Just how much Jeremy Irons is reasonable?

The owner of this house, or whoever buys the dvds, is in love with Jeremy Irons. The dvd player broke the other day, maybe a week ago, so I'd watched the first part of some Jeremy Irons movies, but had only got through one completely. It was awesome, I must say - The Merchant of Venice. So today, seeing as it was raining outside, I fixed the dvd player (I've been so fully immersed in Garrison Keillor I started believing I was in Minnesota) and watched the last part of several movies - The Mission, The French Lieutenant's Woman, something else...all wonderful. I think I was either a little young for the Jeremy Irons days, and missed them, or was too silly to watch things with serious titles when I was a teenager. Probably both - I've seen the light, and am a card carrying member of the J.Irons fan club starting now.
I got sick of reading about the same time I got tired of eating a continuous train of snacks and nothing like a meal. So in between my movies I cooked 2 meals today. So proud, so proud. Nothing hard, just sweet potato, zucchini, garlic, pasta and tomato sauce, but I felt full for a while, which was what I wanted.

After dinner I went out for a walk. No matter how many days I've been chilly and sort of hungry, all I have to do is walk two steps out the front door to feel truly awed and privileged. I took the trash down the road to the trash cans, and then took a right hand turn toward Colmenar. I only walked for about a half hour but it was transforming. I thought it was quiet at my place, but off the 'main road' it's just absolutely still, except for the sound of the creek down below the road, dogs in the distance, and the occasional clippety clop of hooves.

I can't describe the feeling up here, but I have to try. Vrtually everything is steeply sloped, so there are almost no flat places. On these slopes are almond and olive trees - sometimes a grove of one or the other, but often they are intermingled and there are very few trees of any other kind. The grass is very fine and soft - stuff that would last exactly one minute in the middle of Texas. It's not really in the form of blades, it's just those very soft shoots of grass that if you walk on them they're destroyed. The grass is sparse, because it grows in places that aren't shaded by trees...occasionally a vineyard punctuates the almond/olive scene. There are loads of prickly pear cactus gowing on the slopes, and an amazing amount of wild lavender and wild thyme. Between the almond blossoms and the lavender and thyme, it's pretty enchanting to breathe. The sky today was very gentle - the rain came down softly and steadily almmost all day, and when it cleared, the blue and white of the clouds and sky were very subdued, like in a painting. After the rain lots of little yellow wild flowers came out, too. Grey/green olive leaves, pink and white almond blossoms, purple lavender, tiny yellow flowers and a hint of green grass, blue sky and white clouds that come down almost to the tops of the mountains. To make it even more seductive, the ground is sandy, gravelly soil so it crunches underfoot.

It's now time to return to the movie binge - I'm getting a housemate next week so I feel totally justified in getting all my power lounging done. That way I can look productive or something when they're here.

You know food is bad when English people complain.

You know food is bad when English people complain. No offense to my ham loving friends, but the food in Spain is, at best, humorous, at worst...even the simplest thing you order here is designed to make you feel noticeably older by the time you finish eating. The strange thing is that they have amazing ingredients all around them and everything grows here - the raw elements are fabulous - almonds, olives, olive oil, avocados, grapes, cactus, tropical fruit, citrus fruits, honey...and the growing season in Andalucia is almost the entire year. I thought I was being picky - I am very demanding when it comes to food, but then my English acquaintances started telling me how bad everything is. That settled it - I will continue to live on the raw ingredients around me, to eat a little too much bread to fill in the missing calories, add a little wine, and be happy with it. Just no more restaurant meals until I find a sushi place! Even the carrot soup I had the other day made me feel bad - don't want to know why. Really. Carrot soup? It's like ruining grilled cheese - a joke that goes way back in my foodie family, from an outing to a place where we all ended up ordering grilled cheese because, well, it's impossible to ruin a grilled cheese sandwhich. Not.

The note I posted about learning that Spanish cuisine is so high in oil and animal products because they wanted to distinguish the True Spanish from the Jews and Muslims in the 16th c., well...I think said Jews and Muslims have had their revenge. Simply by letting time pass, they've seen 4oo years of Spanish people get old before their time, get super duper wrinked by the time they're 30, and die young of hardening of the arteries. Oh, and feel like shit along the way. I think I'd rather promote cultural diversity than die by grease. Of course now it's too late, because they've forgotten why they eat this way and they think it must be their cultural identity. It's as if they don't know they live between France and Morocco, or something. I'd say ignorance is bliss, but it's more like assisted suicide in this case.

And someone needs to arrest the travel writers (who are crazy) who laud chocolate y churros like it's something heavenly. It's a cup of hot chocolate with donuts! I think most people with the wherewithal to get to Spain have probably also encountered a cup of hot chocolate and/or a donut in their lives. Honestly, people. People! Hot chocolate is a wonderful thing - but donuts? Do books on touring the USA tout Navajo Fry Bread as a delicacy? To foreigners? People who come from Paris, and Rome, and even, Madrid, would have to feel insulted by that, no? I'm checking on this.

Heading South

22 Jan Comares

That last evening in Madrid I thought I’d go to Retiro Park and walk around – was feeling too lazy to go all the way to the Palacio Real and appreciate more artwork. Can’t absorb any more. Also, I started my period in Toledo, so that long bus ride and easy meander through Illescas was my way of not stopping but not forcing. Also why I didn’t go find Olga at the Ayuntamiento.

When I got back to the hostel I went up to the room for a while so the guy behind the desk wouldn’t bust me getting my big pack out of the locker in the common room. He’s the one who told me I could not leave my stuff there overnight…when I did sneak down to get it he was chatting with the cleaning staff. It's seriously funny to be sneaking around like a kid, but there was no way I was taking 35 extra pounds of baggage for one night. Up in the room there was an English woman who was going to a place called VaughnTown in Spain to teach English for a week as a volunteer. Sounds interesting…she also told me that the Prado is free from 6-8pm. Good to know for next time. I could drop in there every time I pass through Madrid. I also met Ximena, from Argentina, in the room – we ended up talking for over two hours, by which time I had to run out and find a locutorio to call Naman. Took me a bit of wandering the neighborhood to find it, but eventually I did…his Mom and his older brother were visiting him, so we talked briefly. After the phone call I was unsettled and a little wired, so I looked for a quiet place to have a glass of wine to make me at least a little bit sleepy. Found a sweet little bar/restaurant and chatted with the bartender about his travels in America, my travels in Spain…truly I love Spain – people here are as friendly as old Austin, even in the middle of Madrid. I haven’t gone into a single place where I haven’t been treated like gold. The wine was delicious, too. Fell asleep easily as soon as I got in bed.

Next morning I was flossing and when I glanced over at the other person in the bathroom it was Natasha from Toledo!  I didn’t eat breakfast with them, as they were chatting with the Chinese artist from my room, but we sat at adjacent tables and it was a lovely breakfast – I sat with Ximena, and we ate our bread and later got some hot water for my thermos (Natasha, Elsa, Ximena and I all had thermoses to keep a cup of tea with us at all times). 

Traveling you meet people at such interesting points in their lives. It's like the lounge of a therapist's office, but you take it with you everywhere. Ximena lives in Buenos Aires and had, from what she said, lost hope that she'd be able to buy a house on her own so she took her savings and decided to invest in herself (her words) and go traveling. She's starting her last year of an engineering degree in March. Just ballsy - loved her! Natasha and Elsa (never did learn their Chinese names) are 20 and 21, studying in Sweden to be English teachers in China. They were traveling hell bent for leather - trying to soak up every last thing they could - traveling on every long weekend all around Europe like the world was going to end. Of course once they start working it likely will, at least for traveling.

It’s amazing how fast you can feel at home somewhere if there are good people to talk to. Leaving that hostel was almost sad.

Getting to Atocha Station was alright – my bags were incredibly heavy, but there was room for me to pass everywhere I went, so I was thankful for that. At Atocha I took a couple of pictures of the turtles in the tropical garden pond, and then made to go through the security checkpoint. But when they asked me for some proof of a ticket I realized I had to go find a place to retrieve it – downstairs at the ticket kiosks I could print it by using the card I bought the ticket with – it printed right out, and I was an hour early for the train, goddammit. Better early than late, with 50 lbs of baggage to carry, and the AVE waiting room was almost empty so I could spread out and relax. Once you’re past security there, it’s like being at an airport gate – only passengers, so you don’t feel like you’re in the middle of an enormous train station at all. There was a ton of room on the train, too. I had a great window seat and the train was so comfy I got sleepy right away. Stayed awake for most of the trip, but did nod off toward the end. There was a woman across from me one row back with a cat in a carrier, and the cat was nervous, so the lady was talking to it and petting it very gently during the trip. At one point it jumped out of the carrier and was running around underneath the seats – it was pretty funny watching people’s reactions, because I think I may have been the only one to realize there was a cat on board. The owner did catch the cat, and it stayed quietly in the carrier after that.  I loved having the cat on board, with such a sweet person – it made the trip a little different. Homey.

When I got to Malaga I had completely forgotten where to meet John, and of course there was no weefee in the station.  So I sort of slunk, underneath the weight of my bags, back and forth between the main entrance to the station and the ticket office. He got there 10 minutes after I did, when all the other passengers had gone, so it was easy as pie for him to see me. We went to the Carrefour (huge supermarket), which was nutty - after all the traveling and jet lag of the past days. I was supposed to organize myself and stock up, but was rather randomly buying whatever I came across, instead. It worked out okay. When we were getting carts to go in we didn’t have enough coins but John said to try a quarter and presto! When we were returning them I passed mine on to a guy who got genuinely excited that he was going to get a quarter back after shopping. Sincerely love to see grown people get excited about a little detail.

The ride out of Malaga was surprising – we drove along the promenade for a while, then the outskirts of town were very brief, and all of a sudden we were out in the country, driving up and up and up, through arid, pretty, mountainous terrain. The almond trees were just starting to blossom and it was a sparklingly pretty blue sky day. As we drove, John filled me in on all sorts of details about the area, all much too quickly, but I was trying to retain some of it. He’s wonderfully helpful and kind.

We could see the village and the houses (El Llano de la Luz and Las Almendras) from quite a ways away, as we wove our way up through the mountains. When we arrived, John let us into the house, showed me around (it was dusty, as I’d been warned by Jacqueline) – the houses are both made of stone, like everything up in this area, and painted (whitewashed?) white, with tile roofs. They each have 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a large living room/common space. Jacqueline’s was built 7 or 8 years ago, and Richard’s was just finished in May. Fortunately for me, the houses come with John and his gf Polly, who is a travel writer. She is next door a lot of the time working on stuff online, and John stops by or meets her there sometimes. They’re very sweet and friendly, especially considering they get visitors like me pretty frequently. People who come out here, as far as I hear, are all interesting. I like the house I’m in – it has two terraces, one of which is outside my bedroom. The view is nothing short of incredible – the mountains aren’t massive, but they are covered in soft green grass, almond trees, lavender, and orange trees. The mountainsides create lots of intersecting angles, so each time the sun shifts just a little bit the light changes the landscape looks totally fresh. It took me a few days for my eyes to get used to looking into the mountains but little by little I can pick out new details every day. It is wonderful how adaptable we are – every day I ‘land’ a little more, and see, hear, and perceive more of what is going on in the ‘neighborhood’. Even walking here is different – people here don’t move quickly, and I have had to slow down my walk.

That was Saturday, Jan 15, and the next day was the Fiesta de San Hilario in Comares. The first celebration of the season – serious luck! I walked up to the village – there was quite a bit of traffic going up for the festival, but I didn’t dare take the goat track before I had a better feel for the direction I needed to go. When you're traveling alone you make up all sorts of headlines as you're weighing options that could possibly end in embarassment. Like "Stupidest Yank EVER Dies of Exposure After Wandering Off Alone Into Unknown Mountain Area."

There were a ton of people up there – I got there after the mass, just as they were carrying San Hilario down to the main plaza. Got some pictures of the procession – all the families were out, walking in big groups. There were a few single people, like me – a couple of photographers and a woman who looked English was on the outer edge like me. I get claustrophobic in big crowds (there were around 1,500 people there) so I walked around the village and tried to locate the supermarket. No luck, even though I followed the signs, but I did find the old castle and the cemetery. The castle is just as I’d pictured it – small, very, very old and weathered – mostly the ramparts are what are still intact (or rebuilt). I don’t think it was ever very big. The cemetery is Spanish style, of course, so it’s more like a mausoleum – also took some pictures up there. The view is breathtaking.

I rested for a while in the cemetery, at the back, where they finish their funerals and you can look over the edge of the retaining wall and see the remains of funeral processions – old candles, wreaths, ribbon, etc. It shocked me to see they would litter like that in such a small village, where litter is really obvious. Oh dear.

Madrid & Toledo

Hostel days

Weird woman in the room from Northern Spain who sits and plays Sudoku all day and asked me not to open the windows – is on her way to Egypt so I hope she gets her visa soon.  I feel a little bad b/c I attributed all the snoring in the room last night to her, but it turned out to be someone else the whole time.  My apologies, weird lady. The flight was awful – first I went to the wrong terminal and had to carry all my bags to T2 and then the flight was packed. Was in the center row with a couple of love birds going to Paris – pretty bad. Then the other people around me were all Indian men and families(read: very rude men who have no qualms taking up every available inch of space and don’t mind staring at you either, or farting the whole time) – it was not a nice flight. The worst though was my own fault – watched Eat, Pray, Love (could not resist). Thanks, God, for Javier Bardem – but what is he doing in that movie?! Didn’t sleep at all but did have a little champagne for my birthday.  The connection in Paris was amazing – they manage to have 13,000 security checks in between flights and still get you to a 35-minute connecting flight.  Slept on the flight to Madrid – that was nice – couldn’t help laughing that not one of the flight attendants from NYC to Madrid could pronounce the word “overhead”, though. It’s the little things.  Heard about the reactions to the shooting/massacre in AZ along the way and still just amazed they let Fox news stay on the air.

This netbook is awesome – can’t believe it has Windows! I’m in love!  Madrid – well, jodphurs and high boots are in fashion, so it’s a laugh a minute over here. I could pull out my yoga pants and get some high boots, but the yoga pants are too thick – the leggings they’re wearing are more like tights. European women are always funny in just how far they’ll go to be sexy.  No farther than women in the States, but they are so much more intentionally feline, which has always made me smile. I do love the relaxed pace, here – I can see why so many people say they could live here - it’s a big, int’l city, but feels as relaxed as Austin.  Or more so. I left the Hostel this morning at 8:15 and it felt like 5:15 in the morning. Everyone so sleepy and crawling to work. I was the 2^nd customer in Starbucks, when in Austin by 8:15 they’ve already done a full morning’s business! There are businesspeople hanging out here reading the paper from cover to cover. Cannot remember the last time I saw anyone do that in public besides homeless people. Reading the ads! Page by page! It’s AWESOME!

Today, the Prado (Rubens exhibit) and maybe the relicuario if I can get there when they’re open. Tomorrow, Toledo and more walking – I am incredibly sore from the trip. As much water as I drank it wasn’t enough. God I am allergic to winter all of the sudden! Am feeling something like cedar fever here and was in NY as well.  I wonder if they sell ephedra here … the kids at the hostel are cute – I love it that they drink hot milk for breakfast – so many little endearing things that remind me of school at Sophia. The bathrooms smell the same, too. But the tp is much softer these days. It used to be a cross between cardboard and waxed paper. The paper towels, too. I’m sure that is some terrible sign of ever more Americanization. Half of the people in this Starbucks are eating cheesecake for breakfast. Adorable! My fetish for grown men eating dessert alone is still alive and well. Only in Europe.

Day wandering around the Prado and La Biblioteca Nacional – amazing luck there was an exhibit on the history of Spanish cuisine at the biblioteca. I never knew that some of the main ingredients in traditional Spanish cooking are from the Americas, like tomato, potato and chocolate – I sortof shoulda known, but never thought about it. And that Spanish cuisine is so high in animal fat in order to differentiate it from Arab and Jewish food. I can understand that, as they spent centuries trying to kick the Arabs and Jews out of Spain and one way to tell a covert Arab was to offer them ham and see if they’d eat it. But honestly, they’ve done more harm to themselves with this awful diet than Arab people ever did to them. Some really nice photos and details in the exhibit. Still having my allergy attack. Sneezing all the way around the city. The Prado took me forever to walk to, and I was happy to find out that all the exhibits are included in the price of entry – even the special Renoir and Rubens exhibits. I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated Renoir as much as I should have  – this exhibit was different – a collection from Massachussetts that had things I’s never seen before. More early work - still lifes, landscapes, and of course, women and girls, but not as much. The Rubens knocked me off my feet – just unbelievable spirit in those paintings. Amazing, of course. I also saw the painting La Anunciacion by Fra Angelico that I wrote a report about in 5^th grade! That was exciting – majorly.  Had a nice lunch (tuna sandwich and oj as usual) at Faborito. Near the Prado, with free wifi! Awesome.  And hearing people say weefee makes asking about it all the more entertaining. While I was walking around the city I came across a few places I’d been with Anita – thought I’d found our hotel but was off.  Seems like someone else’s life, those trips. So does a lot, though.

Tomorrow going to Toledo early in the morning – no reservation for a room so I hope I get one – we’ll see. Sounds wonderful.  I’m beat. Btw there are several ‘older ladies’ staying here – I’m psyched. Of course the only one I talk to is the odd one but she’s ok – she’s a house cleaner, I found out. Explains some things.  Maybe. 

Sooo the house cleaner slapped one of the other girls in the room in the middle of the night for having turned on the light in the middle of the night. I was just falling asleep when I hear “ Y no me pegues!” Drama ensued. The guy at the desk was clueless as to what to do – it was almost midnight – you can’t throw people out at that hour – so he left both of them in the same room, and the victim then spent 2 hours with the light on, rearranging her belongings in her backpack. Needless to say there was no sleeping that night for me. My jetlag kicked in almost immediately, in spite of my tired state, physically and mentally, and I slept maybe 2 hours in the early morning.  Fortunately, I was too tired to even get mad.

Breakfast was the usual bread and stuff, but I was grateful for the orange juice and made myself some green tea from what I had brought with me. I later learned that almost all of the women travelers had a thermos and tea with them. Made me smile. Women just neeeed hot water to be happy. And ate some bread – my gums have started bleeding  from all the bread I’ve been eating. Oh well.  Another thing that takes me back to living in France. Asked at the desk where I can catch the bus to Toledo, left my big backpack in the locker downstairs…hoping it’s okay. 2 out of 3 people told me it was, so I hope it is!

Note to self: ALWAYS double check information you get verbally. Wrong station, an hour turnaround to get to Plaza Eliptica (the right station), but I happened to arrive 5minutes before the 9:30 bus left, and it really only took 45 min to get there, so it worked out okay.  Well, it would’ve been alright in any case, no matter how late I got there…in Toledo I asked if it was far to the Castillo de San Servando – was very surprised to hear that, no, it was 5 min walking and I didn’t need to take a bus. I walked out into a pretty thick fog, up the side of the highway looking out at that amazing green color you get in places where it’s always wet, came to a medieval bridge, asked, and yes, the CASTLE on the other side was San Servando. I thought, well, it must be a dump inside. Not! I got up there and it looks like a 3 star hotel. I got a little excited. Left my stuff and went out to walk around the old city. Wow – the hills are like San Francisco but smaller and covered in medieval architecture. So many hills! Lovely, amazing walk, saw the outside of many cathedrals, seminaries, museums, but my timing has been rotten due to my jet lag – the minute everything is open after lunch I feel like I’m caving in and going to collapse – literally my eyes get this feeling they’re closing without my permission. I ate lunch in a restaurant. First restaurant meal! It was a small café on Calle de la Trinidad, I believe. The least touristy option I came across. Well, the hake was bathed in oil, but the wine (I so appreciate the small servings!) was perfect, and I ate everything and walked around as long as my eyes would stay open and went back to the Castle for a nap. Just wanted to say that, haha. Had fun looking at the view out the tiny old windows and took a couple of pictures – I could stay here for a week.

Met two Chinese girls in the lobby and we started chatting and instead of going to bed at 8pm I actually accompanied them to a small bar/café down the hill from the Castle so they’d have a Spanish speaker with them  - I had…a glass of wine! Again! Shoot me, but it was awesome. The place was packed when we got there, music blaring, etc but after awhile the crowd left and we chatted with the owner  for a bit. She’s Romanian and married a Spanish guy. Her son was working with her. She was fun, and kept joking that one of the girls should stay and marry him. He was very cute. The young men I see around here in Madrid and Toledo seem quite sweet. Oh, I love being an outsider! You don’t know any of the bullshit that goes on and you can kid yourself that somewhere people are sweeter, softer, better to each other. The women are definitely not as scary feminine as in France, but they wear some scary clothes, for sure. High boots are in, which can make you look like Robin Hood (low or no heel) or a pole dancer (mid to high heel). So the street is filled with Robin Hoods and pole dancers, and a bunch of guys in overly bright team jerseys. It’s a train wreck, yeah.

Had a wonderful night’s sleep and in the morning actually did not appear at breakfast an hour early. Elsa, Natasha (their English names) and I were the only people for breakfast, and the staff treated us like stars – this is definitely the best youth hostel EVER. We had a lovely breakfast of BREAD and more bread products, but I decided to have a little coffee and it was some true, blue cowboy coffee. I haven’t had coffee like that in forever – it was wayyyyy too strong but I drank it and it got me going out into the fog for  a twirl around the ‘people’s Toledo’ – I went past the bar we visited last night and around the working area of the city. Here in Toledo, even the poor neighborhoods have medieval cathedrals, I’m happy to report. Plenty to go around.

Sadly, I checked out of the Castle at 11 and walked down to the bus station. Unable or unwilling to face Madrid again for another day of walking in the dense pollution, I took a local bus that would pass through Illescas on the way back. The Convento de las Descalzas isn’t open on Fridays, so I figured I’d have a wander. It was worth it. We took a smaller road for some of the trip and passed through some working class villages. Illescas was worth it, too. I got off the bus thinking it’d be a cinch to find the local monuments (one of which is the building where Francois 1er was imprisoned for a year by Carlos V, which is why I really wanted to stop here. But Illescas is bigger than I thought. Medieval cathedrals, abound, and are  still used as local churches, with no trace whatsoever of being landmarks for sightseers. I visited two churches, lit a candle or two, admired the amazing altars and art work. Asked in the cultural center if there was a tourist info office around and was directed to go to the Town Hall and ask for Olga. I did not do that, but did stop into a local bar for some oil-soaked tortilla and….a…glass of wine! No, seriously, I had a great glass of oj. Then crossed the street to catch the next bus back to Madrid.  Again, a nice ride through some little places – I love getting around that way. You see more, you hear more, you are treated more normally…

This is my blaaaahg...thanks for checking in with me :)

Welcome to my blahg - I'm excited about posting to/for my friends and anyone who's just interested in reading it. I'm also a little nervous about posting so much of my personal opinion online, and so I want to begin by saying this: I love people. I love traveling. I love immigrants and all sorts of other brave people. I love gay people. I love socialists. And if you know me well, you know I love yoga and movement. I also love to critique what is going on in a community I hold very close to my heart - the yoga community. I can't stop analyzing things. I say a lot of things, but luckily, I'm not into delusions of grandeur - what I notice, criticize, take apart, or write are part of my learning process in this vast and unending world. That said, this is my blahg, and I'm going to say whatever I want. Unless I think it would offend my Mom.