Final Entries from Spain

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Here is stuff I couldn't get up on the blog before (wireless difficulties to be elaborated in subsequent blog). A bit outdated but covers final thoughts on Spain and some travel in Morocco. Wow, that all seems so long ago!

Part 5
November 22: Seville
We sit in our apartment at 5:00, just having finished lunch (a not that atypical timing for Spaniards), and all is quiet as Koby and Elaine read and Manya zips through another few ounces of her math book (with the heavy pages of this book, which we throw away as they are completed, we measure homework in weight rather than time or pages).
Our friends have an apartment downstairs, a perfect arrangement that took a bit of searching at the tourist office where they offered a raft of hotel rooms that even they said were too small for four or too expensive or too far from where we wanted to be. After exhausting almost all possibilities, the helpful woman says, that is all we have, unless you would want an apartment. Duh! So for less than most hotels around, we are in Apartamento Arte, having two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, rooftop garden, washing machine, colorful artwork made by the building owner, etc. in the north end of the Barrio Santa Cruz, on a quiet side street too small even for cars. Minus the time we had to spend locating this spot, this is almost like being in Granada and having a base to settle in and call home.
We were ready to leave Granada, albeit a bit reluctantly, on Sunday. Having chosen to stay through Saturday, we had nothing particular to do the last day (having already shipped our extra stuff back to the US at a pretty pricey 75€ for one 17 kg box). Koby and I gained an excuse to head back down to town when my soccer squash shot threaded the needle of the one broken window into the locked storeroom below our apartment. We bought a new ball and wandered the streets some, but my efforts to convince him to get a boys flamenco outfit fell on deaf ears.
The real highlight of the day was the classic FC Barcelona-Real Madrid soccer game that had been advertised and written about for weeks. We had planned to go to our favorite restaurant (that also happened to have a big screen tv) to watch and eat dinner, but when we got there at 7:45, 15 minutes before gametime, to our dismay, the place was totally shut down. We were quite shocked, but someone outside said they would be open by 8 or 8:30. We wandered the streets a little, got a photo at our neighborhood grocery of Koby and the kindly store owner, and then sauntered by the restaurant just as they unlocked the doors, opening our opportunity to sit in the best table in the place,directly in front of the big screen. As I am sure you all know, Barca won handily, showing remarkable flair. Particularly amazing is to watch Etoo and Ronaldinho who look heads and shoulders above the Madrid players like Zidane and Roberto Carlos and Ronaldo (not to mention Beckham). How anyone at this level can be so superior is simply incredible, and quite magical.
Our soccer fix was overtaken, somewhat unfortunately, by having tickets for a flamenco performance that began just after half time. This combination of sports and art was a satisfying way to complete our stay in Granada, and when we arose the following morning, we felt ready to move on.
A windy two hour bus ride past endless hills of olive trees (through Spain's best olive growing region) brought us to Cordoba, coming in past the long and well landscaped (and unusually green grass covered) city park and very modern bus and train station. This made a welcome first impression, and we strolled back through the park into the old city and its famous Jewish quarter (housing one of only 3 synagogues that weren't destroyed after the Jews were expelled in 1492).
Our friends Mike and Barb and their kids arrived near 6, to a great amount of noise from the kids, and we were off to the park for loads of running around and jumping on each other which has given me a welcome break for the past few days from Koby jumping all over me.
Before leaving Cordoba, we toured the beautiful Mesquite, the old Mosque built when Cordoba was the biggest city in Europe and the center of the developed world. This is an enthralling structure filled with red and yellow arches that fascinates those who appreciate order and symmetry, like myself. Oddly, right in the middle of the mosque, the conquering Christians built an enormous and lavish church, which makes for an awkward contrast to the quiet harmony of the Muslim architecture. All this seems even more stark the thesis of this book I just finished on the End of Faith and the Age of Reason which endlessly cites violent and intolerant scripture from all the major western religions to argue for the inherent conflict and violence engendered in close adherence to religious precepts.
From Cordoba, we caught the express train to Seville--135km in 30 minutes! Some weird pricing structure made our train cost half the next fast train which took the same time (and 30% more than the train that took 60 minutes). Once in Seville, we eventually located this apartment, and then enjoyed the evening paseando (stroll) through the pedestrian shopping area that covered at least 40 blocks. We dined on richly flavored tapas near the main Cathedral, although the kids could do little better than bread and Fanta here.
I don't know if I have raved enogh about Spanish eating, but it is hard to beat. Especially when we have more people, and thus more dishes to share, it is just plain fun to eat here. They seem to really enjoy food here, and there is no pretention surrounding their dining experience. They bring you a pile of forks and knives thrown into the bread basket, and expect you to use the same fork for everything from the appetizers to the dessert. The flavors are almost always strong and rich and multilayered--none of that subtlety of something like Japanese cuisine. They use the rich cured ham as a spice and loads of olive oil and tomatoes and frying (in a not oily way) makes everything mouthwateringly flavorful. And while Spain doesn't win awards for baking, they have some fine desserts, especially the dark chocolate mousses (mice?) and the always reliable flans or versions thereof. And this will probably one of the easiest places for eating with our kids, with almost everywhere having some form of eggs Koby will eat, as well as french fries, ketchup, bread and other white foods that are innocuous. And staying in apartments has let us cook noodles and eat in enough to satisfy him while we are here.
This will all change radically, we think, as we head to Morocco today. We had planned on staying in Spain one more day and heading to Tarifa to stop at the beach and then catch the ferry, but the transportation connections to there were unusually poor. The train to this town that can't be more than 140 km as the crow flies would take 6 hours, and the bus would take 3 but left only in the afternoon. So we will head to the easier to reach Algeciras, a notably gritty and unappealing town according to all guide books, but the traditional jumping off point for ferries to Morocco. This should get us to the hustle and bustle of Tangiers in the early afternoon and we hope to get through his gauntlet to somewhere somewhat more peaceful and unassuming for the night. Then we plan to head to the ancient imperial city of Meknes, a smaller and reportedly much less chaotic version of Fes, where we hope to base ourselves for the 4 or 5 days we will be in Morocco.
This will surely be the most challenging travel so far for us all, between some concerns about theft and security, questions about health and stomach problems, and the expected difficulty finding food for the kids. On top of this is the fun of having travel companions combined with the attendant complexities of coordinating 8 people and their various needs and desires. We hope this will all be offset by what looks like a fascinating and colorful locale, and a chance to experience a Northern African and Muslim country that hopefully offers a positive perspective in these difficult times.

Nov 23 Asilah, Morocco
Africa. Northern Africa never seems exactly to be Africa (as our traveling companion Aaron asked, "Where are the lions and elephants?"). But with all the whitewashed houses, women with covered heads, men in djalabas, endless helpful "friends" to bargain with over taxis, accommodations, souvenirs, and all else, we are definitely not in Kansas (or Europe) anymore.
Despite concerns about the hassle of getting and arriving here, everything went exceedingly smoothly (except the ferry ride that made everyone a bit seasick). At the bottom of the ferry ramp, we were met by what appeared to be an officially certified guide dressed in the long brown robes that are a common sight as winter clothing. With a short cropped white beard and round face, he seemed wise and aged, and with his impeccable English, he promised to help us plan our travels. Remarkably, he didn't seem to know the train schedules, which may have been a ruse, except that we have yet to find anyone too sure of this. Once we assured him we didn't want to stay in Tangiers, it seemed he disappeared, realizing perhaps we weren't going to be his cash cow for the day.
A second man then took up our cause, helping us to the taxi drivers who asked what seemed exorbitant prices, and then to the ATM machines to transfer money. Eventually, through some lengthy but good spirited bargaining, we arrived at a satisfactory price, and we were on our way through Tangiers (which appeared nice and clean enough) and down the coast 46km to this small and relaxed town of Asilah.
Once here, our taxi drivers took it upon themselves to stop at one hotel which we turned down, then stopped to hook us up with another local who wanted to show us his apartment to rent. As it turned out, it wasn't his apartment, but it was quite nice, and some heavy bargaining eventually brought it down to 500 dirhams, (50 dollars). But when we tried to move in, the old woman who owned the place suddenly wanted 700, and strictly on principles of bargaining, we had to get up and leave, with our guide/conceriege angered at having lost face.
Of course, he found another "friend" who had a whole building of apartments, not as nice, but passable. So we settled on this for the original price, after which our self appointed guide asked for his commission for spending the last hour or so with us. This caused for some awkwardness, but with a few euros, he left in a small huff (which he seemed to have gotten over by the time we saw him later that evening in town).
Having gotten the basic necessities out of the way, we could then wander around the small old medina, with its tiny shops selling food or art or clothes (including kid size djelabas that made all the boys look like characters from Star Wars). We quickly found the Medina soccer corner, and organized a good 4 v 4 that was only slowed when our star forward broke his sandal and had to go home and bring on a replacement player off the streets sampling the Moroccan sweets, we had dinner of cous cous and tangines (for the adults) and spaghetti and fries and omelets for the kids, feeling that all in all, it was quite a successful first day in Africa.
Today before breakfast, I ran down the coast trying to find the supposedly aptly named Paradise Beach, reportedly just 3 km from town. After 35 minutes, and repeatedly saying just one more cove, I still hadn't found it, so I headed back along the cliff tops of the scenic coast that seems amazingly reminiscent of Ireland (which I imagine is a seasonal feature of the recently rained upon hills).
We had thought we would head inland today, but the blue skies and sandy beaches seemed a better option for the kids and so we are still in Asilah, having spent the remainder of the day on the horse cart ride to and from Paradise Beach, which did look pretty idyllic with no one else there (apparently much different than summer). The cart ride, however, was right up there with the great third world transportation surprises. What seemed like an amusing little jaunt to the beach turned out to be an E ticket wild ride as we bounced along first through the outskirts of town, where there were the newer, sort of suburban apartments just nearby the ancient, desperately poor shacks of tin roofs and cloth walls. Then we got past the buildings and moved to the dirt track, and then the real bouncing began. We held on tight, at the expense of back and buttocks, and, fortunately, the seemingly endless ride ended with all in one piece.
Back in town, we found the just cooked fried dough to snack on, ate more of the tasty flatbreads they bake here, and checked out the sheep intestine display at the butcher before we settled on FC Barcelona shirts for all the boys as the big purchase of the trip.
Beyond all these travel details, the wonder of traveling here is the people and the culture. People of all ages are amazingly open and friendly, even beyond the ever present "guides" ready to meet any need you may have. It is mainly the men we deal with, as the society seems quite segregated by gender. The tea shops have exclusively men in them, and I don't think I have seen a male and female together except for a couple families out walking. The women seem to run the ever present phone shops (indicating the absence of phones in homes), but most every other business seems run by men.
People of all ages make eye contact, say hello, and many come up to chat and thus we seem to be learning a fair bit about the culture through these encounters. Moroccans clearly want you to appreciate their country, and many offer to take us to dinner in a real Moroccan home, "where you can really experience the Morocco." Unfortunately, the kids are not ready to eat the local cuisine, so we will turn this down for now.
The women here wear headscarves, for the most part, but it seems quite optional. While I have come to think this is quite restrictive and antiquated when in the West, it seems quite normal, and even a bit stylish here. When coupled with the men in their long wool robes (djebalas) and the donkey riders and horse carts and incredible infrequency of cars, it really feels like a time past.
We have seen a herd of camels, many sheep and cows grazing in the hills, and learned that the Arabic here is very different than that in the Arab countries of the Middle East. People here seem very positive about the US, but you earn lots of respect for saying right off you don't like George Bush. They seem well able to distinguish between government actions and the nature of citizens themselves. Language is a bit tricky as Arabic is clearly the first language, but the second is a toss up among English, French, and Spanish. At least one person told us not to speak French, saying "We are not French." Spanish is common here in the North, but English seems to be the language of tourism. More than a few times we have had these odd sounding communications where one of us speaks in Spanish or French (or both), and the Moroccans prefer to answer in English. So we have these conversations that bounce among languages but in the end, are able to communicate pretty well as many here are skillful beyond Arabic.

Nov 25 Meknes
Morocco has all the qualities that make traveling in the less developed world enjoyable. Even the simplest things are interesting--do they have bread or cheese or eat meat? How long can yogurt sit unrefrigerated? What animal part is that hanging outside the butcher? How much do you think a haircut costs? What else is in the inventory of the 4 square meter store? Do women ever go to tea shops? What are the kids getting from the stall after school?????
Part of this fascination is the necessity of trying to meet our needs. Finding food, particularly for the kids, is a top priority, and this has gone better than we expected. There is excellent bread products--just different enough to feel exotic (there are many options but our favorite are these 8 inch diameter round, flattish loaves that are sort of more substantial than the white baguettes). Yogurt is easy to come by, sweets are tasty, at sundown the donut makers fire up the fryers, we can get spaghetti and french fries and omelets, and they even have real looking snickers bars at some shops. For the adults, cous cous and tagines (Moroccan stews) are a welcome change from the fine Spanish food.
But part of the fascination here is what exists in a state of relative economic poverty. Like many less developed countries, it is hard to figure out the economics. Some things are obvious--the relative lack of cars, prevalence of phone calling "boutiques," small shack houses in certain spots, the scratchy dirt soccer fields, etc.--but others are harder to figure out what they reflect--the beautiful soccer stadiums even in smaller towns, the relatively clean and well dressed children (who make up some astronomical percentage of the population since they have improved health care and reduced infant mortality but haven't lowered the birth rate), the seemingly high school attendance among boys and girls (although it is hard to figure out why some kids are not in school during the day), the large number of people who say they went to university but who have either no work or jobs that have nothing to do with their studies).
On one hand, Morocco is very poor. For example, we spent a whole day in the medina in Fes and the only motorized anything we saw was electric lights, sewing machines, and probably the meat grinders. Everything else seemed the same as a century hence--the donkeys used for transporting everything in the souk, kids holding thread end for the embroidery by elder men, metalworkers hammering by their fires, workers in the tannery knee deep in pits curing and dying leather. With so few cars, and little disposable income, everyone seemed to walk, making one of the most impressive sights the streets filled with people wearing djalabas and head coverings and western clothes and school uniforms and a jumble of shops and street stalls and colors.

Nov 29 Bus from Tarifa to Malaga
Our time in Morocco was a smashing success. The graciousness of the people will be the strongest impression. As one man proffered, "I offer 1000 welcomes (thereby surpassing by far the 300 welcomes of a previous encounter)." The whole time we felt safe and welcome and incredibly well received. Everyone was helpful and kind(sometimes even too much so wanting to take us places we weren't heading for). Even the lengthy haggling over prices for almost everything always ended with smiles and handshakes and the common compliment that we "bargain like Berber men." (We presume this is a compliment about our shrewd bargaining skills, but of course they probably aren't about to say, "now that you overpaid for that, we can tell you that you are a real sucker.")
While we used the full range of transport there, from ferry to kalish (horse cart) to grand taxis (the ubiquitous old Mercedes that they would stuff 7 people into) to petite taxis (little fiats that were only allowed to carry 3), the very comfortable and relatively modern train was a significant factor in the comfort of our travels. This was a break from the immersion in the much different culture (with a fixed price and nifty little timetables they would print you out like a grocery store receipt) and a quick way to get around while enjoying the scenic countryside.
Morocco seems capable of becoming a genuine tourism destination. It has all the innate features to appeal to travelers--great and varied scenery, adequate roads, fascinating and colorful culture, artistic souvenirs, beaches, tasty cuisine, proximity to Europe, stable governance (albeit a monarchy that could change laws at will), good weather, and gracious, warm and welcoming people. It has yet to learn the value of keeping garbage contained and not dumped all over the countryside, but this, along with investment in infrastructure, seems something that could be encouraged easily by the government and readily accepted by the populace. It seems that Moroccans so deeply desire that visitors appreciate their country that they could be easily convinced to a focus on tourism as a route to economic development. I believe tourism is already their biggest source of hard currency, but it seems a pittance of what you see just across the sea in Spain or France.
This was a great reintroduction to third world travel for the kids. Koby said he would have liked to stay longer--I think he was probably much more open to talking and playing with kids in Morocco than he has been previously on this trip (or at home). It was less a sensory overload than what I think we will experience in India, but it was similar in type to the breadth of differences we will encounter. But it really impressed upon us all how different life can be elsewhere in the world, and also how people the world over are generally good and in many ways similar deep down. And while I think some Americans overgeneralize in their judgments about other countries or cultures, often confusing the acts of a few or an ill meaning government for the will of the people, Moroccans clearly and overtly distinguished their critical feelings about George Bush from their overwhelming positive feelings towards Americans in general.

Dec. 5 Barcelona
Our time in Europe has come to an end. While I am sure there is some deeper insights to reflect upon about this occasion, at the moment there is nothing too profound that comes to mind. I think perhaps this results from the comfort level of European travel for us that may have existed from the start or certainly developed over time. Although we are far from achieving our goal of speaking Spanish with some fluidity, I can get by well enough in Spanish, and even without that, we can all figure stuff out easily enough, especially in Barcelona, where things are modern and well established and pretty set up to support visitors.
After a lengthy stay in Spain, I think we all felt more or less at home. We knew what foods we liked to buy at the store and what to order in restaurants. We were well adjusted to the Spanish schedule and came to appreciate the languid pace of having everything open from 4 or 5 til 8 or 9. Especially in Barcelona, seemingly everyone was out at this time, and the streets were packed with literally thousands of people in one giant moving mass from about 7-8. As one person explained to us, you always think there is some special event happening in Barcelona because of the crowds, but it is just daily life in this active and lively city.
We had found television shows that became our favorites and others we knew we were sure to avoid. Everyone had their favorite football team (Barca) and knew the rest of La Liga inside and out (at least for Americans). We had our favorite bakery items (mostly anything with chocolate) and, at least in Barcelona, had found plenty of good gelaterias, so our ice cream longings were easily satisfied.
So I guess one result of our time in Europe was for the kids to be not only comfortable with travel, but actually getting some sense of living comfortably in a foreign land. And while this always seems like a great idea to have one's children become "world citizens," it is not that hard to realize how this can leave us as parents with children far from us at some point in life, for better or worse.
The goal of increased fluency in Spanish has turned out mixed and mostly frustrating at this point. I am sure that more extensive learning was hampered by traveling as a family with whom we could speak English all day. And the difficulty of learning Spanish by ear in Spain was reinforced today when I heard a family from the Dominican Republic who even when angry, spoke more slowly than I do and were completely understandable. For some reason, I tend to zone out Spanish when spoken in Spain, too quickly even when listening to the news, where you'd expect it to be more clear. I think my reading improved markedly, but there are still too many words I dont know. But if I just read and dont try to translate, I can get most of the main ideas. My speaking, however, has gotten worse, as I now know too many tenses and avoid speaking for fear of conjugating incorrectly (I was much more naively confident when I only could use the present tense). I hope this is a phase of learning that will form a base for further improvement later, but for now, as Manya has instructed me, it is time to put aside the Spanish and work on Hebrew as we head to Israel.
Certainly after Morocco, Barcelona was less exotic and therefore somewhat less exciting feeling. It is a great city by almost any standard--brilliant architecture, great location with beaches and hills, good food, limitless shopping, a mix of cultures, an overabundance of that oddest of talents--human sculptures (in countless forms and costumes from the trees to the sailor to the headless people), great football (with our great fortune to see FCB practice up close, and to see the amazing pace of the world's best players), and both history and modernism side by side.
The architectural highlight, for almost everyone, is the Gaudi buildings, which are attractive and colorful, but also fun and playful. This attitude seems to affect the rest of the city as well, without fear of placing a Picasso mural next to the Gothic church or a multicolored new tile roof over the historic outdoor market. All in all, Barcelona is probably one of the great cities to viist or live in, but after the general intrigue of Morocco, it felt like a brief hiatus before heading off to what is probably more exotic experiences in Israel, India, and Asia.
And after Morocco, where people were so friendly and outgoing, the lack of interaction in Spain, including the predictably officious tourist office personnel, was even more of a harsh contrast.
So another phase of our travels is over. Traveling with another family was definitely a nice change and a net positive, although the line between fun play and pain inflicting violence between 8 year old boys was sometimes all too fine. Seeing that no blood was shed or bones broken, all seemed to survive, and having playmates for the children, ,as well as other adults for us to interact with, was a welcome addition. But I think we are ready to be a smaller unit, trying to meet the needs and interests of only us four rather than what is an exponentially more complicated group of eight.
Three months into the trip, I sense that no matter how far you go away from home, you can't escape your inherent tendencies. I still find stuff to worry about, tings I can't control can bother me, we create plans and schedules and a degree of being busy that is not all that different from at home. It is certainly less imposed stress from the outside, but, I think, active people find ways to be active, relaxed people find ways to be relaxed.

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Photos

Wildlife in Israel--The Addax
Not Spain or Morocco but a catchy picture. Our little drive yourself safari in Israel seeing Biblical animals.

Scuba Diving in the Red Sea
Manya takes the plunge. A great time for all.

Camel Closeup
Something about camels makes them endlessly interesting to photograph