It’s pronounced pen-NIECE-cola

On the way to Barcelona, our tour took us to a town that sounded awfully familiar.  Cas and I have been to Pensacola Beach, Florida to visit with his dad and stepmom, but this trip took us to a seaside fortress town called Peñíscola.  Everyone in our tour group who I bothered to ask said they had trepidation about pronouncing that out loud until our tour director said it first.  It really does look like a middle school boy’s joke.  While we were there, we climbed up to The high point and toured the castle.  It was the home to some of the Knights Templar, then a few popes when the Catholic church split and decided to have more than one pope.  I didn’t get a full history lesson in the museum displays, because my Spanish is weak at best.  The views were spectacular, though, and the weather was just about perfect.  

We spent so much time walking around the castle and looking at the other stuff in town (the maritime museum, the house covered in seashells...) that we had only an hour left for lunch and our return to the bus.  In the US, that wouldn’t be a problem.  Spain eats at a different pace.  When we sat at a table for 15 minutes without so much as a hello, we realized we were in trouble.  We moved to another restaurant where the waiter seemed to know the meaning of the word hustle, and we told him we had 45 minutes to eat, pay and make it to a bus.  He suggested a sandwich.  Cas and I actually split one so we could eat it fast enough to meet our goal.  We stepped onto the bus with a minute to spare, and no one was mad at us.  Mission accomplished.  

We’ve arrived in Barcelona, now, and we are all checked into our hotel.  We got here, settled in for a few moments, then went with most of the people from our tour group to check out the subway.  We took it together two stops from our most convenient station and found the main downtown area.  With that, we walked around just a little and saw a legendary Barcelona drinking fountain.  It is said that, if you drink from this fountain, you will come back to Barcelona some day.  I drank, and so did Cas, though he hadn’t heard that it meant we would return before indulging.  He feigned frustration and said I guess we have to return someday.  I mean, we’re contractually obligated, having consumed the water.  I actually splashed a fair amount on my shirt, so when I do come back, I think I have to wear the same thing.  I’ll try to remember- the pink one with the stripes...  

We have a guided tour tomorrow followed by an excursion to see Park Güell and La Padrera, described as the magnificent works of Antonio Gaudí.  It’s a four hour excursion, and I suspect we will want it to last longer once we see what we’re there to see.  After that, we have a farewell dinner with our tour group, and then, we have a bonus day on our own.  After that, we’re done, and it’s back to life in Dallas.  This has been a great trip so far.

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

Walk on the beach

After our diplomatic visit with the international ambassador of paella, Cas and I took a nap.  The big festivities were due to start pretty late in the evening, so there was no point in wandering the streets before then.  When we did get up, we went to the park that used to be a river.  The city of Valencia used to have a river running through it, but they had frequent and severe flooding, so much that they diverted the river and turned the old riverbed into a park.  To celebrate summer, a temporary amusement park was placed in a portion of the former riverbed, and the Ferris wheel was visible from pretty far away.  Being so easy to spot, Cas and I decided to walk to it and get on.  

It was a fun ride, and we looped around more times than I am accustomed to at speeds not matched in my experience.  To be sure, it wasn’t fast; it just wasn’t as slow as many others.  We were placed on a carriage with a Spanish family of four.  The two kids and the dad kept standing up and moving around, causing the carriage to swing.  That made the ride seem a little perilous...  Still, we went on a Ferris wheel in Valencia, and it was pretty cool.  Check that off the list.

From there, we stopped for wine and tapas.  I will miss that when we get home.  You can just walk down a sidewalk until you see an empty table, have a seat and enjoy a quick light meal any time you want.  So cool.  While we were there, a woman who had a small dog attached that dog’s leash to an empty chair.  She went in a shop, and while she was inside, the dog decided to chase after something or someone, and the chair followed the dog for a while.  Cue an entire group of complete strangers laughing together.  I really wish Cas and I were filming something else at that exact moment so we could have just turned our cameras on the spectacle- the dog should have been captured digitally as well as physically.  It turns out they caught the dog and restored the chair.  After the dog was contained and we were finished, we got on the city bus and headed to the beach.  

When we got there, plenty of bonfires were already blazing.  We were about to wander off and find another beverage when we saw a procession of people all dressed in white, walking toward the beach.  Cas suggested we turn around and head to wherever they were going.  The people in white proceeded to set down the things they were carrying, including many grocery bags and plenty of bonfire building supplies.  Some of the men in the group got to work stacking up the wood and small kindling to make the fire while the rest of the group organized the things they had brought with.  One member went to work with a white powder- like talcum or something- drawing out a large circle in the sand.  The intent was clear; they stayed inside and we stayed outside of the circle.  After that, the fire was lit and the people in white went around the circle handing things out in some kind of order.  They first handed out little sachet bags that looked like you could steep tea in them.  After that, the contents of the bag came one at a time.  There were coffee beans, grains of rice, sunflower seeds, some kind of grain and a series of spices.  A final round included a woman adding droplets of oil and a few folks tearing flowers and leaves from branches.  It was all very confusing, but one of the few words I heard from a person in white sounded like it would translate to prosperous.  Maybe that was it.  

There was a woman beating a drum that was shaped like an oversized tambourine without the rattling parts, and at some point, members of the group shook small, wet branches at each other, then they went to work shaking them at the assembled crowd.  I have since asked our tour director, and she hadn’t see that particular ceremony before, but she did verify that the water was some kind of blessing.  

After the branch-shaking, the process seemed to kind of fizzle out.  People took their strange, little bags of food and spices away and wandered from the circle.  It was about one in the morning at that point, so we decided to call it quits and head back to the bus stop. 

I have only been that crowded in any means of public transportation a few times in my life, most notably, my younger brother and I were on the Metro in Washington DC at the exact moment when the people headed to a baseball game were sharing space with the people headed home from work.  By the time we got back to the hotel, it was definitely time to go to sleep.  My hair smelled like a bonfire, though earlier in the day, it smelled like paella.  We’re on a bus ride, now, and thankfully, my hair smells like shampoo.  

We’ve packed up and are headed to our last locale of the journey, Barcelona.  See you there!  

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

The international ambassador of paella

This morning, we had a tour, partially on the bus and partially on foot, of Valencia.  We spent a little time walking around The City of Arts and Sciences, which is a new part of town with very modern architecture.  Some of the buildings in this area are the work of an architect named Santiago Calatrava, who is the designer of two relatively new bridges in Dallas.  When Calatrava was hired in Dallas, I read a story in a local newspaper about how controversial that choice was.  Apparently, his works in Europe typically came in late and over budget, and there was one project in particular where the tiles notoriously kept falling off of the building after it was constructed.  I now know which building, because we saw Valencia’s opera house today, and we learned that many of the tiles had been replaced.  It all made sense.  It’s a strange building, and to be sure, you’d love it if that was your style preference, but it’s part of why he was so notorious when city hall in Dallas tapped him for the bridges.  Since then, he designed the grand and unusual Margaret Hunt Hill bridge, nicknamed the Large Marge locally, and the Margaret McDermott bridge, which is an interesting story, as well.  That one is just a straight up concrete car bridge with a Calatrava design slapped on top.  After the fact, lanes were added for pedestrians and bicycles, but those have not yet been found safe for pedestrian use.  So the drama continues.  Still, we saw a cool looking opera house today:

After the tour of the rest of the city including the silk exchange and the world’s narrowest building facade, we went on to our cooking class.  We drove to the outskirts of town past rice paddies to a small, one room structure in the middle of nowhere, where we learned to make a real Spanish paella from a man who has won many awards for his cooking.  His name is David Montero  and he has apparently been named the International Ambassador of Paella.  He has some of his awards and honors displayed on the wall there, and he took a group of us through the process of making the traditional Valencian paella.  The one we made was with rabbit and chicken.  It was one of the best things we have done on this tour.  The food was spectacular, and the lesson was one where we took notes.  We also snapped a photo of the recipe so we could translate it to English and give it a shot when we get home.  I paid attention when his brother made the Sangria, just in case my recipe wasn’t as good.  Honestly, I do like mine better, but here’s what I observed on that score: 

• 1 bottle red wine (he used a Tempranillo)
• 1/4 bottle gin
• 1 bottle Fanta lemon soda (about a 2 liter bottle)
• Sugar (If I had to guess, about 1/8-1/4 cup)
• Cut up fruit chunks- he used apples, oranges, peaches and lemons.

It’s important to pay atttention to these things.  

Cas and I came back to the hotel and took a nap.  Now, we’re ready to go out for the evening.  It’s a big festival tonight, and we’ll need all our wits about us to get to wherever we decide to go and come back.  It may just be the beach tonight, and we just might try our hand at jumping over a bonfire.  

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

Corpus Christi y San Juan

We left the hotel at a time that most Americans would consider late.  That let us have Tapas and wine around 8:30 or 9, which was entirely necessary, since we split a sandwich at lunch.  When we were finishing that up and paying the check, a few of the members of our tour group saw us and said hello. They had just returned from the old part of the town by bus, where they saw the large, elaborate floats for the parade of Corpus Christi.  We have been hearing about this celebration in pretty much every place we’ve been recently, and lots of places have parades with elaborate floats.  Cas and I were not sure what to do with our evening, so we decided to check out the city bus and see what these floats look like.  For three Euro total, we went from the street next to our hotel to a main square, surrounded by buildings that were probably older than the entire city where we live.  We walked a short distance to an adjacent big square, where we saw the floats.  They were old, elaborate,  carved from wood and impossibly fancy. 

We wandered a little bit, eventually stopping to have a glass of wine and one more tapa at a table next to a large, outdoor stage.  It was clear that an orchestra was supposed to be there, given the seating arrangement on stage, the music stands, the large percussion instruments at the back and the general setup of everything.  We decided to have a seat at 10, and the woman sitting next to us was completely frustrated.  She had a British accent, and she kept going on about when the orchestra would take the stage.  If they haven’t begun yet, when can they hope to finish?  This is ridiculous.  And so on.  I was happy to sit at a sidewalk table in a beautiful square in Spain, looking a strange floats and drinking wine.  The angry woman left and someone else immediately took her spot.  The orchestra came out at 11 and started playing.  I thought they were quite good.  The lighting in the square seems to have been designed to thwart photography, but this is what they looked like: 

Not bad for a free concert we didn’t expect to see.  Between the free (and to us, impromptu) concert and the truly unusual giant wooden floats, Cas and I were both happy we took that bus.  

As we walked around being tourists and taking photos of everything, we found ourselves in good company.  I am guessing that even the folks who live here find the collection photo-worthy when it’s all on display like that.  The parade should be today, and from what I understand, it may have started already.  Tonight is apparently another part of this celebration- the festival of San Juan.  I have been reading a little, and the festival of San Juan is a celebration that happens at night, where people go to the beaches and light bonfires.  I have heard and read a few different accounts of what people do with these bonfires, but generally, it seems people jump over them.  Some sources say they have to leap over the fire three times.  Others do not specify a number.  One website says you have to make a wish when you jump.  I read one source that said jumping over the fire three times will cleanse you of all your sins.  Either way, I am not sure about jumping over a fire.  It would have to be a pretty contained blaze before I would leap, especially so far away from home. 

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

Paco the troglodyte

It never occurred to me that there was any other way to interpret the word “troglodyte” than as an insult.  I have heard it lobbed at people, usually in a political context, to call them backwards or ignorant.  The first thing that comes up when you look up the word troglodyte is actually a prehistoric cave dweller.  The more you know, right?  The next time some pundit on one of those news shows calls his ideological opponent a troglodyte, I will have a totally different idea.  

There are people in Guadix who dig caves into the sides of mountains and live in them.  Today, we met Paco, a proud troglodyte, who showed us his home and the two other caves in the complex that operate as a museum.  The facade of each cave was constructed outside, like an entryway made of bricks with a door, but once inside, the rooms were carved out of a mountain that Paco said was made of a clay-like rock.  The caves are dug out by hand, and the walls are painted with a whitewash, as latex or synthetic paints do not work as well on cave walls.  The inside of these homes seemed a little strange, and to be sure, Cas photographed a hand drawn map.  I love my house, but I doubt any visitors would need a map to find the way back out.  

It was interesting to say the least.  I appreciated the ingenuity it takes to dig out and furnish a hole in the side of a mountain, but I am afraid I couldn’t do it.  I would be lost without windows.  When I was in my teacher training program so many years ago, the classes I took were at a school where many of the classrooms had no windows.  I hated it.  You could be in the classroom and a terrible storm could blow through.  You would be none the wiser.  Without windows, I would imagine true troglodytes would have to rely pretty heavily on alarm clocks.  There is no sunlight peeking into the window to wake you up.  I need to at least look out and see what time of day or night it is.  Windows are important to me.  I asked Paco the troglodyte if, when he went on a vacation, he found hotel rooms disorienting.  He sure does.  The noise of having immediate neighbors you can hear through the walls and doors upsets his rest, as does the close proximity in general to the street and its noise in whatever city he visits.  I guess it’s all what you’re used to.  He is the fifth generation of his family to live in these caves, so this style of living is all he knows, and certainly, it’s in his blood.  

We stopped in Guadix along the path from Granada to Valencia.  It was a pretty long bus trip, so the stop was welcome not only for its interesting visit, but also for its break in the monotony.  Cas and I are in Valencia, now, having arrived in the late afternoon.  Our group stopped quickly as we were checking into the hotel for a drink, an Agua Valencia, which is made with Cava (Spanish sparkling wine) and the very best orange juice I have ever had.  It was such good juice that Cas and I stuck around the hotel bar for a moment and enjoyed a second juice-based drink.  I think our goal in this town is to drink as much of that juice as physically possible.  We will be here for two nights, after all, and I hear they grow some really nice oranges in Valencia.  

We’re in the hotel room for a moment, just preparing for a walk around town.  Tomorrow will be the day of the official tour and the cooking class when we learn to make a Spanish paella.  Just thought I would let everyone know that the next time you feel the need to insult someone and call them backwards or old fashioned, pick a different word.  Troglodytes are proud, cave-dwelling Spaniards who have figured out how to monetize their homes and install gift shops.  

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

Land of Lincoln

Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois have all claimed to be the home of Abraham Lincoln.  He was born in Kentucky, spent years seven through 21 in Indiana and moved to Illinois after that.  Seems all three states want to claim him as a native son.  Cas’ friend Jim told us tonight that Granada has a similar circumstance with Seville.  They both claim to be the birthplace of excellent Spanish things that are as important to Spain as Lincoln is to America.  Ask someone from each town where Flamenco dancing was invented; you’ll get two different answers.  

Cas and his friend Jim had worked together, and as further coincidence has it, they both attended the same high school themselves, though not at the same time.  Jim’s kids went to the high school I attended so many years ago, and at least one of his sons went to my college.  Pretty small world.  

Jim seems pretty happy about being an expatriate living in Spain.  Apparently, he and his wife have a nice place, and all of their needs are met for a fraction of what it costs to live in Dallas.  Sounds pretty sweet, though Cas and I agree that we have to be near our people.  I would have to pack up myself, Cas, my immediate family, his immediate family and a crate of Tex Mex ingredients and barbecue sauce.  Seems like a lot of effort- not to mention that neither of us has ever expressed a desire to move ever again.  Moving into our home was more work than either of us probably ever cares to repeat.  Maybe we’ll just visit here a lot.  

We rejoin our group tomorrow morning.  I believe we missed a group meal this evening, and I am sure there was something wonderful or culturally enriching about the experience, but talking to a guy from Dallas who lives here now is a whole other kind of perspective that you won’t get on a tour.  

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

Siesta

Today, we made our way to Granada.  Before this trip, I had only a small notion of the influence that Muslims had on Spain.  Granada was the last stronghold of the Moorish Sultans here.  Muslim architecture is so unusual compared to what I am accustomed to seeing that these places seem more foreign than the cathedrals and other things we’ve visited.  Sure, everything here is foreign to an American, but the Islamic buildings are like absolutely nothing I am used to seeing.  

The place was beautiful.  We saw the palaces, the gardens and the numerous fountains all around.  It was quite a walk, and there were some in our group who sat out the last leg of the journey in the beautiful gardens.  Cas and I were well prepared, though.  We had extra sunscreen to reapply (which we shared with a grateful Canadian) and we both do cardio at home, where it’s apparently been in the high 90s this week.  Today is the longest day of the year- the Summer Solstice- and the high here is 87.  It’s not the most fun fun to walk around in the sunshine when it’s 87, but coming from Texas, it’s kind of a snap.  

Cas and I are peeling off from the tour group this evening to meet up with a retired teacher friend of his named Jim.  Apparently, when he retired, he moved here.  I have to say, it’s not the worst option.  Certainly, if I wasn’t so deeply dug into life in Dallas, I would consider a similar retirement.  Cas has seemed happy here so far.  One thing we could both get used to is the practice of napping a little in the afternoon.  I just dozed for 20 minutes, and he is relaxing a bit, now.  Given the afternoon we had, the siesta felt well earned.  Spaniards stay up late, and on this trip, we have had to be awake pretty early, so the siesta is absolutely brilliant.  The problem, of course, is getting up from the nap.  I can bounce back with relative ease, but it takes a little more urging to get Cas back to a vertical stance if the nap goes on too long.  I feel bad about limiting his time, but it’s entirely necesssary.  We have plans later, and if left unattended, Cas will wake up at 8 am in his shorts and button down, realizing he didn’t brush his teeth before bed.  That’s not the plan... 

Tomorrow morning, we leave Granada and head to Valencia for a few nights.  On the way there, we stop in Guadix where people live underground.  That should be intriguing.  One we get to Valencia, we have a cooking class there where we will learn to make paella.  Then, it’s Barcelona and back home.  We tacked on one extra day in Barcelona.  We had the option, and we figured it was a good move.  How often do you get that kind of an option?  Anyhow, now that siesta is done, it’s time to get ready for dinner.  

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