Ninth Entry (Final) -- Conflicted

Well HOLY CRAP...this is it! My last blog entry of my adventures in Espagne. I fly back to Oregon a week from today. How the hell is it possible?! As I roll that question around in my brain and think back through all the stories and wonderful people I've had the incredible pleasure to spend time with, I suppose it makes sense I've nearly reached the end of my allotted 90 days. So much has happened that, quite honestly, I can't distinguish between it being 90 days or 290 days! I'm beyond grateful for this experience. I don't know how else to express my gratitude. 

Beautiful Valencia!

Since my last entry and descriptions of Cocentaina and the quiet solitude I've enjoyed in my country home, I've traveled a bit beyond this tiny pueblo to see more of what the south-eastern part of Spain offers. Thanks to my hostess, Amparo, working in Valencia during the week, one day I rode in with her and explored around. Valencia takes my breath away! Compared to Madrid, Seville and even Granada, Valencia is in a league of its own. For starters, it's nestled along the coastline, so there's a freshness in the air, and a young, lively spirit. Reminds me of towns along the California coast, like Santa Barbara or San Louis Ibisbo. Valencia is clean, easy to navigate, modern, warm, and well, just down-right pretty. I'll wait and let my photos do most of the talking, but to give a flavor of the spirit and beauty there, the central part of the city is surrounded by what was once an old river. But the river now has been replaced by expansive gardens, monuments, and recreational centers...sort of a hub for nature, culture, and community activity a la New York's Central Park. And naturally, a place like this draws a fair amount of wealthy people, so the city has a certain degree of palatable affluence too. This lil ol' gal from podunk Oregon went nuts taking pictures of the high-class apartment buildings and store window displays. I also couldn't resist climbing to the top of a medieval-period gateway tower to overlook the city from above. 

And speaking of climbing, I've also since made the trek up the hillside directly across from my house to Cocentaina's 14th century castle. I see it from my window every day, and now I've seen the opposite view from high above on the other side. The hike itself was actually quite easy. Just some steep paths to climb. And the views were spectacular! Who knew I would come to Spain and discover such a passion for seeking out towering vistas and mountain overlooks. I must find a way to continue that back home. Friends...I beg you to share all your favorite climbs and viewpoints.

Made it to the top - Cocentaina's Castle

Another day found me in a nearby historic town called Bocairent, around the other side of the mountain from Cocentaina. Amparo and Eduardo suggested I see firsthand the ancient formation of the village's buildings. WOW! I wasn't prepared for its charm! There's a section of the town (the historic section) where the buildings and homes are stacked like a Jenga puzzle along the embankments of the town's river canyon. The sight of these buildings across the canyon stops you in your tracks because of its unique and picturesque beauty. Then, once inside the maze of buildings, you follow along the 'Ruta Magica' (Magic Route) through quaint, winding rock paths dotted with old walls and pottery artwork. It truly is poetic and magical! I'm just bummed I didn't get to visit during the normal, warm season. Planing a trip to Spain??? Do NOT miss the tiny, gorgeous medieval towns like Bocairent!

With that said, I'm realizing as I write about these brief outings, they've become fewer and farther between. The truth is, with the few exceptions I've just mentioned, I'm not as taken as I once was by the quaint, European streets and cultural differences here. Spain doesn't feel quite as foreign and exotic as it did three months ago. And I'm no longer wandering about as much taking photos and marveling at the scenery. It has started to feel "normal" now. Many things feel normal, like making my morning coffee in the small stove-top pot, automatically greeting people with a friendly 'Hola' or "Buenos Dias" and hanging my clothes out on the line. For the past few weeks, I've gotten more enjoyment out of simply hanging out with my house friends drinking wine and speaking 'Spanglish', looking at homes in the countryside or riding out to a buddy's new fixer-upper to help with yard work. I still feel like a foreigner in Spain, but I'm not a tourist anymore.   

Medieval town of Bocairent - stacked village

And well, there's another thing. As I began to settle in, sightseeing, studying Spanish, and enjoying a little solitude in the country gave way to something else...a husky Welsh accent and sparkling pair of blue eyes. With mere days to go before coming back home, I've met someone who makes getting on a plane and flying thousands of miles away from here seem like the worst idea imaginable. Dammit!! uh oh -- there it is. Cat's outta the bag now. And I'm afraid from here on this blog will cease to describe mountain hikes, ancient castles and all the other trials and tribulations of traveling in Spain. Nope. Now the floodgates are open and what follows will be nothing but the gooey, gushy, sugary musings of unicorns and rainbows. The true romantics in the room with interest in such personal details are invited to read on. The rest of ya'll should probably just give up now. Turn off the computer and back away slowly. [shrugging] sorry :-)

Taking a giant leap towards lunacy now in revealing that, in fact, I may have fallen in love. Shut up! Stop laughing at me! Yeah, yeah, I know. I remember how many people warned me about this. You girls chided me before leaving that I'd meet some handsome stranger and get whisked off into the sunset. Well, I'm not gonna lie, and I don't wanna hide it. An incredible man has stepped into my life...what can I say? He's swept me off my feet. He's brilliant. He's funny. He's romantic. He's insanely musical and talented. He laughs heartily and touches passionately. He dreams big and creates even bigger. And also, because he's Welsh (hhmm...a slight twist in the plot), he's got a fantastic dry wit, clever expressions, and an edgy 'bad-boy' appeal that's evident from coming of age during the 80s punk scene in the UK. It's just too irresistible! sigh. Oh, and his name is Huw.

Along the beach in Oliva - or...the Oregon Coast?

We've spent nearly every minute of the last couple of weeks together and have gotten to know each pretty well. The hikes and exploring and touring small, romantic villages I described above were all done with him and it's been awesome having someone to share it with. (Dare I mention, in a giggly moment of bliss and exhaustion, we took photos of the upper walls and ceilings given that was the view we seemed to have been seeing the most of! tee hee hee) But seriously, this is big. It feels big. We've talked late into the night, many nights, about what happens next. What the hell do we do now? Truth is...I don't know. I don't have an answer. WE don't have an answer. How can we or anybody know for certain what to do about something like this. The stakes are so high and the distance is so long. I'll be honest, he wants me to tear up my plane ticket and stay here with him. He's buying a villa overlooking the ocean and says it'd be wonderful to have someone (ME!) to share it with. A VILLA!!! IN SPAIN!!!! OVERLOOKING THE OCEAN!!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME???!!!!

So am I simply caught up in the romance of the ancient buildings, olive groves and the brilliance of the Mediterrean skies? Probably. Yeah, for sure. Make no mistake...I'm all too aware of the implications of the proverbial "cloud nine" that there's a certain amount (hell, a GIANT amount) of non-reality at work here. Who wouldn't get swept up by the sort of late-night, wine-induced, giddy, romantic day-dreaming of running off and traveling the world with someone, who in that moment is seeming like the answer to everything you've ever dreamed about...I mean, come on...this is the stuff of music and literature and art!

It's no secret that the main reason I took this trip was to do a bit of emotional "recovery" from the challenges in my life over the last couple of years...living with and caring for my grandmother, then of course, ultimately going through the divorce with Steve. Such things leave a mark on a person and, well, I needed to clear my head before I felt I could move forward into the next chapter. Now how ironic is it that near the end, as I've started to feel a swell of excitement to come home, get reacquainted with my friends and family, look for a job and a place to live, that I would meet somebody who's turned everything I was expecting upside-down and is now causing me to question where in this world, in fact, do I actually belong. I suppose I've reached the point where I was ready to open up to somebody again. The pain and loss I've gone through has lessoned enough that it can begin to be replaced again by joy and passion and...and...love. 

Thanksgiving with my Spanish family
Sandy, Amparo, Eduardo & Huw

Much of what I'm feeling reminds me a lot of the weeks before leaving La Grande. I was terribly conflicted leaving there as well. As now Spain and the arms of this man have begun to feel like home, so too did La Grande and my friends and the community there felt the same.  So, uhm, yeah...what DO I do now? I have my friends. I have my dog. I have my boys. And I have a much, much needed desire to figure out how to make my own lot in this world. I've never, since I was 18 and married my first husband, been on my own to make my own decisions, have my own place, invest myself in my career. And I wouldn't be my mother's daughter if I didn't have a healthy dose of independence in me, not to mention a wee bit 'o cynicism about relationships. Amparo and Eduardo have been giving us a lot of shit actually. The teasing is relentless, and they're enjoying every second of it. They're insisting that he's coming home with me for Christmas. Is it possible I might bring more home from Spain than gifts and souvenirs??

Let me take a quick moment to say how grateful I am to everyone in my life who's supported this trip and followed along in my blog: my mom and dad, of course, who have supported me in this adventure and shared enthusiastically in all of my stories and experiences -- it's no stretch to say a fair amount of their adventurous spirit and curiosity coarses through my veins and makes this journey possible; my awesome, incredible, wonderful, responsible, I-couldn't-be-prouder boys who gave me strength to make this trip by their very nature of having come into their own and proven to me on many levels that they're self-sufficient and perfectly capable of living their lives now without parental guidance (what more could a mother ask for?); my beautiful and fabulous girlfriends who by their spirit, grace, beauty, intelligent, inspiration and humor have given me the most encouragement -- it's been their words and memories of the love I have for them that kept me going when things got a little scary and I lost the courage to face the next obstacle in this foreign land; and all my other friends and relatives who've taken time to drop me a note, say hi, and told me they've enjoyed reading this silly thing.

I hope everyone who's taken time (sometimes, a LOT of time, I know) to read this blog, understands that I had to keep a record for myself. It's given me a chance to marvel, to joke, to share, and to process. And throughout it all, my sole intention was to be authentic and hide nothing. That's really all it's ever been for me. And, well, frankly, that's a new experience for me. It's not something I'm used to. But putting these words down and watching them stare back at me has been a tremendous exercise in reaching that point where I can share my deepest thoughts and laugh at myself for all that this trip has been. And writing about it all has been an absolute blast!! Thanks for reading. :-)

Eighth Entry -- Country Living

Outside my new home are olive trees. Lots and LOTS of olive trees. Their branches are dripping with olives. Since it's late November, most of the olives are turning color. Spainards typically harvest them in December by shaking the trees and either preserving/canning them to eat or taking them to a local refinery where they're pressed (with other olives from local residents) into oil. If I'm lucky and still here when the olive harvest takes places, I'll get to help out with the 4-day long party. They tell me I'll need a few days afterward to recover. HA! I think they said something about 3 hours of daily work, and 10 hours of eating and drinking during the event. But I digress...my point is, there are no hotels nearby. Motorbikes are not whizzing along. The nearest tapas bar is some distance away. But from my windows I can see a few pomegranate bushes, a couple of bubbling creeks, and enormous hillsides all around. I'm in the country. And it's stunningly gorgeous! Uh, ok, well...on second thought...let me retract that. The small, coastal town of Mojacar I visited a few days before coming here was stunningly gorgeous -- white-washed buildings along the rocky coastline with WIDE sandy beaches, blue sky and that smooth, Mediterranean ocean. OH! MY! GOODNESS! uh yeah...THAT was stunningly gorgeous! But the terrain I'm in now is quite pretty in a different sort-of way. To my Eastern Oregon friends and family, the landscape here is similar -- dry, arid surroundings encircled by a low-lying mountain range, sparsely dotted with evergreens and orchard farms. 

Amparo's & Eduardo's villa (I'm next door)

This morning, like most mornings, the sky is a brilliant blue and the wind is blowing fairly rapidly. The casa I'm renting (or was moved to actually...someone else got the rooms I had rented, and the owners thought I'd prefer their other rental just across the property) is perched about 2 miles above the nearest "pueblo" of Cocentaina, which itself is nestled at the base of a large hill (like so many other small towns). There are remnants of an ancient castle on top of that hill above the town. I can see the castle directly across from my windows. And don't doubt it...I will definitely hike up there soon. Damn straight! Cocentaina itself is pretty small. It reminds me a little bit of Canby or maybe Silverton (a bit bigger than Elgin). Not much goes on there. Just the sort-of typical, small-town life that I've seen in any other place this size. You can feel the "everybody-knows-your-business" community vibe in the air. I've been walking the couple of miles from my rental to the town for groceries and to familiarize myself with the area. What a contrast from Granada and the other cities I've visited so far! And I love it! Now I *really* feel like I'm getting a sense of what living in Spain is like. It was almost just a tad cliché the first time I walked to the town and passed a woman alongside the road with a herd of sheep grazing in a nearby pasture.

A town like Cocentaina is steeped in history. From a brochure I picked up in the main square, I learned that the oldest known archaeological origin remains date back 40,000 years! Holy cow! At the end of the 11th century, Cocentaina was the capital of a large Islamic region. And then, like other areas of Spain and Europe in general, there's a long timeline where one group conquers another group and religions battle for territory and yada-yada-yada (I read also that, at one point, Muslims from Granada attacked and burned the village of Cocentaina -- yikes!). And so with all that history and the various buildings and structures that remain, it's interesting to observe how people in present times incorporate that history into their modern lives. My favorite example is how people collect water from the ancient fountains. I've seen this many places here. Most towns (at least in southern Spain near mountain ranges) have large, outdoor fountains created centuries ago for funneling water from the mountains into the villages. The water flows continuously down into the fountains then out from a spout of sorts as clear and fresh as you can imagine. To this day, people use these fountains to get fresh water. I love watching people carry large, plastic water bottles up to the old fountains then filling the bottles with the fresh water. Lovely! And so ecological (which incidentally Spain is embracing quite rapidly -- recycling centers and organic markets are everywhere.) 

Farmers Market - see the castle above?

Last week I went to the farmers market! YAY! Finally!! Rows and rows and rows of vendors lined the old plaza, bordered by a massive, 14th century, Gothic-renaissance style palace that set the stage beautifully. I'm sure the old plaza is the same location where a market, of this sort, has been held for centuries. I walked around eyeing the most incredible fresh fruits, vegetables, dried nuts, olives and flowers (oh, and many vendors selling cheap, crappy imported clothing too, but we won't talk about that!). But with the fresh produce...I was in heaven! And everyone I talked with was so friendly. "Quieres probar?" They'd ask. "Do you want to try?" And they'd hand out a slice of peach or clementine or smoked tuna. MMMmmmm!! I had a total blast going around, tasting the yummies, and practicing my Spanish. Oh yeah...another great advantage to being in Cocentaina...a slower, friendlier, safer pace for the practice I've been needing! I'm sure I killed all their poor ears, but I got through it none-the-less. (And BTW Jackie & Marcia: no, they didn't have an outdoor coffee stand from what I saw. Doria's would be MOST welcomed here I'm sure! :-)

Alright, so before I get too carried away and paint this picture of wandering about in a cotton dress, carrying a basket of fresh produce, living in a stucco, grass-roofed adobe with people strolling by on mules...let me clarify that the area is also very modern with a huge American influence. First off, there's no cotton dress. Oh no! More like my Columbia ski jacket. It's quite cold here now. Woke up to snow the other day! Also, my rental itself is quite contemporary. It has a loft design with floor-to-ceiling windows and new, mostly digital, appliances (took me nearly 30 minutes to figure out how to run the damn stove!). Except for a few antiques, which give the place an artsy, eclectic style, the furnishings are primarily Ikea. LOL! And behind me right now is a cool, impressionistic painting that I think the owner did himself. A few days ago, my romanticized ideals of this quaint little village with its ancient fountains and hilltop castle were squashed slightly when I discovered the MASSIVE Wal-mart-esque supermarket on the other side of town. Talk about eery! I'd been wondering what the large, space-age-looking structure was to the west of the village, below the castle and above my view of the olive trees. Imagine Wal-mart, Costco and Target combined and decked out in a pre-holiday frenzy. But where all the hanging, promotional signs and price stickers are in Spanish! I felt like I'd suddenly been transported back home, but got stuck in a weird twilight zone between Spain and the U.S. -- sigh! 

Mi casa en el campo!!!

Since there's not nearly as much to do here as there was in Granada, I'm spending more time inside...writing, cooking, admiring the views, trying to stay warm, studying Spanish, and listening to local radio. I don't watch much television as there are no English-speaking stations here, and honestly, there's only so much figuring-out-what-they're-saying that I can take. But the radio stations are cool and cover a helluva range of music genres. I hear "traditional sounding" mellow tunes, modern pop, rap! (which is really funny in Spanish), folksy -- almost "bluegrass-y" -- tunes (also very strange to hear in Spanish), with an occasional (old) American number thrown in for good measure -- such as, Crystal Gayle's 'Don't it Make My Brown Eyes Blue' and CCR's 'Heard it Through the Grape Vine' -- HA! (oh and for Riley & Alyssa, I've been hearing the 'Cups' song from Pitch Perfect, also in Spanish! LOL)

But I suppose my favorite part about this place is having met my hosts, Amparo and Eduardo. If you don't already know this story, I found my rental online through a website called 'airbnb'. As I was planning this trip, I wanted to travel around some, but also wanted to experience the culture, so I decided to base myself in two main areas: a city and a small town. It was only by searching airbnb and seeing Amparo's photos that I located this rental and found Cocentaina. Amparo and Eduardo own and rent the space and live onsite as well. In fact, I thought I'd be sharing their home (with my own, separate entrance), but as I mentioned earlier, someone else (a British guy named Huw) has it instead and I've ended up in their other, smaller house next door. These two are absolute characters! They're both Spanish and have a very warm, hospitable, open-spirited, "we-swim-naked-in-our-pool-and-love-art-history" sort of southern European energy about them. FANTASTIC people!

Snow covered Cocentaina - WOW!

My first night here, Amparo picked me up from the bus station, then brought me to the house and whisked me inside where they started pouring the wine and bringing out the food. There was salami and bread and olives and pickled capers, followed by Eduardo's grilled, wild mushrooms ("setas") and homemade traditional Spanish omelet. OMG! I also met their husky dog, Bly, adorable puppy, Oly, and their four outoodr 'gatos' (plus a funny little stray dog that's been haning around that they think might be pregnant). My eyes darted in a thousand directions taking in their VERY cool, artsy, country villa. Wild, funky paintings and prints hang on every wall, which are painted in rich, vibrant reds, blues, and pinks. A giant, twisted old tree branch hangs overhead in the living room and from that hangs a 40s-era brass chandelier, making the contrast really unique and creative. There's a big, brick fireplace with a beautiful arched design, but it's filled with old books (as is most every other surface in the space), and instead, they use a wood stove to heat the room and grill the occasional slice of meat. And in the center of the seating area is a round table on wheels that allows them to gather around, huddle up close, drink, eat, smoke, talk and laugh for hours. Which is exactly what we did! (And since then, there's been more fun around that table with them and a slew of friends that come by to visit...but I'll save those stories for another time.) But on that first night, through a lively mixture of my broken Spanish and their broken English (although Eduardo's English is pretty good), we got to know each other and our lives. "Make yourself at home!" They kept saying. "You have no obligations here." "If you need anything, please ask." Their hospitality was endless..."and here, have another glass of wine!"  

Seventh Entry -- Adios to Granada

Palace and Generalife Gardens at The Alhambra 

"A mi me encanta la ciudad de Granada!" I ADORE the city of Granada! It's been everything I hoped it would be. I remember back when I was first researching where I wanted to stay in Spain and finally settled on this town. People have asked why...well...for MANY reasons: location is one -- it's in the southern region, but still centralized to other interesting places; climate is another -- warm, but not too hot (and even though it's gotten fairly chilly now, I can't help brag a little that today was about 75); sights and historical significance -- the Alhambra and Moorish quarter of the Albaycin alone have been worth the trip; and most importantly (for me anyway) is Granada's proximity to the Sierra Nevada mountains! My hikes have definitely been some of my best memories. Ask just about anybody around here and they say Granada is magical. It totally is! Can't believe I've been here nearly two months. The time has flown by! And yet, seems like I've covered an awful lot of ground. 

My favorite plaza - note the groups of old men on benches

It's no stretch to say I've hoofed it around just about every inch of this city. Well, maybe except for the furthest, most outlying areas. But even those I've passed through by bus. I've seen the touristy and the local, the lookouts and the valleys, the modern and the old. When I think about my first day here, dripping with sweat and 'barumpting' around the cobblestones, dreadfully lost, it's amazing to me now how long I've been walking around without a map. And when I head out of town or go away to visit another city, it feels like home coming back to this tiny flat on Callejón de Pavañeras. If I were to ever get the chance to come back, maybe even to live here longer and possibly work, I'd choose Granada for sure. No wonder this place is filled with so many ex-pats.

Now allow me to dust off the Pollyanna a wee bit and admit the fact that I'm also quite homesick. The novelty of all this has worn off some, and, well, I guess I've hit that part of the journey where being this far away starts to take a toll. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss my boys. I miss a comfortable bed. I miss a decent shower. I miss carpet (have I mentioned the floor in my flat is all tile -- and no rugs). I miss Thai food. I miss OPB. I miss hair color. I miss a clothes dryer. I miss my dog -- really, REALLY miss my dog.

Tiled entry in Albaycin - it's everywhere!

Please don't think me a whiny-ass. Of course I'm uber-lucky to be here and having the most amazing experience. Just being honest. It's only natural. Perhaps some of this homesickness is in part because, as I write this, massive construction is going on in the two adjoining apartments. Workers in the flat to my right are in their third (maybe fourth) week of replacing pipes and remodeling the kitchen wall (even poor Kristie had to contend with the noise during her stay). And now, workers in the flat to my left (the one Amy was in before she left) are replacing the bathtub with a new shower. My own walls are vibrating with the sounds of jackhammering, plaster scrapping, pounding, saws-all buzzing, and the universal characteristics of construction workers shouting to each other over the noise. AAYYYYEEEEEE-CAARRUMMBBBAAA!!! O-M-G!!! What rotten luck!! I've watched and listened helplessly as other neighbors have stormed up to complain. Gloria, the neighbor I had the run-in with over my AC, threw a huge fit about the noise. Is it bad that I kind of enjoyed watching her and the worker argue about the situation, yelling back and forth at each other? I've called my own landlady. But to no avail. There's not much that I or any of us can do. The construction continues, and, apparently, by law it can.

So with that I'm forced to buck up and overlook a few "real-life" pains in the ass about my stay here in Granada...in spite of all the things I wrote (and meant) at the start of this blog. I suppose I've gotten used to the lingering stench of garbage and cigarettes that hang in the air, people walking straight towards you without bothering to move, and the ever-present mounds of dog shit that litter the streets. I guess these things help appreciate the other beauty even more. And at least the construction wasn't happening during my first few weeks here. That would NOT have been cool!

Student protesters - Granada's a BIG college town

Tomorrow I leave to experience a different side of Spain; a rural side. After a short, three-day detour in the coastal town of Mojacar with my new internet friend, I'll travel to a tiny village called Cocentaina (of which my first goal will be to learn how to pronounce it!). **Dad, as you're trying to locate it, look north of the east-coast city, Alicante, and west a bit from Benidorm (both of which I plan to visit). I've got a house rented in the country...well, not the entire house. A couple lives there and rents out the lower level. I'll have my own entry and kitchen though. The photos look fantastic! Compared to Granada, it will be infinitely more remote. There'll be fewer people and fewer attractions. But I'll also have fewer distractions and more downtime to hopefully make some serious headway on my book. Not sure yet how I'll get around. Maybe on foot. Maybe by bike. I'll figure something out. I'm looking forward to the new scenery, roommates to help with my Spanish, and...the Mediterranean coast!

With luck, a fresh attitude, and no more jackhammering, I'm sure my bout with homesickness will diminish. So hasta luego, Granada...or as the locals say -- "haa lu-EGG-o" 

13th century gateway to the Moorish Quarter

Sixth Entry -- Kristie's Visit

Up til now, I've mostly written about my experiences living alone in a foreign country...navigating around, dining out, learning the language, meeting strangers. But this last week, my wonderful and amazing friend, Kristie, came to visit. What a difference having a traveling companion makes! 

Mi companera, Kristie!

We started the week in Madrid (Spain's largest city). Logistically that made sense. She could fly into the city, and I could easily take the train up there from Granada. I wanted to see Madrid anyway while I was in Spain. How much better it would be with a friend. She made arrangements for a rental (quick side note...if you're traveling any time soon, check out airbnb.com -- FANTASTIC website for booking rooms and apartments that ordinary people rent out. It's how I landed both places I'm using during my stay here). Anyway, after only a couple minor issues getting to the apartment (a slight communication problem with our muy guapo landlord, Ulysis, and figuring out how to navigate the busy metro and streets of Madrid), we set out to explore. Didn't have much of a plan. Instead we preferred to wander about and see whatever was around the next corner. Although, since Madrid is SUCH a huge city, we did agree to buy a 2-day pass for the open-air tour bus so we could at least get our bearings and see more of what we could on foot. We were glad we did. Mainly cuz that allowed us to focus our attentions on a few key areas and not get overly exhausted.

Thankfully we shared an appreciation for the unexpected, spontaneous surprises that make for some of the best travel stories. We hadn't been in the city more than a few hours when, while strolling up near the Royal Palace, we saw several people gathered around taking photos of something over on a hillside in the nearby park. Turns out they were all watching a very amorous (and not-so-shy) couple going at it in the grass! And when I say "going at it" we're talking, white naked butt in the air, legs flailing, sort of activity -- welcome to Europe, Kristie! Oh, and the Royal Palace was cool too.

A gorgeous day in Plaza Major

Another great moment, which honestly happened in a flash and we couldn't fully appreciate until later when we got more information, was getting "photo-bombed" (as Kristie cleverly called it) outside of Plaza Major. We were walking into a very busy and lively alleyway and decided to snap a few pictures of the scene and arched entry behind us. Watching us take pictures, off to the side, was a large table of men having coffee. Just as one of them offered to take our photo together, two more men in soccer jerseys walked by. Suddenly, all the guys at the table jumped up, yelled "Malaga!" grabbed the two jersey-clad men, and pulled them into the photo with us. A few more people saw the commotion and joined in. The result was a fantastic picture (on Kristie's phone, which I haven't gotten my copy of yet, so I can't include it) of about 10 of us, grinning and laughing, in front of the archway. Later we saw the Malaga team tour bus and learned that there'd been a big game that weekend. The two guys in our photo, in fact, were well-known professional soccer players! 

Reina Sofia Museum of Modern Art
(note the big poster of rat and panda!)

Shortly after taking that photo, Kristie chatted up an older couple inside the Plaza (who had also heard the commotion and wondered what happened). They had just completed the 800 km walk in northern Spain, called The Camino de Santiago. This is a famous pilgrimage made by thousands of people each year and depicted in a wonderful movie with Martin Sheen, called "The Way" (which she and I watched with friends in La Grande before this trip). How cool to talk with this couple! SO inspiring! Afterwards, Kristie and I agreed we should make The Camino our next adventure -- ha!....(so, Marcia & Jackie & Will if you're reading this, start planning...cuz you are coming with us!!)

Oh look - La Grande!

Of all the "must-see" sights in Madrid, we agreed not to miss Pablo Picasso's famous Guernica mural in the Reina Sofia modern art museum. Kristie, herself, is a mural artist (you are, Kristie, don't deny it!) and I was going off the advice from my new friend, Amy, in Granada not to miss it. I'll let this Wikipedia site tell you more about it if you're interested (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guernica_(painting)), but bottom line, this was a chance to see a modern masterpiece about one of the worst acts of violence (the bombing of Guernica during the Spanish civil war) in the 20th century. At first, we bopped around the museum, giggling like a couple of junior high girls at what was being called "art" in this museum. "I guess we're not hip enough to get it," said Kristie when we by-passed the 'old-TVs-on-top-of-filing-cabinets' exhibit on the 4th floor. Which was to be totally upstaged by the 'Minima Resistencia' exhibit -- a room housing (I shit you not) a rat and a panda sleeping on the floor (you could watch them breathing) while a movie of the two of them (aka men in bad costumes) capturing a live pig played on a big screen overhead. Kristie snuck a picture. We laughed so hard we could hardly stand it! The very serious guard woman was not amused. But once down to the 2nd floor, my bestie and I got tuned in. This was home to paintings by Salvidor Dali as well as Pablo Picasso, among many others of course. I wasn't prepared for how much I would enjoy this art. We had great fun comparing artists, discussing compositions, and picking out favorites. Once we finally came to the Guernica, we really took time to appreciate it. Like the moment I got to see The Mona Lisa years ago, I won't forget seeing a giant Picasso masterpiece in person.  

After nearly 3 days together in a large, international city, we both needed a little alone time. So while Kristie did her own thing, I went seeking my new passion...adventures in heights...and climbed up to the observation deck of the Palacio de Cibeles Centrocentro for a 360 degree view of the city. It didn't disappoint! And the sun was just starting to set, casting a pretty spectacular array of colors above the hundreds of buildings throughout the city. (When I get home and I'm forcing you to look at all my photos and you find yourself wondering, 'why does she have so many pictures from high viewpoints?' Sorry. It's my new obsession.)

Without question, there's something about two single, middle-aged, fun-loving (BLONDE) women traveling alone together that automatically translates to: "Why yes, boys, please approach us. Talk to us. Buy us drinks. Yes, of course, we'd love that!" Geez-Louise!! I guess the good ol 'come-on' is pretty universal. So, in no particular order, with no particular significance, and without giving away too many (ahem) details...we made the acquaintance of:

Spanish boys know how to show a good time

--Mustaf (who we later kept calling 'Mufassa') the former chef (and current janitor??) who invited us to his place (?? his restaurant?? not sure...quite a language barrier here) to cook us couscous and (we think) meet his restaurant friends (we didn't...that one's my fault...too paranoid I guess; sorry Kristie!) 

--a group of men from various European countries (mainly Switzerland) in the so-called "karaoke bar" -- which turned out to be a lame keyboard set-up with an old guy passing around a microphone while he pounded out some kind of polka/marching band tunes for people to sing along with (imagine my disappointment!)

--the three Brazilians who were VERY happy to openly and "honestly" tell us they were married -- in Brazil -- but NOT married in Spain! "I have three wives!" One of them bragged to me, while handing me a glass of wine and sheepishly passing me his business card. 

--the (much older) group of Hungarian men and their (Hungarian? Spanish?) Seth Rogan look-a-like tour guide who were quick to (again!) buy us a drink and share how many wives they had back home (hhhmmm)

--Alvado and his band of funny-pants-wearing Spanish musician friends. We first saw them practicing on a street corner then later found ourselves surrounded by them and about a dozen more friendly, Spanish party-goers (along with their much older, and slightly creepy, operatic mentor). Imagine the two of us, at a small table in a tiny cave-like bar, suddenly being serenaded by a large group of singers with guitars and other stringed instruments! (Actually, I think an accordion player popped up too). We had no clue what they were playing, but it didn't matter...everyone was laughing, singing, clapping along. We couldn't believe this was happening! It was like a scene from a movie and became, by far, the week's best memory!

In Madrid, we also met:

Seeking heights and a sunset over Madrid

--Jorge, the adorable, brown-eyed helper behind the tourist office counter (oh? you say you have a house near the town where I'll be staying next....really??)

--the two doormen and maitre de at the Sobrino del Botin restaurant, hailed as "the oldest restaurant in Europe" (This was not a friendly meeting. I mention it only because if you or any of your friends visit Madrid, do NOT give this place any business! They were INCREDIBLY rude to us. Treated us like prostitutes. We couldn't believe how they spoke to us. Don't go there!!) 

Then later, in Granada:

--a friendly dump truck driver who blew us kisses while stopped at a traffic light and motioned to offer us a ride to the nearest bar (we didn't...probably a good idea)

--Carlos, the smug (and much too young) smart-ass waiter at the vegetarian teteria who invited us to join him and his buddies at the local hot springs (nope, didn't pull the trigger on that one either)

--Josef and Tarik the multi-lingual (and highly educated) Moroccan gents who flagged us down and wanted to practice speaking English with us, while also helping with our Spanish...drinks, tapas, and a lesson in swear words at a fun little bar ensued.

--Francisco, our sweet n shy, Irish pub karaoke partner-in-crime, who answered some of our burning questions about Spanish people and walked us safely back to our apartment.

Granada Cathedral - Kill the Rabbit!

--and finally, Wayne and Tony, the British ex-pats and our hiking tour guides who treated us to a FANTASTIC trip into the Sierra Nevadas (with a handful of other hikers as well), a tasty meal of pork elbow and vegetable crepes (yes, I said Pork Elbow!), and a couple more brews and stories afterwards (in fairness to them -- they weren't trying to pick us up -- Tony is a buddy I've befriended since being here and he was nice enough to let us join along in the hike).

My apologies to the traveling gods for butchering and not remembering the names of half the people we met. Nor could I hope to even pronounce them if I could. At one point Kristie and I joked we maybe should have kept a log.

After Madrid, Kristie joined me back in Granada. I felt bad for my lack of space and the uncomfortable futon for her to sleep on, but we made do and spent the next four days in my "home town." Our first night we bellied up to a jug of sangria in an overly touristy, overly priced terrace cafe. But what the hell! We were in Spain -- "estamos aqui!" -- so we did it up right! We talked about Madrid. Talked about home. And talked about all the people walking by. Oh man we had LOTS of fun people watching...not just that night but for the entire week! How they dressed. How they acted. How they looked at us. How they talked to each other (yes, they were the quiet ones and WE were the loud ones -- go figure!). How they all had funny little dogs. Oh and look...another daddy pushing a stroller. blah blah blah blah blah -- cackle cackle cackle -- point point point. You can surely imagine the two of us drinking wine, gabbin' and people watching. Didn't get much better than that! :-)

Flamenco intensity!!

I can't speak for her, but the highlight for me was showing off this place I've fallen in love with. It's awesome discovering things together and sharing spontaneous moments, but it was also cool watching her experience, with new eyes, the sights I've already seen. We walked around the Plaza Nueva, up to the Albayzin and Sacromonte quarters, and around the shopping districts. She toured the Alhambra and gave me a reason to finally go into the Cathedral (I'm not a big fan of such triumphantly garish, historical, religious structures, but she had tickets, so I decided to check it off the list. Once inside the enormous building with giant, imposing columns and gilded ceilings, which eerily represent the destructive take-over by Christian conquerors, Kristie started bellowing the Loony Tunes classic "Kill the Rabbit, Kill the Rabbit" -- perfectly FUNNY!) 

Something I hadn't done yet and was waiting for her visit to see was the traditional Flamenco music and dancing that's revered in the southern part of Spain. We went to La Chien Andalou, a teeny-weeny, hole-in-the-wall cave space with teeny-weeny tables and chairs and a teeny-weeny stage for the musicians and dancer. (This place would never fly in the States, we said...no fire marshall would allow it.) Over (another) jug of sangria, we watched the very impressive guitar player and his young, wailing, bleach-blonde gypsy songstress. "AAAAHHHH---YYYAAAHHHH--AAAAHHHHHYYYAAA" she shrilled (just ask -- Kristie and I will gladly perform it for you). Then came the beautiful, smokey-eyed dancer with her black, laced dress and flaming red flamenco shoes. Wow! She was something! At times she'd sway her arms in a poetic, bird-like fashion and snap her fingers like rapid castanets. Other times, she'd hold perfectly still, quickly moving her feet in the intense tradition of the Flamenco. (I got videos. Just ask and I'll show ya those too!)

Cave dwellings in the Sacramonte

There are plenty more stories to tell, but I can't possibly write about them all. (And my dad is already giving me crap for my lengthy blogs). You'll simply have to take me or Kristie out for a beer to hear more. (Just don't forget to ask about the androgynous flamenco dancer and platter of ham!)

So I'll just wrap up here and say all in all, Kristie was a total blast to travel with! She's so open to people and new experiences. Her curiosity, spontaneity and quick wit was contagious. Plus, she was a real trooper having to go to the bus station at 2:00 am to make her flight back in Madrid. I think it helped that I'd already been in the country awhile. Even though I'm still struggling with the language, at least I've settled in some and had a few "basics" figured out. I'd like to think this gave Kristie a chance to enjoy herself more. I dunno...you'll have to ask her. The only down-side to the two of us walking around together was we seemed to be bigger prey to the endless stream of vendors and solicitors. THAT gets annoying real fast! But it was a small price to pay for having somebody to share this with and make great memories together. At the end of the week, we couldn't believe how much we'd seen and done. Sorry in advance for the next time you see the two of us together and we start wailing the gypsy cave cry or laughing about sleeping rats or endlessly trying to pronounce Spanish boys' names...we won't be able to help ourselves. I guess you had to be there. 

mmm humus and hookah

Working off the wine n ham in Monochil

Fifth Entry -- Learning the Language

Fact: I don't speak Spanish. Despite studying it two full semesters in college, nothing stuck with me. It's like those lessons never happened. This makes living in Spain hard. Really, really, REALLY difficult. If you've never spent time in a foreign country, you don't realize how much of your everyday survival and general comfort depends on knowing the language. Everything…E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G that involves speaking, reading or listening is either extremely challenging or incredibly time-consuming. Asking for directions. Reading a menu. Buying groceries. Following instructions. Making change. Studying a map. Mailing postcards. Checking a bus schedule. Purchasing a ticket. Calling on the phone. Borrowing a pen. Watching television. Scheduling an appointment.....you get the idea.

During my first few weeks (and even now to some degree), my tactic has been to allow a LOT of time for simple tasks when I'm out in public. I've largely relied on a few simple phrases and pointing to things I need or want. This works fine when the thing I want or need is within sight. Not so easy when it's written out and there's no visual image to go along with the item. Menus and written packages are especially tricky. Most of the time, early on, I'd simply go without or resort to asking someone in English to help me. I'm trying NOT to do that. I don't wanna be that foreigner who assumes I can just speak my own language and others should too. 

My neighborhood jogging path

Eventually I started writing out phrases, using my English/Spanish dictionary, and practicing them in my head but having them on paper just in case I needed them. My worry has been (and still is) not understanding the other person when they speak back to me. That's why I don't stop people and ask for directions. If I'm lucky enough to get my question out of my mouth, chances are I won't understand a thing they say when they describe for me where to go. It's just easier to wander around myself and get lost. But writing things down has helped. For example, when I needed to buy a train ticket for my day trip to Ronda, I wrote out my desired departure and arrival times and the specific dates. But I had to remember that times are done in 24-hour military numbers -- so 2:00pm is 14:00 for example. Also dates are written in reverse of ours -- so 10/21 is 21-10 for example. This is what I mean by things taking so long...every little detail must be figured out. So to buy my ticket, I look up the words and practice my sentence structure. At the train station counter with my paper in hand, I said, "I'd like to buy (quiero comprar) a ticket (un billete) to Madrid (para Madrid). Somehow with more pointing and hand gestures, I managed to (finally) accomplish the task. sigh! 

The GORGEOUS bridge in Ronda

Another time, I needed to buy a polishing spray that I use on my hair. I brought a travel size bottle, but wanted more (yes, these are my problems). I was feeling a little braver by now since I'd taken several Spanish lessons at a language school here in town. I decided to use some of my new skills and took the empty bottle with me for extra help. Bear in mind stores here aren't like stores at home. We have giant-ass markets in the U.S. One-stop-shopping is, for the most part, our way of life as Americans. Thank you Costco and Wal-mart (NOT!). Here (as in much of Europe and other areas of the world), stores are created and divided by what it is you need and want. You need medicine or drugs -- you go to la farmacia (pharmacy). You need shoes -- you go to la zapatería (shoe store). You want meat -- you go to the carnicería (butcher). But if you prefer fish -- you go to the pescadería (fish shop…fish monger's in other English speaking countries). And so on. I actually kinda like it. You get in and out of stores easily. There's no wandering aimlessly around a ginormous building looking for that one thing you need when you're in a hurry. It's more sociable and personable cuz you meet 'n greet more people and get served by somebody who specializes in THAT particular thing you're buying. And…it's better for the economy. More small, independent stores allow for more employment as well as competition. OK, so anyway…I need to get this polishing spray stuff for my hair. I'd already figured out, by walking around and peering in windows, that I should go to a drogueria (not to be confused with what we call a 'drugstore' which in fact DID confuse me at first until I realized what we know as a "drugstore" is what's called a 'farmacia' in Spain. sigh!) So here I have this empty bottle of Thermafuse polishing spray. And no, "polishing spray" is not in my dictionary (go figure!). But hairspray and hair gel ARE, so at least I can say that I'm NOT looking for 'laca' or 'fijador' (when in doubt, say what you don't want). I go into the store with my bottle and a sticky note. On it I've written the words I hope will help me. "Buscando está [I'm looking for this -- *show the bottle*]. No se cómo se llamas en español [I don't know what it's called in Spanish]. No es fijador o laca." At this point, I'm also prepared to say (if necessary): "Aprendo español. Habla más despacio, por favor. [I'm learning Spanish. Speak slower, please.]" In the end, the transaction went fairly smoothly, although actually, the store didn't carry what I wanted and I was instructed to go to a hair salon (which, thanks to my classes, I understood when the woman told me that.)

The other side of the GORGEOUS bridge 

I wasn't as lucky, though, the day I went to the bank to exchange money and stood in line over half an hour waiting for my number to be called. Apparently when I pushed the button on the kiosk to get my number, which has a digital touch-screen monitor, I selected the option to see a loan officer about buying an apartment! I guess there was a different button I needed to press to speak to the teller for the exchange.

It's no surprise that virtually NOTHING I say comes out of my mouth the way I hear it in my head. And when faced with an actual person (especially a stranger), my tongue gets so badly tied that it's a wonder I make any sense at all. Yes, I'm trying desperately to be patient with myself. I'm 44 years old dammit and my brain doesn't quite work the way it did when I was learning Swedish long ago. Sadly, I want very badly to sound good. I'd like for even the simplest words and phrases to come out somewhat smoothly, so I go over and over them in my head then try to speak them at a normal speaking pace. But that almost never works. At least not for me. It's a royal mess! My point is, you can't simply figure out what you want to say in English then look up each individual word in Spanish. Languages don't work that way. Every language has its own set of rules and grammar and syntax. They don't translate directly from one to the other. This is why people can sound so funny (and why it's so scary) when they speak because if trying to translate directly, the words are likely in the wrong order or conjugation. So now I'm working on a new tactic. Instead of trying to sound like a Spanish-speaking person, I'm focusing on trying to be understood. This means slowing down. WAY down. And trying to pronounce words accurately (at least somewhat accurately) and clearly. I figure if I can be understood and complete a transaction, that should hopefully build my confidence and help my progress. 

Up in the Albaycin in Granada

I have a renewed empathy and compassion for people in the U.S. who can't speak English. I know it's a huge controversy and political issue. The subject is by no means a simple one, and I don't mean to generalize. But, I truly and sincerely understand why non-native speakers struggle with and at times resist learning the language. It can be very interesting. It can be a ton of fun. It can also suck butt!! And sometimes when you're just tired and worn out and can't find the polishing spray you need for your hair (among other, more necessary things), you want to give up. It makes your brain hurt. It can make you grumpy. Is it *necessary* to learn? uhm…maybe not, but it's damned near impossible to do anything without knowing *some* of the native language. Should we, in the U.S. *require* immigrants to learn English? That's a great question. It's a tough question. Sure there are valid arguments. Safety, for example, can be an issue (like when a non-native speaker is driving a car and can't understand road signs and such). But if we are going to require people to learn our language, we have to, we MUST factor in the human element. It takes time. Lots of time. And mistakes are made and it's easier for some than it is for others. We need to have some compassion and patience with folks learning English. It has an awful lot of verbs and subjunctives for pity's sake!! When I get home, the next time I'm on the bus or in a store and hear a couple rattling off in Spanish or Russian or Chinese or whatever…I'll understand. It may be the first time all day they've had a chance to vent or catch up with family or, or…ask the other person how they're managing finding their way around that ginormous department store when all they want was a damn toothbrush!

Really lovin' these narrow alleys

I've since finished two full weeks of Spanish lessons (3 hours a day/5 days a week). We covered a LOT of ground and I got tons of vocabulary words. Unfortunately, I don't think we students got to practice speaking nearly enough, but the classes were still worth it. I met cool people and walked away with more tools. And it was really great to hear other students learning too and realizing I wasn't the only one. Last Saturday I joined a tour group (arranged through the school) to visit Las Alpujarras -- the tiny, white-washed villages tucked away in the ridges of the south side of the Sierra Nevadas. It was an AWESOME day and the guide spoke entirely in Spanish. I think I got about 50 - 60% of the information! Granted, he spoke clearly and slowly since we were all non-native speakers learning the language, but I could tell that my classes had helped train my ear and I felt like I got most of what I needed out of the day. I think I'm at that stage where I'm understanding more. Reading is getting easier too. These are usually the steps right before being able to actually speak in a reasonable fashion. And that's exciting!

This afternoon I visited the train station again to buy another ticket for my friend coming to visit. I spent a little time beforehand looking up a few words, but I was definitely more prepared to have an actual conversation. Gestures and bad grammar were still a huge part of the transaction, but I got through it and walked away with what I needed. It'll be fantastic if I can continue on the upswing and get to a point where the words come a bit more easily. It'll be even better if I can continue to practice and learn Spanish when I get back to the States.

Fourth Entry -- Making Friends

Traveling alone has its advantages, but at some point, it's nice to talk to somebody…maybe take a stroll together or go out for a beer. One night I gave in and went to a touristy area hoping to have a conversation or two. Found a decent restaurant/bar crowded with happy travelers and sat down for a vino. Soon I noticed three different groups of English speakers around me. I was still learning my tapas etiquette, so I turned and asked the nice Scottish couple behind me what they were having. They turned me on to sausage chunks in apple cider with fried potatoes. Figures! sigh…again, not a green veggie in sight. But I obliged and enjoyed the atmosphere. I was even treated to a gratis liquor from the cute bartender once he saw I was dining alone. Never hurts to a flirt a little too…some things are universal after all!

My new "dead friends" -- the Granada Cemetery

Next I wandered into a smaller place advertising paella (a traditional, Spanish rice dish). Sitting at the bar, I ordered "una cana y tapa, por favor." That bartender shook his head. In broken English, laced with his thick Spanish accent he said, "No. You don't order a cana and tapa." He went on to explain the custom of bars *offering* a free tapa when you order a drink, but patrons don't *order* a free tapa. That's considered rude. Ok. My bad. I get it now. So being good humored about it, I asked him to explain a few other things…you know, the important things when ordering drinks. He showed me the difference between a 'cana' and a 'tubo' (small glass of beer vs. a larger glass of beer…like glass vs. pint). And a 'vaso'  of wine vs. a 'copa'. By this time, we're bonding and joking around. He's telling me how he came about opening the bar and how he's opening a larger restaurant in a few days. Meanwhile, I'm cracking up, because my new friend here, Kiki, is enjoying using his English, including the numerous F bombs coloring his every few words. Made me wonder how many R-rated American movies he'd been watching! Soon, another customer walks by and peers inside, promptly flustering another young server, Stephanie. Kiki gladly explains to me that last week she had "F-ed that guy" and found out he had an "F-ing tiny p-n-s" and didn't want to "F-ing see that guy again." Wow! Welcome to the local paella bar! Kiki and I were laughing so hard. Poor Stephanie was red as a beet and just kept whipping Kiki with her bar towel. Couldn't help adding to Kiki's "vocabulary" and shared with him what we call guys in America with "tiny p-n-ses." I left that night with, another, free drink and my first Spanish double-cheek kiss from my new friends. 

A few nights later, I'm walking home after being online at my local Wi-Fi joint. The heavens opened up and I saw THE SIGN --  big, yellow, beautiful letters: KARAOKE TONIGHT! What?!? No way!!! Are you kidding me?! Honestly, I couldn't believe it. So yeah, I made my way in there to follow my good luck. Turned out, it was an Irish pub filled with British students and ex-pats. (Later that night more students arrived…one was from Beaverton. huh!) So of course I sing a few songs, chat up my new friends Nia & John (the bartenders), Nicola (a regular customer), and Zach (the KJ). That night I also met Kelly, a chef turned massage therapist from North Carolina who was escaping a few hours from her father and the rest of the seniors on the bus tour she was on (we got her good and pissed!). At one point, we're all dancing to John's rendition of Tom Jones "It's Not Unusual" (which, actually I think he sang about 3 different times). And enjoyed *more* free shots (holy cow!) from Nia. Sheepishly, I admit…I stumbled home rather late that night/morning. And yes, I'll be going back! :-)

Amy and I outside Escuela Montalban

The real turning point came one morning as I sat at my little table studying my map and having coffee, or whatever it was I was doing that day. My window was open, as it usually is following my run in with the neighbor downstairs and trying to stay cool. Through the windows, I overheard the woman next door speaking English…American English! Later, I introduced myself. We've been best buddies since! Amy is a physician from New Mexico living in Granada for several weeks like I am. She's also traveling alone, although her companion is joining her soon. Aside from our personalities clicking and sharing a similar outlook on, well, life in general, I love that my new amiga has been to Granada before and is much further along in her Spanish skills…I'm SO lucky to have met her! We've done several things together so far. She took me to one of the best heladerias (ice cream shops) in town (the place I heard Michelle Obama likes so much). We've had some wonderful walks around our neighborhood. Spent an evening out hopping tapas bars, practicing Spanish, bragging about our kids, and laughing til tears about our equally embarrassing experiences with the tiny washing machine (what I like to call the "cheese grater") in our flats. "Symbols!" we cried together! "The damn thing doesn't even use Spanish words and we can't understand how to use it!!" baahaaahaaa!! Hilarious!! (Guess you had to be there.) Had such a blast that night. I'm so glad for her company, especially the next day when…

…I locked myself out of my flat!!! I'd been dreadfully afraid this would happen. There I was. No keys. No phone. And no coat. Hadn't needed a coat until then. It's been so damn hot. But this was the day a storm came through and I hadn't paid attention. It was pouring down rain and suddenly cold. I'm locked outside in a tank top with just my camera and wallet. Didn't take my Spanish phone cuz I was only going for a stroll. GGGRRR!! My first thought was Amy. I knew she could help figure out a solution. Unfortunately, she wasn't home. Hopefully she hadn't left for the weekend. So for the next hour, I sat under cover, on a bench in our courtyard looking up at the strange, crazy-ugly orange trees that Amy and I just the night before had laughed about. I ran through all the possible options in my head. At least I've got another story for my travel blog, right? Great.

In the end, Amy came home and gave me a comfortable, friendly place to dry off, warm up, and wait until my landlady's husband came to let me in. Luckily, I did have my iPhone with me, so I was able to use the Wi-Fi down the street and send an email. Thank GOODNESS Mabel checks her email often! The reward was meeting little Africa, Mabel's off-the-charts-adorable 3-year-old, bilingual daughter who wrapped her sweet tiny arms around mine and Amy's necks and cuddled and hugged us like she's known us her entire life. We decided Spanish children are the most lovable in the world. And now I have a new, very young amiga. YAY!

My fellow classmates and Paco

That following Monday, I enrolled in Spanish lessons at the Escuela Montalban -- a local language school for travelers and exchange students. I'd been debating which school to use, but, as luck would have it, Amy was also going there, so it made sense to choose it as well. I'm glad I did! It's been incredibly helpful and has truly made the difference between feeling alone here and (now) having some community. All this last week, I've been studying with my fellow classmates: Katie and Avril (from England), Juul (from Holland), Fumi (from Japan), and Moonkie (the quirky, hippie artist from Sweden…who, when talking, mixes together Swedish, English, and Spanish, which cracks me up and screws me up all at the same time! She and I have had some great laughs about that! ha ha). And I can't leave out Paco & Berna. Our most wonderful (and insanely patient) Spanish teachers.

As any good language school would, Escuela Montalban organizes various activities for students to do together, learn a bit about the area, and practice Spanish in a comfortable environment. The other night, three of us "bathed" together at the Hammam Public Bath house. It's basically a dimly lit, aromatic spa where guests wander from room to room soaking in tubs. You dip in the warm pool then the hot tub. Sit in the steam room then take a cold bath. And around and around again until finally you get a 15 minute massage. It's a bit of a tourist attraction, but still quite nice. Supposedly, the building was a 13th century structure at the base of the Alhambra. Archeological research indicates the original moorish bath houses of Granada were in that exact location. You can see more here: www.hammamalandalus.com

Javier our paella chef & instructor

Wednesday I took in a cooking class…more of a demonstration really. We learned how to make paella. It was good. I took notes. I'll make some for you when I get back. Not much more to say about that honestly. You can see the picture down below. Had more fun going out for a drink with some of the other students afterwards. Although I was the only American in a group of Europeans, it was fascinating hearing their travel stories and experiences dealing with challenging cultures and oppressive governments in other countries…especially those of 20 - 30 years ago. I couldn't exactly participate in these specific conversations, but I listened. And I thought momentarily about my freedoms in America, and, sadly, much of what we take for granted. My new British friend, Katie, talked about living awhile in Romania teaching English. She was astounded (and pleasantly surprised) by how enthusiastically teenagers discussed politics and current events. This was shortly after the fall of their fascist government. For the first time in their lives, citizens were able to *freely* discuss such topics! I personally cannot relate. Thankfully! But what a great reminder. And at the risk of getting too heavy here, I must briefly comment…THIS is precisely why I love traveling to other countries. Sure, it's fun to experience different foods and schedules and architecture and so forth. But peering into another world and hearing, first-hand, people's stories are the best way, I know of, to see a side of the human condition that I might not otherwise get to know. It feeds me! It makes me feel alive. It gives me purpose. And it forever teaches me to be gracious and open to all the many, many ways of life that can be experienced here on earth.

So hell yeah, I say, to meeting new people!! This has definitely been my best week in Spain (so far)!! I'm sure this is only the beginning. 

PS -- the fun stuff isn't ending either. Tonight I'm going to a nightclub where locals Tango dance, and tomorrow Amy and I are taking a train to Ronda…a small Andalucian, "white-hill village" that straddles an enormous, geological ravine, clustered by ancient, Arabic ruins.