SPAIN again... Andalucia and beyond

April 16

Tonight we sit in an empty lot in the “White” hill town of Arcos de la Frontera, skipping Seville until 4 or 5 days from now as there is a fun April festival going on then which we would like to be part of. We drove from Tavira, our last stay in Portugal, to Huelva just to use the library to catch up on some email but we also enjoyed lunch watching people (mostly tourists) walk the beach promenade, stopping to try out all the sturdy yellow and red exercise equipment set out as art...but useful art. So of course when lunch was finished we had to try it out too. There were a couple of men that used them as their daily exercise routines. Our next destination was Sanlucar de Barrameda on the Atlantic coast. The city was rambling and uninteresting but the resort beach at the edge of the sea was quite lovely, the finest golden sand I have yet seen. Palm trees, a long walking promenade with benches to rest and stare from. But this is not “our bag” so we decided to move on to Cadiz but we just couldn't bring ourselves to enter another big city so we changed direction and here we are in Arcos de la Frontera.

April 17

What a lovely day this has been. Beautiful sunny skies at just the right temperature. Breezes. More of those skinny interesting streets. We left our car at the bottom of the hill and walked for about 15 minutes up and into the old city. The highlight for us was meeting a father ceramist/painter in one store and his daughter in another. Both really good artists. We did buy something in each store...but what we really wanted was a beautiful hand painted plate. What would we do with that before we come home? Probably break it! So we left it on the wall. And then, brunch out in the square. I needed eggs so they came scrambled with asparagus, garlic and shrimp along with some really good toast or roasted bread as they say. David had his favored cod again, but in a different form. This time on roasted bread with a pepper garlic sauce and the cod on top, the whole thing sliced into pieces about 1” by 3”. And coffee with milk. The old city is sitting on the edge of a very high cliff that is eroding... I mean it is straight down to the valley floor as some of the hill has fallen away. I would not sleep at night if my home were there. Arcos is classified as one of the White Towns in this region of mountains. When we left, we programmed the GPS for Algar and off we went....except the shortest way evidently was through the narrow streets of the old city and it was really scary! Once we had one inch on either side of the van...with people waiting behind us while we backed up, went forward and inched our way to safety, both David and I with our heads out the windows directing. Do not trust your GPS. It can get you into big trouble. Andalucia is sooooo luscious. The mountains are relatively low, only a few still holding snow. All the buildings in these towns and villages are painted white. It is quite spectacular to see them nestled among valleys or atop hills. The combination of pleasing round shaped deciduous trees parting for pasture for goats, sheep and cows...and mountains of rock in the foreground sometimes and in the background at others. It is a treat for the eyes and the heart to visit the towns and drive between them. Today, now being April 18, we have been from Arcos now, to Algar to El Bosque to Ubrique to Grazelema and lastly to Ronda. We run into interesting people along the way, have a little talk and we are gone from each other forever... when really you know that you could have remained good friends! Some from Belgium, others from the Netherlands and today, from Canada. As we travel this route, we see some poor farmers, shepherds and townspeople but how can one be poor with this terrain to look at every day. Fair or stormy. They have to be passionate about their part of the earth. It must feed their souls. We spent quite some time with the owner of the tourist stop today. We sat with our computer at a desk there in Grazalema. An Englishman who fell in love with Andalucia. This is a place of walking the hills and canoeing the rivers and rock climbing. He fell in love with all that as well as the satisfying offerings for his love of botany. (Have you ever seen cactus growing in the mountains? Oh yeh...near Green Valley.) We left Ronda a few hours ago. David had been there before and wanted to pull up some old memories he had with his friend Bob Frerck in 1972. This town is unique in that there is a steep gorge that divides the town. Very steep and rocky with a tall waterfall spilling just below the bridge. A long long way down. We walked down a path to get a good view. (David got far too close to the edge with his camera. I just can't take it when he does that!) We could see kids far below climbing around by the top of the falls. Youth! Nuts! But you gotta do it! We went to a lovely Moorish castle and another over-the-top church and finished with a coffee and a piece of apple cake on the edge of the gorge. Now we are perched for the night in an white town with a name we can't remember.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> Somewhere in the last couple of days we saw a group of white flamingos feeding in quiet marshy waters.

> The people who live in these white towns seem happier than most, just my opinion. Vespas whisk noisily by, people hale each other in fond familiar greetings, the menial of jobs seems a great way to exist. There seems ongoing chatter and laughter.

> Often there are small white herons among the black cows.

> Where there are storks they are all nesting and they choose the top of electric poles. We counted thirteen poles in a row with a nest on top... and an adult stork sitting in it.

> There are daisy fields everywhere and birds, birds, birds... loudly singing. I can never find the bird. Today I decided that it must be the trees singing!

> We saw two mounds with smoke coming out of them... making charcoal we think.

> We often see cart and horse. Some we know are gypsy. I tried to take a photo of a couple of colorful families as we passed but they were insistent that we not take pictures of them.

> We tried out some local favorite pastry. Pastel de nata. Too much like pudding in a tart pastry. We don't think anyone can beat the French! We miss the baguettes...there is something here that looks like a baguette but it is not.

> Did I tell you about all the oranges laying around on the ground... when we are paying good money for them? David tried one out... bitter, he said. Ahhh. It turns out they are the oranges used in English marmalade.

> Another one of those calming things.... wind rippling longish grass like waves in the sea.

> One morning David said. “Let the good times roll.” Well that just about says it!

> It was so touching to see a man in a small village walking home on a Sunday afternoon with a few plants in his hands. It's spring. Did he get them from a friend's garden?

> Friends. I am so aware of friendships. Always I see friends talking earnestly. I do miss my friends.

> As I think about the boys climbing around in the gorge I have come to the conclusion that it just might be a right of passage for young men who live in the area. There seems to be a route, a very dangerous route. Part of it is climbing straight down a cliff. There seems to be a cable hanging down that they can hold on to... but still, it is a long way to the bottom if one should slip and lose hold. And thin thin dirt trails along the edge of some of the cliffs with places that are totally exposed with nothing to hang on to. I was quite fascinated.

April 23

From Ronda, we went to Gaucin and Casares, both mountain white towns and then...we changed our plans and went to Tarifa to catch the boat to Tangier (Tanger). Tarifa was a great place to hang out an evening. An old town, a fortress, an island with a castle, beautiful beaches...though it was cold and windy. We watched a surfer and many wind surfers out in the white topped waves. In the town plaza we sat outside for our daily beer watching young free men and women playing, dancing, wearing Morocco inspired clothing and generally hanging out in this make-believe world. Ahhh, those were the good old days! (These new days aren't bad either!) We bought a two day tour which was only a formal group tour for about four hours. Rush here, rush there, eat fast, visit rug dealers, etc. It was actually a good overview for us and some of it was hilarious! We were sent to the English speaking salesperson for organic health medicines. He would have made a great comedy series on American television. It was a scream and well worth the tour price. Lunch was at a restaurant filled with groups like ours. Local musicians dressed in the local garb. They were actually pretty good and the meal was okay. The rest of the group left and we were taken (walked) to our hotel by an “old city” guide that had been hanging out with the tour leader. The old city is called the medina and is teaming with folks walking in the very narrow “streets”. 4 to 7 feet wide...buildings rising 3 to 4 floors and growing closer together at the top. And there is no rhyme or reason....so, yes, a guide is helpful. Our hotel was the best! The floors, walls and ceilings filled with decoration...and furnished in more fabric decoration and decorated urns etc. Really a wonderful feast for the eyes. Our room was on the first floor...walk up stairs. Beautiful new tiled large bathroom and comfy beds. Hot water is only available certain hours in the morning and evening. TV with BBC available so we sort of got caught up. After a rest we decided to go out by ourselves before dinner at 7:30 in the hotel. (2 hours difference in time in Morocco 1:00...from Spain 3:00 across the channel) We started toward the narrow streets but before we got out of the hotel gate, we had a guide. There is a bar across from the gate where they all hang out. Mustapha was great and gave us an hour and a half tour to the small market, the big market, weavers of beautiful fabrics, sewers of caftans, a Jewish quarter museum, pottery, a gallery of local art run by a French couple...and waitied patiently while David and I took many many photos. The caftan fellow made David get into one of the robes....a little too short for him. We have a photo. And before I knew it I had a womens' costume on with hat and scarves and skirt which would not go all around me. That caused lots of laughter. We had a wonderful afternoon and arrived back at our hotel with plenty of time before dinner so we sat outside, overlooking the port and had a drink and also had a good conversation with a young Irishman, traveling with 4 couples all over Morocco with packs on their backs. They had arranged their own tour....buses, hotels, guides etc. Then at dinner which was in a beautifully appointed room inside, looking over the port, we talked with more folks...same at breakfast, outside with good conversation with an Australian couple. We walked into the newer city along a promenade across from the water. Because of lack of money, many port projects are happening very slowly. We found a nice restaurant and sat outside to watch the Moroccans go by on a Saturday. Beautiful families, men in the caftans and low-crotch pants (which were showed to us on the caftan maker!) and women in tight jeans with head scarves but also the beautiful long dresses and scarves. Very beautiful combinations of patterns. The women looked lovely. So we caught a late afternoon boat home. The boat is fast, about 35 minutes...but the showing of passports over and over again takes time. We picked up our van at an inside parking lot and began our trek to Granada, which is where we are today.

We drove into the outside city and parked in a free space on the street and got ready to investigate the city. Two women were taking a walk and coming toward us. “Do you speak any English?” Well, it turned out that one, Rosa, was an English teacher and the other was her sister, a radiologist. “Come with us! We are going in that direction and we will show you where everything is!” So we walked and talked the whole way into the center of town where after the two cheek kisses to say goodbye, we left them. It was Sunday, so everyone was out on the streets! The walk had been long so we sat to have our beer, and bread and cheese...then took off to walk the Moslem section of the old city. Up and up and up on more of those narrow streets, but these were clean, open to the sky and hidden gardens to peak at along the way. When we reached the top there was a square where everything was happening! A bazaar of jewelry, puppies for free, music playing, belly dancers...a mixture of young Romas/gypsies and hippies hanging out selling their wares and living the life. There was also a lovely garden beside the mosque where we heard a relatively quiet call to prayer. There is a delicate balance on what the Spanish will tolerate in their country at the moment. Today we have tickets into the Alhambra. More later.HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIRLEY!

The Alhambra was well worth the day. A large area on top of a hill of course. It is the best and last Moorish palace as the Christians finally took it in 1492. It is truly spendid. I love patterns, and even more than that I love patterns upon patterns. Luscious! First, the Generalife Gardens take up much of the space. Gardens for the people, gardens for worship, gardens for beauty, gardens for vegetables...some finely kept hedging, maize like. Always a place to sit and rest. Always a surprise around the next corner. We also visited the Alcazaba, the military fort, empty but with stairs to towers and views. We did not go to the museum, Charles V palace as it was closed on Monday...it is the art museum now. But the most important place, and the loveliest , was the Moorish palace...Palacios Naxaries. A feast for the eyes and the imagination. There are many beautiful tile patterns but the palace in general seems white...as above the colored tiles the rest is white patterns of flowers, leaves etc. and...calligraphy in Arabic in words from the Quran. The inscriptions make patterns, next to each other, on top of each other. The ceilings are mostly white with patterns of light from being open to the air, such as stars shapes. Also, the size of rooms and courtyards does not overwhelm. It is a really liveable size. The work that went into all this. The artisans must have been so proud of what they did... the beauty, the perfection. It had to be a satisfying job, though maybe not a well paid job. We had done so much walking in this great city, along it's promenades and shopping streets that when we were done at the Alhambra we hired a cab to take us to our home (van). HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICKI!

We are running out of time to get to Italy to meet Gary and Donna so now we hurry! We choose Lorca as our next stop. East through foothills of Sierra Nevada mountains. It is a mixture of bare jagged rock and round-tree forests and always the huge snowy mountains in the background. The road narrows as we go through less inhabited places, but always there are villages along the way, and always Shepherds with their dogs herding the sheep to good green grass. Stains of the reddest earth I have ever seen (even in Prince Edward Island!). Houses begin to show up that are built into the earth or rock. In the Sierra de Baza a huge rock quarry dazzles in the distance...all white and in blocks while the rest of the low mountain stands as always clothed in its greenery. Probably it's turn will come. In Lorca we chase to the walled castle at the top of it's hill, but it is closed. Last year at this time, Lorca was the epicenter of a large earthquake. Thousands were injured, old buildings tumbled down in pieces. The whole city is being returned to it's former self. Buildings being braced and built again. Lorca was a famous Spanish poet. I thought that I had brought his poetry along to read but can find it nowhere so instead I read some of another famous poets, Antonio Machado. Wonderful stuff! Here is one for you.

Idling once in a dream,

the hand that sowed the stars

plucked a single string of the vast lyre.

The long-forgotten music came to life

and a humble ripple ended at our lips,

carrying some few brief words of truth.

This country of Espagne is really full of life and love and warmth and beauty. We love it.

From Lorca we drive to Caravaca through green hills and terraced rice fields and find our resting place by a park in the city. We have driven through the city and found about six blocks of red bleacher seats set up. For what? We make things up but finally talk to someone who says that there is a festival starting this weekend. The people will be watching horses race through the streets and up the hill to the castle among other celebrations. It is the festival of Christians and Muslims. Here they recognize the history of their area and celebrate it. The next morning we woke to drums and flutes marching down our street. I pulled back the curtain from my bed and waved. Got a big smile and a thumbs up from one of the marchers. Next our car goes into the VW dealer for an oil change and a general check. While we wait we walk up the street to a local restaurant and it is hopping! Mostly full of guys on their lunch break (of 2 hours here in Spain). But the thing that amazed us is that there were bottles of hard liquor at every table. Just ask for what you want and the waitress will bring it. The men pour it into their coffee or other unknown cups of liquid. We asked the waitress how she kept track of what they drink so they pay the correct amount. “Oh, we can tell by looking at the bottle and how full or empty it is.” She brought us a sample which name I have forgotten but means “from the grapes” and is made from the grape sludge left over from regular wine making. It is potent and delicious. There are different kinds. Ours was like a Bailey's Cream but with a totally different very delicious taste. We ordered some sandwiches but had to try some other foods on display even if we really did not know what they were. The octopus tentacles were really good, but the brains were too slippery for me!

Car work completed we headed east again toward Valencia. Incredibly beautiful country. Chose the slow road again and once more were rewarded. At first the terrain was much like the Bakersfield, California corridor. Fruit trees, vineyards, sweetly shaped olive trees. The hills are loaded with wind turbines which look like white forests from a distance, their branches waving in the wind. There are old vines without green growth yet. Maybe white grapes as we are in a high elevation. We stop for the night in Turis, just a few kilometers from Valencia. Lots of building of condos/apartments but some are empty and some stalled in the process because of the economy. We walk to the center of town which always offers a plaza with folks socializing. We wake to music again, but this time it seems to be on a truck close-by and then a voice breaks in with a speech. “Vote for me!”?? Since we don't know Spanish we will never know.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

>On our way through all the beauty we came across two nuclear cooling towers. Shocking. It always is.

> We see the sign CANADA often with a cow. It is a certain type of road crossing the cows can not go over.

> So many castles on top of hills...and towns that developed below them.

> We talked to a young Spanish woman who told us that she and her boyfriend wanted to travel to the US very much. Money was so scarce at this time...she was coming from the tax office asking for more time. But she said, she also wanted to be a mom soon. She had told her boyfriend that they could travel later...and then she ran into us and saw that their dream really could come true later in life.

> The road signs that warn of curves ahead...they are all the same curve, unlike ours that tell you what kind of curve you can expect.

> We notice that the workers in the smaller town streets often stop to talk with locals. Things are a little more laid back here!

> I need to widen my vocabulary. Sorry about that. How many times can I describe something as “beautiful”?