natural de la Cascada de la Cimbarra (natural parks are not to be confused with national parks, although I haven’t quite figured out the legal distinction). During the hike, we got a little bit of everything: sun, rain, and even a little bit of snow (yes, snow!). I’d thought we were past that. Since there’s been so much rain this winter, the rivers were higher than normal. At one point this meant having to ford a stream which got to mid-calf….not bad, but a bit inconvenient. The high water also led to one unfortunate accident; Monsalud, the rutera, took a bad fall while crossing another stream. We’d all crossed the stream on rocks, but she just had bad luck. We were nearly back to the parking area at that point, so she didn’t have to walk far before we found someone to drive her back into the pueblo. The next day, I heard from her that she’d broken her wrist. It brings up an interesting philosophical question: would you rather have wet feet and a healthy wrist, or dry feet and a broken wrist?

Take a look at the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/LaCimbarra#

Rainfall

2010-02-17T04:21:00.000-08:00

In theory, Andalucía has a fairly dry climate. In theory. We have been lucky enough to be here for the wettest recorded winter in Córdoba's history. According to the newspaper, the measured rainfall since September (about 4 ½ months) has been 25% higher than what Córdoba normally sees in an entire year. Now, this is still nothing like a Portland winter. But…but….but….here you notice it more. There’s a lot more street life, and nothing puts a damper on street life like a heavy rain. And when you have to walk or take a bus to all of your destinations, you find yourself taking careful note of the weather. I even passed on a hike near Granada last weekend, because I wasn’t interested in braving the rain and snow.

I have made an interesting observation regarding rainfall measurement. In the USA, of course, we measure rainfall in inches. In Spain (and probably in all of Europe), rainfall is measured in l/m2 (liters per square meter...sorry, the blog doesn't seem to support superscripts). Now, if you think about it, the European measurement of volume of rain per unit area makes a lot of sense. Using units of inches for rain is dependent on the measurement method (the depth of water in a vertical-sided container), but volume of rain per unit area is independent of how you measure it.

But, how do you compare l/m2 with inches? Here is where the glory of the metric system becomes obvious. There is a straightforward relationship between units of length, area, volume, and weight that just doesn’t exist in the English system. For instance, one liter of volume is a cube with sides of 10cm (or 0.1 meters). Therefore, one liter per square meter is

(0.1m)3/(1m)2 = .001m

which is simply one millimeter. Therefore, a measurement in l/m2 can be thought of simply as millimeters of rain (comparable to inches of rain).

Sadly, this simple relationship doesn’t exist in the English system. How many inches of rain would correspond to one gallon of rain per square foot? Of course you can calculate it, but it would be a bit ugly.

So why does America continue to struggle against the metric system?

La lluvia amarilla

2010-02-10T04:27:00.000-08:00

One of my fun activities in Spain has been participation in a book club at the instituto. During the school year, we’ve read quite a variety of things. Some of the books have been translated from English, and others were written originally in Spanish. The other members like it when we’re reading the translated books, because I can often offer insights that would not be obvious to someone not familiar with American or English culture. However, I like it better when we read novels written originally in Spanish, because it gives me those same insights into Spanish culture.

Our last book (“La lluvia amarilla”, by Julio Llamazares) provided a good example of this. This is a book which would never be a best-seller in America, because the characters are too….well….too Spanish. Their actions would simply be incomprehensible to an American reader. I see that the book was translated into English back in 2004 (“The Yellow Rain”), but it never achieved much success. (The title in English is unfortunate; it makes me think of someone urinating.) In Spain, however, it is considered a modern classic. My companions in the book club told me that certainly the protagonist of the novel is an extreme case, but that they could understand how he felt. I’m not sure that I can.

It is certainly not a cheerful story. It charts the death of a small pueblo in the Pyrenees. The population had been diminishing over the years as the hard economic times forced people to seek work in the big cities. Finally, there is only one man living in the ruins of the pueblo, completely alone for ten years. He never considers leaving the pueblo where his family has lived for hundreds, or maybe thousands, of years. He is so obsessed with death that I found it difficult to read the book.

It is a phenomenon that happens in America as well, small rural towns shrinking or even disappearing as people move to the cities. Still, in America, I think that we see it differently. Certainly people like their home towns, but we simply are too young a country to have the same kind of attachment to a place that many of the rural Spanish do. Although the story is completely different, the American classic “The Grapes of Wrath” touches on some of the same themes. It’s a depressing novel as well, but it ends on a hopeful note. The idea of moving toward something new, as opposed to lamenting what is lost, is something that I consider very American.

A Spanish person’s attachment to his pueblo is understandable, even if I can’t quite understand the depth of the feeling. It reminds me of a Spanish movie I saw some years ago (in the original Spanish, of course!), in which a man had to flee his pueblo after killing someone in a complex love triangle. He finally returned, saying, “I would rather die in my pueblo than live somewhere else.” I think that says it all.

Sierra de Albayate

2010-02-03T13:02:00.000-08:00

This week’s hike was considerably more pleasant than the last one…and I think that the views were better as well. No mud, reasonable grades, no injuries, and we were back in Córdoba by 7:00pm. Very nice. The Sierra de Albayate is near the pueblo of Priego, about halfway between Córdoba and Granada. It’s a lovely area; many people told me that it’s their favorite part of the province of Córdoba. One of my colleagues is from Priego, and has said many times that he wants to take us out there one weekend. We saw it briefly from the bus on the way, and I’d like to get back there for a closer look.

The hike ended in the pueblo of Almedinilla. The word “charming” is over-used in the description of European villages, but Almedinilla is…well…charming. I wouldn’t mind exploring there some more as well. Enjoy the pictures of the hike at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/Sierra_de_Albayate#

Pico Huma Hike

2010-01-27T07:39:00.000-08:00

We’re well into the new year, the $%&@#!! cast is off my arm, and all is right with the world. I still don’t have full mobility in my left wrist, but it’s getting better day by day. I decided it was time to go on one of the famous Llega Como Puedas hikes. Last Sunday we went down to Pico Huma, in Malaga province. The forecast was 80% probability of rain…or, if you’re optimistic, 20% probability of no rain. We got lucky. There wasn’t a drop of rain all day, but it was obvious that it had been raining heavily not long before. I’d slog up the soggy hillsides until the weight of the mud threatened to pull my shoes off, then scrape it off against a convenient rock or tree. It got a bit tricky to clamber over the rocks with only one good hand, but I managed not to break any more bones. The views were lovely; take a look at the pictures:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/PicoHuma

It ended up being a much longer than expected day; I started walking to the bus just after 7:00 in the morning, and didn’t get home until 11:30 that night. This was directly caused by the number of new members that we had on the trip. A lot of the new members are youngsters (OK, in their 20’s). This ended up being a good news / bad news situation. Good, in that we get new blood for the club. Bad, in that some of them were over-confident in their abilities. One of them managed to twist her knee as we were approaching the peak, at a point where it would be no easier to turn back than to just continue on to the end. Short of calling in the Guardia Civil, there was nothing she could do but tough it out. And she did. These things happen; it’s nobody’s fault; but it meant that the whole group was moving much slower. A number of us were getting nervous as the day wore on. Nobody wanted to be caught on the mountainside after dark. We made it down about 7:00, just as it was getting truly dark.

That’s when we were caught with the second dilemma. Some of the other 20-somethings had given up on the initial ascent, and returned to the starting point in the Valle de Abdalajís. This meant that the bus had to return there to pick them up. There had been a landslide at some point, and the normal road back was closed. As far as I can tell, the bus driver got lost taking the alternate route. It took us an hour and a half to get there….the straight-line distance was only 15km. And after that was the two-hour ride to Córdoba. And after that was the mile walk from the bus stop back home. Quite a day.

Whenever you get a group of “n” Spanish people together, and a decision must be made, you’ll get “n” different opinions….each of them being shouted loudly. Since the hikes are generally cross-country, there are decision points for the route. This bothered me on the first excursion or two, but I soon reached the conclusion that you just wait for the ruteros (the route leaders) to reach a decision, and then the group would continue on. Of course, I often wondered what would happen if they couldn’t reach an agreement. Would the group split? Surely such a thing would never happen. Well….this time, it happened. I was faced with the nasty decision of which group to follow. There had been no rain during the day, but there was a danger that it could start at any time. I think that parts of the route would have simply been impossible with rain falling. I finally followed the group with more people, figuring that if we were going to have to be rescued by emergency crews, that was the better place to be. It all came out fine; the groups re-joined at the bottom of the mountain after an hour. That was the sort of adventure that I’d happily do without.

As I look back over what I’ve written, it sounds as if I am complaining. I’m really not. It was a good, strenuous hike with beautiful views. I had a really good time….seasoned with a few more adventures than I’d expected. Just another Spanish experience.

In the Quest for a Simpler Life

2010-01-03T01:41:00.000-08:00

There were a number of reasons that influenced our decision to take an extended sabbatical. Among them was the desire to simplify and escape the “Hurry, Hurry, Ding, Ding” that permeated our lives. So after a little over a year, I find myself reflecting on this grand adventure.

In many ways, moving to Spain was like stepping back into the 1950’s. This came with its own set of joys, frustrations, and some interesting insights. So let’s suppose for a moment that you have a basic home (running water, basic kitchen appliances, and basic climate control, circa 1950 USA), food and medical insurance. What else do you require to be happy? What are you willing to live without in order to have a quieter life? Or perhaps, the better question is: What is really important to you?

Of course, what is important is different for everyone. For Scott, it is his piano. For me, the list is a little longer… the availability of entertainment (books and an occasional movie) in my native language, a washing machine and a clothes dryer. I would add that this adventure would be almost impossible without a computer and DSL connection – only because I use them manage our finances while we are abroad and to stay connected to friends and family back home. In the states, I am sure that I would find the lack of a computer liberating on many levels. I miss my glass studio, but faced with the choice between “playing with glass” or a vacation, the vacation wins without a second thought. So add vacations to my list as well. My response left me stunned. I had expected to miss having a car. But I find that I enjoy the walking, and the weight loss that comes with it. The missing dishwasher doesn’t faze me at all… Scott does the dishes!

Last February, my brother and sister-in law kindly drove to Portland and packed up all our household belongings and put everything into storage. This event gave our sabbatical in Spain a finality that it had not had before. Suddenly, we were completely cut off from the majority of our stuff. But at the same time, this was strangely liberating. Things are nice, but often owning them steals your time, money and in many ways, your life. You end up working longer hours, not to support your family, but to support your stuff. It is really kind of sad.

After 15 months without our things, and not really missing them, intelligent people would toss the boxes without even opening them… Yeah… Easier said than done.

Happy 2010

2010-01-01T03:00:00.000-08:00

I apologize to everyone for going so long without any blog entries. I blame it on the broken wrist; this one-handed typing is deucedly awkward. With luck, the cast will be coming off on January 11.

The new year finds us still in Spain, mentally preparing for a return to the USA in June. I find myself reflecting on the risks we take in life; what is acceptable, and what is not? What is important to you? Tonya and I have taken a huge risk by coming to Europe. Some would call it crazy…and yes, more than one person has said that to my face. What is important enough to you that you’d be willing to turn your life upside-down to do it?

Being an engineer, I was very methodical as we weighed life choices a few years ago. Unfortunately, a conventional cost-versus-benefit analysis doesn’t work well in this situation. There are hundreds of good, solid, sober reasons not to do something like this, and the benefit is a nebulous “because I really want to do it.” No, you can’t look for a left-brain solution here.

That’s not to say that I recommend abandoning reason altogether. You just have to be careful not to make life decisions based on fear. Let’s face it; most fears are imaginary. For instance, there’s the fear of not being able to find work when we return. I’d call that an imaginary fear, because I simply don’t know what will happen. Staying in a job doesn’t guarantee safety either; any one of us could be laid off tomorrow. The price of playing it “safe” would have been that we never got this grand adventure.

Be careful also about waiting for “the right moment.” I’ve talked to several older people who tell me that they’d worked hard all their lives with some dream in mind (whatever it might be). By the time that they retired, or were financially comfortable, they no longer had the energy or the health to make their dream a reality. Tragic? It makes me want to cry.

I hope that all of your dreams become realities in 2010.

Broken Arm

2009-11-25T06:40:00.000-08:00

The Junta changed our health insurance company from Sanitas to Asisas with the new school year. Happily, I haven’t had any reason to try out the new health plan…not until last week, that is. I managed to fall and break my left wrist. A Colles fracture of the radius, for those who know about such things.

The incident occurred during my first game of padel, sort of a combination of tennis and racketball. The padel itself looks like the result of an unholy union between a tennis racket, a ping-pong paddle, and the vice-principal’s dreaded “Board of Education” back in junior high school. I brilliantly snagged my foot on the bottom of the net and fell in the perfect manner to maximize the damage. My friend José drove me to the hospital, and Franci came over on his motorcycle to see what was going on. Our wives were all visiting at Esther and Franci’s, doubtlessly giggling about us silly men. The doctor (Doctora Consuelo, which can translate as “comfort”…love the name) had to set the bone in a highly disagreeable procedure that I’d recommend avoiding if possible. I’m now sporting a lovely cast.

My friends agreed that we needed a more dignified story to post on the web page for the padel group. The official story, therefore, is that I was on my way to the padel court when I noticed a shoe falling from above. Looking up, I saw a small child hanging from a third-floor balcony, in imminent danger of falling. With no thought for my own safety, I shoved a moving car out of the way and leaped several meters to catch the child as he plunged toward the cobblestoned street. Despite having broken my wrist while diverting the car, I was able to save the child from what would have doubtlessly been a fatal impact. The full story, along with this picture, was posted on the web page.

Some of you will remember Bob the octopus, who I use in the children’s classes. Bob suffered an unfortunate accident around the same time…the kids filled me in on the details. Bob was playing with his friend Popo the crab near the beach, when he saw that Popo was in danger from a giant wave. He pulled Popo to safety, unfortunately trapping one of his arms beneath a rock. The grateful Popo took Bob to the Under-the-Sea hospital, where he was fitted with a cast. Happily, he has enough remaining arms that he doesn’t expect to be inconvenienced at all. His friends have been amusing themselves by autographing the cast (using waterproof markers, of course).

Fuencaliente

2009-11-18T01:39:00.000-08:00

This was not the most interesting hike I’ve done with Llega Como Puedas; much of the walk was along flat, straight, and dusty roads. Still, there were some pretty views. I found the pueblo of Fuencaliente particularly appealing. See the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/Fuencaliente#

Pronunciation Snafus

2009-11-12T01:01:00.001-08:00

For Spanish speakers, pronunciation of English words can be very difficult. The Spanish language has only five vowel sounds, and the English language has no less than fourteen. To them, the words “red”, “rid”, and “read” sound nearly identical. This can lead to some amusing misunderstandings.

The other day in class, I was explaining the word “guy.” I pointed out that a guy could be any male, saying, “For instance, Pepe over there is a guy.” Pepe looked startled and said, “No, I’m not!” Yes, you guessed it. He thought I’d said “gay.”

Perol

2009-11-05T05:20:00.000-08:00

The perol (pronounced pey-ROL) is a fine Córdoban tradition. Not a Spanish tradition, and not an Andalucían tradition, but a Córdoban tradition. You probably won’t find it in your Spanish-English dictionary. In my old dictionary with all of the older, little-used words, I find the definition “Metallic container in the form of a half-sphere.” In Córdoba, however, the perol is an all-day picnic out in the country. It has all kinds of eatables and drinkables, but it always involves a big pot of Córdoba rice. This is not paella, as our friends always hasten to inform us. A paella is cooked in an oven, but the Córdoba rice is cooked over a fire. In the old days it would have been an open campfire; nowadays there is generally a stove available somewhere. It’s enough of a custom that there are businesses that do paid perols for the tourists. Proper Córdobans turn up their noses; doing a perol with a paid staff is missing the point. Whatever else you can say, it’s a fine way to spend a day in the country.

The occasion for Sunday’s perol was a fortieth-birthday celebration for our friend Franci. His wife Esther had been planning this for some time. It was to be a surprise, but it’s a bit difficult to do a surprise perol, since you have to get the birthday boy out to the country. Also, Esther wanted to make sure that we could go under cover in case of rain, always a possibility at this time of year. When I asked her how many people would be there, she said, “Oh, eighty or a hundred.” Wow. We must remember that Franci has six brothers (I think). Counting wives and kids and Esther’s family and all of the friends, the numbers add up pretty quickly. We ended up at an ermita, a church building very similar to the one we saw at the Pozoblanco romería last spring. It’s the home of some hermandad. Esther’s uncle had been an important church official in Córdoba. Although he’s now retired, he still had enough clout to get us access to the building.

The building was very cozy, lined with heavy wooden tables and with a big fireplace. The walls were covered with photographs of romerías and festivals and weddings going back to the 1930’s. It had a nice, big, old-fashioned kitchen and an ample tree-covered yard. Happily, the weather was nice, so we were able to do all the serious business of eating outside. The event had a level of organization that I hadn’t expected. They had brought rags and big water tubs to wash the outside chairs and tables. There were appropriate bathroom supplies so that we wouldn’t have to take advantage of the church stocks. Everybody brought a dish to share, as well as the characteristic big, round paella pans.

Eventually, Franci showed up. The cover story was that a friend had taken him out motorcycling, and was responsible for getting him to the ermita. Franci was appropriately surprised. As I heard later, he’d expected that something was going on, but didn’t realize how big a crowd would be there. He’d been giving Esther a bad time, saying that he wanted to do something for his birthday. She’s been putting him off, saying that everyone was going to be out of town that weekend, and that they’d do something the following weekend. Although it was his birthday, of course he had to lead the preparation of the Córdoba rice. That’s his traditional job.

After everyone had their rice, we took a stroll with a number of people. It was just getting to twilight, and had cooled down a bit from the afternoon heat. Unfortunately, I was so full that it was a bit uncomfortable. No matter how much I try to pace myself at these sorts of events, I always end up eating too much. When we returned, there were the obligatory desserts. Tonya’s apple pies were a big hit.

As if responding to some unspoken signal, everyone began stacking the chairs and tables shortly afterward. We ended up getting home around 8:00. That was kind of nice; usually, when we go out on something like this, we have to be mentally prepared to be out until the wee hours of the morning. Spanish social events are not for the weak.

Cerro Pedro Lopez

2009-10-25T13:52:00.000-07:00

We had perfect weather this weekend for another Llega Como Puedas hike in the Córdoba Sierra. Since the excursion was so close to home, there were a lot of people in the group. Not that I don’t like having lots of people come, but it tended to make the trail a bit crowded. See the pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/CerroPedroLopez#

Theoretically this hike was shorter than last week’s (15km, versus 20km), but it felt longer. That may be because it involved a lot more ups and downs. I was happy to have my ski poles on some of the steep cross-country inclines.

The nice part about this hike was that we got to see some ruins: a Roman bridge dating from the first century A.D., and a Caliphate bridge dating from the 9th century A.D. It’s interesting that after a year in Andalucía, I can identify a Muslim bridge just from the shape of the arches.

Now, the Roman bridge isn’t the well-maintained one that people usually associate with Córdoba. Both of these bridges are remote from the city, and have been left to fall into ruin over the centuries. As you can tell from the pictures, the Roman bridge is doing better than the Caliphate one. The fact is that structures do not stay looking pristine over long periods of time without a consistent program of maintenance. In previous centuries, people weren’t necessarily interested in keeping the original design of the structures when doing upgrades. As a result, most of today’s well-preserved medieval (or earlier) buildings are curious mixtures of styles spread out over multiple centuries. When you see something that hasn’t been maintained…like these bridges…you can see what they must have originally looked like. Of course, you need some imagination to see past the ravages of time.

Bob the Octopus

2009-10-24T08:16:00.000-07:00

You can use the strangest things as teaching tools. When I began teaching younger kids this year (outside of Gran Capitán), I went looking for appropriate visuals. I found Bob the octopus at a little shop, and bought him for 3€. He’s turned out to be one of the better purchases I’ve ever made. I use Bob while talking to the young kids; whoever is holding Bob gets to talk, and everyone else has to listen. The kids love him.

Bob seems to have become something of a celebrity. The other day, I was teaching a class of Gran Capitán students that I hadn’t met before. At the end of the class, I asked if they had any questions. I was taken aback when one of the students asked why I hadn’t brought Bob. “How do you know about Bob?” I asked in surprise.

It turned out to be complicated. One evening, I had come directly to Gran Capitán after teaching a group of younger kids. When I opened my backpack in the teachers’ lounge, some of my colleagues saw Bob, and so I told them the story. Ana, a French teacher, was apparently impressed. So impressed, in fact, that she told one of her classes that I was using Bob the octopus. And voila! Bob was suddenly famous. He’s in great demand; I may have to hire an agent for him.

Naked in your own home

2009-10-23T05:40:00.000-07:00

From here in Spain, we’ve been following with some amusement the story of the guy who was arrested in Virginia for being seen naked in his own home. This morning, I had an interesting conversation with one of the other teachers. He was completely mystified by the story, for two reasons. First, what was the big deal about someone being naked? There are nude beaches all over the place in Europe, and for a child to see a naked man is just not unusual. Second, why were all those windows uncovered? Here in Córdoba, not only are all the windows protected by heavy grates, but they are covered by persianas (flexible metal coverings). Spanish people have a perfect horror of people being able to see into their homes, and they seem to think that the streets are crawling with robbers. (I haven’t seen any particular evidence of that.) Of course, all this has the unfortunate side effect of making most home interiors rather dark.

Ah, cultural relativism!

Vereda del Pretorio Hike

2009-10-18T11:20:00.000-07:00

I officially kicked off the new season with Llega Como Puedas, the hiking club that I’ve been enjoying so much over the last year. My first hike was to Vereda del Pretorio, in the Córdoba sierra. I enjoy all of the LCP excursions, but they generally mean a pretty long day: one to two hours on the bus each way, and an extensive drink-beer-and-chat session afterward. It’s not unusual to leave at 7:00 in the morning, and not return until 8:00 in the evening. Since we stuck close to home this time, there were no long bus rides. I had a very pleasant hike and was back in my shower by 4:00.

The city of Córdoba extends a little way up into the sierra, so the trailhead was actually within city limits. The first part of the hike follows the path of the old Roman road (the Praetorian road) which ran from Córdoba to the mines in the sierra. The landscape is very reminiscent of southern California; lots of oak forest, and pretty dry. Some of my hiking companions found it a bit hot, but I thought it was perfect hiking weather. Though I neglected to apply sunscreen, I didn’t get sunburned at all.

Though enjoyable, it wasn’t one of the more scenic hikes I’ve done in Andalucía. You can see the few pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/Vereda_del_Pretorio#

Language Exercises for Students

2009-10-11T03:17:00.000-07:00

During the last year in Spain, I’ve been making lots of use of teaching tools. Books, newspapers, videos, Internet pages; there are lots of possibilities. There is an amazing amount of video resources available on YouTube. Songs are good for the children. Bingo is a big hit (“There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name….”). Kindergarten games like Simon Says, more advanced games like Twenty Questions or Scrabble…all of these offer a teacher opportunities to make students learn without realizing that they’re learning.

The one seemingly obvious resource that I don’t like to use is Hollywood movies. From a technical standpoint, they use a lot of slang, and the actors don’t tend to speak very clearly. Students who try to watch American movies usually come away feeling discouraged when they can’t understand what they’re hearing. And as for the content….well, the next time you’re watching a Hollywood blockbuster, think about how it sounds to someone who is trying to learn English. If you want to learn how to swear, of course, they’re a great resource.

Recently one of my students watched the movie American Gangster (about black criminal gangs in New York City) and came back with lots of questions. Now, how do you explain a sentence like “Ain’t y’all n----rs never seen no hoochies before?” That led to an interesting discussion about inner-city language, and how there are some words that you just don’t use in America under any circumstances.

I do not propose censorship of movies. Still, I’m afraid that our movie industry isn’t doing us any favors in how America is viewed in other parts of the world.

Teaching small children

2009-10-07T06:24:00.000-07:00

The new school year has begun, bringing with it a whole crop of new children. In addition to my formal teaching at Gran Capitán, I have a number of new private students. These include a group of seven-year-olds and a group of ten-to-thirteen-year-olds. I’ve been getting unexpected enjoyment out of teaching the small children; up until now, I’ve mostly taught adults and older teenagers. Of course, the private groups are much smaller, with five or six kids. That seems to be an ideal class size.

There are also unexpected pitfalls. The other day, I was reading “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves” to them (a considerably tamer version than we read in The Thousand and One Nights). The kids were getting serious cases of the giggles whenever I’d mention Ali Baba’s name. My mind was in English mode, so it took a little time for me to catch on. “Baba” in Spanish means….drool, or slobber. Sigh. You’d think that after a year in Spain, I’d be more sensitized to these sorts of things.

The Submerged Economy

2009-10-04T06:03:00.000-07:00

Recently I read a very interesting article in the Diario Córdoba, the local newspaper. The economy is bad all over the world, but Spain is second only to Italy in Western European unemployment. In certain areas, the unemployment rate is around 30%. When unemployment gets this high, governments begin to worry about increasing crime and social unrest. But none of this is happening in Spain. Why?

As an emergency measure, President Zapatero (PSOE, Partido Socialista Obrero Español, or Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party) extended unemployment benefits. The unemployed people can receive an additional 420€ per month, an amount widely considered to be a joke. In Spain, it is estimated that there are over half a million people who qualify to receive the additional payment. However, only 28,000 people have signed up. Why?

The answer, according to this article, is that the “submerged economy” is booming. Even though unemployment is very high and the economy is in the tank, there is actually more money changing hands on the streets. People who accept the symbolic 420€ per month must also attend employment training classes. However, most workers choose to spend their time working in undocumented jobs which actually bring in money….money which is not subject to the high Earned Value Taxes.

This illustrates what can happen when a government becomes “too” socialist, but maintains a free market. Businesses will choose to operate under the radar, rather than going out of business because they can’t afford the high taxes. The people who really pay the price for this are the workers. By working in undocumented positions, they are much more exposed to abuse by employers. Of course the government attempts to enforce the labor laws, but the sheer number of workers and businesses makes it a near-impossible job.

Is there a lesson for America in all this?

One Year in Córdoba

2009-09-24T10:42:00.000-07:00

Today marks our one-year anniversary in Córdoba. We left the United States from New York´s JFK Airport on September 15, 2008, and arrived here on September 24, 2008. I never thought we'd ever be out of the United States for an entire month, let alone an entire year. It's been a year of ups and downs, of joys and traumas, of unexpected problems and unexpected blessings. We'll be back in the USA next year, but I have a feeling we'll never be the same.

Return to Switzerland

2009-09-24T03:59:00.000-07:00

During our few days in Switzerland in June and July, we had lots of rain. Everything was beautiful, but we would have liked to have more time to explore. Upon the recommendation of the locals, we came back in September. Good recommendation. We didn’t avoid the rain completely….that would be a lot to ask in Switzerland…but in our week there, we had two gloriously clear days and four overcast-but-with-nice-temperatures days. In my book, that’s pretty darned good. See the pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/Switzerland_September2009#

To maximize the number of new places we visited, we took a different route this time, flying into Zürich and driving a rental car through Lucerne and on to Lauterbrunnen. The northern part of Switzerland is green and hilly and pretty, but it´s in the south that you see the magnificent Alpine scenery. We stayed at the same hotel where we stayed in July, although a different room. It had all of the expected luxuries, except a shower! There was a handheld sprayer in the bathtub, so we were able to make do for the week. I didn´t complain….much.

The Jungfrau area doesn´t have the highest peaks in Europe (those are in the Caucasus), or even in the Alps, but it does boast the Jungfraujoch, the highest railroad station in Europe at 3,454 meters (11,332 feet). From the Jungfraujoch, you can go walking across a glacier to Mönchsjochhütte, one of those pleasant mountain hüttes, where you can have a drink while enjoying the mountain scenery. That’s a civilized way to go hiking….take the train or the cable car up to the high places, and then walk along relatively level trails. It felt a bit strange to enjoy views from the peaks without having to sweat to get there. Another nice view was from the Schilthorn, where they’d just finished filming the latest James Bond movie.

During most of the week, there was good visibility in the valleys, but the mountain peaks were in the clouds. This created an interesting sensation when ascending in the cable cars…you’re enjoying a beautiful view, and then suddenly it’s as if you’re inside a ping pong ball.

This trip seems to have marked the transition from summer to autumn in Córdoba. When we left, it was over 100⁰F and we had the air conditioner running. When we returned, it was 70⁰F and raining. Wow.

Beach Weekend

2009-08-24T03:44:00.000-07:00

Córdobans tell us that July and August in Córdoba are the worst… and they are not exaggerating. It is hot! Okay, not as hot as Phoenix is in July and August, and the hills are a golden California brown, so it doesn´t feel as oppressive as the desert. But still, 105 degrees is hot, especially when coupled with a little humidity. The heat is a wee bit easier to deal with in Spain than in the USA, mainly because no one is expected to do anything between about 2:00pm and about 5:00 pm, and generally not before 10:00 pm. I have been managing, but we´ve both been going a little stir crazy, trapped in the apartment because it is too hot to do anything, even at 11:00 pm. Scott suggested that we go south to a beach in Cadíz or Malaga for the weekend, and the idea of getting away sounded lovely.

But… it dawned on me that what appealed to me were my memories of our beach trips in Oregon. Pleasant walks along the sand in comfortably warm temperatures, relaxing in the shade with a book to the sound of the waves, romantic sunset strolls… You get the idea. Lying in the sun has not been my idea of a good time since I was in my early twenties. I am very fair skinned and I burn very quickly. The sun is not my friend. And, my experience with Mediterranean Beaches has not been particularly enchanting. It consists of a day on the French Riviera, in Nice, France when Scott contracted sun stroke and one trip to Malaga in the winter. The Riviera, in my opinion, was a big zero. I loved our hotel in Eze, but the rest… I do not understand all the hype. The Riviera beaches consist of hot stones. Even if I had wanted to lay out in the sun, those beaches are not especially appealing. The beach in Malaga was okay… not Southern California by a long shot, but at least some sand. Still, it is really hot, so maybe the beach would be better. We decided to go south to Torremolinos, just west of Malaga, in the renowned Costa del Sol of Spain. If nothing else, it would get us out of the apartment. Besides, it was our 28th anniversary after all.

And… It was hot… Miserable actually walking to the hotel, and then waiting for a couple of hours for the hotel staff to show us how to operate the air-conditioning, which was not intuitive. But after that, it was fabulous! In the heat of the day, we found a place in the shade by the pool. It is amazing what a dip in cool water will do for your outlook on life. In the very late afternoon, we went for a walk along the very pleasant beach. The beach at Torremolinos is very different from those in California, Oregon or even Hawaii. The beach ranges from fine to coarse sand, to small pebbles in some areas, and slopes quite steeply into the water. We bought some floats and went bobbing in the gentle waves. Floats are a must, and an ideal way to experience the Mediterranean. Like so many places that we have been, I could go back.

Cines de verano

2009-08-13T07:25:00.000-07:00

In summertime, with the heat, people in Andalucía live by night. (Like the vampires, I suppose.) One of the many late-night diversions are the cines de verano (summer movies). These are like drive-in theaters, but without cars. You come in with your munchies, or even your dinner if you like, and sit watching a movie under the stars. This week with the Perseid meteor showers, it makes for a nice show. There’s a snack bar complete with alcoholic drinks….the most popular is the “tinto de verano”, sort of like a wine cooler, with red wine and soda water on ice. It creates quite an agreeable atmosphere. The first show is never earlier than 10:00pm, and there’s generally a second show after midnight. Night owls of the world, unite!

One interesting thing with watching movies in Spanish is that they don’t translate the titles directly. A direct translation of a title won’t always work in the other language….for instance, the Spanish movie “Abrazos rotos” by Pedro Almodóvar would translate as “Broken Hugs”, which just sounds odd in English. It’s a marketing decision; you want a title which sounds good to the people who’d be seeing the movie here. Here are some of the more entertaining examples of movie names translated into Spanish:

Animal House => Desmadre a la americana (literally, “Wild party, American-style”)

Blame it on Río => Lío en Río (literally, “Trouble in Río”…notice the rhyme)

Child’s Play (remember “Chucky”?) => El muñeco diabólico (literally, “The diabolical doll”)

Men in Tights => Las locas, locas aventuras de Robin Hood (literally, “Robin Hood’s crazy, crazy adventures”)

Sometimes, the movies also have unexpected surprises. The recent movie of “Che, guerilla”, based on the last days of Che Guevara, had a cameo appearance by Matt Damon as a German priest (or a journalist? not completely clear) in Bolivia. You know, Matt Damon seems to speak pretty good Spanish! Maybe his voice was dubbed, but it sure sounded like him. According to what I read online, his Argentine wife Luciana Barroso has been teaching him.

Feria de Santiago

2009-08-11T10:07:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, our good friend Lola invited us to the Feria de Santiago at her pueblo of El Garabato. Now, we’ve seen the big ferias in Córdoba, culminating in Semana Santa with all the processions through the streets. In addition to the big events, there are myriads of small processions in even the smallest pueblos. People hasten to explain that these aren’t religious events; although they parade the religious images through the streets, they’re mostly an excuse to stay out late and eat and drink and chat and drink and listen to music and drink and dance. Oh, and they drink a bit too.

In the heat of the summer, nothing of importance happens during the day. We arrived in El Garabato after dark to visit with Lola’s extended family and have a bite to eat. Oh, and a little something to drink as well. We wandered out to the plaza (even the small pueblos have a central plaza, though it may be little), where the procession was supposed to start at 9:30. The priest hadn’t yet arrived, but that was no problem. Everyone passed the time chatting and listening to music. Oh, and there was a little drinking.

Around 10:00, somebody called the priest, who actually lives in a larger pueblo called La Carlota. It turned out that he’d forgotten about the procession, and said to go ahead without him. Everyone agreed that this called for another drink. Someone explained that the priests don’t really encourage these processions; for some reason, they don’t think they’re terribly spiritual events. Go figure.

The procession was smaller, and the image was much smaller, but everyone enthusiastically paraded down the streets. There was a small marching band, and fireworks from time to time. Once back in the plaza, we all enjoyed flamenco dance demonstrations from the kids in the local dance schools. The heat of the evening naturally called for more drinks. Around midnight, we went back to Lola’s mother’s house for the real cena. (We still haven’t really become accustomed to these late night meals, but it was quite good.) Then it was back to the plaza for more music and dances and….you guessed it!...more drinks. We finally got home around 3:00 in the morning.

All in all, it was quite a fun excursion. Oh, did I mention that there was some drinking?

England

2009-08-09T07:30:00.000-07:00

The temperatures have been topping 100 degrees F pretty much every day here in Córdoba, so Tonya and I decided that it was time to visit England and get out of the heat. We have to take advantage of these travel opportunities, because God knows we won’t be in any financial position to do so when we return to the USA. We did escape the heat, but I must admit that I didn’t expect to need sweaters and coats in August. Umbrellas, of course; it is England, after all. You’ll see spots on many of the pictures…. these are genuine English raindrops on the camera lens.

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/England_August2009#

This was a very pleasant trip; it was the first time we’ve been in an English-speaking country since last September. We’d visited the north of England a few years ago (York), but this was our first time down south in London. We had about two and a half days in London, and reached the conclusion that it wasn’t nearly enough. There is a lot to see! Celtic, Roman, Saxon, Norman….all these different cultures, as well as those which came before, have left their marks. On this trip, we managed to hit several (but not all!) of the big tourist draws: Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, the Tower of London, St. James Park, Hyde Park, St. Paul´s Cathedral, Buckingham Palace, and others. We’ll see if we can manage to get back.

We headed west from London to Salisbury, where they have possibly the most beautiful cathedral in the world. Here they have one of the best-preserved of the remaining copies of the Magna Carta. This was the list of laws signed under duress by King John in 1215, one of the first to place practical limits on the powers of the king. It forms one of the bases of Western law to this day.

One of our big goals for this trip was to visit Stonehenge. We got our first glimpse of it on my birthday. This is another of those sites that ended up impressing me more than I’d expected. The sheer size of the stones is overwhelming, and moreso when you consider that all of this was constructed between 3000BC and 2000BC, without the benefit of the wheel or metal tools. We even got to see a group of modern-day Druids doing a ceremony in the middle of the circle.

A bit further north in Avebury is another of the stone circles which seem to abound in the area. The main ring there is a good quarter-mile in diameter, with many of the original stones missing. (Medieval priests encouraged the faithful to destroy the pagan works.) Nobody is completely sure of the purpose of the stone rings. Stonehenge has many alignments with the position of the sun on midsummer and midwinter day, too many to be coincidence….but why? An observatory? A temple? Whatever they were, they were important enough for these ancient societies to devote a staggering amount of manpower to them.

An interesting breakfast in Germany

2009-07-28T12:07:00.000-07:00

It wasn’t widespread in Germany, but we did encounter some of the rules-based society that we’d have expected. At our hotel restaurant in the Black Forest, we came downstairs one morning for the buffet breakfast. We filled our plates, took seats at a nice table by the window, and began to eat. In a few minutes, a waiter came by and wished us good morning. He asked for our room number, and when we told him, he said, “I’ll show you to your table now.” He indicated a table far off in a dark corner. All of the tables were equivalent: the same number of seats, and the same number of place settings. We told him, “We’d prefer to sit here by the window.” He got a strange expression on his face; not angry, just dumbfounded. “But that is your table,” he said. We repeated, “Thank you, but we’d prefer to sit here.” He left, and we didn’t see him again that morning. Of course, he also didn’t ask us if we wanted coffee or tea.

The next morning, we were a little more prepared. When we came down to the restaurant, there was a hostess waiting. She said, “I’ll show you to your table,” and took us to the same dark corner. We told her, “Yesterday, we sat over there. Is it all right if we take the table by the window?” Again, the same dumbfounded expression. The hostess must have had a little more decision-making authority, because she finally gave an elaborate shrug (which said more plainly than words, “But what else can you expect from those crazy Americans?”) and seated us by the window. A few minutes later, the waiter from the day before came by and again wanted to take us back to the dark corner. We told him, “Oh, the hostess seated us here.” No further problems.

Ah, those cultural differences!

Playing Cards

2009-07-25T04:40:00.000-07:00

I mentioned briefly in one of the previous blog entries about different styles of playing cards in other countries. You can see pictures of them at

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/PlayingCards#

The Spanish deck is 48 cards, but traditionally the 8’s and 9’s are left out to make a 40-card deck. The German deck is 36 cards, but traditionally the aces are left out to make a 32-card deck. This all sounds a bit arbitrary, but think of all the arbitrary rules in card games that you’re used to playing!

The Great European Vacation: The Alps

2009-07-19T02:30:00.000-07:00

We saw a lot of very pretty places on this vacation, but I must say: the Alps are the prettiest place that I’ve seen. Ever. Anywhere. This is a very strong statement from someone who’s been to Yosemite, to the Grand Canyon, to Zion….but I stand by it. The Alps are much greener than the big American mountain ranges I’ve visited. Also, they are generally much steeper and craggier. I think that the Alps must be younger, geologically speaking, than the Rockies or California’s Sierra Nevada. See the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/AlpsJune2009#

We’ve only been to the Jungfrau area of Switzerland and the Dolomites of Italy, but I’m eager to see more. Incredible mountain vistas…and so very peaceful and restful. In these areas of Europe, hiking is a much more civilized activity. There are cable cars to take you to the top (or very near the top) of the mountains! You hike (or in our case, wander slowly, admiring the abundant colorful flowers and butterflies) to a restaurant and have a lovely lunch at the top of the mountain, or in the middle of a meadow. I’m sure there are more remote areas where the serious mountaineers go. But without going to too much trouble, there’s an awful lot of nice scenery available. There was much spinning in flower covered meadows (eat your heart out Julie Andrews!), but we never managed to figure out which one of the flowers was the Edelweiss. We had cloudy weather and afternoon thunderstorms for most of our stay, which meant that we had to get up and going to take advantage of the morning weather to go hiking. We didn’t take the cable cars to the tops of the mountains in Switzerland; they were all fogged in, and there was no view. But we plan to return, hopefully in September.

A nice addition to our hiking experiences was the music of the cowbells. Yes, cowbells. Many of the cows in the area are belled, and the resulting random notes create a lovely background symphony as you hike the trails. These aren’t the harsh rectangular cowbells like the ones I’ve normally seen in the USA; these oval-shaped bells create a beautiful, pure tone that is a real pleasure to listen to. Tonya bought a couple of different-sized bells that we’ll use as wind chimes to remind us of the Alps.

Driving from the Jungfrau region back down into Italy, we had to cross right over the backbone of the Alps. I was really looking forward to the vistas we’d get as we went over Grimsel Pass (2,165 meters or 7,100 feet high…and that’s just the pass between the mountains!). In one of the great tragedies of the era, it was raining heavily for the early part of the drive, and we were socked in with fog as we got up to the pass. At the top, the visibility was about 50 feet. Sigh. As we were coming down the other side, the clouds cleared up somewhat, so we did get some nice views. But I felt a bit cheated.

One unexpected treat was in Bolzano, Italy (or Bolzen. This area of Italy is German-speaking, so all of the towns have German and Italian names. The Italian names were a project of Mussolini, who took the reasonable attitude that Italian cities should have Italian names.) You may remember some years back that there was a human body recovered from the ice in the Alps, and it turned out to be 5,000 years old. (For more information, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%96tzi_the_Iceman.) The Ice Man (Otzi) is in a museum in Bolzano, along with much of the clothing, weapons, and tools that were found with him. It’s a fascinating glimpse into how people lived in the ancient Alps. Sadly, we couldn’t take pictures in the museum. From the examination of the body, it appears that Otzi died a violent death. There is some scope for imagination here; I’m surprised that no one has attempted to write a historical fiction based on it.

The Great European Vacation: Germany

2009-07-19T02:28:00.000-07:00

It has been a dream of Tonya’s to visit Germany ever since high school, when she studied the language for two years. The dream has finally come true. You can see the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/Germany_June2009#

We crossed into Germany from the Austrian Tirol area, entering the southern area of Bavaria. We continued on to the lovely medieval city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber, across to the Mosel and Rhine Valleys, then down the French border to the Black Forest. Germany is a pleasant country, but it was pretty much flattened in WWII, so much of it has been rebuilt within the last 60 years. Tonya acknowledges that her German dream has come true. She also says that she doesn’t feel any particular need to go there again.

For us, the main attraction of Bavaria and the Mosel and Rhine valleys was the castles, particularly along the Rhine. Back in the middle ages, any nobleman who could scrape together enough money to extend a chain across the Rhine could then halt commercial traffic and extort….excuse me, charge….tolls from the passing merchants. This was a big source of income. Unfortunately, it also slowed the economic development of Germany for many centuries. After the slow disintegration of the Holy Roman Empire (which, according to one historian with a sense of humor, was neither holy nor Roman nor an empire) in the 1400’s and 1500’s, Germany fought the nasty Thirty Years’ War (1618 to 1648), which left much of the area in ruins. It remained a patchwork of little kingdoms which wasn’t unified as a country until Bismarck did the job in the late 1800’s.

My favorite castle was Neuschwanstein, built in Bavaria by Mad King Ludwig. When you read the history, it turns out that Ludwig may have been unfairly named. “Ludwig the Odd” was probably more appropriate. He was declared insane in a power grab by his ministers. Now, Ludwig’s younger brother Otto was truly the crazy one; he didn’t last long as king.

The medieval city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber was a victim of the Thirty Years’ War. It had been economically prosperous up until that time, but was conquered and plundered several times during the war. Over the following centuries, it never recovered. While other cities such as Frankfurt and Munich were modernizing and becoming powerful, Rothenburg limped along with its old medieval buildings. At some point, “old and run-down” became “charming and medieval”, and Rothenburg enjoyed an economic rebirth as a tourist destination.

Our last destination in Germany was the Black Forest. It’s a very pretty area, and we had several nice hikes. Still, it may not have been smart to visit it on the same trip with our Alpine hikes; it sort of pales in comparison. The most interesting thing was an open-air museum with a number of 17th and 18th-century farm buildings which had been physically moved to the site. Some of the buildings had still been occupied as late as the 1960’s.

One interesting side note: I think I’ve written that Spain has a different deck of playing cards than America. In America, we actually use the French deck: 52 cards with suits of spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts. In Spain, they have a 48-card deck with suits of gold, cups, swords, and clubs (which look more like cudgels). It turns out that Germany has still another style: a 36-card deck with suits of hearts, bells, leaves, and acorns. I’ll be darned. Naturally, we had to buy a deck. A friend loaned us a book with a variety of card games from different countries, using the different decks.

The Great European Vacation: Italy

2009-07-17T05:25:00.000-07:00

Italy was really not the main objective for this trip; we passed through to spend a few days with our friends in Florence, and then we dropped them off in Milan. We then returned to Milan a few weeks later for our flight back home. Still, even in that short time, we had some nice experiences in Italy. (In all fairness, part of our adventures in the Alps was in northern Italy…but the Alps will be the subject of another blog entry.) See the Italy pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/Italy_June2009#

A note for traveling in Europe: make sure you have a small car. I insisted on an automatic transmission which is not very easy to rent in Europe. So unfortunately, an automatic for 4 adults and luggage was a much larger car than we would ever want to drive in Europe. Actually, it would have looked about average on an American highway, but we’re in a different world here. We named it Gigantor. (Who’s willing to date themselves by admitting that they remember the Gigantor cartoons?) We ran into more than one sticky situation driving that car. I will never forget the evening we were coming home from Florence (we were staying outside of town in a Tuscan villa that was updated in the 1500’s; the same family has occupied the villa since the 1700’s). We were driving down a road that was little more than 6 inches wider than the Gigantor, with another car trying to pass us going the other direction. Size and determination finally won. The other car backed up to a wider section of the road so we could pass each other.

Milan is not Rome; it is not Florence; it’s a large industrial town, mostly built in the 1800’s. Not normally a top-tier Italian destination, although it has a nice cathedral (duomo). Still, the big draw of Italian cities is the art. In Milan, and we were treated to a couple of Leonardo da Vinci paintings. There is a lovely “Madonna and Child” at the Sforza Castle, and “The Last Supper” is nothing short of spectacular. I hadn’t realized how large “The Last Supper” is; it’s really a fresco rather than a painting, and covers most of a wall. It’s best that we visited it now, rather than a couple of years ago. They’ve recently finished major restoration, removing five hundred years of accumulated grime and candle soot and over-painting to reveal what’s left of Leonardo’s original work. And what’s left is quite impressive. Sadly, we couldn’t take pictures there. A very indignant guard swooped down on a tourist who dared to ignore the “No Photography” sign, and forced him to delete the images from his digital camera.

As we were exploring Sforza Castle, there were lots of the normal historical information signs. It was a bit depressing to read them in this case; Italy was in a state of political turmoil pretty much from the fall of the Roman empire until modern times. There wasn’t even a single country called “Italy” until the mid-1800’s; it was a patchwork of city-states and Papal territories in a state of continual war. Milan changed hands many times over the centuries. We read about the Lombard invasion; the Spanish occupation; the Austrian domination; the French occupation; the civil war. Nasty.

Leaving Milan the first time, we headed north along the shore of beautiful Lake Como, getting teasing glimpses of the Alps ahead of us. We had traded in Gigantor for a much smaller car (we named this one Little Dent), which made for a lot calmer driving.

The Great European Vacation: France

2009-07-15T14:17:00.000-07:00

Wow. What else can you say about five weeks driving through western Europe? This has really been one of the aims of the Spanish adventure; to take advantage of the opportunities to explore Europe. And this may be the only opportunity we ever have to do all of this.

Life is good. The vacation was wonderful, but five weeks is a loooong time to be on the road. Or maybe not, by European standards; other friends of ours have been doing comparable trips. There are just so many wonderful places in the world to see. This time we tried to balance the cultural sites with nature. Cities are great, but museums, cathedrals and the like can get old after a while, even when you enjoy them. There is so much to write about that we’re going to split it between a number of blog entries. You can see the first set of pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/France#

We started the vacation with a night train to Barcelona, and then a quick train across the border to Perpignan, France. We rented a car and tootled our way north and west. By now, we’re old hands at navigating our way across Europe; we don’t need no stinkin’ GPS.

Our drive began in Languedoc, home of the medieval Cathars or Albigensians. This area wasn’t part of the kingdom of France until the 1200’s, when Pope Innocent III declared a crusade to eliminate the Albigensian heresy (and, of course, to assist France’s King Louis VIII in a land grab). It took 20 years to conquer and annex the area. Looking at the rugged mountains and the isolated castles, you can see why it took so long.

We continued north and stopped to see the Cro-Magnon cave paintings in the Dordogne Valley. Fascinating, it is amazing the detail. They used the cave walls much the way one might see a picture in the clouds. In the dim, flickering light, the pictures have a three dimensional quality and even seem to be moving.

We met some friends in Paris, and spent a week touring around the city. A trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower is more than worth the wait. Versailles, the Louvre, Monet’s gardens…one can drown in Paris. Although, I am not sure what all the hoopla over the Mona Lisa is. The “must see” Da Vinci´s are in Milan.

After Paris, it was on to the French Riviera for a few days. From there, we went on to Italy, but that will be the subject of the next blog entry.

May in Córdoba

2009-05-29T00:56:00.000-07:00

May is party month in Córdoba. Once the renewal was confirmed, we could relax and enjoy ourselves a bit. The parties come one after another; first Las Cruces, then the patios, then the feria. In between are the horse shows featuring the pure-blooded Andalucíans. Of course, Tonya and I managed to get ourselves a little bit sick, so we haven’t been able to take full advantage of the festivities. Also, the weather is beginning to warm up, so we’re not quite so active as we’ve been. Still, after all, it’s been a fun month.

Las Cruces is still another excuse to get together and drink and dance and eat snails. At various locations in the city, large crosses are set up in the street, decorated with carnations. They’re pretty, I guess, but nothing particularly spectacular. People have hastened to tell us that there’s nothing particularly religious about Las Cruces, and they’re right. To really enjoy the crosses, you need to go see them with a group of friends after dark. There are awning-covered bars with all manner of eatables and drinkables, and usually music playing (either live or recorded). With sufficient alcohol, you get right into the spirit of the street party.

The Patio Festival is a uniquely Córdoban event. Many Spanish houses are built around a central patio. I’d always thought of this as a Mexican style for houses, but it makes sense that they were following a Spanish tradition. With the climate here (and in Mexico, if you think about it), an open central area allows more airflow through the house. I’d always thought that the patio houses were for rich people, and it’s true that many elegant homes are built with that floorplan. However, the more common case is the “casa vecina”, or the neighbor house. A number of itty-bitty family apartments are built around a central courtyard with a shared well, kitchen, bathrooms, and washtubs for laundry. It was a housing style for very poor people who couldn’t afford their own homes. According to our friends, this was still a very common living situation as recently as twenty years ago. In a situation like that, I can see how you’d come to really love or really hate your neighbors. Anyway, it’s a point of pride in Córdoba for people to dress up their patios for the annual competition. Take a look at the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/scottandtonya2/CordobaPatios#

The month culminates with La Feria, which developed from the old livestock fairs, like the county fairs in America. So far, I have to say that La Feria hasn’t seemed like much. There are the normal carnival rides, complete with American cartoon characters (although here, Tom and Jerry are known as El Ratón Vacilón y El Gato Comilón). Of course, there’s a Spanish twist on it; many of the women are in traditional flamenca outfits, and you see riders here and there on their Andalucían horses. The real attraction of La Feria is the casetas, little awning-covered displays set up by many different groups: the cofradías (religious brotherhoods), the political parties (including the Socialists and the Communists….yes, there are quite prominent displays promoting solidarity with Cuba, complete with the inevitable portraits of Che Guevara), and local businesses. Again inevitably, they include bars with eatables and drinkables and music. We went out with a group of teachers from my school on Wednesday afternoon. It was fun, but way too hot. Some of the casetas have ceiling fans, but they’re not adequate when the temperatures get up to 100⁰F (and yes, the temperature got that high….summer is going to be interesting here). We had a better time the next evening; we went out much later with some other friends. Once the sun gets lower, it’s not so bad. And after the sun goes down, it’s positively comfortable.

We had an interesting experience last week. One of our friends here had some American guests (his brother had spent some time in America on an exchange program many years ago, and they still have a cordial relationship with the host family). We all got together for a Córdoban cena. Our friend only speaks a bit of English, and the Americans spoke almost no Spanish, so I was doing some translating. What struck me is how much we’ve acclimated over the last year. Things which seemed delightfully foreign to the visitors seem commonplace to us now. We have to be careful not to stop seeing the wonderful things around us! I took a look back at some of the pictures we’d taken when we first arrived last September, and found myself thinking, “Now, why did we take a picture of that? It’s just a street!”

So that’s May in Córdoba. And now, we’re off for the great summer vacation!

Planning for a Wild & Crazy Adventure

2009-05-17T08:36:00.001-07:00

As we head into the second year of this Wild & Crazy Adventure, friends question how we can manage such a lifestyle. So let me take a couple of minutes and explain how we planned for this incredible experience. Anyone can do this. Really…

When Scott first brought up the idea, my first response was not “No”, but rather “How will we pay for it?” Being the consummate accountant, I set to calculating how much we would need. We settled on a 6 month adventure. This meant that we needed enough money to live on for 1 year, a 6 month adventure and 6 months living expenses for when we return. We hoped to be able to take a leaves of absences from our respective jobs, but knew we could not count on that. So we would need something to live on when we returned, while we looked for work. Scott wanted to go to a Spanish speaking country, so I researched the cost of living in different countries. Be prepared for the initial gasp, because the amount will seem impossibly large and unreachable. So we set to saving money… Where did we find the money to save? First off, we cancelled our 401K contributions, that meant a tax hit every year, and also a willingness to postpone retirement, but we felt it was worth it. Given how the market has performed in the past year, I don’t think it was a bad choice. The next step was to rein in the unnecessary spending. It is amazing how much money one can spend without really thinking about it. It took us about 2½ years to save the required amount. It should have taken us longer, but Scott’s bonuses were larger than anticipated.

Above all, when you calculate the amount that you think you will need, be conservative. You never know what the future holds. We saved for a 6 month adventure, but it turned out that Scott was offered a 9 month position. Still, our expenses have been far less than anticipated, so we are stretching 6 months into 2 years (not bad!). The additional time requires renting the house. (Something that is quite emotional for me. Cross your fingers that the renters don’t destroy my home.) The budget will be pretty austere next year, travel will be curtailed quite a bit, but all and all it is manageable. The experience, I am sure, will be worth the sacrifices.

Believe it or not, the hard part is not saving the money to fund the adventure, but rather being able to take that final deep breath, join hands, and jump. You have to be willing, at least in spirit, to let go of everything that you are accustomed to and leave your old life behind. That final jump will open your horizons and challenge your perspectives and ideas that you have always held to be true. Understand, that no matter how willing you are to make that jump, and no matter how much you prepare yourself for the experience, the jolt of culture shock will punch you in the gut at least once in the first couple of months, an even occasionally afterward. Recall my earlier blog entry, last November I sent home for chocolate chips, brown sugar and measuring cups. They were required.

Before we left, I spoke with someone who had been sent to live in Germany for 6 years. She told me that she recommended the experience to everyone. She also said that I would learn things about myself, my husband and my marriage that I would never expect. After 9 months in Spain, I can attest to the truth of this statement. I have learned that under the stress of “all things foreign”, I am quite emotional. I have learned that I am still quite the rebel, especially when I feel that I am being forced into something. And that my dear husband, although he no longer “walks on water”, will stand patiently by my side in my temperamental moods. As I am the consummate accountant, Scott is “the eternal manager”, and in the absence of something to manage, he will create something to manage. I think that the stress, (and it is stressful living in a foreign country where everything that you know, believe and are used to may no longer be true), has been more of a challenge to our relationship than anything that we have ever dealt with before. Even more stressful than teenagers. But I would not hesitate to do it again. The benefits far outweigh the inconveniences.

We are staying a second year…

Another Year in Spain

2009-05-16T10:00:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, we're going to be in Spain for another year! When it came down to returning to the USA, Tonya and I agreed that we weren't ready for the Spanish adventure to end just yet. And living expenses in Spain have been pleasingly lower than what we'd budgeted. I just received word that the Junta de Andalucía has renewed my teaching contract for the coming school year. This has caused some nail-biting over the last few weeks; I sent in my application at the beginning of March (almost 3 months before my contract was to run out), but didn’t get a reply until this week (less than 3 weeks before). That’s cutting things a bit close.

So here we are. We miss all of you back there, but the call of faraway places has continued.
With regard to practical matters, we have the house rented out, so with luck that will cover our mortgage payments while we're out of the country. All of our belongings are in storage awaiting our return in June 2010. We'd have been OK going back to the USA, but it would have caused some inconveniences; since there are renters in our house, we'd have had to rent another apartment!

So the adventure continues. We have a real expedition planned for June. After the school year ends, we're going to take a night train to Barcelona, and then another train on to Perpignan, France. There we'll rent a car and head north, stopping in Carcassone and Dordogne. In Paris we'll hook up with some college friends. After a week there, we'll take a train down to Nice. We'll rent another car to drive through Monaco and into Italy, on down to Florence. After a couple of days there, we'll drop off our friends at the Milan airport, and continue north into the Swiss Alps. We'll cross back into the Italian Tirol, on across the western end of Austria, and into Bavaria. We'll visit the medieval city of Rothenburg, and then on to the Rhine and Mosel valleys. For the last leg, we'll drive down through the Black Forest, across Switzerland, and back to Milan. We'll catch a plane to Madrid and take the train back to Córdoba, where we'll probably need to sleep for a week.

Actually, it shouldn't be so bad. We're spreading this across five weeks, so we don't really have any unbearably long drives. We’re crossing through lots of countries, but keep in mind that the countries are a lot smaller here. In terms of actual kilometers driven, our road trip will be about equivalent to driving from Los Angeles to Portland and back. A long drive, but really not bad over five weeks. And we'll have many relaxing days at our various stops. As we tell all of our friends here, we'll be poor when we return to the USA, so we have to take advantage of our travel opportunities now.

I've been being quiet about this on the blog, because I didn't want to start spreading news like this until we knew that it was going to happen. We'll continue documenting our experiences.

Portugal

2009-05-08T09:08:00.000-07:00

It would have been a shame to spend nearly a year so close to Portugal without ever visiting. Last weekend, we continued our “no fear” policy by renting a car and driving across Portugal. Now, to see the cultural sites in Portugal, you need to go up to Lisboa (Lisbon), the capital. However, we decided that what we really needed was a beach weekend. It was about four hours’ drive to our hotel in Lagos, and another half hour beyond that to Cabo Sâo Vicente. This is at the far southwestern extreme of Portugal, where Europe dips a cautious toe into the Atlantic. For many centuries, it was the end of the known lands; beyond it was nothing until the edge of the world. Take a look at our pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Portugal#

I had always thought of Portugal as almost a province of Spain, but it is definitely a distinct country with its own language and culture. It is true that Portugal’s history has been largely determined by its relations with it more powerful neighbor to the east. When Fernando married Ysabel to create the modern kingdom of Spain, Portugal was independent. They were a colonial power during most of the 1400’s and 1500’s, and it could be argued that they actually made more geographical discoveries than Spain. However, during a crisis of succession in the late 1500’s, Spain annexed Portugal and held the country until it won its independence back in 1640. Unfortunately, Portugal never seemed to completely recover from that traumatic event. Further blows included a catostrophic earthquake which leveled Lisboa in 1755, and the Napoleonic occupation from 1807 to 1812. During most of the 1900’s, Portugal was a dreary military dictatorship, and finally moved to a democratic government in the 1970’s.

Crossing the border from Spain to Portugal, I at least expected some kind of passport check. We didn’t even have to slow down. There was nothing, not even a kiosk with a guard. It’s more trouble to cross from Oregon into California; here, they don’t even bother with an agricultural inspection station. One of the first towns across the border is Tavira, recommended as a scenic stop. It was charming, but not worth much more than a short stroll. Lagos is a lovely beachside community, which seems to mostly cater to British tourists. We enjoyed the views of the coast, but the water was really too cold and the surf was too rough to do any swimming. I’m told that it’s the difference between an Atlantic and a Mediterranean beach.

Some comments on driving in Spain and Portugal:

- There seems to be a standard EU license plate, with the circle of yellow stars on a dark blue field. Below is a letter: E for Spain (España), P for Portugal, F for France. The license plate number is on a white field with black numbers. Our rental car plate had the letters GBR, so naturally we named it Goober for the weekend.

- In Spain and Portugal, it seems more feasible to navigate by highway numbers than in France. Of course, that may just be because we largely stuck to major highways this time.

- Traffic circles (called roundabouts by English speakers here, and glorietas by Spanish speakers) are very popular. Under medium-to-heavy traffic conditions, they do keep things moving better. In very heavy traffic, of course, everything stops. The main downside with traffic circles is that you can lose your sense of direction really quickly.

Los Alayos del Dílar

2009-04-19T13:48:00.000-07:00

We’ve had several very nice trips over the last few months, but they’ve prevented me from taking the last couple of hikes with Llega Como Puedas. Not that I’m objecting…Italy and Greece were quite wonderful…but I do enjoy my mountain hiking. This last weekend’s hike was my first one in Granada, and the first one which took me to a Spanish national park: el Parque Nacional de la Sierra Nevada. This is the real Sierra Nevada, after which the California range was named. You can see the pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/AlayosDelDilar#

Based on the weather during the last week, and the forecast for the weekend, I’d fully expected to be hiking in the pouring rain. However, the weather gods smiled on us. We had beautiful skies with puffy white clouds all day (almost). Right at the end of the hike, we had the proverbial “cuatro gotas” (four drops) of rain, but it never turned into the downpour that was happening back in Córdoba.

It was a long drive to Granada; the bus left at 7:00am from Córdoba and picked up two people along the way, and then of course we had to stop for breakfast. The Spanish do know how to enjoy a hiking expedition. By the time all was said and done, it was 10:30 before we were on the trail.

The Llega Como Puedas hikes always have at least two leaders (ruteros), one of whom usually leads, and the other who usually brings up the rear. Whenever we get to a decision point, we follow the very Spanish custom of a general discussion about the proper route. Sometimes the ruteros disagree, and split up. This can be a bit disconcerting; you have to make a decision about which one to follow. So far, they’ve always connected back up at some point.

Los Alayos del Dílar are in the Sierra Nevada (literally, “snowy mountain range”) just south of Granada. Happily, we didn’t get up into the snow, although we could see the white-covered peaks. In the course of the day, we crossed the shallow Río Dílar twice. Both times, I took off my shoes and waded barefoot, so that I wouldn’t have wet feet all day. It was a steep, rocky hike to el Castillejo, the peak. For me, the descent of these steep slopes is more difficult than the ascent. I made good use of my walking poles, which I suspect saved me from more than one nasty spill. From the top, there was a magnificent view of the Granada area. One of the compañeros told me that we could see the Alhambra, although it was so far away that I couldn’t see it clearly.

The hikes that I’ve done in Spain have involved a lot more cross-country trekking than I’ve done in Oregon or California. It was a lovely day from beginning to end.

Semana Santa

2009-04-13T01:38:00.000-07:00

It is Semana Santa and all of Spain is celebrating…

The Virgin Mary’s of Spain are perfectly happy to spend 51 weeks a year meditating in their chapels... but one week each year, the ladies like to really do the town, so they go out escorted through the town on the shoulders of forty lusty men! This is truly a site to see…nothing you could ever imagine seeing in America. Semana Santa is born of a nation steeped in Catholicism for over 500 years, or in the case of Córdoba, over 700 years. The Spanish proclaim to the world… Let there be no doubt that something miraculous occurred 2000 years ago!

You can see the pictures at: http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/SemanaSanta#

The celebrations began late last week. We took an evening stroll, as is the custom in Spain, down to see San Lorenzo church. The church has been closed for restoration and just recently reopened. When we arrived at the church, we were surprised to find a large crowd of people waiting… then from out of the church, the procession began. First church elders and then incense and banner bearers solemnly emerged. Then an enormous, larger than life, crucifixion born on the shoulders of about thirty men descended from the church amid cheering and applause. We followed as the procession proceeded through the narrow streets. Later as we walked toward home we passed other processions. One was particularly sweet, consisting of young children bearing candles, some taller than they were. This was our first taste of the festivities, and it assured us that Semana Santa was going to be seriously cool. Sevilla, Málaga and Cádiz are generally regarded to have the most spectacular celebrations. However, the Córdoba Semana Santa is said to be one of the most “preciosa”, and hordes of tourists flood into the city to view the processions.

Last Sunday was the official start of the celebrations with six processions wandering their way along different paths through Córdoba. Every night since, there have been five or six different processions each night, each one a little different, each one following a different route through the city. The processions are quite elaborate, consisting of hundreds of people dressed in KKK-like outfits, some white, others black, purple, green, red... my first thought when I saw them was UGGHHH! Some processions are joyful, others are solemn. Generally, there is a life size depiction of El Señor, in one of the Stations of the Cross, illustrating Jesus´ final days. And so the story is told: Jesus enters Bethlehem on a donkey, He shares the Last Supper with the disciples, He prays in Gethsemane, He is betrayed and arrested, He is condemned by Pontius Pilate, He makes His final walk to Calvary, He dies on the cross, as well as others scenes from His final days…

These are powerful scenes displayed on huge float-like platforms, rocking from side to side as they go, carried by as many forty men. Lifting the platform is a production:

Scott did the math after a discussion with a priest. The largest platforms weigh over 2,600 pounds, well over a ton! It is huge honor to be selected to carry El Señor or La Virgen. José, a friend from Montilla, was selected to carry El Señor on Friday, and La Virgen on Sunday through his pueblo, Aguilar de la Frontera. He was bursting with pride as he told me; in España, this is a very big deal. After experiencing some of these processions, I understand. They are awe inspiring.

El Señor is followed by a band and various Catholic banners, crowns of thorns, and other relics. Then La Virgen makes her appearance, again carried on the backs of forty men, followed by her own band and honor guard. All of this paraded through the tiny streets and crushes of people. Children run up to the marchers to catch the wax dripping from the candles on balls of aluminum foil, creating the proverbial ball of wax as a keepsake. From the American perspective, when I describe Semana Santa, it doesn´t sound like such a big deal. But the experience is nothing short of amazing.

During these processions, we’ve been having to put certain heavy-crowd techniques into practice. When you get a large number of people into a constricted space, they get rude. You have to guard your personal space, but not in a way that you’re overtly rude, regardless of what other people do. You make yourself large; plant your feet far apart, stick your elbows out, and don’t give way if people push at you. If you give up space, you will not get it back. Some of those little old Spanish ladies get quite aggressive; they push themselves into a space that’s not large enough for one person, and then invite their friends in to join them.

Castillo Almodóvar

2009-04-07T00:33:00.000-07:00

We’re into Semana Santa (Holy Week), so Scott has the week off work (although Tonya’s working a lot at the glass studio in Montilla). In addition to all of the Semana Santa processions, this creates opportunities to see some of the things we’ve never visited around Córdoba. Our good friend Lola offered to drive us out to Castillo Almodóvar, a very well-preserved castle out west of Córdoba along the old road to Sevilla. You can see the pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/CastilloAlmodovar#

The Castillo Almodóvar is on a hill overlooking the picturesque pueblo of Almodóvar del Río, and offers a commanding view of this part of the Guadalquivir valley. The name comes from the Arabic al-Mudawwar, which means “the round”, referring to the round shape of the hill. There have been fortresses on this hill since Iberian (pre-Roman) times. It went through many reconstructions, by the Romans, then the Arabs, and later the Spaniards following the Reconquista. The castle was considered unconquerable, and was never taken by siege; as a matter of fact it held out for three years following the reconquista of Córdoba around AD 1240, and was finally ceded to the Spaniards as a part of the peace treaty.

When we use the term “well-preserved” for a medieval structure, it means that it’s been restored. The fact is that buildings don’t stand for hundreds of years without some sort of maintenance. After Fernando and Ysabel took Granada and unified Spain, the castillo lost its strategic importance as a strongpoint against the Muslims. In the 1600’s, it was sold to the Corral family. The conde de Torralva, one of the heirs of the family, undertook the restoration of the castillo in the early 1900’s. The reconstruction was performed with great attention to maintaining the appearance of the medieval castillo, and the result is one of the best-preserved fortresses in Europe.

Roma

2009-03-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

The original idea of the tour of Italy was to hit the high points, then come back for more leisurely visits. So far, the strategy has been working well. When we were in Roma the first time, we were dashing all about, and didn't have time to look around as much as we'd have liked. So we headed out for a long weekend. Ah, Roma! The weather gods smiled on us again, and despite forecasts of rain, we enjoyed three gloriously clear and temperate days. Enjoy lots more pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Roma#

We've certainly become adventurous with our travels. When we first came to Europe, we were in the habit of just taking a taxi to our hotel when we arrived at the train station or the airport. It costs more, but it's certainly safer. This time, we took the express train from the airport to the Termini station (arriving around midnight), and then set out with our luggage on our backs to find the hotel. No problems at all. Now, others are still more adventurous. We were talking to a Welsh lady and her daughter on the train. They had boarded without knowing where the train went, and without buying tickets! The lady said, "Oh, it will get us closer to the center of town, and then we'll take a cab." Wow. I don't know if I ever want to get quite that casual.

On the first visit, we'd seen the Vatican and the Colisseum and the Pantheon, which I'd normally consider to be the biggest tourist draws. This time, we began by strolling about the Palatine Hill (which has some ruins, but frankly wasn't that interesting). The Forum more than made up for it. It was interesting to look about and think that this was the center of Western civilization for many hundreds of years. The next stop was the Museo Borghese (in the old Borghese Villa), with its wonderful artwork. Sadly, we couldn't take pictures there. The most notable item was the statue of Apollo chasing Daphne, showing the moment when she was turning into a laurel tree (see the picture at http://www.galleriaborghese.it/borghese/en/edafne.htm). Next was the statue of David. This is not Michelangelo's David, which we saw in Florence...this is another statue showing David putting the stone into the sling, and looking as if he's about to explode into furious motion (see the picture at http://www.galleriaborghese.it/borghese/en/edavid.htm).

We visited the small Etruscan museum not far from the Museo Borghese. It’s easy to forget that the Romans were not the only culture on the Italian peninsula; it took them centuries of hard fighting to take control of Italy, let alone the full empire. Etruscans, Samnites, Sabines….many tribes were forcibly incorporated into the Roman Republic. What’s interesting is that they had their own artistic styles, recognizably not Roman or Greek or Egyptian, though showing some of their influences.

The Welsh lady we'd met on the train was one of a small army of Welsh rugby fans who were coming to Rome for the big game with Italy. When we were looking for a restaurant to eat dinner, we saw a parade of red-shirted fans walking down toward Piazza del Populo. (This made me a bit worried that we'd have trouble getting into a restaurant, but we didn't have any troubles.) They gleefully told us that their team had won. Go Wales!

The next day, we took Metro and bus down south of town to the Via Appia Antica (the Appian Way). This is one of the oldest, and probably the most famous, of the celebrated Roman roads. As a historical note, this was also where the followers of Spartacus were crucified after they'd been defeated....all 6,600 of them, on crosses lining the Appian Way from Roma to Brindisi. Brr. We strolled down the road, seeing various sites including an excavated bathhouse, the tomb of the Metellus family (they were another powerful family in the latter days of the Roman Republic, although they were overshadowed by those darned Caesars), and the Circus of Maxentius (in the old days, Roman politicians would buy the love of the population by putting on big entertainment extravaganzas...for some of these, they created permanent structures that lasted for hundreds of years).

The most interesting thing along the Appian Way was the Catacombs of San Callisto. In the early days of Christianity in the Roman Empire, they had to keep kind of a low profile. The catacombs started as a hidden burial area. As the centuries went by, they kept digging further and further down. The result is a tangled web of corridors, some barely wide enough to walk through, with niches for the burials along the walls. Depending on the wealth of the family of the defunct, some "niches" were more elaborate than others. Some of the early Popes were buried here, when they were just known as the Bishops of Rome, and didn't presume to be the leaders of all Christendom.

One of the special joys of Roma is the churches. Every church you enter is likely to have some unexpected treat. The ones which particularly stick in my mind are the Basilica of San Giovanni and the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. In any other town, these would have been the main attraction, with people coming from miles around to see them. In Roma, they're just another church.

We had bought Roma Passes, which include free entry to the first two attractions, reduced price on many others, as well as Metro and bus transportation. The passes had paid for themselves by the end of the first day. Highly recommended if you plan to visit Rome!

Greece

2009-03-08T00:26:00.000-08:00

The latest adventure was a five-day trip to Greece. I’m afraid that we went a bit crazy with the camera again, so there are lots of pictures! You can see them at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Greece_Mycenae_Delphi#

and

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Greece_Meteora_Athens#

Greece has a lot of history, but its recent history seems to have shaped the modern country more than its ancient history. In broad terms, it was something like this:

- Pre-Classical Greece: before about 800 B.C.

- Classical Greece (including the time of Alexander the Great’s empire): 800 B.C. to 150 B.C.

- Roman Greece: 150 B.C. to A.D. 500

- Byzantine Empire: 500 to 1450

- Turkish occupation: 1450 to 1825

- Modern Greece: after 1825

We’re rapidly losing all fear of driving in foreign countries. Last year we drove all around the French countryside without incident, but in Greece, they don’t even use the same alphabet! How do you react to a sign which says AθHNA? Or worse yet, Kóρινθος? (The first is Athens, and the second is Corinth. ) Given a few minutes, you can puzzle it out. Unfortunately, if you’re barreling down the highway at 120 km/hr, you don’t have that few minutes. Luckily, most of the signs along the highway have English lettering as well as Greek. If there’s a road sign which only has Greek lettering, an American tourist probably has no business going there. Even that isn’t a complete solution; Athens is written as Athina, and Corinth is Korinthos. The worst part was driving in the city of Athens. Once we got off the freeway, all of the signs seemed to have only Greek lettering. It’s difficult driving in any large city, but this adds to the difficulties. With me navigating and Tonya driving, we were finally able to find our hotel.

When we think of Greece, we think of warm Mediterranean weather. But not at this time of year! We brought along our heavy jackets, and we’re glad we did. There was lots of snow on the mountains around Delphi, which had us worried about going further north to Meteora, but we didn’t have any trouble. The first days were the coldest; it was under 40⁰F at Mycenae, with a merciless wind.

Mycenae is one of the oldest sites in Greece. The city had its heyday around 1,700 B.C. , and the foundations date back to 3,000 B.C. Most of the heroes of the Greek legends (Perseus, Theseus, Agamemnon, Achilles, etc.) were Mycenaean. This civilization pre-dated classical Greece (that is, the Greece of Socrates and Plato and Pericles) by about 1,000 years; it was eventually destroyed and replaced by the invading Dorians. It gives you a different perspective on time! The Mycenaeans spoke a very early form of the Greek language, but they used a writing style called Linear B which looks nothing like the Greek alphabet (alpha, beta, gamma, delta,…).

The drive to Delphi was lovely, describing a long oval around the Gulf of Corinth. I imagine that the beaches are packed with people in the summer, but in February, they were pretty deserted. Delphi is hanging from a mountainside overlooking a valley heading down to the gulf. It had landscapes somehow reminiscent of Yosemite, even though it didn’t look at all the same. With Delphi, as with Athens later, we were looking at a site which had been continuously occupied for a very long time. It was originally built around the famous Oracle of Delphi, located in the Temple of Apollo. There were early classical Greek ruins, sometimes overlaid by the later Roman additions. The Romans were great admirers of Greek culture, but that didn’t prevent them from despoiling Greek cities and building their own over the ruins.

Meteora is the site of a number of monasteries built on top of steep rock spires. The first one was begun in the 1300’s. According to legend, the monk who founded the first monastery had achieved such a state of spiritual perfection that he flew to the top of the rock spire. I don’t know what they did during the 400 years of Turkish (Muslim) occupation, but the displays there indicated that the monasteries were thriving in the mid-1500’s. Still, the Greek Orthodox church seems to have missed out on the Renaissance. The interiors of the church were decorated with gleefully grisly depictions of the deaths of the martyrs…and with the Turkish occupation, many of the Greek martyrs were a lot more recent than the Roman Catholic martyrs! There were also good paintings of the scales of judgement, showing damned souls being cast down into the mouth of the Beast.

Despite being such a large city, Athens was a wonderful place to visit. Our hotel was about two blocks from the Acropolis, and the very efficient Metro system allowed us to wander all over the city. Many of the Metro stations have very interesting archaeological displays. Since you can’t dig anywhere in Athens without finding the ruins of something, they incorporated the finds into the displays. Fascinating! The National Archaeological Museum has statuary from pre-classical times all the way to Roman Greece.

Recommendations for Greek travel:

- We rented our car from Swift Car Rentals. They delivered our car to us at the airport (no waiting in line at a rental car counter), and later picked up the car from our hotel in Athens. Very convenient!

- In Meteora, we stayed at the Pension Arsenis, enjoying the warm hospitality of the Arsenis family. Good food, nice views, comfortable room, reasonable prices.

Carnevale in Venezia

2009-02-24T10:15:00.000-08:00

Our weekend to the Venezia Carnevale began on the wrong foot. First, amid the confusion of exiting the train in Madrid, I walked off without my jacket and pashima. February in Venice without a jacket is not a good idea. Temperatures were expected to be in the low forties with the possibility of snow and rain. We have already experienced Venice in freezing weather, so heading off without a jacket seemed imprudent. Luckily, there was an El Corte Ingles (Spain’s answer to the department store) near the metro stop and I was able to buy an adequate replacement, so we were off to the airport. We arrived at the airport 1 ½ hours before our flight, which is where we met our next obstacle. Iberia Airlines informed us that they had oversold the flight, and that even though we had purchased our tickets months prior, we did not have seats. GRRRRR! This should be illegal! But we held our cool, and waited patiently (and not so patiently) as the Venice flight was delayed and then delayed again. Fortunately, we were at the front of the line, and Scott was able to sweet talk us seats on the plane and we were off to Venezia! See our pictures at: http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Venezia_Carnival#

In Venice, the clerk at the Alilaguna counter informed us that the next boat to Venezia left in 5 minutes and that there was absolutely no way we could possibly make the boat as it was a long, cold walk from the airport. She suggested that we wait inside and catch the next boat, an hour later. “Alilaguna boats…” she proclaimed “are never late. This is not possible.” Scott and I looked at each other, it was very late. We decided to go for it. Sure enough, as the dock came into view, the boat pulled away. “Missed it by that much...” But the clerk at the dock told us another boat would be leaving in 20 minutes.

We arrived on the island of Venezia, just after midnight, fully expecting to find the island in full celebration, as we tried to muscle our suitcases across the island to our hotel. After all, this was Friday night in the middle of Carnevale. We exited the boat at the Rialto Bridge, and were met by dark, oddly quiet streets. Here and there, we saw confetti strewn on the ground, evidence of an earlier revel, but with the exception of a scant few people, the streets were deserted. We were puzzled. Most tour guide books suggest that the best way to navigate Venezia is to find the nearest landmark to your destination and follow the directional signs posted on the buildings toward that landmark. Our hotel was near Piazza San Marco, so we found the nearest directional sign for San Marco and began our trek across the island. For the most part following the directional signs work. The signs will get you to your destination… eventually, but the signs may not take the most direct route. In our case, in the wee hours of the morning, I am certain that we must have walked around in circles, several times. The signs pointed us down dark, sinister looking streets that I would not even consider walking down in Portland, let alone L.A. Some of the deserted streets and narrow alleys of Venice are just a tad unsettling in the middle of the night, while others are romantically beautiful. Eventually, we found our hotel, the Antico Panada. Actually, we walked past it while still looking for the Piazza. We checked in, and walked over to the Piazza. It just seemed wrong not to go to the Piazza, and besides, we were wondering where the legendary Carnevale celebrations were. But Piazza San Marco was largely empty, the stores locked up tight. (We will probably never see the Piazza this empty again.)

The next morning we decided (okay – I decided) that we should go to Murano. On one hand, I hated to leave Venezia, because we had come to experience the Carnevale, but none of the festivities were scheduled until later in the afternoon. Murano, for me, was a dream, so off we went. The Murano atmosphere simply breathes glass art. Glass has been its life blood since well before the 9th century. It is said that the early artisans were actually forbidden to leave the island to protect the Murano glass secrets from the outside world. Now that’s one way to protect your intellectual property! We stopped for a couple of glass blowing demos, which were mostly show, but will fascinate anyone who has not seen a true master at work. Nothing is cooler than hot glass! I had hoped to see some of the factories, but it was Saturday and they were closed. Still, Murano was beyond fabulous, and the artist in me drank in the flavor.

From Murano, we hopped a vaporetto to Burano. Burano is a sleepy little island filled with colorfully painted houses and a history for making lace that dates back to the 15th century. We turned off the main street and found an unhurried world, devoid of the crowds, where people appeared to go about their day, in much the same way as their grandparents and great-grandparents centuries before. We had a delightful time wandering through the mostly uncrowded streets. We stopped to watch a couple of craftswomen making lace. And stared out toward the lagoon, watching a fisherman untie and hang his nets to dry. It was a thoroughly lovely afternoon and respite, before returning to Venezia and the enthusiastic party in the streets that is Carnevale.

Ahhh, how does one describe Carnevale in Venezia? If you truly wish to discover Venezia, in all its medieval charm, Carnevale is the time to visit. The air of frivolity is infectious as all of Venezia takes to the street in costumes and masks for a grand celebration of an era gone by. The party was in full swing when we arrived in Piazza San Marco. Entertainments had been scheduled on the grand stage, which included a costume parade, improvisations and performances, clown bands and dancers, The Heliosphere - a trapeze artist suspended from a hot air balloon, who performed a ballet overhead, The Teatro Pavana - a group of actors on stilts, portraying giraffes, circulated through the crowd. This was a feast for people watching. Some of the revelers donned masks, while others were in full 16th or 17th century dress. Still others were costumed as fairytale or movie characters… Little Red Riding Hood, Alice (from Wonderland), Goldilocks, Obi Wan Kenobi, Darth Vader and Storm Troopers marched a very regal Princess Leah about the Piazza, acting out their roles. The Ghost Busters made their own debut, spraying the crowd with confetti as they raced about after phantom ghosts. Spontaneous Congo lines and human chains formed and wove their way among the revelers. One of the most entertaining bands was called Companía Teatro Calzo, which they translated for me as the Band “Without Shoes”. The Barefoot Band dressed in brightly colored uniforms and head pieces and played rowdy music as they led their followers on a wild dash through the crowd. When the festivities on the stage were over, the party continued on for only a short time. Venice has been a tourist destination for well over 400 years, and has developed closing the city down to a fine art form. It was amazing to watch just how quickly the shops and restaurants around the Piazza and around the city could close up shop. It explained why the streets had been so empty the night before.

Sunday was time for a museum, so we took the vaporetto down the Grand Canal to the Cá Rezzonico. The museum itself is really nothing special. It was interesting to see the inside of an 18th century palazzo. Two pieces in the museum were worth the admission price. The Dama Velata (Puritas) by Antonio Corradini is simply an amazing sculpture. (Sorry not photos were allowed inside the museum, but you can see a picture of it here: http://www.museiciviciveneziani.it/frame.asp?id=2720&musid=7. Yes, that is all sculpture; there is not a veil over the statue.) The museum also had a fine collection of Murano glass, including a magnificent 17th century Murano Chandelier which consists of a garden of multicolored flowers and lights. One of the few remaining intact pieces from this era.

Next we joined to the mob at Piazza San Marco and the cathedral. I like to think that all cathedrals are built as monuments to God. I realize, of course, that most cathedrals were built by Bishops who wanted to demonstrate their power and authority. However, there is no way that one can visit San Marcos Cathedral and not believe that it was built to be anything other than a demonstration to the world of Venetian wealth and power. History attests to this… In about 900 A.D., the Doges of Venezia decided that they needed a relic, so they stole the bones of Saint Mark from Egypt and brought them home to Venezia. With the bones, the winged lion became the symbol of Venezia. A cathedral was built to house the bones, but it was burned by an angry mob in the late 900 A.D. The current structure was finished about 1093 A.D. and houses the booty pillaged from wars in Turkey and Constantinople. The interior glitters with golden mosaics and intricately carved marble pillars. The original 4 horses are believed to be originally from the 1st or 2nd century A. D., but no one is sure where exactly they were made. Copies of these horses now adorn the cathedral façade. The originals are on display in the Cathedral Museum and are well worth the line and admission price. Plus, the admission price to the museum allows you to access the terrazzo which overlooks Piazza San Marcos. The view of the Piazza from the terrazzo was mesmerizing. It was fascinating to watch the eddies and flows of the crowd from above. It was not unlike watching a tide, and we marveled at how packed the piazza had become, even when compared with the night before.

We decided that mingling with the crowd did not appeal to us, so we set off to explore the rest of Venezia. We chose the Jewish Ghetto as our destination. Scott, navigator extraordinaire, consulted the map and determined the best route. And then we discovered Venetian crowd control. Carnevale had taken over the island and the police were out in force to move the crowd. The officers decided which way they were going to route the crowd and it did not matter if that was your destination or not… Everyone goes that way. It is a stampede of cattle philosophy, best avoided whenever possible because once you have been herded into one of these controlled mobs, it is difficult to get out, and the mob never moves fast. Scott, the grand negotiator that he is, managed to talk our way around several of these controlled mobs and we traversed the island in short order.

In the early 16th century, Venezia segregated its Jewish population and formed one of the first Jewish Ghettos. The name “ghetto” comes from the Italian word for copper, this part of the island was known for its copper foundries. It is an interesting contrast between the lavish palazzos of uptown Venezia and the densely populated world of the ghetto, whose buildings lack much of the embellishment found throughout the rest of Venice. Venezia still has a thriving Jewish community with three active Synagogues. We would have loved to see the inside of them, but tours are only given through the museum, which was closed. (I suppose we must leave something for the next trip.)

And so we wandered back through the party toward our hotel. Along the way we met up with the Barefoot Band and stopped to join in the fun. It was the perfect ending to a perfect weekend.

On a side note… We stopped by lost and found at the Renfe office in Madrid on our way home and found my forgotten jacket. Alas, the pashima from Pisa was not with it. Still, more luck than we had any right to expect… Tomorrow, we leave for Greece, and the cradle of civilization… and Greece is forecasting SNOW!

Romería

2009-02-16T06:10:00.000-08:00

In Spain, there is a long tradition of romerías. "Romería" refers to the processions which carry sacred images from one pueblo to another (yes, you've seen them in the movies). There are romerías all over Spain, with lots of history, although nowadays they seem mostly to be an excuse to have a picnic out in the country. The word derives from Roma, referring to pilgrims walking to Rome. However, the word is also close to "romero", which means rosemary. Therefore, it's common to see people with sprigs of wild rosemary in their buttonholes.
On Sunday, we joined a group of friends at the Romería of Pozoblanco. You can see the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Romeria#

and in the Diario Córdoba:

http://www.diariocordoba.com/noticias/noticia.asp?pkid=463763

In this semi-annual romería, the image of La Virgen de Luna is carried from the pueblo of Villanueva de Córdoba to the pueblo of Pozoblanco, a distance of about twenty miles. We heard various stories about how the image came to be shared between the two villages; I don’t know if any of them are true, but they’re good stories. A shepherd found the image in the 1300’s, and the Santuario was built to house it. (The image may date from Visigothic times. One theory is that it was hidden from the invading Moors, and the shepherd found it after the Reconquista. When you look at the pictures, you might be skeptical that the image dates from before A.D. 800. With good reason. During the Middle Ages, creation of religious figures with associated legends was a big business. Pilgrimage sites brought in lots of visitors and the associated trade.) The pueblo of Pozoblanco didn’t yet exist at that time. The image was carried to Villanueva de Córdoba for the big festivals for many years, during which Pozoblanco came to be. One year, due to excessive rains and flooding, the people of Villanueva de Córdoba weren’t able to make it to the Santuario to get the image. According to the people of Pozoblanco, this meant they’d lost their right to the image, and so they brought it back to their own pueblo. There were some skirmishes fought over it (hence the symbolic weapons carried during the romería). Finally the pueblos reached an agreement to share the image, resulting in the opportunity to go out to the country for a picnic twice a year.

It was about an hour's drive to get there from Córdoba. Pedro, one of our group, is a proud son of Pozoblanco, and insisted on giving us a tour of the pueblo before we continued out into the countryside. We saw the original Pozo Blanco (white well) from which the pueblo takes its name. In the old days, roosters would...roost?...on the well, which was therefore covered with excrement, giving it the characteristic white color. My mind reels with "chickenshit" jokes, but I'll resist the temptation.

We drove out of town into the countryside, which is a landscape known as "dehesa." In ancient times, it was oak forest with heavy underbrush. Several millennia of human occupation have left the forest thinned considerably, but not clear-cut. This leaves clearance for individual trees to grow much larger, with grassland ideal for grazing pigs, sheep, goats, and cattle. One of the guys in the group explained to us (with no small pride) that this was an early example of sustainable land use.

We saw more and more people walking along the road, some on horseback, as we approached El Santuario de la Virgen de Luna, the church at the halfway point between the two pueblos. All around the church were hundreds of families with their picnic lunches. We got ourselves situated and munched a bit before walking over to the church. La Virgen had been walked from Villanueva de Córdoba in the morning, and would arrive in Pozoblanco in the evening; she spent the siesta in El Santuario. We guaranteed our good luck for the year by ringing the church bell.
La Virgen was carried out of the church around 3:30, escorted by black-uniformed men of the Cofradía (a sort of lay brotherhood). They were armed with (fake) halberds and shotguns (loaded with blanks). All of this happened to the sound of the church bell ringing and the guns firing randomly and the crowd cheering. It was quite a sight.

We all enjoyed a drink at one of the outside stands before going back to our picnic site. Eventually, everything got packed up; nothing happens in a rush in Spain. We all drove back into Pozoblanco to buy some "hornazos", traditional sweets made for the romería. It was a very nice end to a very nice day. We participated in a very Spanish tradition, something that we’d never get to see in a normal vacation.

Medina Azahara

2009-02-08T13:41:00.000-08:00

After over four months in Córdoba, we decided it was time to visit the Medina Azahara. This is probably the last of the “big” tourist sites in Córdoba, but we just hadn´t gotten around to it. We found ourselves without other plans today (unusual in itself!), so we paid 6.50€ each to board the tourist bus and head over. You can see pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/MedinaAzahara#

The Medina, more properly called the Madinat al-Zahra, was built beginning in A.D. 940, while Spain was still very Muslim. It was begun by the caliph Abd Al-rahman III as a demonstration of the unification of al-Andalus under his rule (let´s face it…an ego trip on a grand scale). He used it as his administrative center, effectively the capital of Moorish Spain for a time. The Medina´s heyday was short; the caliph´s successors moved the government seat to Madinat al-Zahira (yes, I know the name looks very similar, but look carefully at the letters), to the east of Córdoba. After that, the Medina fell rapidly into decline. It was partially destroyed when the caliphate broke up around A.D. 1010, and systematically dismantled for building materials over the succeeding centuries. It was never really lost, but it wasn´t excavated as an archaeological site until the early 1900´s.

It´s quite enjoyable to see ruins that have not been completely restored. At the Medina, parts of the castle and court have been restored, but other parts have been left in ruins. The areas that have been restored give you a feel for what the scholars think the original structure must have looked like. But when areas are left in their ruined state, you get a very different feel for the structure, and how people lived. In many ways the ruins, with bracken and weeds pushing their way through the cracks, seem more real even without complete roofs or floors. The Moorish architecture is really quite amazing. Tonya is falling in love with the Moorish art and scroll work that decorates the walls and doorways. It must have been inspiring to live in places adorned in such a manner.

These sites which haven´t been maintained and restored just feel much older. To really see an ancient building as it was, you´d have to be able to go back in time. Restored, or in ruins; that´s the choice. Buildings like Córdoba´s Mezquita, which have been in continuous use for a thousand years, are a mixture of ancient and non-so-ancient and near-modern and modern. The ruins of the Medina show what it was like around A.D. 1000, though it takes some imagination to visualize it.

More Spanish Humor

2009-02-06T12:27:00.000-08:00

February has come in like a lion. Actually, considering the kind of weather we’ve been having, it should be a wetter animal. Let’s say that February has come in like a giant squid. The sun came out this afternoon, so maybe we´re past the worst of it.

One of the other teachers at Gran Capitán told me a good joke the other day. Like many jokes, it requires some knowledge of the culture. Let´s go back to the 1960´s and 1970´s, when Franco was still in power, and the Guardia Civil was the national police force. They were a pretty rough bunch. They were particularly nasty to the gypsy population, resulting in a mutual antipathy which has lasted to the present day, although the Guardia Civil has cleaned up its image considerably.

So, back to the joke. Two gypsies were walking along the road when they saw a discarded Guardia Civil uniform in the ditch. One of the gypsies said, “Look, Paco! What nice clothes! I´m going to try them on!”

Paco said, “But José! Why would you put on a Guardia Civil uniform?!”

José said, “Look at the nice cloth! It still has lots of wear.” And he proceeded to put in on.

When José had the uniform on, Paco asked, “So, how do you feel now?”

José replied, “You know, I have the sudden urge to beat the @#$%&!! out of you.” (Rimshot)

By all accounts, the Franco years were not a particularly nice time. It’s an interesting comment on the resiliency of human nature, that people can joke about it now.

There Is No Bad Weather….

2009-01-31T12:59:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine once told me, “There is no bad weather, only inadequate clothing.” This weekend’s excursion was a perfect illustration of that wise old saying. I suppose I should know better than to go hiking in the mountains in January, even in southern Spain. This weekend’s expedition was to Ventisquero, in the Sierra Sur de Jaén. For you geologists, this is the northernmost of the two mountain ranges which separate the province of Córdoba from the province of Granada (all of which are still in Andalucía). Sorry, there are no pictures this time; there was just no opportunity, as you’ll see.

Yes, southern Spain is mostly sunny and warm. There is snow up in the mountains, but I just haven’t seen anything too bad. When I was reading the weather forecasts for this weekend, they were predicting rain (a 25% probability, not uncommon at this time of year) and snow at the higher altitudes. Based on experiences to date, I was expecting slushy snow that would melt upon hitting the ground. I have a nice warm jacket which is not waterproof, so I brought a plastic poncho just in case. I also bought a pair of polainas (a sort of waterproof leggings), figuring that they would probably stay in my backpack. As always, I was wearing tennis shoes; I’ve never yet found a pair of hiking boots that I liked, either in Spain or in America. The polainas covered most of the top part of the shoes, so I figured my feet would stay dry through anything short of a continuous heavy downpour. All set, right?

I started walking to the pickup point at 6:30am , leaving Tonya blissfully sleeping. It was raining when we boarded the bus…not an auspicious beginning. I slept most of the way to the pueblo of Valdepeñas de Jaén, where we began the hike. It was raining, of course, so I put on the polainas and the poncho right from the beginning. The good news is that the rain stopped after we’d walked a few kilometers. The bad news is that it turned into snow. The worse news is that it was sticking to the ground, rather than politely melting away.

At this point, I was still doing fine. It didn’t feel that cold (my layered outfit was doing its job), and the poncho and polainas were keeping me reasonably dry. There was a fairly stiff wind, but it was at our back for most of the ascent. I tried to ignore that nagging voice that was reminding me that we’d be walking into the wind on our way down. The snow kept getting deeper and the temperature dropped; before long, we were walking on icy ground covered with a layer of fairly slippery snow. I was using both of my walking sticks, and this probably saved me from landing on my rear end in the snow a few times.

Francisco, one of my walking companions, pointed out that I’d put on the polainas backwards, so they weren’t covering my shoes as effectively as they could. At the next rest stop, I fixed the polainas, but noticed that my poncho had developed a rip; historically, this has been a bad sign. At this rest stop, about a third of the group decided to turn around and head back down. I took a deep breath and decided to join them; the weather was continuing to get worse, and I simply wasn’t outfitted for it. As it turns out, the rest of the group turned around shortly afterward. Nobody made it to the peak today.

The return trip went from merely uncomfortable to positively nasty. As I’d feared, we were getting sharp little granules of snow blown into our faces. The wind continued getting worse. The little tear in my poncho turned rapidly into a big tear, and then a second tear, and before long it was in tatters. One of the other hikers later showed me a picture he’d taken of me from the rear; I looked like a scarecrow, with shreds of red plastic poncho trailing behind me like pennants. At least the wind kept the front of the poncho pinned against my chest, so it was still keeping me from getting wet.

As we came down into the pueblo, the snow turned back into rain. Finally came the blessed moment when both the rain and the wind stopped for a time. I dumped the remaining shreds of poncho into the first trash can I saw. By the time it started raining again, there wasn’t any wind, and so the umbrella was effective. Thank goodness; otherwise I’d have been soaked to the skin! We found the only open restaurant in town (with radiators, which were highly appreciated!) and enjoyed one of those wonderful Spanish comidas with wine and bread and lots of dishes cooked in olive oil.

The lesson here is almost cliché for Oregonians: if you’re going to do foul weather hiking, don’t skimp on buying the proper equipment. In my defense, today’s weather was much worse than what I’d expected. I simply don’t do enough of these kinds of excursions to make it worthwhile to invest in the gear.

Spanish Political Humor

2009-01-25T03:40:00.000-08:00

It continues to amaze me how much the Spanish people are interested in American politics. I suppose it’s inevitable; American policy decisions have a great deal of effect on other countries. There is a lot of optimism in the wake of Obama’s election. I hope he’s able to live up to the great expectations of the United States and the rest of the world.

To understand the political humor of another country, you have to get to a certain level of awareness of their politics. After some months, I’m to the point that I can understand most (but still not all!) of the editorial cartoons. There was a good one this morning, which will require a little bit of background. President José Zapatero of the Spanish Socialist Worker’s Party (PSOE) was elected in 2004 in the wake of the Madrid bombings. He fulfilled his campaign promise to remove Spanish troops from Iraq. This made two strikes against him in the eyes of former president George W. Bush, and he wasn’t given the opportunity for a third strike; throughout his presidency, he’s received the cold shoulder from the Bush administration. This came to a head during the planning of the international economic summit last November, to which Zapatero was pointedly not invited. (He finally attended as a guest of French president Nicolas Sarkozy.) Naturally, with the change of American administrations, there is a great deal of hope for better relations between Spain and the United States.

Here’s a link showing the page with the cartoon.

http://diariodecordoba.mynewsonline.com/pdf/index.php?screen=preview&ref=PCO20090125G004&idioma=PER

Sorry for the poor quality, but unless you want to pay for a subscription to El Diario Córdoba, you can´t see the good copy! However, the drawing is pretty simple. It shows President Zapatero in pajamas, sitting on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, looking at the telephone while his wife is trying to sleep. He says, “How strange! It’s been two days since he became president, but he hasn’t called me yet.” His wife replies, “Surely he’s thinking about it, but he can’t find your number. Go to sleep already.”

Certainly a different point of view!

A Spanish Pueblo

2009-01-21T06:18:00.000-08:00

This last weekend, our good friend Lola took us out to visit her pueblo. (Sorry, no pictures this time…we didn’t think to bring the camera.) Many of the people here in Córdoba didn’t grow up in town; they grew up in some pueblo, and came to the city to find work. They still go back to their pueblos for the holidays, to visit with their mothers and fathers and cousins and nephews and nieces and so on and so on. Lola’s pueblo is actually an aldea. (This doesn’t translate exactly…it’s a small village that is under the jurisdiction of a larger town. Not exactly a bedroom community, because the aldeas are generally agricultural.) The aldea is called El Garabato (literally, The Scribble. Cool name!). It’s under the jurisdiction of the pueblo La Carlota. La Carlota was one of a series of pueblos founded in the 1700’s by King Carlos III along the royal highway from Madrid to Sevilla. He wanted some more population in the area to discourage the “bandoleros”, highwaymen who were causing headaches for travelers. Lola told us this to explain why there was nothing really old in the pueblo. I don’t know….for someone from the United States, something dating from the 1700’s seems reasonably old.

El Garabato is about 30km out of Córdoba, in a lovely green area of rolling hills covered with orchards of olive trees. Lola seemed to know, or to be related to, everyone we saw there. She was waving to people from the car, and stopping to chat with people on the street. Very soon, we gave up trying to keep track of who was related to whom. We drove out to an olive orchard owned by a brother-in-law, and found the family out picking olives. (It’s harvest season.) The ground seemed pretty rocky for a cultivated field, but I guess the trees don’t care. Tonya got right into the spirit of things, and pitched in to help pick olives for a little bit. The brother-in-law finally insisted that she stop before she stained her clothes…we weren’t exactly dressed for olive-picking!

We also visited the factory where they press the olive oil. Again, it helps that Lola knows everybody; this was not a place set up for visitors, but we got the grand tour. The olives are dumped from trucks onto a conveyor belt, then dropped through an air stream to separate out the leaves and a water stream to clean them up. They are crushed in a big machine…I couldn’t tell if it was hydraulic or not. In the old days, they were crushed using huge cone-shaped millstones, some of which could still be seen near the factory. The resulting slush of olive and oil and skins and crushed seeds went into a centrifuge to separate out the constituent ingredients. None of it goes to waste; the crushed seeds are used as a combustible like coal, the meat of the olives is used for animal feed, and the oil is the main cash product.

When we were talking later to Lola’s mother (a very nice old lady, but with a thick rural accent that made her very difficult to understand), she was lamenting the changes that had come about as a result of the machinery. When she was a child, her father was a fairly wealthy landowner, and agriculture was very much a community activity. During harvest season, everyone would turn out for the picking. With everyone helping, the work wasn’t onerous, and there was lots of time during siesta for socializing. Lots of manpower was needed to move the olives about, and to handle the harnessed burros turning the millstones. Nowadays, the factory runs with a staff of about ten men. Lots of people have to leave the pueblos to find work; you simply don’t need as many people to work the land. It sounds like the transition that happened in the USA in the late 1800’s, but here it didn’t happen until the late 1900’s. This is at least partially due to forty years of dictatorship under Franco.

Some of Lola’s stories also underscore how much Spain’s development was delayed in comparison to the rest of western Europe. When she was a little girl…this would have been in the 1960’s….they still pulled water in buckets from the well. Her father would fill huge earthen jars (sort of like the old Greek amphorae) with water, load them on the burros, and take them down into the pueblo. It was a real treat for Lola to get to perch on top of the mules during the water-carrying trips. Charred pieces of olive branches, called picón, were used as fuel in the braseros; electricity was not easily available at the time, and why would you use it to heat a home? Lola would play in the picón bin, and get in trouble when her mother found her all blackened with soot. Washing clothes was also a community activity. We saw the old community laundry area; washtubs in a huge slab of concrete, with channels for the water to come in one side and drain out the other, and a ridged part where you’d rub the clothes. All of this sounds like something from the 1800’s, rather than the 1900’s.

We’re certainly getting views of Spain that you wouldn’t get on the typical vacation trip!

Tour of Italy

2009-01-07T23:39:00.000-08:00

From the start, I have to say that a tour group wasn’t our first choice. We had visions of fat old people in flowered shirts being shepherded from site to site. Still, after doing the research, we decided that it was the most efficient and economical way to do an initial reconnaissance of Italy. On the plus side, we visited a lot more places than we’d have visited on our own. In eight days, we visited Rome, Pompeii, Naples (Napoli), the Isle of Capri (that’s KAH-pree), Assisi, Siena, Florence (Firenze), Pisa, Padua, and Venice (Venezia). (As a side note: why do we English speakers feel obligated to take poetic names like Napoli, Firenze, Venezia, and Roma, and turn them into boring names like Naples, Florence, Venice, and Rome?) And going by bus between cities meant that we got to enjoy a lot of beautiful countryside. On the minus side, we didn’t get to spend enough time in any of these places. And Tonya wasn’t thrilled with the fact that all of the tour guides were speaking Spanish. Still, it gave us a solid base for planning future trips. We’ve already scheduled a return to Venezia, and are planning at least one more trip down south.

Spain is wonderful. France is wonderful. Holland and England are wonderful. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in all of these places. But Italy is…Italia! It’s in a different league. The ambience, the countryside, the towns, the art, the buildings….wow. It’s a place that we’ll want to visit again and again. We took so many pictures that we had to post them in two locations…take a look at them at

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Italy_Tour#

and

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Italy_Tour_2#

With two half-days free, and blessed with lovely weather, we were able to explore Roma on our own more thoroughly than the other places. Still, there’s a lot more to see, and we didn’t get to a tenth of it. The only tour event we joined in Roma was the visit to the Vatican…well worth it when we saw the length of the line we got to avoid. (We did have a small scare on our way to the Vatican. We got separated from our group when we crossed with another group, and ended up following the wrong guide. Happily, everyone was going in the same direction, so we hooked back up with our people at the group entry line. After that, we made a point of sticking close to the guide.) The subway system is inadequate for a European capital city, but it got us more or less where we wanted to go. What a joy just walking the streets! There was some new wonder around every corner. We took to looking inside every church we passed, and were rewarded with amazing artwork. We had an exciting moment on New Year’s Eve….we didn’t return to the hotel with the tour group, because we wanted to stay longer in the city. When we went to board the Metro to come back to the hotel for dinner, we found that the Colosseum stop was closed for a New Year’s Eve concert. We hoofed it to the next Metro stop (a good distance away), and then had to walk another mile and a half once we got back out to the area of the hotel. We made it to dinner with a good ten minutes to spare.

We spent too little time in Pompeii, the ancient Roman city that was buried by volcanic ash when Mount Vesuvius erupted in A.D. 79, and not re-discovered until the 1700’s. It gives a fascinating glimpse of what an actual Roman town looked like; most towns have been built over so many times in the last 2,000 years that all you can find of the original town are the excavated foundations. It’s a bit chilling to see how much population there is today between Pompeii and the volcano. If there were another eruption, the loss of life could be staggering. In A.D. 79, the residents of Pompeii had about three days’ warning that something was wrong (the springs which supplied the city’s water had gone dry, although they didn’t know that meant an eruption was coming). Of the hundreds of thousands of people living there today, how many could be evacuated in time?

Sad to say, I thought Napoli was the ugliest city we saw in Italy. Industrial, sprawling, dirty, congested…yuck. We were given a choice between spending a half-day in Napoli, or paying 76€ each for the boat ride to the Isle of Capri. Really no choice at all. I felt as if we´d been shaken down. Still, we had a lovely time on Capri. We took a boat ride to see some of the famous sea grottos, and then a funicular ride to the top of the hill. I´m told that we saw a couple of European celebrities up there, but I didn´t recognize any of them. While walking down to the port, we saw a man working in his vegetable garden, which also had a few fruit trees. We told him, “Molto bello!” (Very pretty!). He gave us some oranges from his trees. Yes, they were delicious.

The picturesque hillside town of Assisi was the home of St. Francis, who would probably be appalled at the size of the cathedral built in his name. While we were in the cathedral, we heard a soloist singing “Tu scendi dalle stelle” (O Bambino), a lovely Christmas carol. Very nice.

The main attractions in Firenze are the museums, although we had a nice time walking through town as well. The highlight of the day was getting to see Michelangelo’s famous sculpture of David. I didn’t expect to be impressed by it, but I was. Part of it was the size; I don’t know the exact height, but it looked to be a good twenty feet. Another part was the incredible attention to detail, all the way down to the veins on the forearms and feet. Still another was the oh-so-human expression on David’s face as he prepared to confront Goliath; the combination of fear and pride. Definitely a masterpiece. Still, as our guide pointed out, it was the work of a young man (Michelangelo was 26 when he completed it, she said). It was sculpted in imitation of the old Greek statues, with a rather conventional subject and pose. His later works were more innovative in terms of content and pose. Still, for all that, it’s far and away his best-known work.

We enjoyed a lovely drive over the Apennine Mountains to get to Venezia. Making these drives emphasized how small the European countries are in comparison to the USA; in about four hours, we drove across the width of Italy. Venezia is fairly close to the Alps, which supply nice icy winds to the city. It was COLD. We opted to spend more time inside the museums, rather than walking around the town and freezing our as….ah….toes off.

It’s difficult to say what constitutes an “island” in Venezia. The city started on a few small islands in a shallow lagoon, and was extended on wooden pylons set into the sand. The water in the canals is at sea level. Thinking that way, you can’t say there’s an “island of Venezia.” Instead, there are dozens (or even hundreds) of little islands connected by bridges. Little by little, the level of the sea has been increasing (global warming, whether caused by mankind or not, is a reality), while the city has been slowly sinking into the sands of the lagoon. It’s entirely possible that Venezia will one day disappear beneath the sea. There are some very ambitious engineering projects underway to try to save the city; only time will tell if they can do it. In Piazza San Marco, we saw a very interesting thing: stacks of wooden platforms on metal legs about a foot high. Apparently, at this time of year, the piazza is sometimes under water at high tide. Not wanting to slow down the tourist trade, they set out platforms to create walkways across the piazza. Brr. Maybe the sinking of Venezia is closer than we think.

We’ll be back to Venezia in February for the annual carnival; with luck, it won’t be quite so frigid. Tonya got to see the Murano glassworking demonstration, although it was in Venezia rather than on the island of Murano. It was neat to see the glasswork, and the heat of the oven was quite welcome.

Another side note: our flight to Roma left from Madrid, and we took advantage of this to spend a full day visiting the Prado Museum. We’ve been through Madrid several times by now, but this was the first time that we had time and the museums were open. The Prado has an amazing collection of works by Velasquez, Goya, El Greco, and other Spanish artists. (Yes, I realize that El Greco wasn’t Spanish, but his did all of his famous paintings in the royal Spanish court.) An unexpected surprise was several works by Bosch and Brueghel. We couldn’t take pictures there, but here are links to some of the paintings we saw (my favorites, courtesy of Webmuseum):

http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/velazquez/velazquez.meninas.jpg
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/velazquez/velazquez.feast-bacchus.jpg
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/goya/goya.shootings-3-5-1808.jpg
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/goya/goya.saturn-son.jpg
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/bosch/delight/delightr.jpg
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/bosch/stone.jpg
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/bosch/7sins/7sins.jpg

Málaga

2008-12-24T07:23:00.000-08:00

Christmas vacation is giving us some nice opportunities to travel. We´ve had a stretch of very pleasant weather, and decided that it was time to go down and visit the Mediterranean Sea. Málaga is a very popular destination along Spain´s Costa del Sol. We received varying recommendations from our friends. My students told me it was the coolest city ever, and that we had to go there. Another friend said that it´s an ugly city, and it doesn´t have a pretty old-town district like Córdoba´s Judería. Take a look at the pictures and judge for yourself:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/MLaga#

Although Málaga doesn´t have a conventional old-town area, it´s actually an older city than Córdoba or Sevilla. It was founded by Phoenician traders in the 8th century B.C., with the original name of Malaka. It was taken by the Carthaginians in the 6th century B.C. The Carthaginians lost it to the Romans in the 3rd century B.C. in the Second Punic War (this was the war in which Hannibal marched his elephants over the Pyrenees). The Visigoths moved in during the fall of the Roman Empire in the 5th century A.D. They were in turn defeated by the Moors in 8th century A.D. The Moors held it until Fernando and Isabel, Los Reyes Católicos, conquered it in 1487 and made it part of the kingdom of Spain. This is a city with a lot of history. Beneath the Picasso Museum, there were the preserved foundations of an old Phoenician residence and a section of the Phoenician city wall (6th century B.C.), an old Roman fish-processing factory (3rd to 5th centuries A.D.), and a ducal palace (16th century A.D.). The ruins were much more interesting than the Picasso museum itself; unfortunately, no cameras were allowed.

We´ve gotten pretty good at navigating Spanish cities. From the train station, we went directly to the Alcazaba, the Moorish castle / fortress on a hill overlooking the city. One of the informational signs advanced the theory that the hill was the reason that Málaga had been continuously occupied for so many years; other Phoenician cities in less defensible locations simply disappeared. We took the coward´s route of catching a bus up the hill to the Castillo Gibralfaro, but we did enjoy the walk back down the hill afterward. At the castillo was a remarkably good and economical outdoor restaurant. We enjoyed our afternoon comida sipping Moscatel (a sweet wine which is a specialty of Málaga) and enjoying the view of the Mediterranean. Ah, Spain!

Probably the most enjoyable part of the day was a stroll along the beach. It´s been a long time since we´ve been able to walk on the sand and hear the crash of the waves. The temperatures were in the 60´s; comfortable, but not exactly swimming weather. We may have to spend a weekend here when it warms up a bit. We picked up a couple of seashells from the sand. They definitely look different than the shells you´ll find on an Oregon or California beach.

¡Feliz Navidad a todos!

Lobatejo

2008-12-22T02:01:00.000-08:00

This week’s expedition with Llega Como Puedas was an ascent of Lobatejo, the second-highest peak in Córdoba province. Of course, that´s not saying much; the highest peak, La Tiñosa, is less than 5,000 feet in altitude. Take a look at the pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Lobatejo#

Lobatejo is in the Subbética, a natural park (not to be confused with a national park). We left from the pueblo of Zuheros, only about an hour´s bus ride from Córdoba. Zuheros has a neat-looking castle which I´d have liked to explore, but that wasn´t in the agenda.

Despite the fact that we´re near the end of December, the weather was spectacular. I´d brought my heavy jacket, and I really needed it for about the first forty-five minutes of the hike. After that, I was just carrying it around. I´d also brought my poncho, which is undoubtedly the reason that we didn´t have any rain.

There were a lot of sheep grazing the meadows of Lobatejo. Spanish-speaking sheep, of course, who say “be-e-e” instead of “baa.” It´s very interesting hearing the local animal dialects. For instance, cats say “miau” instead of “meow,” dogs say “huau-huau”, and roosters say “qui-qui-qui-qui-ri.” I never thought “cock-a-doodle-doo” made much sense anyway.

The walk was a very enjoyable mixture of trails, cross-country walking, rock clambering, and beating through undergrowth. The official distance was 23 kilometers. Even so, it took a good eight hours. The cross-country parts really slow you down. It also underscored the downside of charting a route using GPS. GPS will tell you that if you go down the slope in this direction and follow that little valley, you´ll hook up with the dirt road. It won´t tell you if the slope is covered with loose shifting rock, or if the valley is choked with spiny bushes, or if there´s no opening in the farmers´ wire fence. But nothing stopped our intrepid group.

There were some rather nasty stretches of slippery mud. At least once, my walking stick saved me from taking a fall; I´m becoming a real believer. One of my friends wasn´t so lucky. He slipped in the mud and landed hard on his left arm. He may have broken his wrist. This was the first time I´d seen the Llega Como Puedas rapid-response team in action. I hadn´t realized it, but the group had a designated nurse. She efficiently examined the wrist, cleaned it up, wrapped it in an Ace bandage, and put the arm in a sling. I hope to never have to make use of the service.

Christmas 2008

2008-12-21T13:08:00.000-08:00

We thought that we would post a link to this year's Christmas card for those of you who read our blog, whose e-mail addresses we do not have.

Link to the card:

http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/Uo099JfgEt5Nu4gBoEt7#/view/9y3NxzA4XxoHMCR5

CHRISTMAS 2008

The year started out in the regular way,
At a regular job, earning regular pay.
But we wanted adventure, to escape the rat race,
And Scott yearned to teach in a Spanish-speaking place.

Soon he won an Assistanceship in the south of Spain,
Though our son said that now we were truly insane!
Some friends applauded, while others said “Odd!”
And my Dad exclaimed: “Tell me he’s not quitting his job!”

Throughout the whole summer arrangements were made,
What to do with the house and the bills to be paid.
We learned how “just stuff” can tie you to earth,
What could we give up? What was it all worth?

How to pack life in a 50 pound box?
What’s most important? Books, computer or socks?
What will we need? What can be bought there?
We researched Córdoba, with excitement and prayer.

Finally our visas arrived amid cheers,
An adventure in Spain for almost a year.
We stopped first in Amsterdam, and then on to Paris.
Explored the French countryside…driving didn’t scare us!

Back in Paris, we hopped on a night train to Spain
In Córdoba we landed, till June we´ll remain.
We found a small piso near Plaza Colón,
And I set to the task of making a home.

Scott’s loving the teaching, with the students he’s tops,
While I work on Spanish, and learn where to shop.
We’ve learned of braseros, for warming our toes,
And we’re losing weight walking where ever we go.

Córdoba’s a blend of the old and the new,
And we’re living more simply as Córdobans do.
We’re making new friends and sharing traditions,
Thanksgiving on Friday, the Spanish rendition.

It’s a much different world here, surprisingly so,
It changes perspectives, and in some ways we grow.
For the next great adventure, it’s Italy and Rome,
For we need to see Europe before we come home.

Our adventure’s exciting, this side of the pond,
Still our thoughts stray to friends and to those we hold fond.
We hope that this poem finds you all in good cheer,
To you, Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Feliz Navidad

2008-12-21T12:57:00.001-08:00

It’s Christmas in Spain, and it is an entirely Christian celebration. This is not the Happy Holidays of America, but rather a celebration of joy that ignites the entire city. Most Córdobans will tell you that they are not very religious. But babies are always properly baptized, children attend to their Catechisms and First Communions are huge family celebrations. Where in America, Christmas has become largely secular, with street and store decorations centering around Santa Claus, the Christmas Tree and good old fashion greed; in Spain, it is all about the birth of Christ. Homes hang out banners of Baby Jesus and stores proudly display Nacimientos (Nativities) or Beléns (Bethlehem Towns) which elaborately depict Bethlehem and the entire Christmas story from the Annunciation, to Mary and Joseph´s flight to Egypt. In one Belén, one of the Reyes Mago (Wise Men) is shown arriving on an elephant. The Wise Men are very important in Spain, for it is the Magi that bring the gifts on January 5 (Twelfth Night). Alas, Spain has not entirely escaped greed either. In another Belén, farmers work in fields, while shopkeeper and artisan go about their daily business, as Mary and Joseph are turned away from the inn. Shepherds and their flocks converge on the stable to see the Baby Jesus. Later, Romans are shown carrying out Herod´s order, as mothers plead for their children. Another interpretation shows both Spain and the Americas, complete with an Atlantic Ocean and a Mary and Joseph looking for lodgings in America. And yet another Belén includes a rising and a setting sun, with heavens filled with stars as elaborate angels proclaim the Holy Birth.

These Nacimientos and Beléns began appearing a couple of weeks ago, and more are showing up each day as Christmas approaches. Crowds fill the plazas in the evenings to “ohh and ahh” over the latest Belén. Some of these are life size, others are miniature, and it is interesting to see the each interpretation. I understand that the Belén has origins in Italy, but the Beléns that we have seen have a distinctly Spanish feel to them. The newspaper published a listing of where the coolest displays could be found (although they did not promise that all their information was correct, so sometimes we find ourselves on a “wild Belén chase.”) You can see pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Nacimientos#

This afternoon we attended a children’s program of Villancicos, which are Spanish Christmas Songs traditionally sung by children, telling the story of Jesus. The songs are mostly about walking to Bethlehem, or about the Wise Men´s journey, or about the shepherds coming to see the Baby Jesus. There is nothing of the seriousness and reverence that you hear in most of our traditional Christmas carols; these are songs meant to entertain children. The program was precious and eagerly attended by the children. Not entirely different than what you might see in a Christmas pageant at your church. But quite unusual to the American perspective as this was at the local Botanical Garden. For parts of the program, the children were up on the stage acting out Nativity stories or marching about the room on their way to Bethlehem. The funniest part was when they had the wise men coming to visit. Three of the children, two of whom were little girls, were outfitted with bushy black beards. (We´d post one or two of the songs on this blog, but don´t want to run afoul of any copyright laws. If you´re interested in hearing a song, contact us by e-mail.)

We had both thought that Christmas would be anti-climatic without the cookie party, and all the trimmings of Christmas. But rather, the enthusiasm in the streets spreads into the homes, and we are not feeling any lack. In Spain, this is Christmas, everyone is invited to the party. It is entirely wonderful.

The Politics of True Multi-Culturalism

2008-12-12T13:06:00.000-08:00

Spanish politics are interesting in a way that we just don’t experience in the United States. To understand this, you have to know a little of the history. During medieval times, the Iberian peninsula was a patchwork of warring Christian kingdoms and Muslim caliphates. Alliances were constantly shifting. The foundations of the kingdom that we now call Spain was formed in 1469 when Fernando, heir to the throne of Aragon, married Isabel, heiress to the thrones of Castilla and Leon. (This is the Isabella who later hocked her jewels to finance Christopher Columbus’s crazy scheme to sail west to China.) When Fernando and Isabel came to their thrones, their combined kingdoms covered most of modern Spain. When they kicked the Muslims out of Granada in 1492, they pretty much established the traditional borders of Spain.

“Spain” therefore includes a number of different ancient kingdoms and cultural groups, many with their own customs and even languages. The last 500 years has been a history of trying to bring all of these groups together into one national identity, with mixed success. To call the language “Spanish” is a bit of a misnomer; it is actually Castellano, the language of Castilla. Other languages, such as Catalán (from Cataluña), Gallego (from Galicia), or Vasco (from the Basque country) have as much claim, but they weren´t the rulers. At least Catalán and Gallego are romance languages, closely related to Spanish, French, and Italian; Vasco is a pre-Indo-European language which has no relation whatever with Spanish. During the mid- 20th century, the dictator Franco tried hard to suppress all of these regional cultures and turn everyone into good Spaniards. This had the predictable effect of causing a resurgence of regional pride in the local cultures. After Franco died, the constitution of 1978 created “autonomous regions” to allow some self-rule by the local cultures.

Unfortunately, this local pride sometimes goes to ridiculous extremes. This is illustrated by news stories in the Spanish newspapers, stories which generally don´t get much attention in the USA.

The first example comes from the Basque country. Spain has an annual bicycling event, the Vuelta Ciclista, something like the Tour de France. For years, the route has not gone through Euskadi (the Basque region) because of threats from the ETA, their home-grown terrorist organization. (Recall that in the Madrid bombings of 2004, the government originally tried to blame the Basque separatists.) The ETA has been greatly diminished in recent years, due to a number of high-profile arrests and a decided lack of popular support even in Euskadi. Therefore, the Vuelta Ciclista proposed that the route end in Euskadi. The response from the “nacionalista” Basque government was no. They said, “Euskadi no es España (Euskadi is not Spain).” Now, try applying this to the United States; can you picture someone saying, “Minnesota is not the United States”? It just doesn´t compute.

Another example occurred in Galicia, where a father pulled his daughter from a music school because the school would not teach her in Spanish. The school only taught in Gallego. The father took the position (reasonable, I think) that Spanish instruction should be available in Spain. That one is still being fought out in the courts.

The third example is from Cataluña, probably the richest area of Spain, which has historically not been pleased with being ruled from Madrid. In Barcelona, the city government is forcing businesses in the downtown area to post signs in Catalán rather than Spanish. Several businesses have said that they would close before doing so. Face it; there are hundreds of millions of Spanish-speaking people in dozens of countries all over the world. How many people speak Catalán? I can see where the businessmen would want to appeal to the larger market.

The “nacionalista” movements are not universally supported, even in the areas with the most cultural pride. When Tonya and I travelled to Barcelona last month, I asked a cab driver if we´d have any trouble since I spoke Spanish and not Catalán. I liked his reply: “Bah! If you go into a shop and they insist on speaking Catalán, go to another shop.”

Sevilla

2008-12-07T08:59:00.000-08:00

Tonya was feeling better Saturday morning (she had a nasty cold last week), so we decided it was time to visit Sevilla (Seville, for you Americanos). We’ve become good at looking for the cheap train tickets; I was able to find seats for 8,20€ each (each way, of course, but still a good deal!). Take a look at our pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Sevilla#

We´ve become a little more travel-savvy after a few months here. Therefore, rather than paying a taxi driver to take us into town, we took a bus. With hindsight, that may not have been the best way to enjoy Sevilla. The bus route took us through drab neighborhoods, and the overcast skies didn´t help. It started us off with a negative impression of the city that took a little time to eliminate even after we´d made it into the pretty part of town. (Although Tonya still says it´s an ugly town.)

And the pretty part of town really is nice. One day wasn´t enough to see all of the things we wanted to see, and we´d have liked to spend some more time in the places we did see. We started off with the Palacio de la Condesa de Lebrija, then went on to the cathedral and the Alcázar. At this point, we decided that we deserved to relax and enjoy some tapas and drinks. That pretty effectively filled the day. (Note regarding tea: in Sevilla, Tonya was served hot tea made with milk, rather than water. She declared it the best hot tea she´d ever had.)

The Palacio was built in the 1500´s and extensively remodeled in the 1800´s. The Condesa used it mostly to house beautiful artwork that she´d collected during her world travels. There are magnificent Roman mosaics, Italian sculptures, and Moroccan furniture. She was quite a modern woman for the late 1800´s, the first to graduate from the Academy of Fine Arts in Sevilla.

The cathedral is the third-largest in Europe, behind only St. Peter´s at the Vatican and St. Paul´s in London. We ascended the Giralda bell tower, along with a gazillion other tourists, to enjoy the views of the city. Interestingly, the Giralda has ramps to the top, rather than stairs. This dates back to the Muslim days, when the faithful could ride their horses to the top of the tower for their five-times-a-day prayers. Sadly, people are not on their best behavior in crowded tourist locations. We were jostled and pushed and elbowed by fellow human beings from all over the world.

The Alcázar (castle) is magnificent. The original structure was built by the Moors in the 10th century, and expanded by King Pedro I in the 1300´s. I almost wish we´d seen it before we went to Granada, because it just doesn’t get to the same level as the Alhambra. (One can´t help making comparisons.) The gardens are prettier, though, and I wish we´d had more time to stroll about. There´s something for another visit.

The downtown Christmas lights were ceremoniously lit this weekend in Córdoba, and we´ve been enjoying them in the evenings. We got back to the train station last night around 9:30, and took the long way home. See the pictures at

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Christmas_Lights_120708#

Spain doesn´t seem to have the Christmas excesses of the United States, but the local merchants are trying hard to get everyone to spend lots of money.

Hopefully we didn´t overdo it, because Tonya´s feeling pretty run-down again today. Monday is a holiday, so we´ll take it very easy.

Pictures from Thanksgiving, Palacio Viana

2008-12-02T13:42:00.000-08:00

As promised, here are the Thanksgiving pictures:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Thanksgiving#

We've also included a small group of pictures from the Palacio Viana:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/PalacioViana#

I go past the Palacio Viana every morning on my way to the school, but it took us a while to get around to going in for a visit. I expect there are still a number of hidden delights in Córdoba. This one is really not a palace at all; it´s the house of the noble Viana family, which occupied it from the 1500´s until the 20th century, when they donated it to the city. It´s a lovely series of patios and gardens, completely shut out from the rest of the city by high walls (other than one tantalizing view through an iron-barred window from the street). There´s also an interesting museum inside, although they didn´t allow pictures. The only way to visit the museum was with a guide, and the only guide was Spanish-speaking, and she got rather "tetchy" when I tried to translate for the English-speaking members of the group. (I suppose I was interfering with her delivery.) The most fun part of the Palacio was in the Patio of the Gardeners. It has ivy hedges along the walls, which were unremarkable during the day. We returned in the evening, when all of the other visitors were gone, and discovered that the hedges were filled with hundreds of birds´nests. The birds had come back to enjoy the peaceful nearly-tourist-free evening, flying about in huge flocks and making the most lovely music imaginable. What a very pleasant experience!

Thanksgiving, Spanish Style

2008-11-29T13:35:00.000-08:00

Thursday was an odd and melancholy day for several reasons. Thanksgiving is not celebrated in Spain, so it’s business as usual… Scott went to work and so did I… in the kitchen. Some good friends here in Spain are very interested in our very American custom of Thanksgiving, so we were celebrating Thanksgiving on Friday night. The entire rest of the world works as we Americans kick back and watch football. (Go Trojans!) Okay, so we all know the drill… we women spend 2+ days in the kitchen, while our men watch the game.

It was odd not having the celebration on Thursday. Both our kids Skyped. Kestryl to send her greetings for the day. John to relay the melancholy news that our kitty of 15 years had passed away. It was expected. Her health had been failing for some time and the vets had been unable to diagnose her illness. We were very grateful when John agreed to take her. She quickly bonded to him, and he and Allene made sure that she was happy and well-cared for during her final days. We will forever be grateful to John and Allene for their help with Chris.

So Thursday was marred by sadness, but was also filled with the not quite frantic activity that Thanksgiving brings. I was cooking for 19 people, between 2 houses, and improvising equipment. Living in Spain is a real exercise in “thinking outside the box”. Lourdes told me that she would pick me up Friday at 3:30 pm and that dinner would be served about 7:00 pm. I spent Thursday doing prep-work for Friday. Without the smell of turkey wafting through the piso, it felt just like any other day. That was really odd!

Friday came and I had a plan. A 13 pound bird takes between 3 ½ and 4 ½ hours to cook. So incredible pumpkin pies (Okay… Butternut squash pies, see entry from earlier in the week) were baked in the morning and the bird went into the oven at 1:30 pm, for what I figured would be about 1 ½ hours. The oven is unpredictable, sometimes cooking faster, sometimes slower. (I think that this may have something to do with the electrical service.) Anyway, Lourdes was later than expected. This is Spain! So the turkey got about 2 hours at my piso. I wrapped the bird up tight in towels and put it into a cardboard box. About 5:00 pm, it went into Lourdes’ oven. A quick note about cooking equipment: before I put the turkey in Lourdes’ oven, I pulled out my new meat thermometer and baster. (Purchased in Barcelona… they were expensive compared to what I would pay for the same in America!) I inserted the thermometer into the bird, and basted it to the amazement of Lourdes who had never seen such tools. At 5:30 pm, the turkey was done! I cooked the bird another ½ hour on general principle, it could not be done after 2 ½ hours of cooking! So at 6:00 pm, the turkey is done, and Lourdes tells me that the dinner guests will not arrive until 8:00 or 8:30 pm, and that we should plan to serve the dinner at about 9:00 or 9:30 pm… And I am thinking… But… But… The BIRD is done now! This is Spain in all its wonderful and frustrating glory!

The rest of the dinner was prepared at a leisurely pace. Scott was thrilled to have an opportunity to play piano (well, an electronic keyboard) at Lourdes and Jose’s house. He taught the children some American folk songs…they seemed to like “This Old Man” best, although I suppose that’s an English song. Lourdes and I shared broken conversation, and as the evening wore on, the guests arrived in twos and threes. Everyone marveled at the Thanksgiving dinner, just like they’ve seen in the movies; they crowded into the kitchen, taking pictures of the turkey. The dinner was served in the same leisurely manner, and the conversation (or what I could follow of it) was typical, of political, economic and family issues.

We have gone out to Tavernas with friends here, but this is the first time that we have been dinner guests in someone’s home, so let me explain what “leisurely dinner” means in Spain. First, dinner is served, followed in time, by dessert and a quince wine (made by Lourdes). To my surprise after dessert, the dinner and my efforts received a round of applause. Then we adjourned to the sala. In actuality, we folded up the tables, (as we were eating in the sala) so that people could be more comfortable on the couches. After more conversation and a game, champagne is served. Then after more conversation (and speech is beginning to slur, even Scott is having trouble understanding), chocolates are brought out and Scott is asked to play the piano. What few inhibitions he has about performing in public disappear completely in a party environment, and he sings a few songs as well. After more conversation, whiskey is served. As the whiskey is enjoyed, the conversation slows, and guests begin to talk about leaving. Lourdes offers coffee, tea, more pumpkin pie… But it is 2:30 am. Okay, so now we feel like we have had a Thanksgiving! And to prove it, I even have the dirty oven to clean.

Pictures will follow in a few days… Stay tuned.

Relative Accents

2008-11-27T09:47:00.000-08:00

It’s Thanksgiving in Spain. Which means, another working day like any other day. We’ll be having a Thanksgiving dinner with some friends on Friday evening….more about that in another blog entry.

For today, let’s “talk” about an interesting conversation I had with another of the hikers at Despeñaperros last Sunday. We were talking about Spanish actors in American movies, and vice versa. When American movies are shown in Spain, they have Spanish dubbing, rather than subtitles. Now, many movie aficionados seem to think this is blasphemy. After all, you´re not hearing the original speech. (Of course, I expect it´s appreciated by the majority of moviegoers!) There are Spanish actors who make a career of doing voice-overs for specific American actors. Apparently, the actor who does the voice-overs for Clint Eastwood is the same one who does them for Arnold Schwarzenegger. So when Arnie appears in Spain, instead of speaking with a heavy German accent, he speaks in impeccable, accent-free Castellano. Go figure. Clint Eastwood has a deep, rumbling basso voice in Spanish movies. Spanish audiences just can´t identify with higher-pitched voices from their leading men.

There are a number of Spanish actors who have appeared in both Spanish and American movies: Paz Vega (Spanglish), Penelope Cruz (Vanilla Sky), Antonio Banderas (The Mask of Zorro), and others. I´ve found it interesting to hear them speaking accented English in American movies, but accent-free Castellano in Spanish movies. It really changes the character.

It also turns out that there are American actors who have appeared in Spanish movies, speaking Spanish. For instance, I´m told that Viggo Mortensen and Gwyneth Paltrow speak very good Spanish. (My friend´s comment was that Viggo has less of an American accent than I do. Hmm.) John Wayne apparently spoke Spanish…all three of his wives were Hispanic women…but he never spoke Spanish in a movie.

The real value of a stay in a foreign country is learning to see familiar things from a different point of view.

Educational Politics in Spain

2008-11-26T10:27:00.000-08:00

Even though you know it can’t be so, deep down there’s a hope that when you go to a different country, you can leave behind the little political stupidities that you deal with every day. Of course, people are people no matter where you go. I’ve been working at the Gran Capitán institute for a couple of months now, and I have a little more visibility into the political undercurrents that are going on.

The current government of Andalucía is known as the Junta de Andalucía. They were elected a few years ago on a strong educational platform. My teaching position is part of a bilingual program that was started as a part of the junta coming into office. Most of the bilingual education goes on at the primary and secondary school levels. Gran Capitán is a post-secondary vocational school, sort of like a community college. It is also the only vocational school in Córdoba that has a bilingual program, because of their unusually strong English-speaking faculty (now including yours truly!). The Junta has rewarded them with lots of recognition and grants. Naturally, the other vocational schools want to get in on this, but they don´t have as many English-speaking teachers. Therefore, they´ve been hiring more English-speaking teachers over the last few years. Under the seniority program used by the teachers´ union, teachers get extra points for bilingual skills. This means that some of the new teachers are coming in at higher seniority levels than teachers who had been at their schools for years. Naturally, this doesn´t sit well with these senior teachers. It has been causing so much discontent and strife that the Junta is considering scrapping the bilingual program in the vocational schools in the next school year. A few weeks ago, Raquel, the Gran Capitán representative at the Junta meetings, reported that the program renewal process was paralyzed. And it´s getting worse; yesterday, she reported that the paralysis was paralyzed. Apparently my position for this school year isn´t in danger, but nobody knows what will happen with the program next year. Of course a bilingual education is a great thing for the students, but that´s not generally the foremost consideration in the political maneuverings.

Huelgas, or strikes, are a regular thing. The students strike (about tuitions and scholarships), and the teachers strike (about pay and working conditions). I mentioned “the teachers´ union”, but that simplifies the situation considerably. There are a number of unions, often with overlapping memberships. One union may go on strike one week, so we´re short a few teachers. Yesterday, I was scheduled to support a class for one of my colleagues. When it came time to start, he wasn´t there. I had prepared materials to teach about Thanksgiving (which is pretty much unknown here….count on a separate blog entry about that), so I went ahead with it. The students seemed to enjoy the class, and a good time was had by all. Afterward, I received an e-mail from the teacher: “I hope you receive this before you come to the school…I´m on strike today, so we won´t have a class.” Hmm. I couldn´t have known, but I was sort of undermining his position by teaching when he was on strike. I suppose it was his responsibility to let me know if there wasn´t supposed to be a class; I´m not sure what I could have done differently.

I’m teaching in a public school, although the students have to pay tuition. There are a large number of Catholic schools which receive public money, a situation which would cause a great deal of controversy in the USA. Even here, there are a number of people who don’t like feeling as if their tax money is going to support the Church. Spanish people have a love-hate relationship with the Church. They’ll claim to be agnostic, but they still take their children in to be baptized and receive First Communion and so on. Even after seventy years, feelings are a bit raw about the Church’s role in the Spanish Civil War. In the private schools, whether they are Catholic or not, there are a lot of “optional” fees which are really not optional. We know people who have homes out of town, but rent an apartment in town so that their kids can go to schools in the right district. (I’ve heard of that in the USA as well.)

So education is as political here as it is in the States. It shouldn’t be a surprise. To quote Uncle Remus, “You can’t run away from trouble…there ain’t no place that far!”

Despeñaperros

2008-11-24T05:30:00.000-08:00

It’s been a very good week for hikes. Last Monday, we did the Montserrat hike, which you can read about in the Barcelona entry. On Saturday, our friends Lola and Eduardo took us on a walk in the Trassierra just out of town. We didn’t bring the camera on that walk, but I wish we had. It was beautiful up there in the hills, much more forested than I would have expected in this part of Spain. On the way, we passed the ruins of an old Moorish mill. Now, the Moors were kicked out of Córdoba in 1236 A.D., so the mill is nearly 800 years old at least. However, this isn’t like the Alhambra or the Mezquita; it hasn’t been maintained and restored for tourists. It was crumbling, with vines and tree roots growing through the walls. It looked like something from an Indiana Jones movie. Further along, we saw the entrance to an old Roman copper mine. There were actually two entrances. The first was a pit which had a modern ladder going down, but it’s fenced in to keep crazy hikers like us from trying to go down. The second was a tunnel dug back into the hillside. We followed it back until it was too dark to continue. It’s probably just as well that we didn’t have flashlights; I would have liked to go on, but it was getting late, and we didn’t want to be caught out in the hills after dark.

On Sunday, I joined my buddies in Llega Como Pueda (remember that the name means, roughly, “Get there any way you can”) on a hiking excursion to Despeñaperros. See the pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/DespeAperros#. This is a natural park which includes the site of the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa (1212 A.D.), a critical battle between the Christians and the Moors during the Spanish Reconquista. Ángel, the rutero (leader) of this particular hike is a history teacher, so we got some fascinating stories about the battle as we saw the sites. King Alfonso VIII of Castilla prevailed upon Pope Innocent III to declare a crusade in Spain. (Ángel´s description was that the Pope got onto his medieval television, and broadcast a call to battle to all the Christian soldiers.) The soldiers obligingly gathered in Toledo, and moved south to the critical mountain passes La Losa and Despeñaperros through the Sierra Morena. The Muslim armies held the strategic passes, and there was no way to bring them to battle. In this sort of situation, there is a serious danger that the soldiers will just desert and go back home. When the need was sorest, a local shepherd came to the Christian army and told them that he knew of an unguarded pass. The army successfully got through the mountains and attacked the Muslims on the Mesa del Rey. The Christians won a decisive victory, opening the way to the southern part of Spain. From that point, the progress wasn´t quick, but it was inevitable. Córdoba fell in 1236 A.D., and Jaén in 1246 A.D. By 1250 A.D., Granada was the only remaining Moorish kingdom in the Iberian Peninsula, although it held on for almost another 250 years.

On this walk, we also saw another old, unmaintained, unrestored ruin: the Castillo de Castro Ferral. Seeing these amazing relics from the ancient world, I found myself looking more closely at every rock formation as we passed. Was it natural, or man-made? You just don´t see things like that in Oregon.

On this walk, the rutero had recommended that we bring walking sticks for the steep descents. I grumbled a bit…I´ve never used walking sticks, although I know they´re quite popular with other hikers. Still, I didn´t want to be known as the stupid American who hadn´t come prepared for the hike. I paid 20 euros for a set of sticks. Much as I hate to admit it, they turned out to be quite useful when we came down the barranco, on a steep slope covered with loose rock. One stick allows you to create a tripod, and even when you´re taking a step, you have at least two contacts with the ground. It´s sort of like having a rock or a branch that you can grab to stabilize yourself, but at a location of your choice. I still don´t think they´re much use on a level trail or a mild slope, but I´m a believer for the steep downhills.

The Quest for Pumpkin Pie

2008-11-23T05:29:00.000-08:00

Mostly, I have moved beyond trying to create America in Córdoba. But some things, like Thanksgiving, just need to happen. Some of Scott´s colleagues are interested in having a Thanksgiving Dinner, so for the last couple of months I have been trying to locate ingredients. After weeks of searching, I finally found the necessary herb & spices for stuffing. The next challenge… to re-invent pumpkin pie.

One would think that this would not be too hard, even though in my idea of fresh pumpkin is open the Libby’s can. However, prepackaged and canned goods do not exist in large quantities here in Spain. Canned pumpkin is non-existent. Mostly, the people eat fresh fruits and veges, whatever is in season. So I found a recipe for making pumpkin pie from fresh pumpkin online. Then a week before Halloween (which is really not celebrated with the same enthusiasm here.) I talked with two different Fruterias about the availability of pumpkins after Halloween and was assured that they would have them through the end of November. (Scott was with me the second time, so I know that this wasn’t a case of miscommunication.) By Halloween, we had been living in Spain for about 6 weeks, and I had seen how quickly the produce could disappear at the markets. So I did some more research online, and determined that the pumpkin puree will freeze without destroying the flavor. I went back to the Fruterias a couple of days after Halloween to get the pumpkins, only to find that there are no more pumpkins to be had… in the entire country of Spain… or so it would seem. Back to the internet… Where I determined that a butternut squash is a good substitution. The can of Libby’s that you open every year is actually butternut squash. I figure that our grandmothers probably couldn’t get people to eat the “squash” pie, so they re-named it “pumpkin”.

The search for a specific type of squash in Spain is complicated by the fact that the different varieties do not have different names. (And perhaps, this is the source of the miscommunication with the Fruterias.) A squash is called a “calabaza,” and as I have learned, a calabaza can be anything from a zucchini to a pumpkin. If you ask for a “calabaza naranja” (orange squash), the vendor may show you a pumpkin, or whatever orange squash he has on hand that has orange flesh. Please understand that I am not a squash expert. So after figuring out what a butternut squash looks like, I bought one, and tried it in the recipe. I must say, it made the absolute best pumpkin pie that I have ever had! So I went back to the Fruteria that afternoon, and asked if they could get me 5 more. I was again assured that it would be no problem, they would have them the next day. But the next day, there were no butternut squash, and I could not seem to find any... anywhere. Several days later, out of desperation, I purchased a third roundish squash. It was the same color as the butternut, but small and round, instead of bulbous shaped like a butternut. (I am not sure what this one is called, as I cannot find a picture of it online.) The guy at the Fruteria told me that it was similar to the butternut, but a little sweeter. I steamed it and determined that it can substitute for the butternut squash, substituting for the pumpkin. Scott and I keep saying to each other… We are not in Kansas (or Oregon) any longer. The seasons for fruits and veges appear to be very short, and when they are gone, they’re really gone. There won’t be any more coming from Mexico, Peru or China.

As luck would have it, a few days later, a couple of butternut squash, and several of the third variety, showed up at the local Fruteria. I bought them all, steamed, pureed and froze them. Pumpkin pie is assured for Thanksgiving.

So if any of you are interested in trying the absolute best pumpkin pie that you will ever eat… in your entire life… and I am not exaggerating… I will never open a can of Libby’s again. This pie is that good!

Go to:
http://www.pumpkinpatchesandmore.org/pumpkinpie.php

It is a wonderful website, complete with pictures. Make the following substitutions... (Necessary because I live in Spain, and many ingredients are just not available.)

· Use butternut squash
· Substitute 18 oz. of whipping cream for the canned milk
· I made my own allspice… equal parts of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves (But put in a tad more cinnamon than nutmeg and cloves.)

ENJOY!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!

A wee footnote: This week there were butternut squash… in large quantities… in all the markets. Apparently butternut squash season is later than other winter squash. Of course, the vendors in the Fruiterias cannot tell you this because all squash are called calabaza, and there are many types of orange squash. Go figure…

Barcelona

2008-11-21T08:23:00.000-08:00

The weekend excursion to Barcelona was an experiment. With my working schedule at Gran Capitán, I don’t have to go in on Mondays, so we always have at least three-day weekends. The question was whether we could maximize our three-day weekend by taking a night train Monday evening. This means that we’d arrive in Córdoba early Tuesday morning, and then I’d have to go in to work. The experiment was a success. We arrived back home in time for me to take a shower and head to the school without having to rush. We’d slept well on the train, so I wasn’t even particularly tired at school. Very nice.

Barcelona is the second largest city in Spain. It’s magnificent, and I expect we’ll be going there again sometime. See the pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Barcelona#. We strolled through a very interesting maritime museum (I think I enjoyed this more than Tonya did), and the Picasso museum. We joined in the mass at the Barcelona Cathedral and listened to the cathedral’s organ, choir and priests chanting the liturgy. (This is truly the only way to really experience a cathedral!) We wandered through some of the small streets and enjoyed the street musicians. We joined in the slow swaying Sardana Dance with the native Catalonians, who applauded our attempts as we tripped over our own left feet. We took the aerial car up to the castle at Park Montjuic, an old naval fortress with a great view of the harbor and enjoyed a lovely sunset and local dance competition. We saw the strange buildings of Antonio Gaudi (the famous Catalan architect), including his unique cathedral, La Sagrada Familia. The cathedral is still under construction, and needs about fifty years more before it will be complete. The cathedral is interesting, and the view from the top was breathtaking. That was my first official view of the Mediterranean. (Tonya had seen it briefly from the train Saturday morning, but I didn’t get out of the sleeping compartment quickly enough.)

Our hotel was along the Ramblas, which is the heart of old Barcelona. It’s also the area of highest pickpocket activity in all of Europe. I was a victim, although we ended up having the last laugh. As we were walking down the Ramblas on Saturday evening, a young man dropped a set of keys on the ground in front of me. Now, we’ve heard of this ploy before; they’re trying to get you to bend over, so that their buddy can easily pick your back pocket. I didn’t bent over, and my hand was on my wallet, safely in my front pocket. He then bent over to get the keys, and pinched the front of my pants legs. I asked him what he was doing, and he just walked quickly away. A few minutes later, I realized that I had lost my little spiral notebook and a tourist map that I’d been carrying in my back pocket. I guess that from the outside, it looked as if I were carrying a wallet there. I’d never even felt it when the buddy picked my back pocket. Those sons of b…. er…loving and grieving mothers! I hope they enjoyed the (free) tourist map and the filled-up notebook that I’d already bought a replacement for.

Being semi-devout followers of Rick Steve’s, we decided to set out on a quest to find and consume the ultimate churros and chocolate. The travel book recommended that the best churros and chocolate could be found at La Pallaresa Granja-Xocolateria on Carrer Petrixol. When we arrived at the restaurant, we found that La Pallaresa was a quite popular (with locals, as well as tourists), and the line for a table stretched way down the street. It was late, and we had had a long day of museums, sightseeing, and dancing, so we continued on our way. We stopped at Granja Dulcinea (which seemed to be strictly a local hang out) a little further down Carrer Petrixol and easily found a table. The waiter brought our churros and chocolate, apologizing that their chocolate was not pudding thick. There was nothing lacking in their pudding, er… chocolate. It was an enormously enjoyable chocolate experience. However in order to be fair, we decided that we really did need to try La Pallaresa the next evening. The next night, the line at La Pallaresa was acceptable and the chocolate was worth the short wait. The La Pallaresa chocolate is a wee bit thicker, but the thing that gives their chocolate the edge is that their chocolate is not as sweet and just a tad richer. However, just to be sure, we returned the next night, to sample it with whipped cream. As a self-proclaimed chocolate expert, my preference (only if the wait is not long) is La Pallaresa. However, if you are going to have to wait over 10 minutes, walk a little ways down the street and enjoy Granja Dulcinea. And skip the whipped cream, it detracts from the chocolate experience.

Our last day there was possibly the most enjoyable. We took a train to Montserrat, a monastery perched high up on a mountain near (but not in) the Pyrenees. The views are some of the best we’ve seen yet…enjoy the pictures! As we disembarked the aerial from the train station, we were greeted by the bells of the basilica. Their beautiful tones echoed off the surrounding mountains creating a symphony in stereophonic sound. We hiked to Sant Jeroni, the highest peak in the area. From there, we had an uninterrupted view of the Pyrenees from the Mediterranean to the Basque country. We could also see Andorra, a small mountain nation which has somehow managed to stay independent from Spain and France for all these centuries. We may have to visit there sometime.

Lessons learned in Barcelona:

- Don’t carry ANYTHING in your pockets that you’re not willing to lose.

- Don’t try to do two museums in one day. By the end of the day, you may never want to even think about Picasso or ships again.

- The Metro system is so good that you really don’t have to stay on the Ramblas to enjoy all of the cool tourist sites.

- Be open to joining in the dance… whatever it may be. The locals will embrace your enthusiasm.

- Night trains are a great way to do long rail trips without blowing a whole day.

- Churros with chocolate….yum! But, skip the whipped cream.

- Sample the sangria everywhere that you go!

Climate Control in Córdoba

2008-11-13T10:25:00.000-08:00

When you think of Andalucía, you think of heat. This is an area where half of the population leaves in July and August, because it´s too unbearably hot. Hotels and apartments go to great pains to advertise that they have air conditioning. Heating just doesn´t come up. When we were investigating apartments, we noted that our piso in Plaza Colón has air conditioning, but no central heating. No problem, right?

Well….maybe a little bit.

After we returned from Santiago de Compostela, the temperature dropped abruptly. We bought a heavier bedspread, and shivered for a few days before deciding that we´d need to invest in some kind of heating. We went to the Corte Inglés and bought a wheeled radiator unit. (About 50€…not too bad.) That seems to be doing the trick.

Now, the funny part. When we first moved into the piso, we found this big, strange, round metal thing underneath the dining table. Furthermore, the table had this thick, heavy tablecloth which hung nearly to the floor on all sides. We had no idea what the round thing was, so we stowed it underneath the bed. After all, you want you legroom under the table, right? We also put the heavy tablecloth at the back of an upper shelf in the closet.

While visiting Lola and Eduardo, we saw that they had one of the same big, strange, round metal things under the table as well. Interesting! It turns out to be a brasero (from “brasa”, which means “ember”). You just plug it in, and it provides wonderful heating under the table. And the heavy tablecloth? You just pull it up over your lap like a blanket. It´s amazing how warm you feel even when you´re just heating the lower half of your body. In the old days, the braseros were pans filled with embers from the fireplace, but nowadays they're electrical.

The temperature has come back up from the cold, rainy week after the Santiago de Compostela trip. Nevertheless, the nights are pretty cold. The radiator is still useful, because the brasero doesn´t help in the other rooms. Drying the clothes is another matter. When you have a sunny day, everybody rushes to get their clothes washed and up on the line to take advantage of God´s clothes drier. Just to be safe, Tonya bought another heater which seems to effectively dry clothes in the back bedroom even when it´s cold and rainy outside.

The lesson we´ve learned here is that just because we don´t recognize something doesn´t mean that it´s not useful. In Spain, people don´t seem to fill their homes with extraneous stuff just for the heck of it.

Granada and the Alhambra

2008-11-10T11:45:00.000-08:00

Continuing our exploration of Spain, we rode the train last weekend to Granada. Take a look at our large number of pictures (I’m afraid that we went crazy with the camera this time, but there’s really a lot to see in Granada!).

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Granada#

Granada is a historical city on a number of levels. It was the last Moorish city in Spain, conquered in 1492 by Los Reyes Católicos Fernando and Ysabel (generally known in America as Ferdinand and Isabella), completing the Reconquista after 700 years of Muslim presence in Spain. It was also the city where Columbus made his pitch for a westbound sea route to China. Sadly, there were as-yet-unknown lands in between, and Columbus never did make it to China.

Granada has a magnificent cathedral, but the big draw is the Alhambra. It was the stronghold of the Muslim Nazaríes kings. Its strategic location on a mountaintop allowed it to remain in Muslim hands for over 200 years after most of the rest of Spain had fallen to the Christians. Happily, the Christian conquerors suppressed the urge to tear down all of the heathen buildings, limiting themselves to building a church on top of the old mosque. They left this jewel of a palace, owing much more to Arabian influences than European, on the mountaintop for future generations to admire.

Tonya and I reasoned that we could enjoy the walk between our hotel and the mountaintop palaces just as well going downhill as going uphill. Therefore, we took a taxi up there in the morning, and walked back down in the afternoon. Good choice. All of the tour books recommend getting there early to make sure that you can get tickets. We already had reservations, but went early anyway. That was also a good choice; we got to do a lot of our wandering about before the big crowds were there.

The Alhambra is actually a complex of buildings. The showpiece is the Palacio Nazaríes, the old Muslim palace. In addition, there´s the Palacio de Carlos V (built by the grandson of Ferdinand and Isabella), the Alcazaba (the military fortress), and the Palacio Generalife (a sort of a country retreat within easy distance of the main complex). By the time we began our leisurely walk back into town, we were surprised to realize that we´d been there for five hours. There´s a lot to see.

The Cathedral in Granada is the second largest in Spain. It´s almost a shame that it shares a city with the Alhambra, because it would be quite a draw on its own. It contains the tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella. In American history books, Ferdinand and Isabella get a footnote at best. In Spain, however, they are revered as the greatest monarchs in Spanish history. They unified Spain (which until then had been a patchwork of warring kingdoms), kicked out the Muslims, and began the conquest of the New World. They set Spain on a path which would make it the greatest empire in the world for hundreds of years. (They also kicked out the Jews, but we don´t hear as much about that nowadays.)

The Elections from Across the Pond

2008-11-06T01:10:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to Barack Obama on his historic presidential victory. It’s been extremely interesting to track the election through the filter of a Western European country. With the world financial crisis and the terrorism threat, people in Spain have been anxiously awaiting the results of the American elections. When we were in France, we actually saw billboards for Barack Obama! For the last week, the Spanish newspaper headlines have been dominated by the American elections. One of our friends joked that none of the first-string Spanish journalists are in Spain; they’re all in America this week. Obama is certainly popular in Europe.

All of this brings up some interesting questions about America’s role. Like it or not, America’s actions have huge ramifications all over the world. Obama raised controversy some months back with his comments about being a “citizen of the world.” The American president, according to his oath of office, must act in the best interests of the American people. In some ways, however, the American president has the effective power of a world president. I’m getting into deep waters here, I realize. I just have to wonder: how much should any head of state, especially one as powerful as America, consider the effects of his actions on other countries? And not just in the sense that these effects can boomerang and affect the interests of the American people. Something to think about.

We’ve had some interesting talks. The other teachers have been sensitive about not starting controversial discussions. The students, on the other hand…I’ve had to explain several times what is meant by a “secret ballot.” You just don’t ask somebody who they voted for!

Reflections from the Terrazza

2008-11-05T11:49:00.000-08:00

The clothes dryer is known as sunshine in this part of the world, so I am spending a good deal of time on our terrazza. Hanging up the laundry can be quite relaxing. It isn’t so much the activity, as the ambience. I am reminded of Bert in “Mary Poppins” when he explains to the children about the wonders of rooftops, and how no one gets to enjoy them but the chimney sweeps and the birds, and in my case, the industrious housewives. The view from the top of our building, which really isn’t all that tall (7 floors) is quite lovely. You can watch the clouds as they move across the sky (and wonder if it is futile to hang out your laundry to dry – as it was today… weather can be as unpredictable in Spain as in Oregon.) Or watch a spectacular sunset. Or my favorite part… take in the symphony of the Córdoban bells.

A lot, if not all the churches have bells, as well as many of the buildings. The bells mark the passing of the day. From the terrazza, if you stop and listen, and the wind is blowing right, you can hear three or four sets of bells chiming out the hour, and half hour, each with their own distinct tones and melodies. I haven’t figured out which bells come from which churches, yet. But I don’t suppose that really matters. Plaza Colón is surrounded by churches, really old churches, at least one monastery, and three convents. There is a clock in Tendillas Square that plays music that sounds like it is something out of Phantom of the Opera, it is probably Bach. The bell symphonies are really quite something to listen to. Sometimes two sets of bells ring at the same time, but more often they echo each other. After all, if you have two clocks, are you ever really sure what time it is?

Sundays take on an entirely different feel, the bells seem more joyful and euphoric (at least to me) as they call the town to mass. A couple of weeks ago, there was a wedding in the church behind our piso, and the concert from the bells when the ceremony was over was one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. The bells began to peal into truly heavenly melody that went on for a good 10 minutes. This was followed by the guests singing in the courtyard. It was truly wonderful! Since that first wedding concert, I have noticed that wedding bells are a weekend staple. Again, sometimes you may hear more than set of bells, as different couples musically announce their happiness to Córdoba. I just can´t help stopping and listening, if only for a moment, to such joy set to the music of bells.

The Perfect Fraud Protection System

2008-11-03T12:58:00.000-08:00

When we started planning for this adventure, we went through a number of “What if?” scenarios in an effort to make sure we prepared for unforeseen situations. And then, we discussed our plans with family and friends to see if we could uncover anything that we might have missed. As reality of our adventure began to gather steam, our son, the soon-to-be lawyer, suggested that it would be a really good idea to prepare wills and powers of attorney before we left the country, just in case. We did these things, in part to humor the boy, but also because they sounded like a reasonable suggestions. As our departure drew near, we began to have conversations with the companies that we do regular business: phone, utilities, credit cards, the bank. We wanted to make sure that all the bases were covered. How much time did the company need, for instance, to turn off the phone? Was paperless billing available? If so, we converted to paperless billing. Did we need to order new credit cards because the ones that we have will expire? The lists of questions seemed endless at times, especially those to the banks.

All banks have very efficient fraud departments these days, for which we should be very grateful… And most of the time, we are. A lot of the fraud protection is automated, so we needed to know how to work with their systems. Credit and debit cards are great for international travel because you will generally get a more favorable foreign currency exchange rate on your purchases. But there is a dark side that we had learned about the hard way… Scott went to Costa Rica a couple of years ago, planning on using the credit card for his larger purchases. Unfortunately, we were unaware that we needed to let the credit card company know that he was going to be out of the country. So when he used his card the first time, the company’s fraud detection system automatically shut the card down. It took us three days and a number of conversations with the fraud department to get the card reactivated. Meanwhile, Scott was in Costa Rica with only a few dollars in his pocket. Although we do understand the need for these systems, we were very unhappy with the company and their procedures, as it made life really inconvenient for several days. So armed with this knowledge, many of our questions were about how to do business with them while living in Spain. We did not want our cards shut down when we would be depending on the credit lines for cash and living expenses until we could get things set up in Spain. What sort of notice did the banks need? What papers did we need to sign? And the open ended… Is there anything else we should know? Other questions we should address? And the big one… What have we forgotten?

I went into our bank, in person, sat down and asked my questions about international money transfers? How is it done? Do I need to sign any forms to enable an international bank to pull money from my American bank account? By this time, one of the bank representatives, Holly, knew me personally, and was familiar with the Wild & Crazy Adventure. My bank does not have the capability to exchange currencies so it did not dawn on either Holly or me to address the question of what was necessary in order to initiate an international money transfer from my American bank account. Well… as it turns out, our Spanish bank cannot initiate an international money transfer that pulls money from an international account. The Spanish bank can exchange currencies when it receives a transfer, and it can initiate a transfer that sends money to other accounts, but international money transfers must be initiated at the bank that sends the money. Whoops!

Luckily, I had had the foresight to get Holly’s contact information. (When leaving the country… Always, Always, Always get personal contact information for all important financial entities!) So I sent Holly and email… and we waited… and the days passed without a response (which is very unusual) and the exchange rate began to grow more favorable, and we waited… and so I sent off another email without response, and the day s passed and the dollar gained more... and we began to wonder if perhaps Holly was on vacation. So, after about two weeks, I signed onto the bank website and sent an email to the online bank requesting assistance. They forwarded my email to Holly. Spam filters are a wonderful thing, except when they are not. Apparently, since my Spanish email is on Yahoo, my messages were being blocked by the bank’s extremely efficient spam filters. Anyway, Holly responded promptly, sending us the proper forms to sign. We do not have a printer, so we went to the library and printed the documents. A side note: Europe does not embrace Microsoft products as America does. So it can be difficult to print Word documents. Fonts and formatting do not always translate properly. So our documents printed with a different font and some creative word spacing. But they were legible, so we signed them and put them in the mail back to Holly.

A week and a half passes… the dollar gains more ground, and we begin to get nervous. The world economy is in the toilet, but as the dollar gains ground, we are making money in terms of buying power. That is if we can convert our dollars to euros before the dollar drops again. Then an email arrives… Holly has received the forms, but the bank’s fraud department will not accept them because the font and word spacing is wrong! (Augrrrhhhh!!) Holly is a dear, and sends us the documents in a picture file. By now, Scott has access to the school’s computer system, so we take the bus out to Fatima to print the documents. The picture file doesn’t print well. But luckily we still have the original file, and the school’s computer can work with Word documents. So we print the documents, sign them again, a mail them off to Holly. At the same time I shoot Holly an email, explaining our concerns about the exchange rate and asking if Scott’s mom (armed with powers of attorney) can just sign for us, so we can get the transfer started. Mind you, we aren’t without money. We have the credit cards and we can withdrawal about 600€ a day on our debit card and then walk over to our Spanish bank and deposit the money into our account. It is workable, but seriously inconvenient. (Especially when we had to accumulate the deposit, first month’s rent, and the realtor’s commission in cash.)

A little over a week goes by without an answer from Holly, and we begin to suspect that my email has been blocked again. I hate to be a nag… but then again the dollar is beginning to lose ground and the election is now only days away. We have some concern that the pending election is part of the reason for the still favorable exchange rate, so I sign on to the online bank and ask them to ask Holly to contact me. At the same time, we shoot an email to mom alerting her that we may need some help. Holly responds very promptly. (She is truly going above and beyond the call of duty. I truly appreciate this woman’s diligence and assistance.) No, the forms have not arrived. She suggests that we wait a day or so before we send in mom and the powers of attorney, but suggests that mom can initiate a test transfer. When mom arrives the next morning to initiate the transfer, Holly has our forms in hand. So mom sends the test transfer. With any luck, the test will clear in the next few days, and then we will be able to access our funds in America.

Wow! Who would have believed it would take over 5 weeks (and still counting) to get a wire set up. I am truly grateful for Holly’s diligence and patience through this situation. I am grateful (I think…) for the fraud department’s efficiency that is so effective at blocking me from getting to my money. I am sure that we will laugh over this in the years to come. But I will reserve that judgment until after we actually successfully complete an international transfer.

Our bank may have the perfect fraud protection system, so tight that not even we can get to our money!

Cross your fingers that the exchange rates hold…

We’re Official!

2008-11-03T04:42:00.000-08:00

We just went down to the police station this morning to get our Tarjetas de Identificación para Extranjeros (our foreign national identification cards). After all of the pain and suffering we went through to sign up for the cards, actually receiving them was anticlimactic. We went to the station, went directly to the waiting room (no sitting outside in the cold this time), waited about five minutes, and were handed our cards. It was that simple. Until we got the cards, I hadn’t realized how much it had been weighing on my mind. We’re now good to stay in Spain until October 31 2009 (although the money won’t last that long). We’re good to leave the country for other foreign excursions without being worried about getting back into the country. We don’t have to carry our passports around all the time (although I probably still will, at least for a while). It’s not Spanish citizenship, but it’s a much more secure status than we’ve had up to now.

Halloween in Spain

2008-11-02T09:18:00.000-08:00

It's interesting to see how American holidays are viewed here in Spain. Halloween is not a traditional Spanish holiday (although I read an interesting article in El Mundo today, claiming that Halloween had been celebrated by the Celtic peoples in Galicia, and had later been suppressed by the Catholic church). Over the last few years, Halloween has been gaining in popularity. Still, I can't help thinking that they don't quite get it here. Mostly, the Halloween celebrations involve teenagers dressing up in costume and going to parties. Trick-or-Treating is unknown, and people look at me with a baffled expression when I talk about Jack-o'-lanterns.

Talking with the other teachers at my school, we realized that we had a teachable moment here. I put together a simple set of slides explaining Halloween (at least as it's celebrated in America), with some fun pictures. I also found a few campfire-quality ghost stories online to share with the classes. They were a big hit; there doesn't seem to be much of a tradition of ghost stories here. This is all fine, as long as I don't have any irate parents berating me for scaring their children.

Another funny incident was that one of the teachers put together an exercise about business opportunities related to Halloween. In one of the articles we found online, there was a sentence (paraphrased), "The Great Pumpkin isn't just threatening a few small pumpkin patches anymore." Now, picture trying to explain that to people who haven't grown up with Charlie Brown and Snoopy! So much of what you read is very culture-specific.

The next challenge will be Thanksgiving!

Santiago de Compostela

2008-10-29T14:34:00.000-07:00

We just came back from a long weekend in Santiago de Compostela. See our pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/SantiagoDeCompostela#

We took the day train out... not sure I will opt for that again. A 9 hour train ride is long no matter how you cut it. But the town is really quite lovely. We toured the cathedral (of course), sat for a few moments in the tomb beside Saint James and spent 2 lovely days just walking through the old city. We had a good time in the fish and vegetable market, buying such local delicacies as plums known as “cojones de fraile” (look it up!), and a cheese known as Tetillas. (According to legend, a local bishop decided that one of the female statues was a little too voluptuous. He ordered the sculptor to take out his hammer and chisel for some breast reduction surgery. The local cheesemakers were indignant at this, and in protest, they began making their cheese in the shape of the appropriate part of the female anatomy. I don’t know if this story is true or not…but so what? It’s a great story!)

The cathedral has a different feel from the others we have visited, and I am not sure I can put my finger on why it felt different. Maybe it is because the others were mainly built as monuments, sometimes inspired by the vanity of the local church officials, Bishops, Cardinals, etc. The cathedral in Santiago was built to mark the site where Saint James was found after centuries of war with the Moors, and mainly as a tribute to Heavenly Father. In many ways it is much more modest than some of the other cathedrals, but then there is the alter which is an amazing display. We attended Vespers Saturday evening at a monastery near the cathedral, where the service was sang by the nuns. That was truly heavenly. One can tour all these old cathedrals and churches, and admire their beauty, but to me, they seem to really come alive when you can hear them with music, even if you cannot understand the language.

Santiago de Compostela is at the end of the Medieval Pilgrimage Trail, The Way of Saint James, which leads to the tomb of Saint James. The trail has several starting places in France, crosses the Pyrenees, and the entire northern coast of Spain. This trail has been followed by spiritual pilgrims since 900 A.D. It is reputed to be one of the loveliest hikes in Europe and has become popular in recent years. I understand that it takes at least 4 to 6 weeks to complete the walk. Sunday morning we took a taxi about 6 miles out of town and walked the last part of the pilgrimage trail to the cathedral. The countryside is beautiful, with a Northwestern feel to it (green and rainy, although we were blessed with two rare sunny days for our visit). The trail is clearly marked with the symbolic scallop shells and yellow arrows. (Those scallop shells show up again and again. During the medieval pilgrimages, scallop shells were used as “poor men’s cups” to scoop water from the wells. Pilgrims would bring scallop shells back home as proof they’d finished the pilgrimage.) There’s a statue at the top of Monte do Gozo (Hill of Joy), the hill from which the pilgrims could first see the towers of the cathedral. Unfortunately, during the last thousand years, there has been enough construction that you can no longer see the towers.

We didn’t make it to the cathedral in time for the Pilgrim Mass at noon, so we went to Vespers at the cathedral. The cathedral has an enormous pipe organ that I had hoped they would play, but unfortunately we were not that lucky. Beyond the cathedral, and some really beautiful vistas, Santiago is just a dumb, quiet little town. But quite lovely.

Santiago is in the Spanish province of Galicia. Galicia has its own language, Gallego, which is supposed to be a sort of cross between Spanish and Portuguese. Just between us…shhh!...written Gallego looks to me like mis-spelled Spanish. Spoken Gallego has a sort of Italian lilt which is rather pretty to listen to.

On the way home, we took the night train… a much better idea…and spent Monday in Madrid. See the Madrid pictures at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/Madrid27Oct08#

Madrid is okay, but it’s a big city, not unlike any other big cities. The old town was not especially interesting. I was not impressed. But Madrid does have more commerce, so I was able to find a couple of things that I was looking for. As the Prado, Madrid’s world renowned art museum was closed, we toured the Palacio Real. The Palacio is very pretty, though not as impressive as the French palace at Versailles. On the other hand, the Spanish people never beheaded any of their kings, so maybe the Spanish royals had the right idea. Sadly, people are not allowed to take pictures inside the palace. The most interesting part was an armory with many fine examples of weapons and armor from the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries.

And life begins to settle down....

2008-10-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

Even when you go on wild and crazy adventures to exotic locations, I guess that life eventually settles down. For the first several weeks, we were busy for every waking moment. There was so much to do: getting our foreign national numbers, finding a place to live, getting a bank account, getting the apartment set up, getting myself established at the school, and on and on. As of Friday, we will have been in Córdoba for one month. It's really remarkable how much we've accomplished in that time.

Still, it's good that things are slowing down. I think the human body (and the human mind!) wouldn't be able to maintain such a frenetic pace indefinitely. The other night, I was rather surprised to find myself at loose ends. Here, I can do the same things I'd do back in the USA: read a book, write in my journal, or play on the computer. I just found it a bit surprising.

One thing I'm finding a bit frustrating...I'm having trouble scheduling things with my colleagues at the school. Everyone seems happy to have me there, and they like having me in their classes. I have certain regular classes, and certain unscheduled hours during which teachers can request my support. When they do so, I set up a time with them to go over lesson plans and prepare for the class. Very frequently, when I show up for the meeting, I get stood up. It usually comes down to some kind of misunderstanding. After one occurrence, I figure it's a fluke. After two, I begin to get insecure about my language abilities (although I'm certainly not having any other difficulties with communication!). After five or six, I'm beginning to think that I'm dealing with a different attitude toward scheduling in general. Part of it is the "mañana" attitude, which is by no means limited to Mexico. Another part is that the teachers are very much regimented by their class schedules, and don't do very well with things that fall outside of their normal routine. The final, and most humbling part, is that I'm very low on the totem pole around here. Actually, I'm not on the totem pole at all; I'm buried in the mud down underneath the totem pole. The worms crawl higher than me. People are all very friendly, but I don't think they worry too much about missing meetings with me.

Pico La Capilla Hike

2008-10-20T02:20:00.000-07:00

For my first excursion out of Córdoba, I joined a local hiking group for a hike to the top of Pico La Capilla, down near Málaga. Tonya isn´t a big mountain climber, so she elected to go shopping with Lola (that´s a different story, and I´ll let her tell that one). You can see the pictures of the hike at this link:

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/PicoLaCapilla#

The hiking group is called “Llega Como Pueda” (which translates best as “Get There However You Can”). Lola´s husband Eduardo is a member, and he´s the one who told me about it. We set out in a charter bus in the pre-dawn darkness. (That´s not as early as it seems, because the sun doesn´t rise until nearly 8:00.) It was about a 1 ½ hour drive to Valle de Abdalajís. We began with breakfast at a local inn (it´s inconceivable that we would start such a walk without proper nutrition).

I´d call it a fairly tough hike. The distance wasn´t that much (10.5km, or just under 7 miles), and the ascent was respectable but not terrible (800m, or about 2500 feet). What made it difficult was the trail conditions and the weather. The trail varied from “poorly-marked” to “imaginary,” often deteriorating to “non-existent.” We slogged up rocky slopes or through spiny bushes. My poor jeans may never be the same. There were some magnificent views of the valley as we continued up the trail.

The weather was cool and relatively clear when we set out, but the peak was up in the clouds. At the point where we were to begin the final ascent to the peak, it was so foggy that the head guide (Fernando…there were three guides for a group of about 20 hikers) couldn´t find the access point. You know, it´s not much fun to be on a foggy mountainside listening to the guides arguing about which way was the right route. We sat and munched on our trail food while Fernando smoked a cigarette and waited for the mist to clear a little bit so that he could get his bearings. There was finally enough of a break in the fog to figure out where we were, and we got to the access point. It was so socked in that Fernando recommended against trying to get to the peak. A number of the hikers had GPS locators, and argued strongly that we should give it a go. (I must confess that I was not one of those arguing to start scaling the rocks in the dense fog!). I wasn´t inclined to turn back on my own at this point, but even if I had been, I´m not sure that I could have found my way back down to the pueblo. So on we went. By this point, jackets were necessary ( we haven´t needed jackets up to now in Córdoba, but I figured I´d be wise to have one for this hike and for next week´s trip to Santiago de Compostela). I was happy for the jacket, because the wind got pretty fierce as we approached the peak. For the last haul, it got so steep and constricted that I had to leave my daypack. I didn´t take any pictures at the top, because we couldn´t see anything but fog. It´s a shame; I´m told that in clear weather, you can see the Mediterranean from the peak.

We started down filled with that euphoria you get after finishing a tough walk. The descent was both easier and more difficult. Easier because we weren´t climbing, but more difficult because going downhill is harder on the knees. (For me, at any rate.) As we went, it began to rain, so I put on my poncho. (I had thought that I was being over-conservative by bringing a jacket and a poncho. Hah!) I think every member of the party managed at least one fall in the mud. We descended by a different route, a very steep road which went down to the village in switchbacks. It was so steep and rocky that I think it would be difficult for a mule, let alone a truck!

When we got back to the inn, we all ate our brown-bag dinners. I hadn´t expected to be on the trail as long as we were, so I hadn´t come prepared to eat dinner; all I had was my gorp (normally raisins and peanuts and M&M´s, but mine had cashews and macadamia nuts). Everyone else was pulling out loaves of bread and wedges of cheese and egg tortillas and salamis and cans of olives. These people know how to eat, even on the trail! Everyone shared with everyone.

Despite the difficulties of the trail, I had a wonderful time. We´ll see what other hikes there are in the future.

Escúpeme

2008-10-15T09:13:00.000-07:00

The confusion began a couple of weeks ago. Scott told me that to say “excuse me” in Spanish, I could use “Con permiso” or “Discúlpeme”. For Non-Spanish speakers, and for the sake of this discussion, you need to understand that the consonant sounds in Spanish are very soft, and often, it is difficult for me to hear the subtle differences in their sounds. Also, with all the small conjunctive words in Spanish, it is easy to mistake a consonant –vowel sound at the beginning of a word, as a conjunction, or even as the end of the previous word. Because of these conjunctions, Spanish is spoken really fast. So Scott said “Use “Discúlpeme”” and I heard “Escúpeme”. For some reason, I can never remember “Con Permiso”, so I have been using the words that I thought that I heard him say: “escúpeme”. So for almost 3 weeks, getting on the bus, crowding past other passengers to find a place to hang on, I politely say “Escúpeme”. Walking down a crowded aisle in a market, I politely say “Escúpeme”. Passing someone on the very thin walkways that pass for sidewalks here in Córdoba, I politely say “Escúpeme”. So today, I needed to ask a courtesy clerk a question (in my very limited Spanish), so I walked up to her and politely said “Escúpeme por favor, donde esta…”. She answered my question with the expected “por aquí”, which is a whole different discussion… Whenever you ask where something is, it is always “por aquí”, “por allá” or “adelante” (“this way”, “that way”, or “straight ahead”) regardless of whether there are more directions needed. These words are almost always the instructions that you receive, along with the admonition the “you just can’t miss it”. So anyway, Scott and I walked off in the direction she indicated. Understand that whenever I manage communication in Spanish, an actual exchange with a stranger, no matter how small, I feel like I have jumped a major hurdle. It doesn’t matter that I generally have no clue what was said back to me, only that I spoke in Spanish and the other person understood me. So as we walked away and I was telling Scott about my successful conversation, I explained that I had walked up to the clerk and said: “Escúpeme”… Scott replied with “¿Discúlpeme?” (Correcting my pronunciation.) I countered with “No, I said “Escúpeme”, you know, “Excuse me””. At which point, Scott explained that “escúpeme” means “spit on me” in Spanish, and “discúlpeme” means “excuse me”. So for 3 weeks, I have been all over town saying “spit on me” to everyone! Crowding past people on the bus… “Spit on me.” Passing people on the tiny sidewalks… “Spit on me.” Asking a courtesy clerk for help… “Spit on me.”
Ahhh, the joys of learning a foreign language… Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.

Finally Photos!

2008-10-12T03:03:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your patience. Now that we have a good Internet link, we finally have the opportunity to post all of our travel photos. At first I tried loading them directly to the blog, but that didn't work so well; the picture upload speed seems to be limited by the blog program, rather than by our internet connection. (I wish I'd realized that earlier!) This time, I tried using Picasa, a photo album utility associated with Google blogs. It allows easy uploading of pictures, and we can add captions and such.

Anyway, click here to enjoy our pictures! The first link is all the pictures we took in Holland and France.

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/SpanishSabbatical?authkey=vAFyKmXVd44#

This second link is to all of the photos we've taken since coming to Córdoba.

http://picasaweb.google.com/tohjnya1/CRdoba#

Stay tuned for more! This adventure has just begun.

We are Online Again!

2008-10-11T10:35:00.000-07:00

Another triumph! We now have a land line telephone with DSL internet access (3MB/6MB). It's a real luxury not having to go down to the public library to do our online business. Furthermore, this enables us to use Skype as an alternative to expensive trans-atlantic phone calls. For those of you who are Skype users, you can look us up and talk to us if we're online. Just remember the time difference! And if you're not yet a Skype user, you should check it out. It's quite nice.

We've been busy with grocery shopping and other domestic tasks today, so we haven't started on the task of uploading pictures to the blog. That will be a job for Sunday, when everything is closed and we can't do any business. Stay tuned!

I've begun my English teaching, and I'm having a marvellous time. I have several different types of students. First are the actual students at the institute (they're around 18-20 years old). Second are the teachers at the institute, who are taking advantage of my presence to improve their English. Third is a group of adults who are paying me and Tonya for English conversational time (although we may do that as an exchange: English conversation for them in exchange for Spanish conversation for Tonya). Fourth is a high school student whose father is paying me to tutor him. Each type of teaching has its own joys and its own challenges.

The students are like teenagers anywhere. They chatter among themselves a lot, and part of the challenge is keeping order in the classroom. That's not too difficult; in general, the students are more respectful toward teachers than they would be in America. We're doing a lot of speak-and-repeat exercises with simple phrases, working on their pronunciation. Some are doing better than others...as expected!

The teachers are more serious about their English; it's key to their jobs. Some are more interested in working on pronunciation to minimize their accents, some want to learn more of the vernacular, and some want to work on vocabulary. The institute where I'm teaching is a vocational school, and my section is training students to work in the tourism industry. One of the teachers, David (dah-VEED), is teaching a class on the business structure of tourism-related companies (hotels, travel agencies, tour agencies, etc.). This sort of translation becomes extraordinarily difficult, for two reasons. First, I don't have a formal business background. What do I know about corporations, partnerships, limited companies, and so on? Second, some things just don't translate directly. For instance, an "acción" in Spanish corresponds to a share (of stock) in English. However, there are legal ramifications in terms of the rights and responsibilities of shareholders that are simply different between Spain and America and England. They are different countries with different laws. I'm not a corporate lawyer, and I don't understand all of those complexities. I can help with the English, with the understanding that there's not an exact correspondence. Once we'd agreed on that, David and I are working together just fine.

We're just getting started with the conversation sessions. These people are more interested in being able to function in travel settings when they go on vacation to England or (less frequently) to America. This involves role-playing, which is kind of fun. We did a role-play conversation the other day in which I was the checker at a supermarket, and one of the students was a customer trying to make a purchase with a credit card. You can really get into your role! I was trying to explain to the "customer" what she needed to do, while apologizing to the other (imaginary) customers waiting in line behind her.

The one-on-one tutoring is the first job which has actually earned me some money. (They call it "dinero negro", or black money. No checks, no tax withholdings, no fuss.) Rafael, the student, actually understands more English than he realizes. This will largely be a process of building his confidence. We're using his classroom lessons as a base, and working on his pronunciation and comprehension. I'm seeing noticeable improvement after only two sessions. Was I able to learn that quickly when I was fifteen years old?

Who’s on First?

2008-10-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

As I am trying to learn Spanish, Scott and I have been trying to do a lot of our talking in Spanish. (At least until my brain becomes scrambled, and then we switch to English.) Often, he says something in Spanish and then breaks it down word by word as I translate his statement. If I do not remember the translation or know the word, I usually answer in English: “Which means?” Or “Which means… again?”

So we were in the phone store on Monday, playing our translation game and we had the following conversation:

Scott: “Otra vez” (“Otra vez” in Spanish translates to “again” in English.)

Tonya: “Which means, again?” (I said in English, as I could not remember the translation.)

Scott: “Si, Otra vez” (Not comprehending that I was asking for a translation.)

Tonya: “Which means, again?”

Scott: “Si, Otra vez” (Still not comprehending that I was asking for a translation.)

We went through several iterations of this statement/question loop before we both realized that we had originated a new Abbott and Costello “Who’s on first?” routine.

Chocolate Chip Cookies – Almost…

2008-10-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

So when we decided to undertake this grand adventure, I prepared myself to live without stuff. But I expected that I would be choosing the things that I was going to give up, because of economics. Live without a glass studio for 8 months … Okay, not fun, but I was prepared for the sacrifice. What I was not prepared for, was that many things, that I consider “essential to life” are simply not available. You cannot just go down to the store and buy what you need, because in many cases it is just not available for any price. The 60 cent stores may have may have more selection, but everything that they carry is so cheap that it may not work, or hold up very long. Selection is also a real problem. You may need a towel, and the store may have them. But they only have one (or if you are very lucky two) varieties. Then, you will pay 20% to 30% more for it, even before the monetary conversion is taken into account. The alternative to the 60 cent stores is the local version of Macy’s called El Corte Ingles. At El Corte Ingles, you will find a little more variety, but you will pay for it. The mid range quality towel you spend $30 for in America, start at 60€. (That’s in Euros… so approximately $82.00 each! Ouch!)

Outfitting 21st century kitchen continues to be a challenge. Some of it is diet related, and expected. However, as I do a lot of cooking from scratch, I thought that most of the raw ingredients (especially for baking) would be available. Other things I was just unprepared for. I had hoped to bring my measuring cups – a staple in any American kitchen, but given our space and weight constraints, I left them behind. Every cook uses measuring cups… Right? Well, I guess not in Spain. We looked for 2 days before we found a measuring cup. I found the same problem regarding other basic kitchen gadgets, spatulas, spoons, baking sheets, even a potato masher (which I have yet to find).

The adjustment to life here has been frustrating for me largely because I did not learn to speak Spanish before we left. So I needed some comfort food… Chocolate chip cookies. So Scott and I went to the store. Flour, eggs, butter, white sugar all easy enough to find. But then things get more complicated. Brown sugar… They have a product called brown sugar, but when I opened the package, I found that it was closer to the raw sugar in the natural food stores in the US. Baking soda… simple bicarbonate of soda, right? Well almost, the form that I have found so far is granulated. Salt… What can be so difficult about salt? Except, I have not been able to find salt in anything other than a coarse grind. So, I did my best to turn the coarse baking soda and salt granules into a powder. But as I have not managed to find many kitchen items, a mortar and pestle among them, my efforts were pretty ineffectual. Still, I broke a dark chocolate bar up into small pieces by beating on it with a rolling pin. (I can be very resourceful, especially when chocolate is involved.) So I threw it altogether in a bowl and mixed it all up… (Yes, I forgot the vanilla… but such is life.) And put it in the oven to bake… Which leads to another discussion.

I never realized that what a Spaniard considers a 21st century stove is not even remotely equivalent to what an American expects from the appliance. I really need to readjust my thinking. First off, a stove does not necessarily mean that an oven is included. Next, although gas appliances do exist, electric is more prevalent. But, as the electric current is different in Europe, the appliance does not seem to work as efficiently. I am finding that the stove is rather like using a camping stove, and that I can expect it to take 2 to 3 time longer to cook different dishes. So I will need to readjust my meal planning. Secondly, because of the electric current issue (and this is only my supposition) the oven temperatures do not equate to their Fahrenheit equivalents. So it takes much, much longer to bake anything. For instance, the cookies took about 25 minutes to bake.

So how did they turn out? Well, they are actually quite interesting… and they taste okay, but they are not Tonya’s chocolate chip cookies. The texture is all wrong, obviously a result from the soda. Some bites are unexpectedly salty, resulting from both the course grind of the salt and soda, but what can you do? Laugh, cry or both… and perhaps continue to look for substitute ingredients. The obvious answer is to make simpler meals, and learn to cook Spanish style, and I intend to do both. But for now language is the real barrier. Basic grocery shopping looks like it will be a lot of fun once I am conversant in Spanish. To really get the good deals, one does not just go to the supermarket. One goes to the Fruteria for fruits and veges, the Panaderia for bread and pastries, the Carniceria for meats, the Pescaderia for fish, and if you need anything else, then to the Supermercado. Prepackaged products are not as prevalent as they are in the US. Thank goodness my mother taught me to cook.

Scott and I are looking into Spanish classes for me. And, we hope to trade English for Spanish lessons with a group associated with his school. Hopefully, I will be speaking like a native soon. And so the adventure continues…

(NOTE FROM SCOTT: Tonya's cookies tasted great. She is rising above all of the cooking challenges and producing her normal wonderful food.)

Yes, We Have Our Own Place (Nuestro Propio Piso)

2008-10-06T04:25:00.000-07:00

It’s been an extraordinarily busy couple of days, but we are finally in our own place. It’s a lovely apartment by Plaza Colón, right in the middle of downtown Córdoba. The location is perfect; we’re within walking distance of everything worth visiting. We’re right on the edge of La Judería, the location of all the favorite tourist spots. Pretty much every bus line has a stop at Plaza Colón, so it’s easy to get to any part of the city. We’ve spent the last few days outfitting the place in a manner that we’ll be able to live comfortably for the next nine months.

With luck we’ll have a real Internet connection soon (we’ve been taking advantage of the free access from the public library), so we can begin posting more pictures. We not only have lots of pictures from the Netherlands and France and Córdoba, but we’ll need to post pictures of the apartment and the beautiful park just across the way.

Late-breaking news: I was asking one of my fellow teachers what I should charge for English tutoring, and she not only made a recommendation (20-25€ per hour seems to be the going rate), and she made another offer for conversation time with her husband and some friends! The institute is only paying me 700€ per month, but with a few tutoring engagements like this, I could find myself making a living wage.

Observations about finding, outfitting, and living in an apartment in Córdoba:

1. We got our apartment through a rental agent (un servicio inmobiliario). We could have probably saved some money by pounding the pavement and talking directly to property owners, but I don’t begrudge the rather high fee (one month’s rent). They showed us some apartments, made the contact with the owner, set up the meeting, and wrote up the rental contract. With all of the demands on our time, it seemed like a good deal to us. We’re paying 570 euros per month (say $850) for a two-bedroom apartment. This is quite a bit less than Tonya had budgeted. When researching rental properties from Oregon, we must have been seeing the vacation properties, which were much more expensive.

2. Things are more expensive than you think. I’m sure that part of this is due to the poor performance of the dollar against the euro, but there are relative differences there are more difficult to explain. For instance, electrical domestic appliance prices are very high, while food prices are merely moderately high. Anything we buy here will be left here at the end of our nine months, so there’s no particular motivation to get top-of-the-line on anything. Furthermore, if we can get along without it, we’re better off. Some things are unavoidable, however. When your clothes are dried on the clothesline, you can’t get along without an iron. The cheapest steam iron we were able to find was around 25 euros (say $38, depending on the exchange rate you use). Tonya decided she could live without a curling iron after not being able to find one for less than 45 euros. Ouch.

3. Watch those brand names! It’s comforting to see the occasional familiar brand on the supermarket shelf, but you’ll pay for it. In Spain, Hunt’s brand products are an exotic foreign import, and you pay accordingly.

4. We’re going to be leading a simpler life here, but frequently that will mean more labor-intensive. Hanging up clothes to dry, and then ironing them so they don’t look as if you’ve slept in them. Washing dishes by hand. Fewer pre-prepared foods, so more cooking from scratch. Lots of walking. Lots of bus rides. There are compensations, of course. Not having to maintain a car. Getting lots of exercise (I’ve already dropped a belt notch). Living in a beautiful city. Already being able to recognize and sneer at the tourists. Being welcomed into a culture that is so warm and friendly that I literally wouldn’t have believed it before I came here. (Of course it helps tremendously to speak the language. Tonya has had some not-so-positive experiences as she continues to develop her Spanish.)

Who´s reading the blog?

2008-10-01T01:30:00.000-07:00

We have a lot more errands to run today, so I´m just making a short entry.

I´m still having trouble figuring out how to monitor visits to our blog, so I don´t know if anyone is visiting or not. Most of you who know about this site have our e-mail, so please write and let us know if you´re visiting. If you don´t have our e-mail, please post a comment.

More information about the continuing adventure! Some of you may have already seen this in e-mails, so please excuse the repetition.

We´re having to re-learn how to do everything we thought we knew how to do, even down to the simplest things like grocery shopping or doing laundry. It´s all just different. For instance, while doing laundry, we found out too late that there´s a button (unlabelled) that you have to push to get the @#$%&!! thing to do a spin cycle. As a result, the clothes came out sopping wet. This is a real pain when you have to hang out clothes to dry, as driers are unknown around here.

One funny and one pleasantly surprising English experience.

The funny one: There aren´t very many people around here who speak English, so I´m pretty accustomed to just talking in Spanish. The other day, we saw a couple with ice cream cones, which looked pretty good on a warm afternoon. I said to them, 'Discúlpenme, ¿dónde compraron ese helado?' (Excuse me, where did you buy that ice cream?). They looked at me with a blank expression and said very slowly and distinctly 'Eng-lish.'

The pleasantly surprising one: as we left the building where we´re hoping to rent an apartment, Tonya and I were talking in English. A man approached me on the street and asked if I´d be willing to offer English tutoring services to his school-age son. Very nice! There may be more opportunities for this kind of thing.

Lesson #2 on Living in Spain

2008-09-29T11:39:00.000-07:00

Be prepared to wait in lines. This morning, Tonya and I went to the police department to apply for an NIE (Número de Identificación para Extranjeros, an identification number for foreigners living in Spain).

I´d gone to the police station in La Judería last Friday afternoon to ask for information, and they told me I needed to go to the Figueroa police station. We barely made it there before they closed (at 2:00 in the afternoon! The siesta is a live and well in Córdoba). They had no more appointments that late, but it was worthwhile; I got information about the documents that were needed, as well as a copy of the form to be filled out. Therefore, we were able to come back completely prepared on Monday.

According to the advice I´d received on Friday, we showed up before 7:00 Monday morning. We´d been told that they would give out numbers at that time, and then see people in the order of their numbers. We arrived at 6:45 to find a crowd of Romanian and Moroccan nationals already waiting there. It was quite interesting to join this rough-looking group in front of a police station in an unknown neighborhood in the dark of the early morning, but we were all friends quickly enough. At 7:00...nothing. 7:15....nothing. 7:30....there was a little excitement when a policeman stepped out of the building, but he was just coming out for a smoke. Around 8:00, they finally came out and began dividing the people into groups according to nationality. We were given numbers and told to come back at 9:00, when they would begin to call us in. We found a little coffee shop to get out of the chilly breeze while we waited.

At 9:00....nothing. 9:15....they began to let Spanish nationals in. 10:00....they began to let in foreigners from other EU (European Union) countries. Around 10:45, they finally let us inside the building, into a waiting room that actually had chairs. This was a big improvement! Then came more waiting. About 11:30, we finally got to speak to someone about our NIE. She took all of our paperwork, asked a few questions, and then told us we had to pay 10€ each (as expected). When I asked if she could change a 50€ bill, she said, "I´m not the bank!" I´d thought that was rather rude, but it turned out she was being very literal. We had to leave the police station and go down the street to a bank, which took our payment and stamped our forms. When we returned to the police station, we waited some more. Finally, we went in and did the final paperwork. At 12:30, after 5 1/2 well-spent hours, we were done. All we have to do now is wait five weeks for the identification cards to arrive.

Wow.

Lesson #1 on Living In Spain

2008-09-28T01:53:00.000-07:00

Personal contacts, personal contacts, personal contacts. As we´re already learning, things are done differently in Spain than they are in the USA. First contacts are best made in person; if you talk to somebody you don´t know for the first time by telephone, you might not get anywhere at all. Sometimes they just don´t even answer the phone. Answering machines are completely unknown.

We´re moving into a hostal today, as I´d mentioned. I had tried to call a couple of days ago to get a place there, but was told that they were full up for the weekend (which is completely true). On Friday, however, we walked over there personally and met with Fernando, the owner. We all had a very pleasant chat (in Spanish; he doesn´t speak any English), and he offered us the room with washing machine and kitchen and all starting on Sunday.

Things got even better. Yesterday we met with Lola and Eduardo, friends of a friend of ours (thanks Rachel!!). They live in San Basilio, very near the hostal, and are good friends of Fernando. While walking over to their house, we stopped by the hostal. Demetrio, Fernando´s son, offered us a glass of wine and we all chatted some more. Now we´ve progressed from making a personal contact ourselves to being friends. I feel as if we´re being welcomed into a big family. Fernando may be able to help us on finding a permanent piso as well; Tonya and I are both thinking that it would be very nice to live in San Basilio.

Lola and Eduardo took us into their house for a lovely afternoon of eating, chatting, eating, touring the house, eating, practicing English with their daughter Elena, eating, talking about Eduardo´s hiking group, and eating. Oh, and there was lots of food to eat. Lola is a wonderful cook, and Tonya joined her in the kitchen for her first lesson on Spanish cuisine.

Things are progressing well! Sorry we´re not posting pictures yet, but we´re dealing with hotel Internet connections. Soon, I hope.

Exploring Córdoba!

2008-09-26T00:05:00.000-07:00

The adventure continues. We have arrived in Córdoba. Housing has been catch-as-catch-can for the moment. We´re in a hotel on a central plaza downtown, but they only had a room available for two nights. The people at the school (Instituto Gran Capitán) have been very helpful, and came up with some options of another place to stay so that we wouldn´t be out on the street. Then our original hotel had a cancellation, so we can stay here a few nights more. On Sunday, we´ll be moving into a hostal which is like a small apartment, with kitchen and washing machine (and air conditioning!!....thank you Rick Steves!). That´s still not a permanent solution, but it will be perfect as we continue the search for nuestro propio piso (our own apartment). We´re meeting with a rental broker this morning, and meeting a Cordoban friend of a friend tomorrow (thanks Rachel!), and of course my new colleagues at Gran Capitán are being a big help. Hopefully it won´t take us long.

Meanwhile we are exploring the narrow twisting streets of this beatiful old city, getting lost regularly and having a great time. It reminds me very much of my time in Guanajuato Mexico, almost as if Guanajuato was built by homesick Spanish conquistadores. The big attraction is La Mezquita, an ancient mosque from the days when Córdoba was the capital of the Muslim Al-Andalus. We´ve only seen it from the outside so far, because we´ve been so busy dealing with the logistics of making a new home. Near La Mezquita is the ancient Roman bridge across the Rio Guadalquivir. Right now we don´t have a good way to post pictures, but we´ll do so as soon as possible.

It´s almost as if we´re having to re-learn everything about day-to-day life. Some things are similar, but many are quite different. Entering a supermarket is a new adventure; everything is in metric, of course, and many of the names for things is unfamiliar. (Vocabulary for food items seems to be very specialized and very local.) Another interesting example dealing with the metric system: we got some detergent to hand-wash clothes in our room. The detergent was supposed to use 100ml per 5l of water. Whaaa.....?? Doing mental conversions: 100ml is one-tenth of a liter. One liter is about a fourth of a gallon. Eyeballing the sink, it looked to hold a little over a gallon, so we figured that it was close enough to five liters. One liter is about a quart, or four cups. Therefore, 100ml is about .4 cups. Therefore, we needed just under a half cup of detergent. Voila! We´ll be dealing with these sorts of things a lot, I have a feeling.

More to come!

Teaser Picutres

2008-09-22T09:12:00.000-07:00

More pictures will follow, but here are the first couple we've been able to upload with our limited Internet access. An unusual view of the Venus de Milo, and the Chateau Chambord.

Notes on Driving in France

2008-09-22T01:01:00.001-07:00

Driving in France is different than driving in America. Or, maybe I should say, navigating is different. I’m accustomed to going by the map; we take Highway X to Highway Y, exit at Offramp Z, turn left on Alpha Street, turn right on Beta Street, and go to 123 Beta Street. Here, it just doesn’t work like that. The streets can go in any direction, and they change names without warning. I’d initially tried to drive according to my American instincts, and it was driving me nuts.

The way you navigate in France is by signs. You figure out what is the next major town or landmark in roughly the direction you want to go, and follow the signs on the street. As you approach that intermediate destination, you look for the signs which route you to the next destination. It reminds me of packet routing through the Internet. It sounds crazy, but it works. The signs will route you through all of the twisty-turny streets, along the one-way streets, and keep you going in the right direction. If you make a wrong turn, you either double back to the last sign, or you drive ahead until you see another sign.
I’m not sure if this method would work quite so well in a large city, but it’s been very effective here in the countryside. We’ve been having a marvellous time, and haven’t had (much) trouble finding what we need to find. It’s rather liberating; I have the confidence now that we could take off driving wherever we want across France.

GPS is just a crutch. We don’t need no stinking navigation system!

Amsterdam, Paris, and beyond

2008-09-21T12:32:00.001-07:00

Scott and I are having a wonderful time enjoying the French Chateaus and countryside. Many thanks to Gerard and Diane for suggesting that we rent a car. Driving is just not an issue. The French drivers are polite and courteous and I have only been honked at a couple of times… Language is another matter. But, as I am having enough of a problem learning to speak Spanish, I have been allowing Scott to do most of the taking. It is comforting though when most people tell me they speak a little English, to find that their command of the English language is less than my knowledge of German or Spanish.
Anyway, Amsterdam is a truly lovely city, filled with picturesque bridges and lots of English speaking people. We spent the day just walking the city, trying to keep ourselves awake. After much discussion, we finally decided to take the walk through the Red Light district late in the afternoon. I am not sure what the hype was all about. The street was mostly Pot and Hash dens. The aroma walking down the street was much akin to walking down a dorm hall. (I certainly do not miss that!) We only saw a couple of prostitutes and they were pretty tame. We actually passed more prostitutes outside of the district earlier that day – although Scott was oblivious to all but the last one. We went to find a restaurant for dinner and we stopped in front of the restaurant’s supposed address to check the map. Well… clueless us, we happened to stop in front of, shall we say… one lady’s establishment – and she began to strut her stuff. Scott was looking at the map, but in her direction, but not noticing the show. She apparently took this to mean that he was interested and began to turn to come outside until I caught her with nothing short of a glare as I suggested that Scott and I move along. I can only describe this woman’s look toward Scott as predatory.
Paris was wonderful! We are doing a lot of walking. First to Notre Dame, then across the Seine and up Champ Elyse to the Arc du Triumph. We lunched on the lawn beneath the Eifel Tower, and then took in the Rodin museum before returning to our temporary home in Montparnasse. The next day was devoted to museums, the Louvre and the Orsay. Wow! Scott even managed to capture a couple of unusual photos, which we will post soon. That evening we ventured out to do reconnaissance at the Gare de Montparnasse to figure out where to get the car the next day, and then took the train back into the center of Paris to see the Eifel Tower in lights… Simply magnificent! No one ever told me that it sparkles in the dark.
Pictures to follow soon …

So how much stuff do you really need?

2008-09-04T17:33:00.000-07:00

We're coming down to the wire on our travel, and it's amazing how many details you have to deal with. Magazine subscriptions, utilities, bill payments, yardwork...it goes on and on. Sometimes it makes me envy the young college students who can go off on this sort of adventure without all the strings that tie them to an established household, but Mom and Dad still have the household waiting for them when they return!

The big question is in the title: how much stuff do you really need? Since shipping expenses to Spain are prohibitively expensive ($350 for 50 pounds....ouch!), we'd like to limit ourselves to what we can bring in our suitcases. Spain is a Western European country, and I'm sure we'll be able to buy everything we need for much less than it would take to ship it. The question then becomes: what is so important to you that you're willing to carry it through a succession of airports and train stations, but so unique and personal that you can't buy it elsewhere? I'm finding it a liberating experience to realize how few of our multitudinous "things" meet that criteria. We have to carry enough to take us through the first two weeks of travel (clothes, toiletries, laptop, travel guides, something to read on the plane). Beyond that....well, I have few poetry books that I enjoy reading again and again. And I have some materials that will be helpful for my English teaching.

See, the self-examination and personal growth is beginning before we even leave!

LET THE DICE FLY...

2008-08-24T14:39:00.000-07:00

On this site we will be chronicling our wild and crazy adventure as our sabbatical in Spain progresses. The long awaited visas have arrived and we are preparing for our departure. There is no turning back now... Let the dice fly!