Fiesta de San Juan

Fiesta de San Juan

Last night we went to town for dinner and to participate in the San Juan Celebration. We left home about 9:30 pm and strolled down the board walk. Eventually we made a left and curved into what can only be called a bazaar or denison of restaurants on both sides of the streets, squeezed together with only a narrow strip to walk through. There were restaurants of every type and specialty, and waiters standing outside to encourage you to try their fare. In the tiny walk way there were also vendors winding their way through with all of their offerings. In addition to the Looky Looky guys from the Canary Islands with their black market DVDs, sunglasses, watches and tacky baubles, there were others with bight shiny objects and twirly gadgets, sunglasses that flashed green lights kind of thing. We chose a Thai-Chinese restaurant. That may sound a little risky in Spain, but it is not. Spain is very diverse. It is amazing. So we had a lovely dinner al fresco watching the passing crowds and vendors who paused to show us their wares. The owners of our restaurant had pet turtles which they brought out to entertain the guests. At least I think they were pets, probably better not to ask.

After dinner we had café con leche at our favorite bar and then strolled back down the boardwalk. Strolling was mandatory because there were thousands of people out for the San Juan Celebration. The beach was awash with bon fires and groups sitting around eating, drinking and visiting. Some groups literally had long tables and plastic patio chairs and were sitting on the beach as though they were in their own dining room. Other groups had marked off little sites with bright yellow and black or yellow and red plastic tape, like crime scene tape. Folks were sitting in these little camp sites with their bon fires finishing their dinner. Further on by the old castle was a stage with techno music blasting through a light show. The beach was packed with people eating, drinking, courting, visiting, dancing, whatever. There were lots of police, keeping an eye on things. You don’t get a sense of fear from the police here. They are more helpful than threatening. I didn’t see them arrest or even question anyone. We saw one young girl cuddling a bottle of clear liquid (vodka, gin or tequila) as she strolled with her friends. There were lots of young folks scantily dressed doing what young people do.

We didn’t have a watch, but at midnight we sensed a sudden movement in the crowd. They were jumping bon fires and heading toward the ocean. Kids, young people, adults and old folks all together in this celebration. Well when in Spain . . . I ran down the beach and asked a fellow if I could jump his bon fire, he replied , “Si, claro, está bien.”: I said, “Gracias,” took a running jump, ran to the ocean with the rest of the crowd.

This celebration though in part religious, being the celebration of John the Baptist, it is also, coincides with the summer solstice, the welcoming of summer, which came today in full splendor. It was at least 90 degrees by 10 am this morning. I hung the laundry on the line and it was almost dry before I finished hanging it.

Which Came First: Questions/Answers

It is a day in June shortly before the summer solstice. The weather here has been very humid, almost like God has some gigantic misting machine over the city. One day it was so thick you could not see for a block. It is June Gloom with warmth, though there is a cool breeze and it can be almost cold in the shade.

I have been struggling with living life in the slow lane. There is something about doing nothing that makes me very uncomfortable. I don’t know if it is fear or guilt. Fear that somehow if I keep moving I can take care of everything, that I can arrange everything, and that I am not vulnerable. Or maybe it is the unconscious belief that if I keep moving I can keep the feelings at bay. Or do I just get bored easily. Do I need bright shiny things to distract me? I don’t know the answers to these questions, I don’t even know if these are the right questions. I feel there is a lesson here; I just don’t know what it is. But I am willing to learn.

There are moments when I think, “What was I thinking?” I have a lovely home, lovely friends and family, in a lovely area, with lovely weather. What am I doing here? Among the new experiences there are shades of homesickness, missing friends and family, familiar places and routines.

I wonder why I am here, why was it so important to me to be here. I am out of my element, do not have the comforts of home, like a shower that you can adjust to warm water and have it stay at that temperature for a reasonable amount of time. Here the shower changes temperature on a whim, the hot water heater, if you can call it that, is the size of a cereal box. Very odd indeed.

Nothing is built square here, it is all at angles and gerry rigged. It makes for many interesting designs and cubbies. There is no urban planning, no subdivisions with graded lots. Houses are just built and added as space permits, up hillsides and down hillsides. Roads occur, not at random, but because it is a path traveled. Vehicles are parked on sidewalks or in fields. It is the way things are done here. It makes for some very interesting spaces and shadows.

Last week end there was an athletic tournament on the beach. It looked like soccer only with hands instead of feet. We decided that was probably fortuitous since a game of kicking the ball in the sand would be a tad messy and not good for the eyes. Did you hear that, a “tad messy?” It’s the British.

Hanging the Laundry

Does anyone remember hanging clothes on a clothes line? I believe there are rules against this in California. I believe most people would consider it unsightly. However, in Spain it is the norm. You wash your clothes in a washing machine and then hang them on the line to dry. Ecologically, you cannot argue with this. It’s a little more time consuming than putting them in a clothes dryer, but not really that much. And there is a feeling that occurs when I am pinning clothes to the line. I don’t know if it is primal or not, but it is a sense of calm and a sense of connection with the generations of women who have gone before me.

I remember wringer washing machines, large tubs that chugged and blades that swished the clothes one way and then the other. Then you would pull out one piece of clothing at a time and put it through the wringer taking care that your fingers did not go through the wringer with the clothing. After the clothes had all been wrung out, you would empty the tub of the soapy water and fill it with clean water , return the clothes to the tub, the blades swishing the clothes in clean water, wring the clothes again and repeat as necessary to get the soap out of the clothes. Then you would hang the clothes on the line to dry. We were the proud owners of one of these machines when my youngest brother was born. It took several rinses to make sure all the soap was out of the diapers so his little bum would not be rashed. Disposable diapers? Not even.

Almost everything close here on a Sunday, even the mall! It is eery at first and then comforting as you realize that everyone is off work enjoying a day of rest and/or recreation. Because this is a resort town for the Spanish, the cafes along the beach are open, but that is it. No markets, no clothing stores, no hardware store, nothing. Strolling along the beach you see these large old wooden boats filled with sand that are the equivalent of our barbeque pits only so much more scenic. Spanish families construct large tent communities around these boats with tables and chairs and stay through the day long into the night cooking, eating, drinking. talking, and laughing. Lots of children busying themselves with children’s games in the sand. There are no electronic games in sight. Just balls, buckets and games of chase. It is a joyous sight.

Last night we road tested our rice cooker. A lot of saffron, a little salt, rice and tofu with zuchinis on top to steam. It was a lovely dinner. We also road tested our new blender with fresh peaches, pears, bananas and a concoction of milk and rice they sell here (think rice pudding) that we had froze. I am appalled to report that the blender, which was the cheapest one we could find, worked worlds better than my one at home. It blended everything up real spiffy lickedty split. Wowzie! And for desert we had Spanish cookies, galletas, shaped like a heart, very crispy, and not overly sweet. You can get these in the states, but I think it may be like eating hot dogs cooked over a camp fire, they just taste better here.

Soft Air

June 13

It was a smooth trip from Madrid to Fuengirola. We got a cab across the plaza from our hotel, got to the Estacion de Atoche, which is a huge gorgeous train station with lush foliage and water turtles in the interior space. There were some small problems with our massive luggage, but it all worked out and the train ride was relaxing. We arrived at the Málaga station, bought tickets and transferred to a local train that stopped every three to five minutes on the slow crawl to Fuengirola.
As we emerged from the Fuengirola train station we saw Jim and Eileen in a café, having coffee and waiting for us. It was a joyful reunion, with hugs all around. And as Jim said it is as if we had just left yesterday for a weekend trip and were back. We picked up right where we left off, including wise cracks by Jim about Leea not being sharp enough to remember the directions to the beach. Laughter and camaraderie, fellowship.
As we unpacked, Eileen made us a lovely pasta dinner. During dinner we chatted about a newcomer who had arrived at the doorsteps from the hospital and nut ward completely broken, shaking, unable to speak, who now had sixty days or so and was doing remarkably. We met her the next day and though she is still shaking, she can speak and drink coffee. So we were greeted by a miracle. I will give her the angel Alice made for me to bring to Spain.
After dinner when we went back to our apartment, alone in my room I had a mini melt down, thinking, what have I done, I want to go home to my own bed, my sweet hubby, my friends, and all that is familiar. I think the whole thing boiled down to the fact that there was not a proper coffee pot in the place. due to the fact that the owner is English. After a few minutes I realized that a coffee pot could be purchased the next day and so I went to sleep.
The next morning I awoke to the warm Mediterranean sun, softly, lighting on my skin like a fine silk scarf. God, the air is soft here. I had forgotten how that felt. Our place is on a hill above town, where we look down to the ocean. Picture Laguna Beach without the over the top wealth and conspicuous consumption. This is a summer vacation spot for Spanish families as well as other Europeans. For four euros a day you can rent a chaise lounge with comfy pad covered by a thatch umbrella and have snack and drinks served to you on the beach, or you can bring your own picnic lunch and spread your towel on the sand. Some Spanish families bring little camping tents to rest in during the day, and others bring whole tent cities and barbeques to the beach.
We went to a meeting of my Fuengirola home group at noon. The topic was ongoing recovery in order to be happy, joyous and free. It was a good meeting with probably twenty five to thirty people in attendance in an outdoor enclosed patio. We meet the same place every day and two evenings a week. I understand they even have a women’s meeting on Sunday mornings.
After the meeting we went for coffee and a bocadilla with Jim and the newcomer. Then Leea went for a swim while I shopped the tattoo and piercing parlors of an earring. Mine had lost its balls on the way here. Of course after all of that we had to go home for our siesta. Then early evening found us at the mall eating ice cream, slurping coffee and laying with wi fi. Shopping followed and we are now the proud owners of a roper coffee pot and a purple skillet. We went home and made a pasta dinner around ten, ate some Oreos and went to bed about midnight. I think I can get used to this. Breakfast, meeting, snack, siesta, snack, shopping for dinner, dinner, snack, bed. Hmmmm.

Today we go shopping for spices and fish at the mercado in the center of town, and then back to the mall for a rice cooker and blender to accommodate my medically mandated diet. We have to buy stuff in bits, because it all has to be carried home, by hand, no car. A simple life.

The Cristal Mysterious

June 10 Happy Birthday AA.

In morning we went to the Museo Thyssen to se the Matisse exhibit and the permanent collection. Matisse is my favorite painter of all time. What the man did with line and color is beyond belief. He completed paintings without completing paintings, without detail but loaded with detail. To see a whole body of his work really brought this home. And I was able to read and understand Matisse’s words on the wall in Spanish. Wowie zowie! After the Matisse Exhibit we viewed the permanent collection. Sadly all the Van Goghs were on loan for the summer. But we saw lots of wonderful work. And left exhausted and blurry after three hours.

We went back to the hotel and changed into shorts for a journey to the Parque Buen Retiro. What a lovely place. The entry was flanked by charmingly innocent sculptures of happiness, generosity and other gifts and virtues. We sat by the lake and watched the boaters boating. It looked like way too much work for our tastes. We strolled around the ark and found a Rose Garden, a few fountains, lakes, fish and ducks. We came across a very odd building, the Palacio Cristal fashioned after a similar building in London. T some point it was used as an arboretum, but now it is empty. Except that when we walked in there was a huge stuffed bear and a huge stuff rat dangling from the ceiling (don’t get any ideas John) and some low strange noises coming from four huge speakers. What we finally figured out is that this was all an extension of an installation piece at the Prado titled Animals Are People Too, or something like that. It was still pretty bizarre. I will post pictures later.

After the park it was siesta time. In the evening we went to dinner and then to a Flamenco show. Very amazing! I got some great footage for my foot video. I have never seen feet move that fast, except maybe in the Stomp. We got home around midnight and listened to the revelers during a fitful sleep until six in the morning. My goodness drunks are loud. Between midnight and two we listened to drunkenness in English and from two until six we listened to it in Spanish. Different language, same sound. Discordant, crashing, hysteria tinged with violence. The soft sounds of street construction took over around eight. So breakfast.

We are packing now to head to the train station for our trip to Fuengirola. I love train rides. If you want to see the underbelly of any city, travel by train. Train tracks are always in the slummiest part of the city from Beijing to Madrid.

Chao.

Politics and Marriage Beds

The sun came out with warmth today. What a joy. Yesterday we went to the Royal Palace but they were closed, for some royal palatial stuff, I guess. So, lucky for us the Reina Sofia is open on Mondays and we were able to go there and visit Guernica. The Reina Sofia has a lot of work by Spanish and other artists from the 1930’s through 1970’s. The 60’s and 70’s here look about as artistically scattered as in the US. Not much of interest to me.

However, there were some nice works by Dali, Miro, Calder and Picasso. Their exhibition design was not to my liking, very confusing, and placed video work within six inches of Dali paintings. I don’t think that works.

We were able to spend a great deal of time with “Guenica” and Picasso’s sketches leading up to this famous painting. This is the second time I’ve been able to see all this work. It is fascinating to watch the composition and elements of the painting arise and change as he worked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many sketches of a painting that you can actually watch it form.

This painting is near and dear to my youth. During the late sixties and early seventies it was a symbol of the anti war movement. There was a poster of this in every apartment or room. Also, by the seventies there were also posters of Ché and Mao. I don’t think the irony of that ever occurred to any of us. If you were playing the child’s game of which of these things matches or which item doesn’t belong with the others, the people responsible for the horrors of Guernica, Franco, Hitler and Mussolini belong with Mao and Ché and Castro and Stalin, and not with Picasso’s sentiments expressed in Guernica. This late in life I may just come to believe the ends do not justify the means.

After the museum we stopped at a little café for a snack. Just as we ordered it start to pour rain. So we hung out all cozy like munching on fried rice, mine with chicken and Leea’s with vegetables, and sipping café con leche, watching the rain. I don’t think you ever have to worry about being caught short of anything in Madrid as long as you have a few euros. Almost before the first raindrop hit the pavement there were venders out on the street selling umbrellas for three euro, about five dollars.

We strolled around when the rain stopped and then came back to our hotel for a little reading and siesta. About ten we went out for Thai food. We sat in a charming Thai restaurant in a little cozy cubby space with a view of the street and open windows. Leea had curried vegetable and I had pad Thai noodles sans carrots and chunks. Those of you who know my health issues will appreciate the lack of peanut chunks and carrots. Yes I am being cautious.

This morning we went to the Palace again and waited in a short queue. We actually rented the audio tour. I don’t normally like those things when viewing art, but I’m glad we got them for this tour because they gave us a lot of information about the history and materials. There was one room made entirely on porcelain, the walls, ceiling, everything!! Most of the rooms were just over the top rococo conspicuous consumption.

Besides inbreeding the royals really like to spend lots of money on gaudy things. I suppose they weren’t considered gaudy at the time, but considering the poverty so many of the people endured, you’d think they would have winced a little. Anyway it was quite fun imagining the ladies trying to navigate the stairways in those large heavy dresses. The other surprising thing is it seems that most of the Spanish Royalty were not Spanish. How does that happen?

I wonder why Royalty are always so ugly looking. Is it the inbreeding? Is it the lack of concern for the people they rule? Or maybe they just don’t get out in the sun enough or exercise enough, because they don’t have to do real work or anything physical. Good lord they even had people to help them take a bath and dress. Can you imagine? “Help with my knickers, please. Oh gracious that tickles. A little lower please.” But I digress. It is just so easy to amuse my little mind.

After the Royal Palace we stopped for another snack and then went back to the hotel for our siesta.

After the siesta I went to the Convent founded by one of the sister of one of the Spanish Kings, Juana of Austria. It was originally a palace, but the Juana converted it to a convent. The nuns were Franciscan Clares but because so many of them were tied to the Royal Family they were called the “Barefoot Royals”. To this day the convent has ties to the Royal family. Something tells me that if, despite all the wealth and conspicuous consumption, the women want to go and live in a cloistered convent, live in a four by three foot dormitory space and sleep on a stone bench with a straw mattress, something good wasn’t happening in the marriage bed. In fact, it seems like something very bad must have been going on. Anyway, many of them chose to leave their families, children and all and go live the life of a cloistered nun. They are Franciscan Saint Clare nuns. I’m thinking of all those hours praying and meditating and never going out side and I’m wondering if facebook would help.

Well enough of this. We are going tonight to another vegetarian restaurant for dinner.

Boots of Spanish Leather

June 7, 2009

Madrid is looking a bit scruffy these days. It is an old, proud and strong city. Madrid has been under reconstruction for some time now and there is rubble everywhere. But its beauty shines through the KFC and McDonalds facades. We are a bit scruffy too, not having slept but in snippets for five days running. However, the City is vibrant, if a little chilly at the moment, and I feel very much “en mi casa” or “a hogar”

We spent the first part of the day in the El Rasto, a mile long outdoor and flea market. Thousands of people scrunched into a street packed with nomadic tents of goods and wares. The vision from on high would have been of a human snake crawling along the route. It was a gas. There was a lot to see, like a couple of vendors who appeared to specialize in gas masks. Stunning leather work, Bob’s song title, “Boots of Spanish Leather” came to mind. We meandered with the crowd and wandered off the beaten path at times, down lonely, quiet dank dirty streets that echoed with the play of miscellaneous ferrell children and screeching cats.

We stopped at an outdoor café for rest and refreshment, aqua sin gas y patatas brava with a short stout grumpy waiter. He was just so familiar. Spanish men and women of a certain age are similar in body type, manner of dress and personality. The words madrones y padrones come to mind. There demeanor is “no nonsense.” They are serious, but not mean or nasty. It may be a result of the Franco years. These folks are half as wide as they are tall, but not fat, just stout. The men wear tan slacks, short sleeve dress shirts in warm weather, and slip on leather shoes. The women, though often dressed in black from head to toe, are in current times seen in beiges and browns, skirts, cotton or nylon blouses tucked in at the waist, cardigan sweaters, nylons, “sensible” shoes with a two inch heel and a purse looped over the forearm. The hair on the men is short standard cut and the women have perms on short hair. The colors on men and women never go much beyond a pale blue, resting mostly in beige and grey.

Mid day we changed hotels. Our last hotel was on Gran Via near the Telefónica building where Hemingway dodged bomb shells to file his reports on the Spanish Civil War. Gran Via is as the name suggests a broad street with lots of traffic. Our hotel there was not grand, but comfy and our room was on a quiet inner court yard. We couldn’t sleep well adjusting to the time change. What a difference nine hours makes. Our new hotel is on a busy small street with a lively night life. Our room is on the second floor (which is the third floor in Spain) with a view of the street and the KFC across the way. During the day the street sounds are like white noise and at night there is the raucous sound of revelers. But they seemed to quiet down at about 1 am and the morning sounds held off until about 7:30.

The one thing in common with both locations is sex shops, tattoo parlors, gay bars and hookers. And I didn’t even ask for all of this when making the reservations. It just happened like magic. As soon as we catch up with the camera cord and can down load photos, we will share. We found a new wardrobe for John in one of the store windows. This is just a tease to keep you reading the next few blogs.

New Adventures and Old Friends

A Day of Adventures and Old Friends June 5, 2009

Finally got to sleep at 4:30 am Madrid time and woke up at 10 am. I know this sleep thing will straighten itself out and that no one ever died from lack of sleep, but it is lonely at 4 am. I am still eating a liquid diet, so I think that messes with the body. Anyway this morning, while Leea worked on wrapping up a school assignment from spring semester, I jumped on the metro and moseyed over to the Atocha train station to change our tickets to leave for Malaga on the 11^th rather than the 7^th. In Spain, as elsewhere, the information and customer service people were less than helpful, sending me hither and yon. However, I eventually got in the correct queue and got the tickets exchanged. I got a 5 euro discount for being officially old. I also came home with a tree because it was World Environmental Day and someone handed me a tree. So I will take it with me to southern Spain, plant it and nurture it until I leave. And I transacted a lot of the questioning and exchange in Spanish. This of course may have contributed to my wandering from hither to yon.

After my adventure at the train station, Leea and I went to the Prado Museum and spent an exhausting yet marvelous afternoon wandering the salons. I was able to visit many friends I have not seen since my last visit to Madrid, probably ten years ago, especially Goya’s Majas and his black paintings and El Greco. Not to mention the one I knew would be Leea’s favorite, Bosch’s, “Garden of Earthly Delights.”

On our way back to our hotel we stopped for a café con leche in what has become our favorite bar. They have the best café con leche and the trash on the floor and slot machine by the door enhance the flavor. After resting up, we went out for dinner and the challenge of trying to order a “soft” diet in a vegetarian restaurant. I had a yummy glass of fresh squozen green apple juice. I thought scrambled eggs and mushrooms sounded safe, picturing a pile of scrambled eggs with some soft well cooked mushrooms on top. Not even. I’m sure the server is thinking, crazy American coming to a vegetarian restaurant when she doesn’t eat vegetables. But I persevered and the server suggested a soft desert, tiramisu. We ascertained it did not contain alcohol and then I consumed it with gusto. It is not always a bad thing to be ordered to eat soft foods. It can be an excuse to eat all sorts of wonderful sweet things.

Away we go, and here we are

Random flashes of half formed thoughts - a disabled Scottish lady who needed help with the bus and wheelchair at the airport. Had a lovely conversation about children, grandchildren and Scotland. A deaf woman who couldn't seem to get the gate keeper to understand that her problem wasn't whether she spoke English or Spanish, but that she would not hear the flight announcment and needed other than auditory notice. Sun over clouds on the approach to Madrid. Hauling massive amounts of luggage through the Metro System to our hotel. Knowing we look so American. But then, we are. Three teen age female delinquents trying to steal my fanny pack, the feeling of being surrounded by a swarm of sharks and not being able to get out of the middle of the current, but surving with all possessions. Leea giving them the evil eye, them acting like we were imaginingg the whole thing. Another lady giving us visual clues that what we thought just happened did in fact happen. Almost crying in a bar over a cafe con leche, because it was sooo good and I am sooo blessed.

First Day of Journey

Well Monday night I couldn't sleep. I was so excited about our trip to Madrid that I went to bed at 11pm got up at 2am, and could not go back to sleep. I was antsy and pacing until we got in the car on the way to the airport. Everything went smoothly at the airport, no line at check in or security, so we had a two hour wait. Then the adventure began. When it was time to board they said they had problems with the bathrooms on the plane and they had to get another plane which would delay our departure for an hour. Turns out that someone flushed a diaper down the toilet on the prior flight. So we waited for a new plane. One person's ignorance or lack of common sense disrupted the travel plans of a whole airplane and made a stressful day for the Continental employees, who I must say handled the situation very well.
We made up time in the air, but when we got to Newark we had to circle for 45 minutes because the Vice President was in the area or something. So we missed our connecting flight to Madrid and spent the night in lovely Newark, which actually allowed me to catch up on some much needed sleep and provided a nice break in a long flight.

A little pillow fight in our hotel room provided some nice laughter, and then we settled in for a good night's sleep in some comfy beds.