SPAIN- An Update for Club Members!

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Our last moments in Spain were spent waiting out our time between the bus drop-off in Madrid and our plane to Prague. We sat at a park across from the Prado Museum and watched a middle aged man with red-rimmed glasses eating a broken coconut like a chipmunk. After every few mouth-fulls he would let out a chuckle that made his shoulders shake. We watched him from a park bench in a small central park where we were waiting for our beloved Starbucks to open. Before he took his seat on the rim of a fountain, he had fixed his eyes on a garden, which was really just a thicket filled with short shrubs. He stared at the greenery with intensity, boring a hole through the leaves. He looked into the garden for about five minutes, as though he was able to see something beneath the earth. Finally, he sat on the fountain curb nearby, and began to eat his coconut, all-the-while, keeping a close and careful eye on those shrubs.
A few minutes later a scruffy dog ran up to the shrubbery and took an intense interest in what was within. His owner eventually pulled him away from it for a while, but the pup came scurrying back as soon as the opportunity arose. What did this slightly insane fellow and the anxious pup know that we didn't? What lie beneath the bushes? Griff and I gave each other a worried look and decided to move on and see how soon Starbucks would be opening up for their caffeine starved, mostly tourist fans. We were too scared to take a look into the bushes for ourselves.
Being an audience to a moment, such as the one with Mr. Crazy Coconut and the Mystery Hound (that sounds like a children's book title), are the things that I usually don't write about in these blogs...capturing each moment's strange beauty one by one, would place me behind this silly computer screen for the entirety of our trip. These flashes in time are the things that a traveler cherishes and shares only with their fellow traveler(s). The characters in these moments can make you giggle while you're brushing your teeth days after, and you replay their dialogue for months, over and over in your head. They are the sort of incidents that only those present can appreciate in their fullest sense and when retold in words, as the preceding was, loose their much of their magic.
Griff and I have our favorite characters that we've met along the way, and our secret sets of bizarre circumstances that only we were privy to...John the annoying American who had Chile's weather pattern figured out (“Two days of rain, two days recovery, two days of sun.”); George in Ushuaia, (who's introduction was, “Straight to you, from Kalamazoo")- he just couldn't understand why none of the Argentineans even TRIED to speak English in the southernmost tip of South America; causing a rebellion with the revolutionaries in Chile, when the port police locked us away in a freezing cement room while waiting for our ferry that never came; the tour guide on Lake Titicaca who talked endlessly about “Twoeasus-Cried” (better known without the accent as, Jesus Christ); the museum guide at the Royal Mint Museum in Bolivia who interjected that he was a REAL Latino, not like the fake ones in America such as J-Lo! (Huh? I didn't know that anyone could nullify heritage?!)
No, nobody else was watching Coconut Man. No one else has our moment in the park. We left Spain, with a crazy man and a mangy mutt as our last memory of the country...something that could have happened anywhere, but chose to unravel in front of us in Spain...nothing particularly Spanish about it at all.
Though crazy people wander the streets eating unusual fruit at unusual times in many pars of the world, there actually were some aspects of Spain that were completely unique! Spain is in every way lovely, filled with silly quirks, such as restaurants having different prices for the menu items depending on what part of the restaurant you choose to sit in. Though Spain is a modern, fully civilized country, the concept of deodorant and anti-perspirant has yet to catch on! In Madrid there is actually a museum dedicated to the flavor, processing and pleasure derived from ham- yep, pig flesh on display! Spain's uniquity has certainly caused a few chuckles between Griff and I, but even more than laughter, Spain inspires awe.
We began our trip in Madrid, and absolutely drenched ourselves in good art. Picasso's paintings are everywhere here, store fronts, restaurants, parks, and museums. Alongside Picasso there is Rafael, Monet, Pollock, and Dali which are scattered across museum walls in every corner of the country. Spain is an art lovers dream!
Along with museum hopping, Griff and I took in our fair share of the urban outdoors as well. We walked along the twisting quaint pathways of Retiro Park, and eventually joined a few ragamuffins in a grassy flat area, where we attempted to sleep off our jet lag. This being the first time we had ever slept on a park bench, we felt a little silly at first, but I have to admit that "after you've done it once, the second time is all the more tempting"...we took another nap a few days later at another park.
As you may conclude from all the outdoor-napping incidents, we were pretty exhausted from trying to cram so much into our short stay in Spain, but we really saw no other option. “For heaven's sake we are in SPAIN!” One doesn't waste days by sleeping-in and lounging around the crowded hostel!
Madrid is fantastic! We reveled in its fountains and trees, and fabulous subway system, and coffee shops, and cobblestone squares... and then in a matter of days, we had to leave with still so much left to explore. We headed northeast to Barcelona.
As a city Barcelona was equally as thrilling, but had a completely different feel. We had hooked up a fab room in a privately owned flat, which cost about the same as two bunks in a shared dorm hostel.(Thank you Craig's List!...Julia, I know you are laughing at me right now- yes the obsession continues!) The flat turned out to be situated in an ideal spot for sight seeing; just outside the Gothic Quarter of the city, which is still shadowed by ancient Roman walls, and a few steps from Spain's most famous street- La Rambla.
La Rambla is split down the middle, and instead of a median, there is a lovely wide pedestrian-only area that is lined with open-air cafes and boutiques of all sorts selling gourmet cheeses, funky clothes, and even exotic pets. Along this street are some of the city's famous sights including a couple of buildings designed by Gaudi, and a colorful market bursting with cured ham, raw meat of all sorts (heads still attached!), vibrant fruit juices, strange produce, and gigantic jars brimming with candy that would make Wonka green with envy. Spain, in all its sweetly-savory glory, unfolded before us in the market. A place such as Spain, that can seem so familiar at a distance, tells its true tale in the marketplace, where its people's passions and tastes are revealed. What was revealed about us in Spain's market was that the value of our dollar is fading fast in comparison to the growing Euro! Even the few days before arriving in Spain, our dollar had taken a hefty dive. But again, what can one do, we are after all, in Spain! We played the money situation as smartly as we could by booking lodging in advance, never hailing cabs, and buying not a single souvenir. But... Spain is Spain, and in that marketplace we bought an overpriced cup of fresh strawberry juice and slurped away! (Savor the moment regardless of the exchange rate!)
Spain has impressively merged ancient and modern architecture in its cities, laying out for its visitor a convenient walk through its history. One can oogle over Gothic cathedrals and then take a load off at the coffee shop next door. Madrid and Barcelona swarmed with tourists, but oddly enough, we were hardly bothered, as the country's festive spirit serves as a huge distraction.
Though we adored both cities, we wanted to experience the Spain that existed outside the lively urban centers, so we decided on a couple of day trips to the outlying areas of Barcelona.
For the first excursion we took to the hills and ended up in the tranquil setting of Montserrat. Within the dry rolling hills of stone found in Montserrat, nestled away in the tucks and bumps of the mountains, is its famous monetary. The monastery is probably most known for its incredible location and what its sanctuary holds within, “The Black Virgin”.
Catholics travel from every corner of the world to see this Madonna face to face. The pilgrimage is made by thousands of believers every year, and there is in fact a room filled with thank-you notes to the Virgin. The notes are attached to baby pictures, bouquets, crutches, even wedding dresses symbolizing the blessed events that occurred in the Pilgrims' lives after they had plead with Mary. The line to pray to the Madonna was thick with anticipating Catholics, and hours long. (Though I am not a Catholic, I did end up saying a prayer at the alter, in honor of my Grandma Lee, who is quite devout.) The view from the monastery was magnificent, which was what tempted us to take a hike from the grounds out into the open, slightly more rugged side of Spain. The hike was a little more strenuous than the sign at the base had warned, and we almost felt guilty in our hiking boots and gear. Some people were attempting the climb in flip-flops, skirts, and without water. There were more than a few dirty looks being exchanged between couple, (wives and girlfriends being the instigators) as they had obviously dressed up for a day at church, and ended up with their sweaty husbands on a dirty hiking path.
The second day trip was a short jaunt out into wine country, which looked a lot like Northern California's Wine Country, but nonetheless, we enjoyed the day immensely! We discovered that winery tours in Spain are a lot different than those in the States. In California the actual tasting is the main focus, but in Spain, they make the tour something to remember. At Torres Winery, they take you into a movie theater, where a film is shown which tells you all about the success of the company and the family pride that everyone feels there, and how wonderful it is to drink Torres wine.(Headphones are available with translation in every language imaginable.) You are then escorted into this rounded wide tunnel, where they show a five minute sensory movie about the life of a grape! It was actually cooler than it sounds, because along with the images you see all around you, they mist odors in the room which match the pictures! When the fields were being burned, the room was filled with a smoky smell, and when the grapes started to bloom, the room filled with fresh fruity grape smells. Then, just like a carnival ride, a real trolley-train pulls into the hallway/ Movie Theater, and you hop aboard for a grounds tour. We enjoyed the little silly surprises of the day, and were interested by learning about Spanish Cava, which is similar to French Champagne but processed differently.
Finally, the grand finale of our Spain adventure came when we set off for a small northeastern coastal town called Cadaques. We had debated this part of the trip because we were having difficulty reserving a place to stay, but we eventually found something affordable, and decided that we would spend our last few days taking in the country's rocky and relaxing Mediterranean coastline.
Cadaques was everything it had been talked up to be. Frommers just voted it one of the top ten places on Earth to Honeymoon (I will take this opportunity to mention that on that list was also Bali, where we DID honeymoon!) The quaint little town located on the Mediterranean Sea is a bundle of whitewashed buildings and narrow streets. The town can be seen in many of Dali's paintings, as his family was from the area and Cadaques served as inspiration for the artist. While we were there, we stopped in to see Dali's museum, which he had created before his death, not so long ago. We should have known better than to expect the “same old” art museum from such an eccentric man! His famous bending clocks and dripping utensils, that have given him so much fame, are really his more “reserved” pieces. What imagination Dali possessed! We likened the experience to an Art Aficionado’s Disneyland. To put it all into words would be impossible, but it was a fantastic and unmatched experience with art.
Griff and I had not realized how welcomed the slow pace of Cadaques would be, as we have been pretty non-stop for a while. We had heard before starting the trip, that when one takes a very long journey, such as ours, that they sometimes need a vacation from your vacation. It sounds like foolishness, but we really have found it true. Zooming between time zones, adjusting to so many cultures in a short amount of time, eating food that very often is disagreeable, new allergic reactions to plants and pollution that your body has never known...blah blah blah...Before you realize it, your body starts to wear down, even if your spirits are high. Well, for us, Cadaques meant laying on the beach, scooting around on our rented moped, a glass of Sangria with dinner, and get ready for this...I took a bath!
There was a deep tub in the hotel that was spotlessly scrubbed-no moldy tile, no overhead water bulges looming above, no insects to wash down the drain, and no one else's hair balls to clog the water. Not only that, the water itself was hot- really hot- and it ran hot for twenty-four hours a day!
This obvious admiration for bathing, made me realize that not only was Spain a wonderful, wonderful place to vacation, but first-world amenities are blissful in and of themselves, whether at home or away! I know that me being so smitten by Spain involves more than an admiration for its culture and scenery. From the moment we stepped foot into Spain, our senses were on overload, as everything around us seemed new again. Pedestrians had rights, sheets were a sparkling white, soda came with ice (not sure we saw a single cube in South America!), sewage was safely stored in pipes under the street, in Madrid I ordered a SOY Late, and actually got it! These things are the sort of extravagancies that I would like to say after living without for so long I don't even miss! I'm over it. I neither need nor think of them any more! But, truthfully, I am just not there yet. Even more truthfully...I'm not sure that I will ever get there. Oh, I'm not saying that I can't live happily without them, I am just saying that having them makes me happy.
There is a part of us, as Griff and I have come to agree, that is un-erasably American. We can fight it all we want, but there is a reason why seeing that pig head with its glazed-over eyeballs looking up at you from the butcher's bloody table bothers us. There is a reason why we obsess about the germs on a bathroom door handle, after we have just realized that there is no toilet paper in the bathroom. (Sure, WE had a spare set of tissues in our backpack, but what did the guy before us use?) There is a reason why sitting on a bus, with a window covered in grease marks, and the seat with sticky food, that we tend to get motion sick a lot quicker than normal. We are Americans. I have decided that though we may seem picky, or obsessive, or driven by comforts, or just plain snobby, these behaviors are the product of being a part of an educated and wealthy society; one that knows about hygiene and health, and has standards of cleanliness. Though I certainly do not believe that cleanliness is next to godliness, I do think it is pretty darned great.
My thoughts on such matters are not any better than the middle-aged, painted-lipped, acrylic-nailed, loud-mouthed American woman traveling next to me. We are products of the same society, a special sort of “Cleanliness Club” that once joined, you can never escape from. What I hope is that my awareness of the world outside of the one I grew up in overpowers my nagging instincts to complain. I pray that what I know about the upbringing of others will guide me in the proper direction so that I am not looked upon as someone who thinks herself better than those she has chosen to surround herself with. So, I swallow my squeals, and attempt to suppress my knowledge of air-born illnesses when the runny-nosed child without any shoes sneezes on me. I open the bathroom door for an elderly woman whose fingernails are black from days, weeks, months? of work. And, I pray. I throw out little requests to God like, “God, I beg you to place an invisible shield of protection around me that wards off all evil germs! Let that holy flame of your spirit burn so hot that all these spores of sickness are consumed in your fire! God, I have one tiny squirt of hand sanitizer, and I ask that you multiply this precious liquid as you once did with bread and fish...” I think God is listening to my prayers, because considering what we've been subjected to, we have done pretty well.
I understand now more than ever how deeply my privileged life is ingrained into who I am as I sit in Spain enjoying all the pleasures of a wealthy country, when last week I was stepping over raw sewage flowing down the street. And when I use the word “privileged”, I use it in a positive light (at least this time). For though our Cleanliness Club may be looked upon with scorn by outsiders, it is a club that almost never admits people based on merit, membership is decided by a chance lottery. Those born in places like Spain, and North America are “in”, those born in many parts of Bolivia and India are not. Perhaps one of our ancestors threw out a goofy prayer like the ones I do on a daily basis. Maybe, just maybe those short petitions of our ancestors, were taken more seriously than we think.
With the few weeks that Griff and I have in more modern and sanitary parts of the world, I find my prayers have changed. “Thanks God for (and then I say any one of the following...) toilet paper and soap, a bed that doesn't smell weird, personal space, drinking water from a tap, salad, busses with leg room for people over five feet, art museums, showers that don't require me to wear flip-flops... I could go on and on. These are the things we have discovered again in Spain and enjoy more than ever.
Lucky me. Lucky you, that we were born privileged. And, with this privilege comes a responsibility. Unfortunately it seems that many of us have taken our club membership for granted, and forgotten its rules. We must take a second in every day to be thankful for the little amenities that God has given us. We are to be accepting of others who have not, and kind to those who are not as fortunate as us. We need to remember that our club status is not ours because we are “better”, but because we are blessed.(Now turn to the person next to you and give them the secret handshake, and vow to never take our privileges for granted again.)

"Cuando dicen que soy demasiado viejo para hacer una cosa, procuro hacerlo enseguida."
(If they say I'm too old to do something, I try to do it as soon as possible. )-Pablo Picasso

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Photos

Roza Palace
Gold-laden rooms filled this palace- where did the Spaniards aquire all this gold? Refer to Bolivia blogs!

Pig
These pig legs are seen everywhere and range in price from the cheap (80 Euro) to the finer (200Euro)! Spaniards LOVE their pork!

TRIVIA ALERT!!!
The first person to send me the name of the art piece that inspired this staue, as well as the artist, receives a post card from the land of our next journey!

Gaudi's Work in Barcelona
Gaudi designed a park in Barcelona filled with cuves and color, in the background you can also see two of his buildings.

Barcelona
The magnificant cathedral in the center o the city is the Sgrada Familia, Gaudi's masterpiece that is still under construction after 100 years!

Expanded Wardrobe
I have really added a lot to my wardrobe! I took this shot after getting my laundry done and buying two tank tops at a flea market.

Candles in Montserrat
Rows and rows of prayer candles line the caved walls of the monestary.

Griff on Cycle
We rented a little motorcycle while in Cadaques and putted around the coastline.

Beach Daze
We spent a day at the Mediteranean Sea soaking up the sun (slathered in sun block!)

The Mediteranean
This is a better view of the cove we called ours for the day.

Motorcycle Ride
(Notice my Euro-funk pink glasses! I decided to go wild this pair, it's my third so far on the trip.)

ANTS!
Part of a Dali masterpiece.

Comments

[Frances]

Amen from a fellow club member
This one I relate too!! lol It is hard to imagine walking thru the Amazon but enjoying a shower, that, I relate to. I think one of the reasons I love to camp is it reminds me of conditions our ancestors lived with a tiny bit. To enjoy nature with nothing in between yourself and the elements, (not counting the tent!). Now of course we are older and it is a camp trailer. But the shower on the first night home! Oh my what a wonder. I often thank the Lord for running water and the luxury of indoor plumbing of all sorts. Thank you for reminding us to be grateful and understanding of others in our world. We so loved the visit we had with your Mom and Peter. What wonderful parents you have. No wonder you write so well! God bless you and continue to keep you safe. Your fellow traveler if only on this planet, Frances

[Dana]

You are realy cool
Hy dear I want to say I miss you and I'am realy happy for you.I'am ok I and Just pray for me ok. I hope all are ok with you. God be with you alwise. Dana

[Sandy]

Great blog!
Really am enjoying catching up with your travels- just came across this today! I know you've long since awarded a postcard to one of your students, but I had to take a stab at your trivia question: Maria Teresa of Spain Diego Velasquez