A fistful of ham

When we got off the bus in Madrid today, we made our way to the subway station, housed in the same structure.  It was a few escalators down from where we started, but Cas had figured out how to get to the right spot and which subway train to get on in order to make it more efficiently to our hotel.  He even had the cost figured out, but we weren’t entirely sure if we needed to buy some kind of pass card to add today’s fare to.  We wound up making such a purchase, but it was all worthwhile just to avoid a half mile walk on wobbly legs that only yesterday climbed a mountain.  

When we got to the hotel, there was an envelope at the desk for us.  It featured our room keys, an itinerary with specific times and a few pointers about the afternoon.  There was also a city map.  We had about two hours until we were expected back to the bar in the hotel lobby to officially meet our tour group.  

Cas and I went to the room and were pleasantly surprised.  The place where we’re staying is very nice.  There is a large bed in a spacious room with lots of little extras.  We took a moment to relax, then we decided to spend the next hour exploring before meeting up with everyone.  We walked down a sidewalk and stopped along the way for a glass of wine.  The waiter was abrupt and the other patrons on the sidewalk seemed to have an entirely different sense of smell than I have been blessed with.  I smelled cigarettes most of the time, but for extra fun, the table closest to us ordered calamari.  They received some of the worst smelling calamari I have ever been near.  

My mother’s maiden name was Cushing.  My cousins on that side of the family share with me the blessing (and the curse) of what we call The Cushing Nose.  We can smell everything.  It’s great when there’s a gas leak or you’re trying to figure out what flavor or seasoning you’re having.  It’s pretty bad when the smells are unpleasant.  My Cushing nose today was ready to move on from our sidewalk cafe table just about when the third or fourth cigarette came and the camalari was placed just upwind of us.  We didn’t stay long.  We wandered a bit after leaving there and saw a fountain. 

We continued our stroll and made our way back to the hotel, stopping back in our room to get ready to meet our group.  The initial meeting was good, if a little drawn out.  Our tour director was more deliberate about the details than most, explaining when and whom to tip, how to avoid pickpockets and what kind of pace to expect.  She goes by Riu- she says it’s like the first part of the word reunion.  In our group, we have a few folks form different parts of the US; a fellow Texan, a couple from Tennessee, I think, a bunch from Arizona and at least one from Minnesota.  There are other places represented, here, and to be sure, Riu is from more places than most of us.  I think she said her dad was Japanese and her mom was Irish.  She was born in Hawaii and raised in Southern California, but she has lived in Spain for a few decades.  I think I would lose track after a while, if I were her.  

Our big to-do with the tour group tonight was the welcome dinner.  We had a meal together at a restaurant nearby, and as we dined, we got to know our traveling companions,  Each person seemed to pepper Riu with questions.  Some asked about different destinations and excursions, while others asked about customs and behaviors in different places.  Cas and I sat across from another couple, and the man in that pairing asked specifically about Iberian ham.  It’s a pretty well renowned delicacy, and our tour director knew a lot about most of what she was asked.  She explained what to look for and which restaurants in town had the best offerings.  The man asked that, should we be near a great spot to find the best Iberian ham, she let him know.  He said he was a great foodie, and claimed he would, “run in real quick and come back out with a fistful of ham.”  That fella sure can paint a picture.  

I have eaten some ham along the way so far on this trip, and it’s been good- specifically, Cas and I had ham for dinner last night in San Sebastián.  There was a lot on the plate, in fact, but we failed to measure it by the fistful.  Maybe next time.  

Tomorrow, we have a guided tour of the city, including a visit to the Prado museum.  The tour company has a basic package and several things you can add on to your tour.  We love adding things on.  We added on a traditional Spanish evening including troubadours at the Plaza Mayor.  Not entirely sure what that means, but it’s listed as “tuna music” in the itinerary.  I do know that you can tune a piano, but you can’t tuna fish.  Sorry- Cas actually laughs when I make the bad jokes, so it’s partly his fault for encouraging me.  You should totally blame him for that joke.  Anyhow, buenas noches.  Until the morning, everyone. 

Photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/pfA2563myHYwVp6U7

Lost in translation

For our evening meal last night, Cas and I planned to start at a cocktail bar down the street from where we are staying, then go to a restaurant about a half a block away.  He had done a little looking online, and both places had good reviews.  We started at a place called the Garbola bar.  The bartender there was a young Italian guy who seemed to take great pleasure in making fancy drinks.  Everyone else at the bar was having beer or wine, but when we ordered a mixed drink, he really got to work.  

The place where we are staying has names for the rooms instead of numbers, and our room is called Zurriola.  There was a drink on the menu with the same name, so we asked what was in it. When he said it was vodka, passion fruit and Cava (Spanish sparkling wine) we were game.  What we didn’t suspect was the production of the thing.  He iced two large wine glasses, poured in a shot of vodka and some juice, then cut a passion fruit in half.  From there, he mixed everything well and added the Cava, placed two raspberries in the rind of the passion fruit, sliced a small berry to place on the side of the glass, added a sprig of cranberries and did about a half dozen other things to make the drink look like a work of art.  It was pretty spectacular.  

We decided we wanted to see what he recommended to follow that up, so we asked for a sugggetion.  He made something with Japanese whiskey called “lost in translation” next, which was pretty great.  The irony wasn’t lost on us, either.  An Italian making a drink with Japanese liquor in a Spanish bar for two Americans.  Couldn’t get much more international if we tried.  When we paid the check (after he handed us some pintxos on the house), we walked to the restaurant we had chosen, and there was a sign on the door saying they were closed until June 14th.  If we wanted to eat there, we were 24 hours early.  Alas, we went right back to the place we had left and had dinner at the bar.  It was Spanish ham and octopus.  

When dinner was complete, we walked the short distance back to our room, appreciating a little more that the place where we’re staying bothered to name it instead of numbering it.  Now, we just have to get up and make our way to the bus station where we started this adventure, of course, locating some breakfast on the way.  After that, it’s on to Madrid. 

Photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/pfA2563myHYwVp6U7

We put the fun in funicular

The morning started with a pastry and a coffee.  We began very early, at least according to our usual behavior- probably because we had gotten to sleep very early last night.  By the time it was 9 am, we had walked to the top of the local high point where there is a very old castle.  The folks here call them mountains, so I will just go ahead and announce that we climbed a mountain by the time most people around here were getting into work.  The Castillo de Mota is right at the coast, and was built about 1000 years ago, give or take a few.  It had been through several incarnations, but it was pretty clear that the cannons on display there were probably a good indicator about the location’s design.  It was part of plenty of wars and numerous defenses of the area.  Now, there is a giant statue of Jesus at the top of the castle, and he is visible from pretty much anywhere in the city.  It was a pretty challenging walk- more like a hike, and by the time we got back to the ground, we were ready for a second round of breakfast pastries.  The way people seem to eat in San Sebastián is frequently, and in small portions.  I am used to the American standard of three times a day, and portions to fill you up.  Not the case, here.  

After our second attempt at breakfast, Cas and I walked along the boardwalk overlooking the beach to the other high point in town, a place best accessed by a “funicular” car.  It is like a cross between a trolley and a gondola, built entirely at an angle and seemingly perfect for hauling passengers up the side of a small mountain to a peak.  

We arrived at the funicular departure point behind a crowd of children.  I was going to guess there were 200 kids there, but Cas seems to estimate about 50.  I guess it just sounded like 200.  I wasn’t terribly disappointed when we were too many to fit on the same car as them, so we had to wait for the next car.  When we got to the top, we had context for their enthusiasm.  I guess no one told us that there was a children’s amusement park up there.  Still, we rode up with a very nice Scottish man and his family, and that was perfectly lovely.  He assured us there was a bar opposite the amusement park.  Sure enough, there were a few bars and a bunch of really great lookout points.  

At the top of the second mountain, we had a glass of wine and a snack- more pintxos (pronounced peen-chos) to tide us over until lunch.  We are trying to do things like the locals, so we had a large meal at around 1:30.  We were ready for it, too.  By the time we sat down to a proper meal today, we had walked so long that my legs, feet and ankles hurt.  Even Cas, who typically seems to have a magic switch that shuts off exhaustion in cases of travel was ready to sit still and replenish some serious calories.  

After lunch, we went to the museum about Basque culture.  It was in a building that had once housed a monestary, and to match the shape of the land they built on, the main structure was a trapezoid, not a square.  We made it through the first floor of exhibits and part of the second floor before we ran out of steam.  It’s a fine museum giving the history of the area, but I am really no wiser about Basque culture than when I went in.  We were more tired than curious at a certain point, and in the middle of the second floor of exhibits, tired won out.  We went back to our room for a nap.  We had to take one for a few reasons- we had walked for many miles, several of them up some challenging paths and large stone seps, but mostly, we wanted to have a traditional dinner here in San Sebastián, and the tradition is to eat around 9:30 pm.  No way were we going to be able to handle that, having been up and moving at 5:30 am.  

So, now we are done with the nap, and all that remains is to get out the door and eat what promises to be a large evening meal.  After that, we sleep, wake and get to a bus station for a 10:00 trip to Madrid.  That’s when the organized tour starts.  We saw and did so much already today that I nearly forgot we hadn’t even joined our tour group yet.  

Photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/pfA2563myHYwVp6U7

Pintxos and wine

Right around the time you realize you’ve been wearing the same pair of shoes for 24 hours, you find yourself with a choice to make.  You can take the shoes off and surrender to the nap your body so desperately demands, or you can walk just a few more steps and try to see what your new destination has to offer.  Cas and I kept our shoelaces tied (though, to be fair, I took mine off briefly and then returned them to my feet, just to have a moment’s freedom), and we wandered around the old town of San Sebastián.  We walked up and down narrow streets, stopping at at least three different places for Pintxos, which is what Tapas are called in Basque Country.  It’s essentially little appetizer-sized portions of things, and you can select from stuff that’s already made. The restaurant will heat what needs to be warm and leave cool what needs that treatment, then bring the plate to your table.  Somehow, though, when we said we would share our food, each restaurant thought we also meant to share a fork.  Maybe it’s a Spanish tradition.  

We listened to an old man play violin on a street corner, though he wasn’t terribly gifted, and we heard a trio (or at times, a quartet) of men from a restaurant across the square singing a-cappella while setting up their outside tables for the evening rush.  We walked to a beach, saw the town’s Constitution Square and took a moment to drink in the scenery and the wine.  

It’s been a pretty long journey getting here.  We got very little sleep on the overnight flight, leaving us to doze off on the Madrid to Bilbao flight and the Bilbao to San Sebastián bus, but we’ve made it to something resembling evening, and I think we may be ready to tackle a regular length day tomorrow.  We’re looking into the different things we may want to see, but we’ve adopted a decidedly slower pace this evening.  After the rush of making plane to plane to bus to bus connections, our whole plan for the rest of our time in San Sebastián is to relax.  And maybe take off our shoes here and there.  

Photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/pfA2563myHYwVp6U7

This is not what they said in Defensive Driving

A nearly nine hour flight took us from DFW to Madrid, and another one carried us to Bilbao.  From there, we took a city bus to the main bus station, and the one we’re on now will get us to San Sebastián.  The city bus driver was aggressive.  I don’t have another word for it.  He rolled over a curb, shimmied between a few cars I wouldn’t have tried to get between myself in my little car and he got us to the bus station at deft speed.  

There were a couple of moments when Cas or I wanted to snap a photo out the bus window, but it was going too fast.  Here’s a park I managed to capture.  

That’s all I have for the time being.  We will get to our room and I will have more time to write- this was just to say we’re alive and well, headed to San Sebastián and starting off the adventure.  Adios!

El aeropuerto

Cas and I are at the DFW airport, and so, the next trip of ours starts.  Most of them start here.  It was a little worrisome, at first, since the airline assigned us our original seats totally at random.  I had a window seat. So did Cas.  The windows were at opposite sides of the airplane, and on different rows.  

I know Cas and I will be spending virtually every moment of time together over the next few weeks, but that doesn’t mean we wanted to sit on opposite sides of the plane on the way to Spain.  

All settled.  We waited for a gate agent, and he changed the seats for us without the up-charge the American Airlines website wanted to extract.  I was worried we wouldn’t be able to get better seats, but Cas assured me that, if we talked to a human, we could get some better result.  He was correct.  Now, neither of us has a window seat, but we are going to be side by side.  That will work.  

Cas has set up a photo album, though it is currently empty, but this is the link to it: https://photos.app.goo.gl/pfA2563myHYwVp6U7

So... Away we go.  

Summertime, and the livin's easy

If you ever become a teacher or you are one already, it's a very good idea to marry another teacher.  It's not the most lucrative profession out there, but you and your spouse will get some pretty sweet blocks of vacation time.  Certainly, these vacation periods are not unearned- spend several months with other people's teenage children and tell me you don't need a breather.  Still, when the summer comes, we all collectively exhale and start to make our dreamed-about plans into realities.  This summer, it's Spain.  

We booked an organized, guided tour, but everyone who we spoke with told us to add a stop in San Sebastian to our otherwise comprehensive trip.  Here's a map: 

We take off in nine days and stay gone for just over two weeks.  Of course, I will be documenting the whole thing here, partially to share with everyone back home, and partially so I have something to read and smile about when I am back with other people's teenagers in the fall and need to conjure up a good memory.  As is our custom, Cas and I have been "practicing."  We've had some Spanish wine and some Sangria.  We've been to a very good tapas restaurant.  We have probably forgotten more of the words and phrases from our Spanish class than we remember, but we know enough to get from an airport to a hotel.  We just need to pack a few things in our maletines and head to the aeropuerto, then it's adios, Estados Unidos!