What a day! Twice! Yesterday I stopped by Ruth's for a chat and breakfast and we ended up on an all day adventure that included, but was not limited to, driving into a cloud full of many, many sheep, going from sun to freezing wind and rain and back again, circling what must have been a hundred roundabouts (many of which I had to go roundabout twice), one million olive trees, half a million almond trees, miles and miles of roads that would give a dead person a panic attack, hundreds of breathtaking views, and a couple of wolves glimpsed in the distance. It was a full day. I slept well. Got up and didn't exactly do it again, but was lucky enough to have a second day of laughs and exploring this amazing place.
Today we started off at yoga (thanks, Ruth!) and then sailed off into the sunny day. Just when I think I've seen too many stunning views to remember, someone takes me to see some more. We drove down into a huge pine forest park where we were the only people, stopped along the way at the Venta de la Nada (I kid you not, I have a photo of the sign), and ended up in Colmenar at a great bar from which I observed a woman walking down the street in her pajamas and bathrobe to sit with a friend at the bar opposite us (yes, every building is a bar here). I thought it was kind of special, and tried to snap a photo. I was too far away and it looks in the photo as if she's just a pretty woman in a long jacket. Which makes me a really bad photographer, I guess. If you read the post about going into church in Comares your bathrobe count will be 2 now. Two women walking around town in a bathrobe. In Comares it makes more sense because hey, it's a small village, and I'm sure everyone ends up seeing everyone else in a bathrobe eventually. Colmenar, however, is a medium sized town with loads of people who may not even know each other. So I'm giving the second bathrobe a little more attention, even if the first one was purple with white stars, which is very cute.
Tomorrow I still have the car till noon, and will be driving to Malaga alone to turn it in. No co-pilot. If I don't post for a few days, check the hospitals.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
This is our big night out
That's the title of an old Kacy Crowley song that is my proof that not everything is on the interwebs. It was a hit in Austin in 1999 and I can't find it to save my life. I'd email her website, but y'all mostly know how I feel about folk singers - the more space between them and me, the better for everyone concerned. It's personal. But what made me think of that song, and songwriters, and how irritating they are, is my wonderful night out on the pueblito with my friend, T. The self-same T. who stubbed his toe last week on the pew in church, leading to our encounter and ensuing friendship with the woman-in-the-purple-bathrobe-with-stars-on-it, aka "looky looky." More on her another day.
T. has been working hard all week, and thought he'd like to go up to the village and check out the little bars. And as I've said before, without a sidekick, I'm just a weirdo, so I was thrilled. So that's how, after a hard day of blogging, instead of going to bed, we put on our jackets, grabbed a couple of flashlights, and set off into the full moon night. Walking here is always an experience (the views just knock you flat), and at night, under the full moon, it was even more spectacular. The moon was so bright we really didn't need the flashlights, but hey, I've taken a couple of nasty falls here due to the pitch darkness, and my assorted bruises now remind me, in chorus, "better safe than sorry, Pancake." It doesn't help that when you fall here, you fall on sharp rocks. I nearly took off the top of one thumb two weeks ago on a rock. But I've already whined about that, I'm sure. Onward! Into the night!!
It's so quiet on the way up I have this fear that my voice can be heard loud and clear in every room of every house in the comarca. The quiet American, I am not. T. is soft spoken, so as we approach the village I stop talking and let him take over. As we scale the final steep incline up to the main plaza (writing "main plaza" makes it sound much bigger than it is) you coulda heard a pin drop. The mayor's restaurant is closed. We'
re getting worried. But the other 3 little bars are open, so, like Goldilocks, we have to figure out which one is just right for tonight. The first bar is too subdued - tables of old men deep in conversations we will never be joining. The second bar is boisterous, and I can see a couple of English beards and bowl cuts laughing away with bright eyes and smiles. The third bar... is sad. A few old men in a darkened room watching something on TV that is definitely not animating anyone. They look down in the dumps. This being an exceedingly small town, we have to make it look like we're just out walking and not peering into bars passing judgement on their potential for the night. So we take a little stroll up and down a few steep, tiled streets of ancient whitewashed buildings and circle back around to bar #2.
It's crowded in the small space, which is a welcome feeling. When you're alone most of the time, being crowded together with happy people is pretty awesome. Shocking news (not) - I'm the only woman in the bar besides the cook. So naturally there is a big deal made of the fact that I must have a place to sit, and of course my friend must also have a stool because, well, he's with a lady. Oh, if they only knew the lady I'm not. But long hair camouflages a world of social deviations, and I perform as if I truly expect to be treated with such cortesía. The old man on my right tells T. (you address the man, not the lady) if anyone says anything about his giving away their barstools they'll have to deal with him. Of course I am allowed to laugh, but only looking at T. A lady doesn't laugh with strangers, she needs an intermediary. She may respond to what is said in conversation through her companion, which I do, because I'm not sure he's understood the old man's generous show of caballería and I cue him to laugh.
What happens next is just too perfect. Sure enough we have occupied someone's place, because their beers are in front of us. When they return from the wc or maybe smoking outside (Spain just passed a no smoking law for bars and restaurants), they find us sitting there and they look at T. with a sort of challenging look. That is, until they take note of the fact that he's accompanying a lady. As they take this is in they smile and slide their beers over in front of their new, reduced space at the bar, making eye contact with the first older man who gave their seats away. Their looks say quite clearly, "We're glad you were here to take the situation in hand and show these folks we know how to treat a lady in this town. Right on, brother!" I just look at the floor, like you do, until this exchange is finished.
The rest of the evening was spent chatting, sipping wine, snacking on delicious green olives, followed by a huge plate of calamari. When we stopped ordering things the owner poured us each a glass of local wine. "It's on me," he says, giving me the coy smile of a teenage boy offering to carry my books home from school. He tells me my Spanish is lovely and drifts back to the other end of the bar to attend to his friends. P.s. I'm relating these stories not to impress you with the fact that blue eyes still carry a lot of weight in the world, but I cannot get over the incredible formality used around strange women. I know, I know, I'm strange, but I mean strange as in new to the group. After suffering the attitudes of American men, who seem to have decided women are barnacles, it's wonderful to be treated as if you're the best potential interaction they'll have all day. It's deference with a healthy dose of fascination, and everyone seems to enjoy the play acting. You couldn't pay me enough to live that way, but passing through alternate realities is some good mental floss.
The evening ended strolling (a lost art!) down the mountain the long way, talking about the moon and stars.
T. has been working hard all week, and thought he'd like to go up to the village and check out the little bars. And as I've said before, without a sidekick, I'm just a weirdo, so I was thrilled. So that's how, after a hard day of blogging, instead of going to bed, we put on our jackets, grabbed a couple of flashlights, and set off into the full moon night. Walking here is always an experience (the views just knock you flat), and at night, under the full moon, it was even more spectacular. The moon was so bright we really didn't need the flashlights, but hey, I've taken a couple of nasty falls here due to the pitch darkness, and my assorted bruises now remind me, in chorus, "better safe than sorry, Pancake." It doesn't help that when you fall here, you fall on sharp rocks. I nearly took off the top of one thumb two weeks ago on a rock. But I've already whined about that, I'm sure. Onward! Into the night!!
It's so quiet on the way up I have this fear that my voice can be heard loud and clear in every room of every house in the comarca. The quiet American, I am not. T. is soft spoken, so as we approach the village I stop talking and let him take over. As we scale the final steep incline up to the main plaza (writing "main plaza" makes it sound much bigger than it is) you coulda heard a pin drop. The mayor's restaurant is closed. We'
re getting worried. But the other 3 little bars are open, so, like Goldilocks, we have to figure out which one is just right for tonight. The first bar is too subdued - tables of old men deep in conversations we will never be joining. The second bar is boisterous, and I can see a couple of English beards and bowl cuts laughing away with bright eyes and smiles. The third bar... is sad. A few old men in a darkened room watching something on TV that is definitely not animating anyone. They look down in the dumps. This being an exceedingly small town, we have to make it look like we're just out walking and not peering into bars passing judgement on their potential for the night. So we take a little stroll up and down a few steep, tiled streets of ancient whitewashed buildings and circle back around to bar #2.
It's crowded in the small space, which is a welcome feeling. When you're alone most of the time, being crowded together with happy people is pretty awesome. Shocking news (not) - I'm the only woman in the bar besides the cook. So naturally there is a big deal made of the fact that I must have a place to sit, and of course my friend must also have a stool because, well, he's with a lady. Oh, if they only knew the lady I'm not. But long hair camouflages a world of social deviations, and I perform as if I truly expect to be treated with such cortesía. The old man on my right tells T. (you address the man, not the lady) if anyone says anything about his giving away their barstools they'll have to deal with him. Of course I am allowed to laugh, but only looking at T. A lady doesn't laugh with strangers, she needs an intermediary. She may respond to what is said in conversation through her companion, which I do, because I'm not sure he's understood the old man's generous show of caballería and I cue him to laugh.
What happens next is just too perfect. Sure enough we have occupied someone's place, because their beers are in front of us. When they return from the wc or maybe smoking outside (Spain just passed a no smoking law for bars and restaurants), they find us sitting there and they look at T. with a sort of challenging look. That is, until they take note of the fact that he's accompanying a lady. As they take this is in they smile and slide their beers over in front of their new, reduced space at the bar, making eye contact with the first older man who gave their seats away. Their looks say quite clearly, "We're glad you were here to take the situation in hand and show these folks we know how to treat a lady in this town. Right on, brother!" I just look at the floor, like you do, until this exchange is finished.
The rest of the evening was spent chatting, sipping wine, snacking on delicious green olives, followed by a huge plate of calamari. When we stopped ordering things the owner poured us each a glass of local wine. "It's on me," he says, giving me the coy smile of a teenage boy offering to carry my books home from school. He tells me my Spanish is lovely and drifts back to the other end of the bar to attend to his friends. P.s. I'm relating these stories not to impress you with the fact that blue eyes still carry a lot of weight in the world, but I cannot get over the incredible formality used around strange women. I know, I know, I'm strange, but I mean strange as in new to the group. After suffering the attitudes of American men, who seem to have decided women are barnacles, it's wonderful to be treated as if you're the best potential interaction they'll have all day. It's deference with a healthy dose of fascination, and everyone seems to enjoy the play acting. You couldn't pay me enough to live that way, but passing through alternate realities is some good mental floss.
The evening ended strolling (a lost art!) down the mountain the long way, talking about the moon and stars.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
In Seville I got very distracted
In Seville the days flew by, walking every day until my legs were sore, being entranced and drawn in to this amazing city. I love Spanish breakfasts in cafes and bars. They serve fresh orange juice, wonderful coffee, and toasted baguettes with olive oil and fresh tomato puree. I had breakfast every morning at a different cafe on the Plaza Alameda, and then I had breakfast a second time in some other neighborhood. This is the life, I think, finished with my second breakfast of the day, getting ready to visit the Alcázar, the old Arab fortress.
It took forever to find it, because I let myself get distracted by every little interesting detail. No camera today. I wore out the battery in the cathedral the day before. When the flashing signal came up on the screen: battery exhausted I thought, “Me, too!”I meander around, buying a few souvenirs and postcards. I have to stop for a third snack before going inside. They serve breakfast here until 12:30 and I thank god for that because I can't stand any of the other food. My gums bleed a little now from all the bread, but oh well. Better than being sick from another oil-soaked piece of fish. I need a food buddy so I can find more things I like.
In the Alcázar I wander for a couple of hours through celestial rooms that have no furniture or paintings on most of the walls, and yet so intricately designed that I feel I barely get the whole picture no matter how many times I circle around. Each time I enter a room through a different door it seems like a completely new place until I notice the floor tiles, or a sign posted on a pedestal I've read before. I see people walking in sublime gardens filled with tiled fountains and orange trees, tall cedars and elegant palms. There are waterways throughout the walled gardens, and I find myself contemplating what paradise must be like. Probably like this, if it exists. I get lost at one point and a maintenance man tells I've wandered into an area they're about to spray and directs me back to where more people are. Along the slender, straight paths punctuated with fountains that intersect even more invitingly dreamlike paths, poets and artists lounge, stretched out on benches in the almost warm sunshine, composing verses, sketching or writing in their diaries. They seem to own the space, discouraging any intrusion by mere sightseers into their private world of deep appreciation for this place that is at once so stately and sensual.
It took forever to find it, because I let myself get distracted by every little interesting detail. No camera today. I wore out the battery in the cathedral the day before. When the flashing signal came up on the screen: battery exhausted I thought, “Me, too!”I meander around, buying a few souvenirs and postcards. I have to stop for a third snack before going inside. They serve breakfast here until 12:30 and I thank god for that because I can't stand any of the other food. My gums bleed a little now from all the bread, but oh well. Better than being sick from another oil-soaked piece of fish. I need a food buddy so I can find more things I like.
In the Alcázar I wander for a couple of hours through celestial rooms that have no furniture or paintings on most of the walls, and yet so intricately designed that I feel I barely get the whole picture no matter how many times I circle around. Each time I enter a room through a different door it seems like a completely new place until I notice the floor tiles, or a sign posted on a pedestal I've read before. I see people walking in sublime gardens filled with tiled fountains and orange trees, tall cedars and elegant palms. There are waterways throughout the walled gardens, and I find myself contemplating what paradise must be like. Probably like this, if it exists. I get lost at one point and a maintenance man tells I've wandered into an area they're about to spray and directs me back to where more people are. Along the slender, straight paths punctuated with fountains that intersect even more invitingly dreamlike paths, poets and artists lounge, stretched out on benches in the almost warm sunshine, composing verses, sketching or writing in their diaries. They seem to own the space, discouraging any intrusion by mere sightseers into their private world of deep appreciation for this place that is at once so stately and sensual.
I wander into yet another garden, this one a long rectangle filled with neat rows of orange trees. The oranges shine out from amongst the dark leaves like the stars on the Virgin de Guadalupe's robe. I'm lucky to have come in the winter. Without the oranges it wouldn't be the same at all, I think. I hope they'll still be in season when my mother comes. Ripe oranges overflow every tree in Seville. I read that the city sprays them to make them taste bitter to keep the birds from eating them and making a mess in the streets. But I fantasize about the days when this was a working palace and how the inhabitants must have been able to reach up and pluck an orange down as if they were living in paradise. I hear an American tourist say, loudly, as we pass under an archway, "I get it - they didn't have TV back then so they made pretty buildings." The girl's friends, in her thrall because she is truly a breathtaking young woman, nod in agreement. Later I see this young woman reach up and pick an orange. I don’t warn her about the spray, even though I am very nearby. "Ignorance is not bliss," I think, "it's simply ignorance. Bon appétit."
In the afternoon I went out walking far from the Plaza Alameda and stumbled upon a vegetarian restaurant I'd read about online that's only open 4 days per week. It was open. And scrumptious. No pasta primavera, here, but a menu full of tempting dish like pastel de papa y verdura con dos salsas, and crepas de verdura en salsa de crema. I ordered the pastel, with wine, and dined like a queen. That evening I went to opening night of a romantic comedy. It was a perfect evening. Even better, when I got back to the hostel everyone had gone out together to a flamenco show. I packed my bags and went to sleep in quiet bliss.
The next morning I lingered at the hostel until 10, enjoying a conversation with Enrique, a German-Argentine rock climber working at the hostel. When I checked out I headed to the plaza for breakfast number one.
The train station wasn't busy when I got there at 11, and I still had two hours before my train. The Seville station is a wide rectangular shopping area with a book store, some home shops and 3 cafes. I buy El País, choose the cafe that has the best view for people watching, and get down working on breakfast number two. Next to me is an older woman, maybe 60. In Spain, 60 is old. The woman is dressed very smartly in a Chanel style suit, stockings, heels, gold earrings, penciled on eyebrows, hair professionally styled, with a quietly elegant air about her. We're neighbors there for about an hour, spying on each other surreptitiously as we read the morning paper, watching time tick by on the big station clock, each enjoying the extra lounging time before our train. During this time a Spanish family settles in at the table across from me, and I spend some time observing the two adolescent boys with their sister and mother, chatting and making each other laugh.
When I look back to my neighbor the woman has gone, and I feel a pang that we didn't get to nod goodbye after the long hour we'd spent in silent company. The waitress comes by to clear the table and notices the woman has left her gloves behind. She clears the table but leaves the gloves, just in case. A few minutes later the woman emerges from the restrooms across the wide hall, and I pick up the gloves, rushing out to return them. Of course she went to freshen up up before her train! So old school! It's a curious moment - the woman looks so pleasantly surprised that I have done this, paid this attention to her, and gives me a look I imagine she would normally reserve for a suitor holding a rose up to her as she answered his knock at the door.
Monday, February 14, 2011
How I'm getting away with this whole thing
I think most of my friends know I'm not home, by now - I'm in Spain for a few months. Of course most of my friends also know that I don't have a lot of money, and they've been asking me how I planned this wonderful trip on such a thin, little shoestring budget. I'm going to list a few websites I joined and used, and I hope to hear lots of stories from friends about their amazing adventures and what helped them to go. I also want to hear stories about using the sites listed here and what comes of it!
My main thing was renting my apartment - no big surprise here, that I used craigslist. Some people still don't use this site, so I have to mention it. The source of many magical happennings is definitely http://www.craigslist.org/. When using craigslist, I've always had great luck and I hope you will, too. Write your ad carefully if you're going to be subletting - make sure you communicate who you are in your ad - nothing worse than posting a generic ad and getting people who want a generic situation, i.e. a place they don't have to care about. If you're subletting your home, make sure you write the ad so that only people looking for an actual 'home' to lease will respond. My title was : Pergo-free zone! That way only people who give a crap about floors will call, and I don't have to worry about all the creeps who would put holes in my walls to put up posters for a stay of one semester.
Then of course I had to make sure I got a ticket - I was very lucky and had frequent flyer miles saved over a period of 20 years and a donation of miles from my Mom (thanks, Mom!) to make up the rest. I include this not to make you sad that you don't have 60,000 miles for a ticket, but to remind you that if you do have miles, to call and get your ticket over the phone. I tried and tried to make it work online and it was ridiculous how quickly they wanted 90,000 or even 120,000 miles for the ticket I got through a customer service rep for 60,000. It doesn't hurt to tell the rep you're using this ticket for a very special trip, so they get a little excited about helping you get there. And if your rep is in a bad mood, thank them for their help, say you need to talk to yourself about the dates, and call back to speak with someone else. There's always someone who'll think it's cool you're doing something besides business travel or going to Disney. Oh, and any big trip like to Europe or somewhere far should include a free layover on one leg. So I got to stop in NY and visit my family on the same ticket. They will not tell you this, you have to ask. Maybe you want to stop in Paris in the way to Berlin. It should be free.
Third most important thing - how can I get housing for free? Housing, unless you're going to South America or Asia, will kill a small budget. The miracle of the internet is that if you have a dream, so do a half million other people and someone's out there facilitating your dream for people like you. Sites that hook people up are generally great for making sure you won't be sold into slavery once you arrive. They check people's info, keep logs of all your communication through their site, and try to keep everyone safe. They also are big on peer comments, so you get to see what others have said about the place you're going and how it was to be there. I joined http://www.mindmyhouse.com/ for $25/year (or 2 yrs - can't recall). This site is British, and loads of British people have second homes in Spain, so there were lots of situations in the country I was headed to. The challenge is finding someone who's not just looking for a free caretaker/dogsitter. You may love dogs, but they can't be left for weekend excursions and you could end up stranded at home most of the time. In which case, write a book. About the dog. I was extremely lucky that there was a small retreat center looking for someone exactly like me, but there are new posts all the time and there's always something that might allow you to do someone a favor and still have flexibility.
I also joined http://www.workaway.info/ ($25/2 yrs) that hooks people up with volunteer opportunites where the host houses and feeds you in exchange for (usually) a half day of work, Mon-Fri. The obvious advantage of this is that you are living with people and therefore not alone in someone's remote villa burning up the youtube videos to entertain yourself and the dog. And I have to say that even though I opted not to do this there were a couple of opportunities that were just incredibly tempting. Learning from a horse whisperer? Helping a university professor with her computer skills and data entry? Helping with winter maintenance at breathtaking historic boutique hotels? There were many more that sounded truly fun, and you'd be linked to the community through your host. Down side on this was that mainly non-Spanish speakers use this site so you'd be speaking Spanish when you went out but probably not at home. A wonderful woman here in Andalucia who hosts work exchangers uses http://www.helpx.net/. Again, these sites are big on hosts and volunteers reviewing each other, so you get a pretty good idea of what you're getting into.There's also http://www.wwoof.org/ that has a worldwide network of small organic farms looking for hlp in exchange for lodging and meals. That site has been around for over 25 years and you could spend a lifetime exploring what's on there. As for me, I'm past the grape harvesting stage of my life and really don't want to find out how many baskets of olives I can pick in a morning. But there were decades when I was totally game, and maybe you are.
Now that I'm in Spain, I'm starting to use my http://www.couchsurfing.org/ membership to take little side trips and get to know some people who live here and love to show off their home city. So far I've had someone offer to take me traveling indefinitely but my visa doesn't allow for that so I'm working on going to Cordoba for 3 nights, instead. For last minute excursions I've been using youth hostels, of which there are literally thousands now. Used to be there was one in every city - now there are 5-10. And no, I'm not always the oldest person staying there - I have run across some 'well over forties' who still love backpacking and meeting people. In Madrid we were actually the majority.
Don't let anyone talk you into a fucking worldphone. Skype is amazing and I can even Skype from my Ipod Touch. I can use Skype to call a phone (anywhere in the world), too, by paying all of 2 cents/minute. And you can leave voice mails on Skype, too, so you're not limited to sitting around waiting for people to be online. I bought a Spanish cell phone because they were practically giving them away, and if you want to by train, bus or plane tickets online you usually need a phone number in the country where you're purchasing that ticket. I got a pay-as-you-go phone for something like $10 and I can receive calls and texts for free, so if anyone needs to get me ASAP they can. Also good to have if you're going out hiking alone, etc.
I also got a free, international texting number through the app TextNow. It never hurts to be available in lots of different ways in case you lose your phone or can't get online. Europe and free wifi are not in a love affair, and Americans will feel like they can't function if they're not in constant contact with several hundred people. My cell phone company at home (CREDO) - the Best Cell Phone Company Ever - also let me pause my service for 6 months, so my bill there isn't zero, but it's definitely quite reduced and no one's leaving me voicemails or texts and feeling ignored when I don't respond. The number won't work until I reactivate it.
There are a load of great apps for travel, too, so having an Ipod Touch is a great thing (thanks, Mom!). There are even several apps that tell you where to find free wifi wherever you are. Note that sometimes there really is no free wifi around town, but if you're desperate McDonald's and Starbucks have it. But at Starbucks it's only for 45 minutes and often slow, so you can't get much done in that time.
I know there's more, but that's the most important stuff about getting out of the US for an extended period even if you don't have a ton of money. Honestly, you learn a lot more when you don't, so there. Now get online and make tracks. Then tell me how you did it, please!
My main thing was renting my apartment - no big surprise here, that I used craigslist. Some people still don't use this site, so I have to mention it. The source of many magical happennings is definitely http://www.craigslist.org/. When using craigslist, I've always had great luck and I hope you will, too. Write your ad carefully if you're going to be subletting - make sure you communicate who you are in your ad - nothing worse than posting a generic ad and getting people who want a generic situation, i.e. a place they don't have to care about. If you're subletting your home, make sure you write the ad so that only people looking for an actual 'home' to lease will respond. My title was : Pergo-free zone! That way only people who give a crap about floors will call, and I don't have to worry about all the creeps who would put holes in my walls to put up posters for a stay of one semester.
Then of course I had to make sure I got a ticket - I was very lucky and had frequent flyer miles saved over a period of 20 years and a donation of miles from my Mom (thanks, Mom!) to make up the rest. I include this not to make you sad that you don't have 60,000 miles for a ticket, but to remind you that if you do have miles, to call and get your ticket over the phone. I tried and tried to make it work online and it was ridiculous how quickly they wanted 90,000 or even 120,000 miles for the ticket I got through a customer service rep for 60,000. It doesn't hurt to tell the rep you're using this ticket for a very special trip, so they get a little excited about helping you get there. And if your rep is in a bad mood, thank them for their help, say you need to talk to yourself about the dates, and call back to speak with someone else. There's always someone who'll think it's cool you're doing something besides business travel or going to Disney. Oh, and any big trip like to Europe or somewhere far should include a free layover on one leg. So I got to stop in NY and visit my family on the same ticket. They will not tell you this, you have to ask. Maybe you want to stop in Paris in the way to Berlin. It should be free.
Third most important thing - how can I get housing for free? Housing, unless you're going to South America or Asia, will kill a small budget. The miracle of the internet is that if you have a dream, so do a half million other people and someone's out there facilitating your dream for people like you. Sites that hook people up are generally great for making sure you won't be sold into slavery once you arrive. They check people's info, keep logs of all your communication through their site, and try to keep everyone safe. They also are big on peer comments, so you get to see what others have said about the place you're going and how it was to be there. I joined http://www.mindmyhouse.com/ for $25/year (or 2 yrs - can't recall). This site is British, and loads of British people have second homes in Spain, so there were lots of situations in the country I was headed to. The challenge is finding someone who's not just looking for a free caretaker/dogsitter. You may love dogs, but they can't be left for weekend excursions and you could end up stranded at home most of the time. In which case, write a book. About the dog. I was extremely lucky that there was a small retreat center looking for someone exactly like me, but there are new posts all the time and there's always something that might allow you to do someone a favor and still have flexibility.
I also joined http://www.workaway.info/ ($25/2 yrs) that hooks people up with volunteer opportunites where the host houses and feeds you in exchange for (usually) a half day of work, Mon-Fri. The obvious advantage of this is that you are living with people and therefore not alone in someone's remote villa burning up the youtube videos to entertain yourself and the dog. And I have to say that even though I opted not to do this there were a couple of opportunities that were just incredibly tempting. Learning from a horse whisperer? Helping a university professor with her computer skills and data entry? Helping with winter maintenance at breathtaking historic boutique hotels? There were many more that sounded truly fun, and you'd be linked to the community through your host. Down side on this was that mainly non-Spanish speakers use this site so you'd be speaking Spanish when you went out but probably not at home. A wonderful woman here in Andalucia who hosts work exchangers uses http://www.helpx.net/. Again, these sites are big on hosts and volunteers reviewing each other, so you get a pretty good idea of what you're getting into.There's also http://www.wwoof.org/ that has a worldwide network of small organic farms looking for hlp in exchange for lodging and meals. That site has been around for over 25 years and you could spend a lifetime exploring what's on there. As for me, I'm past the grape harvesting stage of my life and really don't want to find out how many baskets of olives I can pick in a morning. But there were decades when I was totally game, and maybe you are.
Now that I'm in Spain, I'm starting to use my http://www.couchsurfing.org/ membership to take little side trips and get to know some people who live here and love to show off their home city. So far I've had someone offer to take me traveling indefinitely but my visa doesn't allow for that so I'm working on going to Cordoba for 3 nights, instead. For last minute excursions I've been using youth hostels, of which there are literally thousands now. Used to be there was one in every city - now there are 5-10. And no, I'm not always the oldest person staying there - I have run across some 'well over forties' who still love backpacking and meeting people. In Madrid we were actually the majority.
Don't let anyone talk you into a fucking worldphone. Skype is amazing and I can even Skype from my Ipod Touch. I can use Skype to call a phone (anywhere in the world), too, by paying all of 2 cents/minute. And you can leave voice mails on Skype, too, so you're not limited to sitting around waiting for people to be online. I bought a Spanish cell phone because they were practically giving them away, and if you want to by train, bus or plane tickets online you usually need a phone number in the country where you're purchasing that ticket. I got a pay-as-you-go phone for something like $10 and I can receive calls and texts for free, so if anyone needs to get me ASAP they can. Also good to have if you're going out hiking alone, etc.
I also got a free, international texting number through the app TextNow. It never hurts to be available in lots of different ways in case you lose your phone or can't get online. Europe and free wifi are not in a love affair, and Americans will feel like they can't function if they're not in constant contact with several hundred people. My cell phone company at home (CREDO) - the Best Cell Phone Company Ever - also let me pause my service for 6 months, so my bill there isn't zero, but it's definitely quite reduced and no one's leaving me voicemails or texts and feeling ignored when I don't respond. The number won't work until I reactivate it.
There are a load of great apps for travel, too, so having an Ipod Touch is a great thing (thanks, Mom!). There are even several apps that tell you where to find free wifi wherever you are. Note that sometimes there really is no free wifi around town, but if you're desperate McDonald's and Starbucks have it. But at Starbucks it's only for 45 minutes and often slow, so you can't get much done in that time.
I know there's more, but that's the most important stuff about getting out of the US for an extended period even if you don't have a ton of money. Honestly, you learn a lot more when you don't, so there. Now get online and make tracks. Then tell me how you did it, please!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
What's new up here between Comares and Ventorros
Life has been busy up here on the mountain - I now have a neighbor and a housemate, and they have needs, and questions, and they want to chat. Of course they're up here to work so I see them in spurts when they come down desperate for conversation or just company and then when they feel like they can work again they go back to their cells - I mean, rooms. One is a poet and the other is a computer guy who wants to write more. Both lovely, both in Spain for long periods and up here to concentrate. No one told them I'm up here with the equally important mission of distracting them! Without them, you see, I can't really go much of anywhere, except for a walk, which I do. But if I want to go socialize in a tiny village I need a sidekick. So far I've gotten to have a couple of adventures with them as my social flying buttresses.
And I can go to Ruth's, in Ventorros. Ruth is the yoga teacher - today we had a yoga date and did a bunch of yoga, had lunch, and then I went to her afternoon yoga nidra class. It was someone's private class but she invited me to stay and you really have to be a fool to say no to yoga nidra. For the first time I didn't sleep at all! Made it all the way through, followed all the instructions - which made me realize why I'd always opted to fall asleep - it's kind of like work, yoga nidra. Especially if you are sleepy :) My classmate was a wonderful older English man who is just a peach - so sweet I could've died.
After all that yoga we walked back up here and had a few laughs over the petrified almond I found on the hillside. So far everyone I've told that I found a petrified almond thinks that "petrified" is the funniest thing they've ever heard. I guess Brits use "fossilized." I keep forgetting, and keep getting laughs. But then of course she was impressed with the actual petrified almond, because it is clearly a very impressive item. Ask anyone who's seen it.
I've been reading Graham Greene so much I get convinced I'm living in another time and place. But all of his times and places have to do with war, deep questions of ethics, and human limitations. My place right now is on this mountainside, covered each passing day in more and more wild thyme and lavender, punctuated by olive and blossoming almond trees, where really nothing serious whatsoever is presently going on nor shall go on anytime soon. Up here it's all about time. And it's on our side.
John doesn't believe me when I tell him I've been up to the village frequently, because I haven't met the "looky looky" lady. He swears it is impossible to get all the way to the supermarket without being intercepted by her with her "looky looky!" She sells oranges, limes, lemons, dried figs, local honey, almonds, avocados, fig loaf, etc. Soap. The stuff they grow and make up here. So yesterday, I went up to the supermarket with my new housemate to show him the village. Of course we stopped by the church, which is stunning. First of all it's bright, with whitewashed interior walls and the only dark is the dark brown of the vegas that run across the ceilings. The altar is a spectacular shade of green (so refreshing after the gaudy gold and dark wood and stone everywhere else). There are fresh flowers everywhere and the place is spotless. Beautiful statues of the usual suspects, but they're well lit, and consequently much less depressed looking than the same characters in the bigger institutions. And in Comares, there was an old woman in church (among a handful of elderly folk) dressed in a purple bathrobe with white stars all over it - she looked like a small virgen de Guadalupe. As we exited the church (after T. made a huge racket by stubbing his toe on one of the pews), the Guadalupe got up and followed us out. And just when I thought we're gonna get nailed for sightseeing in church during her morning prayers, she says, "looky looky! Come my house! Vendo fruta y almendras!" We were totally cornered. I tried to get out of it, but she got us to go back to her house and actually her stuff was great so we bought a ton and T. even went back today and got more.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Winter is over! I will now unfurl my hunched up shoulders and walk upright once more.
Thank god for the end of winter. Living in a big, stone house on the side of a mountain with four space heaters is uncomfortable. It was physically impossible to relax my shoulders for about 4 weeks - but yesterday and today I actually perspired while out walking, and it's 9pm and I've only just put on the thick wool socks which were previously only removed for washing. Nor do I need to wander around wrapped in a wool blanket anymore. Okay. I'm done with my relief dance.
I went to Sevilla last week for a few days, which was amazing. I did not know, for example, that Sevilla was the only port through which any and all goods from America went through for a couple of centuries. Or that bullfighting (boo) originated in Sevilla, or that the cathedral there is the 3rd largest in the world. Lastly, I did not know that the Archives of the Indies were there - an archive of over 80 million pages of documents sent between Spain and the New World. Unreal - and they let you go inside! That was a highlight for me. And the Alcazar, for which there are no words, unless you're Kahlil Gibran or some such eloquent poet. An enormous fort/palace dating from the days the Arabs ruled this part of Spain, and renovated and added on to for centuries by many rulers. I'm just going to say it - Arab design is SO MUCH PRETTIER than European design. There is absolutely no comparison between the styles - Arab design uses the negative space of the room, the entrance, the SKY - incorporating every aspect so harmoniously you really start to think you're in heaven. I remember that from when I went to Algeria in 1991 to visit Naman - their RUINS were more graceful than anything I'd ever seen. Turkish ruins, in Algiers, I believe. And tile should be a mandatory building material - makes everything not only gorgeous, but clean.
In Sevilla they also have a handful of vegetarians...which means a couple of vegetarian restaurants...I ate at one in the Plaza Alameda, that was fairly simple but the preparation of simple dishes was very, very good. The next day I ended up at the one that's only open Thurs-Sat. Wow. What a treat - very European, very beautiful, and quite healthy. It was one of those meals where you're glad you're alone so you don't have to hide the lust with which you eat. A pastel de verdura y papa in two sauces (one deep red, the other yellow (saffron?)). No morsel was safe at my table. It was nice that the chef/owner and the waiter seemed to be friends with everyone in there - I love places like that, that thrive even with weird hours because their clientele is so supportive. Dreamy.
I also got to go to the movies! I went to opening night of 'Primos' - a romantic comedy. It was that or Of Gods and Men (too serious for a solo traveler on holiday in Sevilla!). One thing that struck me was that the rating recommended this movie as inappropriate for children under the age of 7. Not one+seven (seventeen), but seven. The movie included a ton of vulgarity (blow job jokes are king, here), drug and alcohol abuse, a brothel. I didn't see any 8 year olds, but I do wonder what they're thinking making the distinction between 7 and 8. One is clearly a small child, and the other...is clearly a small child who can make jokes about bj's. I liked the movie - good moral to it and funny actors. Of course, as usual, only the men are allowed to be funny - women are either the butt of the joke or only appear in scenes with romance. Ah, world, please do get over your fucking self. Now! Why do people think women are some other species? We go through everything everyone else does, incuding war (usually as the victims of crimes society won't discuss because it's too harsh for women to talk about, even though we're the ones on the receiving end of almost all male sickness and vileness. I'm not trying to blow your mind, just reminding you how weird and stupid it is).
Had a great time at the youth hostel there - shared a room with a couple of French college students and there were a ton of long term people there who live in Sevilla at least part of the year. Fun place. I have to say that the youth hostel thing is good for me - I get a little anxious that I'm too old for these kids, and then I end up meeting a bunch of people and having a ball with them. Only at 10pm they go out, and I go to bed!
Sevilla was great, too, as a walking city - it's big (very) but you can walk almost everywhere, as it's flat and the sidewalks are decent. Another thing I love in Spain - the crosswalks are in a much smarter place than they are in the U.S. In the States, we put the crosswalks mainly at the corner, which is dangerous - here, they're maybe 20 feet from the corner, so there's much better visibility for people making a right on red, etc. So simple, so much better for peds and drivers alike. They also have rental bikes everywhere, that you can get a monthly subscription for and grab one whenever you need one, paying by the half hour you use them. And not expensive - probably runs a person about the same as a bus pass. Awesome...and there are separate bike paths and pedestrian paths, so cyclists aren't mowing down peds all the time.
That's some of my trip to Sevilla :)
I went to Sevilla last week for a few days, which was amazing. I did not know, for example, that Sevilla was the only port through which any and all goods from America went through for a couple of centuries. Or that bullfighting (boo) originated in Sevilla, or that the cathedral there is the 3rd largest in the world. Lastly, I did not know that the Archives of the Indies were there - an archive of over 80 million pages of documents sent between Spain and the New World. Unreal - and they let you go inside! That was a highlight for me. And the Alcazar, for which there are no words, unless you're Kahlil Gibran or some such eloquent poet. An enormous fort/palace dating from the days the Arabs ruled this part of Spain, and renovated and added on to for centuries by many rulers. I'm just going to say it - Arab design is SO MUCH PRETTIER than European design. There is absolutely no comparison between the styles - Arab design uses the negative space of the room, the entrance, the SKY - incorporating every aspect so harmoniously you really start to think you're in heaven. I remember that from when I went to Algeria in 1991 to visit Naman - their RUINS were more graceful than anything I'd ever seen. Turkish ruins, in Algiers, I believe. And tile should be a mandatory building material - makes everything not only gorgeous, but clean.
In Sevilla they also have a handful of vegetarians...which means a couple of vegetarian restaurants...I ate at one in the Plaza Alameda, that was fairly simple but the preparation of simple dishes was very, very good. The next day I ended up at the one that's only open Thurs-Sat. Wow. What a treat - very European, very beautiful, and quite healthy. It was one of those meals where you're glad you're alone so you don't have to hide the lust with which you eat. A pastel de verdura y papa in two sauces (one deep red, the other yellow (saffron?)). No morsel was safe at my table. It was nice that the chef/owner and the waiter seemed to be friends with everyone in there - I love places like that, that thrive even with weird hours because their clientele is so supportive. Dreamy.
I also got to go to the movies! I went to opening night of 'Primos' - a romantic comedy. It was that or Of Gods and Men (too serious for a solo traveler on holiday in Sevilla!). One thing that struck me was that the rating recommended this movie as inappropriate for children under the age of 7. Not one+seven (seventeen), but seven. The movie included a ton of vulgarity (blow job jokes are king, here), drug and alcohol abuse, a brothel. I didn't see any 8 year olds, but I do wonder what they're thinking making the distinction between 7 and 8. One is clearly a small child, and the other...is clearly a small child who can make jokes about bj's. I liked the movie - good moral to it and funny actors. Of course, as usual, only the men are allowed to be funny - women are either the butt of the joke or only appear in scenes with romance. Ah, world, please do get over your fucking self. Now! Why do people think women are some other species? We go through everything everyone else does, incuding war (usually as the victims of crimes society won't discuss because it's too harsh for women to talk about, even though we're the ones on the receiving end of almost all male sickness and vileness. I'm not trying to blow your mind, just reminding you how weird and stupid it is).
Had a great time at the youth hostel there - shared a room with a couple of French college students and there were a ton of long term people there who live in Sevilla at least part of the year. Fun place. I have to say that the youth hostel thing is good for me - I get a little anxious that I'm too old for these kids, and then I end up meeting a bunch of people and having a ball with them. Only at 10pm they go out, and I go to bed!
Sevilla was great, too, as a walking city - it's big (very) but you can walk almost everywhere, as it's flat and the sidewalks are decent. Another thing I love in Spain - the crosswalks are in a much smarter place than they are in the U.S. In the States, we put the crosswalks mainly at the corner, which is dangerous - here, they're maybe 20 feet from the corner, so there's much better visibility for people making a right on red, etc. So simple, so much better for peds and drivers alike. They also have rental bikes everywhere, that you can get a monthly subscription for and grab one whenever you need one, paying by the half hour you use them. And not expensive - probably runs a person about the same as a bus pass. Awesome...and there are separate bike paths and pedestrian paths, so cyclists aren't mowing down peds all the time.
That's some of my trip to Sevilla :)
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