Author: Gary Kirkpatrick

Spain, the last two weeks

05/01-03/98

Galicia: The Celtic province

David arrived on the first and somehow he and Peg did not see each
other at the airport.  Eventually we got connected.

This morning, delightful Emilia takes us to the bus for Galicia,
leaving from near Plaza de España.  The bus ride lasts from 10:45 a.m.
till 8 p.m.  Fortunately the bus is not full so we are comfortable.
Along the way, the vegetation is changing, becoming much more lush as
we approach the rainy northwest portion of the country.  We have
dinner at the hotel at 9 p.m.  Dinner is your choice of exactly what
they serve you, but it is good.  The balcony of our room provides a
beautiful overlook of the Ria (estuary), whose coast lies just 50
yards below us.

The hotel is called Hotel Covelmar, which is in Covelo Poio just
outside Pontevedra, Spain.  We are near the Atlantic coast, south of
Santiago de Compostela.  Vigo is close by.  The phone number here is
986-74-1000 or 74-1098.

We have made friends with some people on the bus.  The talk is about
food and wine.  They tried to teach us to play cards.  I don’t have
the vocabulary to play cards in Spanish!  That they offered to include
us is another example of the warmth of the Spanish people.

The food in the hotel is served home-style.  Each group  of four (3 in
our case) gets a platter. Sunday it was pork loin, last night it was
cod, tonight it was a thick slab of pork tenderloin with gravy and
peas and soup. Largely every meal has been very good.  Nothing fancy,
just good.  It is amazing given the price:  $140 per person,
transportation to and from Madrid, local excursions (admissions extra
but not much), hotel for a week, and all meals.

05/04/98

The town of O Grove

We took an excursion to little town of O Grove.  Yes, that’s O Grove,
no comma.  I am not sure what the ‘O’ stands for yet, but since we are
in the Celtic province of Galicia I wonder if there is any relation
with the “O” of names like O’Reily. I have seen the ‘O’ in several
names of towns here.

In O Grove we took a short boat ride to see farms of oysters (ostras),
mussels (mejillón)  and scallops (venera, or maybe  veira).   The
farms are concrete floats, from which ropes reach well into the water.
Mollusks are attached to the ropes.  Each bivalve filters a liter of
water a day.   The Captain gave explanations on the loudspeaker.

They served freshly cooked mussels on board, with white wine of the
region (Rebiera), good, simple, clean tasting white wine that is also
served at the hotel.   All this cost $10 per person.

Scallop shells are used to symbolize pilgrimages to Santiago de
Compostela; in pre-Christian they symbolized the womb.

Joe is clerk at the front desk.  He has a computer at home, and speaks
some English.  This has been the only job he has been able to land so
far, despite his English skills and his college degree.  He is about
27 years old.

The hotel is on the Ruta de Viña, wine route.  There are small grape
holdings everywhere we go.  The grapes grow on arbors about 4′ off the
ground.  The arbor posts are made of stone.

Women rake seaweeds along the coast when the tide is out.  They wear
long, black skirts, and grey or black blouses and sweaters.

Everywhere there are strange little huts, once used to store grain.
Legally they cannot be being moved out of Galicia.  The granaries are
about 4 feet off the ground.  Supporting columns are made of stone, as
is the frame of the granary.  Their sides are wooden or stone slats,
allowing for the passage of air.  On top of the columns there is a
round stone, larger in circumference than the column.  We are told
that these serve to keep rats and other varmint out of the granaries.
Our guide tells us that removing one of these granaries from Galicia
subjects one to a fine of about $20,000.  You can move them about
Galicia at will, however, and they can be bought and sold.

05/05/98
Valenca, Portugal

We go to the little walled Portuguese town of Valenca.  Some
restaurants allow you to sit at their tables to eat the provided
lunches if you buy drinks.  A young man selling candy asked for our
bocadillos: chorizo and another sliced meat on bread, two pieces of
good baguette.  We gave one to him.  We ordered wine and salad, both
tasty and very inexpensive.

Later we went to Bayona, and walked around the fort, which is now a
Parador (a five star hotel in a historical monument).  In the harbor
there is a reproduction of the Pinta.  The original returned here in
1493 after Columbus’ from first trip to the New World.  The coastal
views are magnificent.  A man plays the bagpipe, one of about a half
dozen we hear while here.  There is a Roman bridge on the way out of
town.  The middle portion is modern, but the ends are original and
still in use.

05/06/98

Coruña

Today’s excursion, an extra one for which we paid 3000 pts. each
($20), took us to Coruña.  This is a town of about 250,000 with an
important seaport.  There are lots of fishing vessels and large
container/transport ships.  The old town is built on a peninsula.

When Philip married Mary (Bloody Mary) of England, he embarked from
here, as did the Invincible Armada.  The fort is from 14th century.
The exhibits in the archaeological museum, housed in the fort, are
labeled in Galician.  In one I read that Caesar was here on the way to
or from England, in 60 A.D.  Having just read his book on the conquest
of Gaul, I imagined Roman ships entering and leaving the harbor, one
of them bearing Caesar.

I climbed the light tower, the Tower of Hercules (250 ptas).  It is
242 steps up and dates from Roman times.  Archaeologists were working
on the foundation diggings when I entered the tower.  You have to
stoop to get to the passage way leading to the tower.  From the top I
could see a fair amount of the city,  its two big beaches off to one
side.  I could not see the port but it is but a few blocks away on the
other side of the peninsula.

We had lunch on Marina Avenida, sharing tortilla de esparragos (an
asparagus omelet), empanada with a clam like mollusk (name was not in
my dictionary), seafood croquettes, fish soup and a salad.  We asked
for a bottle of regional red wine.  The waiter brought out the house,
a Ribiera.  He said the white Ribieras are better than the reds.   He
also offered us another local red.  We agreed with him that it was
better than the Ribiera red;  we got it (1000 ptas).  A very good
lunch for about 1800 ptas each ($11) including wine.  Professional
services and pleasant atmosphere.   Better than the lunch the hotel
packed: chorizo, sardines, bread, fruit and water, which is the same
as every other day.

The beautiful weather continues.

05/07/98
Vigo

Vigo is an important port, which we could see from the vantage of the
old fort that overlooks the city.  There are significant mollusk farms
nearby.  We ate some oysters on the half shell.  They were fresh but
tasted a bit too like salt water for my taste.  Peg had some very
fresh mussels.  We ate these in an area called “El Mercado de las
Ostras,” the Oyster Market.  The Oyster Market now is just a short
street in a pedestrian zone where there are only trinket shops and
seafood bars like the one we visited.  The oysters are served on
platters by older women working for themselves.  You then sit at a
nearby table, which is catered by the restaurant you happen to sit in
front of.  They serve drinks and other things to eat.  The restaurant
served the mussels Peg ate.  However, you pay the restaurant and the
woman who served the oysters separately.

We returned to the hotel for lunch.  Last night’s meal was a bit
disappointing.  Our first course was a very good seafood empanada but
it was served without any accompaniment; the second course was fish
and it was served with just a few peas and potatoes.  It was a meal
with nary a vegetable.  As if to make up for it, lunch today was a
marvelous green bean dish flavored with a powerful yet sweet paprika.
The second plate was thinly sliced (which is the most common way that
pork is sold) breaded pork filet.

At four we toured nearby Pontevedra.  It has a beautiful church from
the late 11th century called the Santa Maria Mayor or Vicente.  Its
main facade is beautifully carved in a style similar to that found at
Santiago de Compostela, called Platteresque.  There are lots of
statues carved in stone.  These statues are intricately detailed. Many
faces have a certain look that I must describe as goofy: bug-eyed,
often grinning, round-faced.  I would not be surprised if someone
knowledgeable would laugh at my description.  At any rate, I enjoyed
looking at the figures and marveled at the tremendous effort involved.

The old part of the town is called El Casco Antiguo, the Old Helmet.
It has many narrow, stone streets surrounded by stone houses.  These
are beautifully and skillfully constructed.  Many of them are about
500 years old.  There is a stone arcade through which pilgrims to
Santiago passed coming from the southwestern area of Spain or nearby
Portugal.

After about an hour wandering about, we went to another nearby town,
this one much smaller.  Combaro is a fishing village and is right on
the Ria de Pontevedra.  Just a few feet above the water are bars,
restaurants and a bodega.  In the bodega only wine is served.  It is
poured into bowls from great barrels.  We snacked on mussels served in
scallop shells.  We drank a white wine, an Albariño, a local wine that
tastes much like a white from the Mosel valley.

In an open area sat a wooden cart with wooden wheels.  The cart is
used for hauling wood.  It is still in use, not placed there for the
tourists.

The streets and pathways of the little village are carved from the
stone of the hillside. Often the steps are roughly cut, sometimes not
even cut at all. You are just walking on the rocks that have been
there for millions of years.  Many walkways barely allow two people to
pass.  Some paths lead to dead ends that are not marked as such.  This
village is in pre tourist state: very little is done with the tourist
in mind.

05/08/98

Santiago de Compostela

“Santiago” means Saint (Sant) James (Iago).

Along the way the bus briefly followed a woman hauling weeds in a
wooden cart drawn by an ox. There are many people hoeing the fields.
We are inland, driving through rolling hills.  As we approach the
town, we see the towers of the Cathedral from the highway.

A short walk from where we were let out we see the magnificent main
portal of the Cathedral.  Inside is the fabulous interior portal. Here
millions of pilgrims have put their five fingers on a spot that now
has five deep indentations.  Then they leaned over to touch their
foreheads to that of the man who sculpted this portal.  According to
Fodors, it is the sculpture on the FRONT of the column that is
traditionally so treated.  Yet here there was a long line of people
going to the REAR side to kiss a statute.  Well, it makes no sense to
put your fingers on the front just for the sake of doing so, not to
help you lean over, so I think that Fodors is right.  In either case,
it is rare and odd to so venerate a sculptor.

The main altar is beautifully gold-leafed.  Statues are carved to make
it appear that they hold up the roof over the altar.

Behind the altar is an image of Saint James, whom I think was cousin
to Jesus.  For centuries pilgrims have walked in the passage behind
St. James, giving him a hug and a kiss.  They are still doing it.  One
woman even came back, explaining she forgot to give him a kiss.  Both
at the front inner portal and here there are lots of prayers spoken
and signs of the cross made.

For lunch David and I ordered one scallop (1000 ptas. each).  They
were served on the shell with a very tasty sauce.  The scallop tasted
like every other scallop I had ever eaten.  At 1000 ptas, it was over
priced.

Being on the bus

Our bus guide is sweet but her routines are getting on my nerves.
Every time we get on the bus she says, “¿Qué tal estamos?  Bien?” How
are we doing?  Good?  Then she follows with did you have a good lunch,
did you like the shopping, or whatever we had just done.

The music she plays is too loud and often stupid.  The temperature is
seldom comfortable although there is heat and air conditioning.  The
bus leaves around 10:00 a.m., too late in the day.  Sometimes we go to
places we do not care about.  I have never been on a tour before and
though it was a good value, I would not eagerly do it again.

Houses in the region are solid stone and usually very pretty.  There
are good views of the estuary from most houses.

5/10-12/98

Back to Andalusia

These days took us to Andalusia again, for David had never been there
and I was eager for another look at the Mezquita (mosque) in Granada.
This time I most strongly noticed the effect of age on the building. I
could see the struggles the workers had in removing and replacing
wooden ceilings, and in keeping the masonry of the arches in good
condition.

Some exhibits are very badly labeled.

In Seville, we stayed in the old town in a 140 year old building.
Built as a hotel, it is now a protected building and cannot even be
repaired without official approval.  The doors are wooded and rounded
at the top.  The bathroom is a riot.  You sit on the toilet with your
knees touching the opposite wall, with one foot in the shower.
Otherwise, we are comfortable.

As we drive thorough olive fields, the aroma of the olives is powerful
and wonderful.  On the way back to Madrid and before Granada, we ate
in a truck stop that seldom saw tourists.  The owner wrote the menu
out on the way to our table.  It was home cooking, that’s for sure:
soups and stews and salads, that’s all.

05/13/98

Fun with Telefonica

On April 28th or so I called Telefonica, until recently a state-run
monopoly.  I wanted to shut the phone off (dar la baja) Sunday, May 3
so we could use it until then. Would that give them time to compute
the final bill and return the deposit?  Oh, yes, they said.  I
explained that I would be leaving the country on May 15 and they would
never be able to call or write to me as I would be traveling.

Today I called and they said that they had no record of the request to
shut off the phone.  Shame on me.  I knew it would be too much for
them to be able to do this.  All the Spanish people remark on the
inefficiency of Telefonica.  The woman said that it would be shut off
tomorrow. She said that she had noted the circumstances of our
impending departure and someone would call back.

“When will they call?”
“Not today, I am sure.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I have made a note that all this has to be done by close of business
tomorrow,”  she answered curtly.

“When tomorrow?  I have other chores to do.”
“I have no way of knowing.”

Help on hand

One shoe repair place said that the material in my shoes required the
use of a special, slow-drying glue and the repair would take a day and
1/2.  Forget that.  I found a Mister Minute (almost everywhere in
Europe) at an El Campo. Off I went, going three stops on the metro.  I
stopped to look at the map for the best way to get from the metro to
El Campo. I saw a security guard just then and asked him.  He said I
should have gone out the other exit, especially since it was now
raining heavily.  He said to get to it I would have to reenter the
metro but he got permission from the ticket seller to accompany me.
This way I would not have to pay again.

A train entered the station and he said that the best thing would be
to go back one stop as the one I chose was not the best.  He was right
as when I exited from the next station, I had to walk only a few
meters to Al Campo.  Another extraordinary effort by a Spaniard.

05/14/98

I was waiting for Telefonica all morning long.  I called again and
basically got nowhere but did confirm that the shut-off order had been
noted.  Finally, around 1:30 someone called.

“You need to call 004.  Tell them you want to talk to ‘cobros’.”
That’s the department that deals with final bill; I think one
department calculates the bill and another subtracts the deposit from
the bill and figures out who owes what to whom.  Why can’t just one
person do this?

The way I wrote this conversation makes it sound simple but the whole
conversation threw me for a loop. Why would the telephone company call
to tell me to call the telephone company?  Once I figured out that one
department is completely separate from another, the conversation made
more sense.

So I called and after again being on hold for 15 minutes or so,
someone came on line.  They had to hear me tell the story, for the 5th
or 6th time.  Then she said that the cobros department would call me
back as everyone was busy now

At about 2:30 I got a call.  A person who could knowledgeably deal
with me was at last on the line.  He said I owed about 29000 ptas.
Since my deposit was 32400, they owed me about 3000 ptas.  A colleague
had told him that our bank account was closed.  He said that they had
sent a charge to our account the other day as a normal procedure and
it had not been rejected yet.  I was glad that I closed the account
for otherwise I would have paid 25000 and they would owe me not just a
few thousand, but over 30,000 ptas. (about $200).

He said that he could not easily make a direct deposit to a US
account, nor easily mail a check to the U.S.  I volunteered Emilia’s
address.  I was giving him her name and he said that the envelope had
to be addressed to me.  He said he was not sure if that would work in
an apartment building.  I held for several minutes more and he said he
thinks that it will be delivered.  He gave me his name and phone
number and said to call if there were any problems.  I should get the
check within 30 days (and probably sooner).

Phew!

05/15/98

Leaving Spain

Our plan of many months has been to see the old communist block
countries, starting with Bulgaria and working our way east.  Peg’s
mother Betty had sent us the Berkeley guide to aid in our planning.

We looked at several campers and we could get a good used one for
about $6,000.   Fuel for a car would also cost $200 just to get to
Sofia. The plane and train fare to Sofia were about the same, $200.
Trains and buses are very cheap within Central (Eastern) Europe.  So
cars and campers are not economical given 1) the cost of fuel 2) the
risk and other costs of owning a car, and 3) the low price of travel
by train in Central Europe and 4) the low cost of airfare.  You do
have more freedom and a camper would be a great way to see the
countryside.  The train was not a good option, taking several days.
If you got a sleeper car, the train would cost more than the plane.
The costs mounted if you had to buy meals on the train.

We checked airfare at many travel agencies.  The best deal we found to
Sofia, Bulgaria, was about $350.  We found an offer to Istanbul for
about $300 that included four nights lodging.  We decided to go to
Istanbul and then take the train to the Black Sea coast of Bulgaria.
Then we would make our way through Romania, Hungary, Slovakia, the
Czech Republic and Poland.

We have been staying with Emilia, who had an offer weeks ago to go to
Valencia for this San Isidrio weekend.   She leaves around 8 a.m.
after profuse apologies for not taking us to the airport.  Peg and I
have the morning to ourselves in Emilia’s piso.  We take time to
relax, pack our bags and eat lunch.  At 1 p.m. we get on bus 144, get
off at the metro and take it to near the airport.  We put our one
large, wheeled bag, one small bag and my backpack on the city bus that
goes to the airport.  We arrive at 2:30.  By car or cab, the trip
would take about 15 minutes.  But we use up our metro ticket and save
2000 ptas. in cab fare.

As we fly over Spain, we see little of the Spain we have grown to
love.  Clouds hide its landscape from us.  I will miss Spain for its
friendly people, reasonable prices, generally good services and food.
I will miss Emilia’s sister Nina, their friends, and the mountainous,
boulder-strewn retreat near Pedriza.   Most of all, I will miss
Emilia, her coffee-laden personality, her joy in going places, her
warmth, and her eagerness to learn and to teach.

We land in Istanbul at 12:45 a.m.  The tour guide meets us as
promised.  Their bus takes us to various glittering hotels around
Istanbul, dropping off other passengers.  Finally we ride through a
dumpy, crumbling neighborhood.  Uh oh!  This was the route to our
hotel!  The travel agent warned us about 2nd class hotels and now I
beginning to see why.

Inside the hotel we go.  Oops, we did make it too cheap this time!
Very dirty carpets, though otherwise clean enough.  Low water
pressure.  Lousy locks on the doors.  Too late to do anything but
collapse into the hard but comfortable bed.  It is 1:00 in the
morning.

Spain, cont’d

4/01/98

Travel plans are becoming the main topic of conversation.  I wanted to
go to SE Asia earlier this year but Peg was not enthused.  However, we
are going to Central Europe (fka Eastern Europe).  The route:
fly/take train into Sofia, Bulgaria or Istanbul, whichever has the
best deal from Madrid.  Bulgaria, Rumania, Hungary, Slovakia, Czech
Republic, Poland.

I signed us up for a newsgroup the other day, rec.travel.europe.  I
was not sure if this would turn out to be of value. Thus far some
people have been helpful, telling us about prices, problems and
experiences in Central Europe.  Most have had a good time.  There have
been some petty thefts and hassles with officials who seem to want to
collect a ‘fine’ for things like having your feet on the seats.  I
believe the reports of thefts.   Regarding other matters, people are
either foolish travelers or their problems were a result of the
impositions they claim.  One theft involved drugging a sleeping train
traveler while they were in their sleeper.  A friend of ours had this
happen to him in France several years ago.

Despite joining the Europe travel newsgroup, we cannot come up with
cost projections that we feel comfortable with.  Right now it seems
that we can count on an average cost of about $20 per night for the
two of us in decent accommodations, maybe private residences.  Food
seems to run about $10 per day each, eating out.  If this holds true,
then we are just fine.

It is also hard to know how difficult and inconvenient the travel will
be, although we also have a Berkeley guide.  They give plenty of
information but how difficult things are depends on how well each
person responds to the challenges.

I want to return for my 30th high school anniversary on August 1.
Working that in without spending a fortune on air is another
challenge.  We (or at least I) will need to have completed our tour by
then.

We have been talking about buying a small truck like Emilia’s and
sleeping in it at night in campsites or just out in the countryside.

4/02/98

Visited the exposition at the Instituto Alemán.  Emil Schumaker’s
water colors and gouaches are supposed to be important but we were
both unimpressed.

4/03/98

Went to Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum.  This is essential for visitors to
Madrid.  The Thyssen-Bornemisza family collected most of the art over
only two generations.  Most of it is here and the rest is in
Barcelona.  The collection was gifted, I think, to the Spanish
government.  The collection is housed in the Palace of Villahermosa .
It’s exterior is a good example of Madrid’s neoclassic architecture.
The interior has been remodeled to house the art.

I am really tired of religious art except the examples here are so
good, in such fine condition and so well displayed that I enjoyed this
part too.  I recall one Jesus that was so realistic that it spooked
me.  It did not look like it belonged among this old stuff yet it was
14th or 15th century too.

In the basement is the Macke Exhibit.  Macke (1887-1914) is fun to
see.  He lived in Germany when Expressionism was developing.  I think
that this is also when Impressionism was strong.  “His artistic
evolution started within the framework of Impressionistic and Post-
Impressionistic French art.”  (museum brochure).

The handsome brochure (available in English) says that a basic feature
of Expressionism is the use of pure color for expressive ends.  I do
not know what this means.  I think that Macke’s best work is his
watercolor.  I think also that there is some cubistic aspects to his
work.  I do not recall seeing anything else anywhere in watercolor
that is as cubistic as his.

Afterwards we went to Emilia’s piso, in the south part of city. Emilia
is a professor of Communications and excels in Student Decor.
Scattered about were some delightful examples of Salvation Army
Nouveau.  In one room, done in Good Will Rococo, you could not even
see the floor.  Her 13th (top) floor flat commands a view of jillions
of similar apartment buildings.  There are two balconies.  Her floor
is a beautiful parquet.  She has three bedrooms.

Emilia has been ill with flu.  Peg and I, her sister Nina and Maria
Eugenia came to visit.  I have a hard time understanding Nina.  At one
point she is talking on the phone and I swear she says, “No way.”
Emilia confirms what I heard.  She explains that in Chile they use
quite a few English expressions.  They do not always carry the same
meaning.  No way is a sort of swear word, I think, but it means the
same as it does in English.

Maria Eugenia is married to Jaime and with Nina they own the little
cabin outside Madrid.  Maria Eugenia arrives in Nina’s car.
Apparently Maria Eugenia left her keys locked in her car.  Her son
came and got the car later and while Maria Eugenia finished with some
patients, Nina took the metro to Emilia’s.  It took me at least 20
minutes and Emilia’s help to figure this out.

4/04/98

Alejandro is one of Peggy’s students at the advertising agency.  Peggy
has arranged to have drinks with him and his girlfriend.  We meet them
at Plaza Castilla, which I arranged with Alejandro as he could not or
would not do so in English with Peggy.  This is an all Spanish
language night, which is fine by me.

They take us to a bar near a park.  This park is teeming with kids in
their late teens.  Alejandro explains that since the kids have little
money, they drink coke and wine mixed and stand around outside.
Despite the crowd, there are few problems except that the locals
complain that the kids piss everywhere.  There are no toilets for them
so they go into the hallway of the underground parking lot.  We walked
through it and obviously it is scrubbed down regularly as I cannot
smell much.

Recently there was a demonstration here by the homeless.  Many young
people were evicted from vacant housing after people complained about
them squatting in the apartments.  “Where are we to go?” they asked in
their demonstration.

It was an Irish bar that Alejandro had chosen.  He prefers stout and
other Irish brews to Madrid’s ubiquitous light beers.  We were served
by a woman from Galway.  She works here once a week and teaches
English the rest of the time.  She likes Spain, she said, although her
schedule was a bit difficult.  She would go back to Galway but says it
is still difficult to find work there, although the Irish economy is
booming.

After we drank a stout or two we went to our piso.  On the way home we
picked up a rotisserie chicken from our favorite, Gago’s.  We also got
some patatas ali oli, then made a salad.  It felt like we were living
the life style of the Spanish, for once:  we ate at 11:30 p.m.

Alejandro’s girlfriend, Mirella, has a degree in geology.  She has
never worked in her field.  She is about 30 years old and has a job
now as an administrative assistant.  Even this job was hard to get and
it temporary.  Her co-workers ask her why she works so fast and gets
so much done.  She and Alejandro say that this is a typical Spanish
attitude.  They seem to think that if they work hard, the work will be
done and their services no longer needed.  She wants to impress her
bosses with her commitment to working but I am not sure if even the
bosses care about things getting done too fast either.

Alejandro says that he often works late into the evenings and works on
weekends some also.  His bosses are always surprised that he has his
work done on time.

When he moved to Madrid from Barcelona to take his current job in
advertising (he is the art director), his parents followed.  He is
considering a job in Barcelona and says that his parents will move
back there if he gets the job.  Her parents live in Barcelona.

4/05/98

Fundación Juan March.  Paul Delavux, 1897-1994.  Paul apparently did
not see many women with their clothes on.  And most of the ones he saw
had very large brown eyes.  They appeared naked and large-brown-eyed
in every conceivable social situation.  I like his stuff and try to
draw some of his paintings.

4/06/98

The Imax.

4/08-09/98
Salamanca

Salamanca is our destination, about 200 kms from Madrid.  About a week
ago Emilia asked if it would be acceptable if she brought another of
her ‘intercambios’ along.  This meant that there would be five people
in her tiny furgoneta; her vehicle, I have learned, is in this class
of trucks.  We thought it would be too crowded but suggested that she
ask if the boyfriend was husky or not.  She joked that she was afraid
to use the term ‘husky’ as she had learned it with ‘dog’ as in ‘husky-
dog,’ which she pronounced as if it were one word.

Negotiating about passengers

Some negotiations followed.  We offered to take the train or bus.  She
said that would eliminate half the fun.  Emilia is typically Spanish,
I think, because getting there and back is most of the fun.  Stopping
for coffee and the like are the epitome of travel for her.  We offered
to rent a car for ourselves.  She said that would be too expensive and
we couldn’t talk to one another as we drove.  How about a car big
enough for us all?  Even more expensive.  Finally we said we were
highly flexible but would rather not be miserable on the way there and
back.  All this happened over a period of several days and phone
calls.  In the end, she managed to find out that the boyfriend was
skinny and to borrow her brother’s car.  It is not much bigger than
her furgoneta but has four doors, a much smoother ride and more
powerful diesel engine.

During all of this I felt the need to take a very flexible and
inclusive position.  I said 1) we would be willing to use most any
form of transport, 2) stay in a youth hostel if it meant others could
save money or be more comfortable, and 3) said nothing that suggested
that we did not want anyone else to join us.  I think that being any
other way would have made Emilia feel we were being selfish.  She
already knows that we have lots of money compared to her and most
Spaniards and may be extra sensitive to anything that smacks of
elitism.

We traveled, then, with two 22 year old kids from somewhere in
England.  Hillary and Daniel both teach English here.  She teaches
young kids and some adults too.  She has a college degree but I do not
think it is in Spanish or philology.  She had been diagnosed manic
depressive.  This diagnosis gets her a disability check but, I think,
only if they are living in England.  She came here to improve her
Spanish.

The road to Salamanca goes over the Guadaramas, taking us into a cloud
bank.  We emerge on the other side of the bank to find the weather has
gotten colder.  We make our way into town and after a thirty minute
struggle, we find a parking place.  We walk to the Plaza Mayor and pop
into a cafe for a coffee.  Through the large plate glass window we can
see much of the Plaza, which is known for its architectural
consistency.  I find it a bit boring architecturally, but that is
sometimes the price of consistency.  But it is grand.  It was built in
the 18th c. in the Baroque style.  The mansions that form the plaza
are three stories high with austere iron balconies.

My Favorite Sites

We see many famous sites on this day and the next.  My favorites are
the two Cathedrals and the Roman bridge.  The bridge is solid looking.
At first I couldn’t find out how old it is but I feel sure it was
built sometime between 217 BC and 200 AD.  Hannibal came through here
in 217 BC.  He must have been on his way to the Alps.  A brochure that
the helpful tourist office later provided confirms my suspicion by
suggesting that it may have been built under Emperor Vesposian around
200-300 AD.

The two cathedrals are connected.  Peg writes:

The old one is 12th century, and a great example of High
Romanesque, which one does not see very often.  The new one is
Medium High Gothic.  The fact that you walk from one right into
the other one makes anyone able to see immediately the difference
between the two styles.

Gary again (I have to write this in as the indentations that I have
place in the last paragraph do not always survive the internet and
thus some readers think that Peg is still writing)

Inside the old cathedral it is noticeably darker.  In one corner is a
small chapel.  On the wall is a painting made in the year 1265.  It
was made to look like a tapestry.  It is in great shape and I really
liked it.

The University

We wandered into one of the University buildings.  This building has a
simple but attractive courtyard.  It is part of the School of
Philology (I am not sure of the spelling in English;  the word refers
to the study of languages, I think).  Salamanca’s university had some
8000-10,000 students in the 16th century.  It was the best in Europe
at the time.  Eventually the admission standards only allowed the
wealthy to enter and the quality of the scholarship declined.
Michener goes on about this, becoming, so it seems, quite upset.  It
is just recently that the institution became respectable again.

Lunch this day was the worst I have had in Spain.  To make matters
worse, Hillary decides to become a grump.  She glares and fumes.
Emilia has told us that she and Husky are having difficulties being in
Spain.  He is returning to England next week.  That decision is making
it difficult for Hillary to pay the rent.  On top of this, the
landlady is giving her a hard time about the rent payment.  The
landlady wanted the rent to be transferred to her account directly.
Now she claims she did not get the right amount and wants Hillary to
pay the difference.  She is also telling Hillary not to use the
heating system and Hillary does not know how to turn it on.

Hillary says, “People say how bad British cooking is.  I don’t think
much of Spanish cooking.  It’s all the same and no good.”

I survived lunch and Hillary’s grump.

Semana Santa

This is Holy Week (Semana Santa).  There are processions this evening
starting around 9 p.m.

First we get settled at the youth hostel that Emilia arranged.  This
was a step up from her usual arrangement, which is to sleep in her
truck in a campground.  Peg and I have never stayed in a youth hostel
(as opposed to a hostal, which in Spain is a hotel without a
restaurant).  We were nervous about having to share our sleeping room
with strangers.  However, we were able to obtain a room meant for six
with its own shower and toilet.  It was no great bargain.  It cost
2500 ptas per person (about $18).  Peg and I have spent less in Spain
and not had to share with young people who intend to stay out until
all hours (they came in at 3 a.m. but were quiet as church mice).

We returned into the wintery evening.  The brochures told us the route
of the processions and we joined the growing crowds on the one lane,
house-lined street.  Vendors were selling a sweet wafer, like the ones
you get in the U.S. that have a cream filling.  These had no filling
and were only one wafer thick.  They were about 5″ in diameter.

At a little after nine the drums started.  Thump, thump, thrrummp.  A
slow and somber beat.  Then marchers appeared.  They were wearing
conical heads that extended about 15″ above the crown, and which
covered their faces except the eyes.  Their robes, white ones,
extended to the tops of their shoes.

Why are they going so slowly?  We will be here all night!

Then trumpets, just trumpets, maybe 20 or so, bit into the frozen air,
walking in time to dirges.  Step, hesitate, step, hesitate, like in a
wedding procession.  Somber music in the somber beat.  In unison.  No
talking.  No singing. No faces visible except the musicians’.  Then we
see the Jesus figure coming, perched on a float.

Jesus and then Mary float by, a thousand eyes peering

We had seen some floats earlier in the day in the cathedrals.  There
were four arms on each end extending from under the float.  It looked
like about 10 people on each end would hoist the float.  I found that
they squeezed in more than I thought and there were maybe 20 people on
each end.

Slowly Jesus approached.  Thump, thump, thrrummp.  More trumpets.  The
speed remained a constant turtle’s pace.  At last the float drew even
with us.  On the side of the float there is a screen-like material,
perhaps wicker.  I guess they want the float to get air underneath.

As the float trudged past I happen to look down.  I see feet
protruding from inside the float.  I counted them.  There were about
60 people inside the float, in four rows.  Maybe 100 people were
carrying this thing and if one of them fell, especially one inside the
float, many would be injured.  As I thought more about what they were
doing, I realized that they had to remain in perfect unison or someone
would trip and fall.  Now I understand why this procession has to go
so slowly.  The result of a fall would be disastrous.

About 20 minutes later, Mary arrived.  About the same number of people
were carrying Mary, dressed in a nun’s outfit. Her garments reminded
me of the middle-eastern origins of this religion.  And I thought
about how Islamic fundamentalists wanted women to dress that way now.
Maybe not looking just like nuns, but damn similar.

Mary’s float moved differently.  All 100 or so people took two steps
forward and one step back, of course and by necessity, in perfect
unison.  It made Mary’s float make what looked like tiny circles, I
guess because of the weight shifting from one foot to the other.
Quite a fancy maneuver, maybe a death defying one.

The next day we went to the Museo Art Nouveau.  Beautiful glass and
other works housed in a stained glass roofed building with a stained-
glass view of the Roman bridge.  Tons of gorgeous stuff that is way
beyond my meager talents to describe.

More processions

Peg writes:

Throughout the week we watched other processions, in Madrid,
Malaga, Valencia, Seville, and other cities, all broadcast on TV.
They take place every evening throughout Holy Week.  The
processions are sponsored by various fraternities that seem to
compete with each other to see who can put on the most impressive
procession.  Some people are still really moved by these figures.
To us the practice seems left over from the Middle Ages, when
people were illiterate and statues were used to explain the
doctrines of Christianity to them.

4/10-12/98

Happily going nowhere, cold outside.  Most stores are closed due to
Easter holidays.  On Sunday the Rastro is open.  We are thinking about
reducing the amount of luggage we carry with us on our journey to
Central Europe.

I call the phone company several times to find out what to do to shut
the phone off and get our deposit back.  Three of five I spoke with on
separate occasions said that I could go to a particular building in
the central zone, tell them what I wanted to do.  They would calculate
the bill, return anything we were owed, and shut off the phone.  They
all said not to wait until the last minute, maybe a few days before we
had to leave.

Spanish tortilla, at last!

I have finally learned how to properly make a Spanish tortilla .  A
Spanish tortilla has nothing to do with a Mexican one.  The former is
an omelette.  It is about 2 inches thick and usually about 6 inches in
diameter.  It has potatoes and onions, and that is normally all there
is.  I have seen green peppers in them but only in Salamanca.  The
tortilla is normally served at room temperature.

Alejandro’s girlfriend told us how to make the tortilla and for some
reason her method worked better than the one we had learned from a
woman we had dinner with in Barcelona in 1992.  Here’s what she said
to do:  Chop the potatoes and onions, making them no bigger than the
size of your little finger (I diced them and that worked fine).  Fry
them in olive oil slowly.  You do not want to caramelize them at all.
When they are done – no crunchiness at all, just real soft – rremove
them from the pan and mix them into the eggs that you have beaten very
thoroughly.  Clean the frying pan, add new oil and pour the
egg/onion/potato mixture into the pan.  You want the pan to be warm,
not cold or red hot, when you add the egg mixture.  Cook under a slow
to medium flame until one side is done and then turn the tortilla onto
a plate.  This means that the top of the tortilla has to be dry.  Then
put the tortilla back into the pan and cook slowly until the bottom is
done and only slightly browned.  The amount of egg to potatoes/onions
is about four eggs, two medium potatoes, one medium onion.  You want
the mixture to have little or no free egg running loose.

Spring weather departs

Peg writes:

Spring has again left Spain…Today, we went outdoors for a
couple of hours, walked around downtown, and it was about 45
degrees. Most of the snow had melted from the Guadarrama, until
last Tuesday, when another dusting occurred.  Ski season
continues in the Pyrenees. Here, on Friday, we had hail (2
minutes), sunshine (5 minutes), black clouds (3 minutes), snow (1
minute), sunshine (1 minute), rain (2 minutes), repeat.   I hope
this is the last cold front.

We’re starting to wind things up here.  Two more weeks of English
classes, then Arlette & Dani arrive.  Then David.

The BBC is doing about five hours on Ancient Egypt tonight.  Last
Sunday, they did six hours on Rome.  Starting with a performance
of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.  Then an hour on the Roman
Coliseum and how it was used, an hour-long documentary on
Augustus Caesar, then an hour on Nero. Really wonderful
programming.  Hope this evening is as good.  A great way to spend
a cold evening, if you ask me.  I think I could manage to stay in
the Balearics or Canaries for the winter if I could get Via
Digital television.

4/13-18/98

Celtic music of Galicia

We went again to the Teatro Madrid.  This time the offering was
folkloric dance and music of Galicia, the Celtic province of Spain.
From my readings last year I recall that these Celts came from France
,extending the Celtic migration from Central Europe.  Only in Galicia
and in Brittany are there vestiges of Celtic culture on the continent,
so far as I know.

The costumes were numerous and outstanding.  I think that there were
as many as 30 people dancing, singing or playing instruments at a
time, all wonderfully outfitted in traditional dress.  There were, I
think, up to five bagpipes on stage at once.  Joining the bag pipes
were drummers and a tambourine.

The music is unmistakably Celtic but it is different from Irish,
Scottish and Britannic traditional music.  The only instrument not
present in Irish and Scottish versions is the tambourine.  At least, I
cannot recall a tambourine in same.

As with other performance we saw in this series, the traditional dance
was combined with ballet.

I liked everything about this performance, even the seats high in the
nosebleed section.  Our view was excellent albeit distant.  However,
seats a few rows behind us did not yield a full view of the stage.  We
certainly got our 1000 pts worth ($6.50 per person.)

Negotiating with Fernando

On March 30 I had called Fernando, our landlord, to tell him that we
were leaving.  Fernando called on the 15th to tell us he had the
electricity bill (the light bill, they call it:  la factura de la
luz).  He came over and we paid him for two months, about $90
including water, which was $20 of the total.  This takes us through
March 15 and he did not ask for payment for the rest.  I decide not to
bring it up since the refrigerator door remains in need of repair or
replacement, and he has never done anything about the roof.  These are
not big problems for us other than a higher electricity bill because
of the refrigerator door.  Maria had told us that most Spaniards would
have paid less in rent until these things were fixed.

“We are going to fly to Sofia or Istanbul,” I said.  “Joder,” he
exclaimed.  “Then we are going to Romania,” “Joder,” he said again.
As we told him about each step in plans for Central Europe, he would
say, “Joder!”  This means literally, “Fuck!”  This is a very common
way that people in Madrid talk.  It’s fuck this and fuck that.  I
think that in English would might say, “Wow.”  That’s how I would
translate joder here.

Prices of package deals are falling the closer we get to the last
minute.  A week in Mayorca in May is now running about $280, airfare,
hotel, breakfast and dinner, per person.  We have not received
confirmation from our travel agent about the week in Galicia.  Each
time I call they have to find out whom we spoke with the first time we
came.  This seems typical of business organization here, very ad hoc.
So you have to write down who you talked to so when you call, you can
get the same person or others can find your file.

We walked past a woman begging downtown.  Each time someone gave her
only 25 pta. coins, she would throw them away!  A man nearby had
observed the same thing and now he runs out and grabs them before
anyone else does.  He practically pushed me out of the way as I was
reaching for a coin.

04/18/98

Palacio de La Granja

Saturday the 18th to go to La Granja with Emilia.  La Granja is a
palace that is like Versailles in style, but not as grand. It was
built in 1720 by the Bourbon, Philip V, the grandson of Louis XIV.

Five times a year they turn on the fountains.  We lucked out and today
was one.  The fountains are magnificent works of art.  They are fed by
a small lake on the hill behind the palace.  The water from the
fountains can go no higher than the lake, but that means a height of
about 50-75′.  The display is quite impressive.

La Granja is not far from Sevilla but we got there not via the highway
but via the mountain pass, which was lined with snow 2-3′ deep.

Been visiting Central Europe cites on the net.  Some have been quite
useful.  We have found some useful information from rec.travel.europe.
We have corresponded with people who have been in some or all of the
countries.  We found out about one nice sounding hotel in Prague for
$28, another one in the countryside for up to four adults also for
$28/night.  This is the cheapest decent sounding stuff in Czech we
have seen.  One woman wrote to say that she stayed in a youth hostel
for $15/night in Prague.  Prague sounds quite expensive compared to
the other countries.  Not sure why.

I have decided that we can keep within our $2000 budget, although
we’ll be moving around a lot.

04/26-27/98

Foreign visitors

Yesterday we picked up Dani and Arlette at the airport.  The day
before Nina and Emilia had given us a dress rehearsal on how to get to
the airport.  It’s not that hard to get to the airport but for some
reason, perhaps because Emilia seems to get lost easily, they thought
this was necessary.  Anyway, if you know what an airport symbol looks
like,  can read any language as long as it has the word ‘airport’ or
some derivative in it, you can find your way to the airport in Madrid.
Nonetheless, it was quite thoughtful of them and offered yet another
example of their thoughtfulness, kindness and generosity.

After getting Dani and Arlette, we went to the cabin that Nina owns
with her dentists friends, Jaime and Maria Eugenia, two super charming
and delightful people.  We ate roasted chickens, tomato salad and
bread with red, rose and white wines.

Weather:  sun, rain, hail, high wind, dead calm.  At times we could
see Madrid on the horizon, those two leaning towers of the Plaza de
Castilla clearly visible when we were not in clouds.

We had French in one corner, English in another and Spanish in a
third.  Polish in a fourth.  Emilia has made friends with a former
student, also named Jaime, who has a girlfriend named Joanna, who is
from Poland.  Her grandmother is here visiting and grandma, who cannot
be much more than 55-60, speaks only Polish.

Afterwards, Jaime and Maria Eugenia invited us all to their piso for
paella.  The paella was only the second one he has ever done.  It was
very good.  He made a fish stock, added it to the rice along with a
little fresh, good fish.  Bread and wine.  Quite simple yet elegant.
And we only had to wait until 10 p.m. to eat.

04/28/98

We took Dani and Arlette to La Granja, Segovia, Avila and El Escorial.
Emilia lent us her little truck.  After 8-9 times getting in and out
of that back seat (two doors only), Dani and Arlette were pretty worn
out.  The little truck is a bit noisy and underpowered, and so five
hours of driving can make you quite tired.

Dani and Arlette like to see the countryside, and have less interest
in museums and cathedrals.  This trip gave them a lot of mountain
scenery. Our Lady of Every Cathedral only took us into two churches,
the magnificent and huge one in Segovia and the one at El Escorial.

The next few days were occupied in seeing more of the local sights with Dani and Arlette.

Spain, continued

3/1/98

El Museo Carralbo

El Museo Carralbo is a private collection in a mansion near the Plaza
de España, which is in the central part of Madrid.  The collection was
gathered largely by Don Enrique de Aguilera y Gamboa, el XVIII Marquis
de Carralbo (1845-1922).

I bet introducing him required years of spokesmodel training.

Don Enrique was a writer, a great fan of the arts and of political
dialogue.  He was the head of the Traditionalist Party of Spain for
many years, a member of the Royal Academy of the Language and Fine
Arts, Arts of S. Fernando, and more.  Enrique traveled extensively in
Europe and Asia visiting museums and making purchases.  He lived in
this mansion with his wife and two children.

It would be a privilege to awake in this building, even without any
art to feast upon.  The visitor is greeted at the main entrance by a
marble and tile studded foyer and the Grand Staircase.  The latter has
a carved wooden banister, while the balustrade is hand forged iron in
the style of Louis XV; the stairs are made of wood as well.  Paintings
include ‘The Defense of Coruña Contra Drake.’

La Galería Religiosa has an El Greco (El Éxtasis de San Francisco), a
Zurbaran and other religious paintings and decorative objects.  Among
the latter are some high relief wooden carvings.

Don Etc. collected magnificent clocks.  They all work and most of them
chimed on the hour, sending echoes throughout the three storey
structure.

Everything in this mansion is masterfully and opulently decorated.  I
have never heard of this collection.  The collection and the building
make all other private collections I have seen pale in comparison.
This is yet another jaw dropper.

Gary Bob says check it out.

Afterwards we had a small lunch at a nearby bar.  Peg had bacalao
(cod) in a tomato and onion sauce and I had some red peppers stuffed
with bacalao and a bechamel sauce.  The bartender gave us a sample of
their bocarones, which he said were raw but marinated.  Everything was
excellent.  With a glass of wine, a beer and some patatas ali oli, we
spent about $10, which was far from the cheapest but a very good
value.

3/4/98

Last night we went to Teatro Madrid and bought tickets for La Ballet
Español.  We are going tonight.  2100 ptas each ($13 or so).  Should
be flamencoish (what else can Spanish ballet be, since we know it
ain’t classic ballet).  While at the window, I told the clerk that I
wanted “Dos billetes para fila four.”  She and I got a good laugh at
that one.

Peg is hoping that there is not so much singing as one would normally
hear at a Flamenco presentation.  The one we saw in Granada was not
excessive, as I recall, so I am not sure what worries her so.  Maybe I
have been playing too much Radio Ole! and she is sick of hearing
flamenco singing.  There is a lot of moaning and groaning in Flamenco
singing.

3/5/98

Ballet Español

On the way to Ballet Español we stopped at Halcon Viajes (902-300
600), the travel agency that offers great outings at bargain basement
prices.  The other day we signed up to go to Santiago de Compostela.
The seven-day bus trip costs about $120 per person including all
meals, hotel and admissions, plus excursions to Vigo and other sites
in Spain and nearby Portugal.  We have to change our reservation.
Ourclerk found our reservation without difficulty even without my
receipt.  However, she did have to ask us who had helped us.  Our file
was not in the main drawer, it was still at the desk of our original
assistant.  The Spanish aren’t the hardest working people in the world
but most things go well anyway, sometimes despite their lack of
organization.

Maria Rosa’s production is in Teatro Madrid, which is a city-run
operation.  It is housed in a complex that includes an indoor swimming
pool and a library.  The latter was stuffed with teenagers quietly
working at tables.  There is a large reflection pool outside and the
whole complex is snuggled up against Al Campo, a shopping mall that I
have mentioned previously.  This is not a zoning choice we would often
see in the U.S. but I like not having these sorts of things isolated
from one another.

The theater is dug out of the ground so that the entrance is the
highest point of the structure.  There is not but two or three bad
seats in the house.  We are sitting in the front.  A few rows farther
back would have been better, to allow for a wide view of the stage.

Ballet Español turns out to be a fusion of ballet, flamenco and folk
dance.  The strongest influence is the flamenco.  Most of the dancers
wore boots but some wore soft ballet shoes (without hard points).
Costumes were folkloric and flamenco.

The first number was a modern dance with folkloric and flamenco themes
very delicately presented.  Following numbers were clearly folkloric
with themes from Galicia (which has a significant Celtic influence)
and Asturias; or flamenco infusion; or, as in the finale, straight (or
nearly so) flamenco complete with guitarists and singers.

The later the evening became, the more flamenco dancing there was.
There were far more group efforts than you would find in most flamenco
productions, which are small in numbers of presenters as well as in
physical space.  Here there were as many as twenty dancers.

Maria Rosa is probably well into her 50’s but she dances with great
elegance and style.  She did not display any of the haughty pride that
is so much a part of flamenco dancing.  The two primary male dancers
were half her age.  One was exclusively flamenco in style, the other
and the star of the show (other than Maria Rosa) combined his
traditional steps with leaps and spins from his classical ballet
training.

Peg’s hope that the singing would be limited was fulfilled.  Only the
last two numbers included any singing.  There were two men singing,
never together, accompanied by two excellent guitarists.  Their
singing was typical but within the context provided by the dancing and
the guitar playing, it was quite acceptable to Peg and I really liked
their offerings.

Quite a delightful evening.  My only complaint was that the music was
not live, except for the guitarists and the singers.

3/8/98

Bouttine Souriante: the after burners

There was snuggling room only to hear Bouttine Souriante, a French
Canadian musical group.  They play traditional Celtic music from
Brittany.  There are not just traditional instruments: violins,
accordions, penny whistles.  The ensemble also includes a bass fiddle,
trumpet, saxophone and clarinet.  They are  playing at the Colegio
Mayor San Juan Evangelista’s Club de Música y Jazz.  The locals call
the club ‘Johnny.’  I guess that they think that ‘Johnny,’ being an
American name, is appropriate as a nickname for Juan.  Johnny is proud
of his music, as we had to fork over 5000 ptas.

I met Peg at the club after my journey to the cabin with Emelia.
Unfortunately for Peg, she did not ask if she was in the right line.
She was in line for about 30 minutes.   I did ask, however, and lucky
thing I did.  Otherwise we might have had to sit separately or join
the intimate crowds in the aisles and on the balcony.

The evening was as fascinating for the marvelous, electric and
energized sounds of the group as it was for the marvelously energized,
participatory crowd.  After an opening harmony, the band normally
began a number with the traditional instruments, so that a gig sounded
like a gig, and a reel like it should.  But from then on, out came the
after burners and turbo chargers.

Trumpet, two trombones (one a bass), and the sax then piped in what I
can only describe as pure energy.  Wake up time.  Heart beating-
aerobic-stomping-move-the-dead-from-purgatory-to-heaven time.  I have
never heard anything like it, and although at the end I was ready to
leave, I would go hear them again.  This is coming from a person who
is not a great fan of live music.  I like it in the background, but to
have nothing to do but listen makes me antsy.  No problem here.

And if the group did not enthuse me, then the crowd would have.
Dancing in the aisles, or better yet, pulsating, as there was not room
to dance.  On its feet in front of their seats, the Spaniards moved to
the intense rhythms.  Then came the clapping.

The Spanish clap is unique.  It is flamenco.  I think that they are
born with the ability.  They not only know how, they know when and
when not to.  And when they did, they became part of the band and part
of the entertainment.

Two and a half hours later, the ovations were unending.  Not the
typical single encore, not two, but three.  Then the crown demanded
more.  After all, dawn was seven hours away, and why spend money to
get high on beer in the bars when this is better and cleaner?  But the
band had to give up.  After 23 years together, I cannot imagine how
they could put as much energy into a performance as they had.

3/14/98

Cáceres and Trujillo

For a mere 2950 ptas each we are off to Cáceres and Trujillo in
Extremadura via bus.  These weekly excursions, which get you to
selected places within one day’s drive from Madrid, are the best deal
in town.  There would be little other reason why we are here at Plaza
Castilla at 7 a.m.

I am not sure how to translate the name of this region of Spain that
sits on the Portuguese border.  It could be ‘extre madura’, which
could be extra mature, assuming ‘extre’ was or is a word. Or it could
be ‘extrema dura,’ which I would translate as ‘extremely hard.’
Either of these translations works, for Extremadura is a hard and dry
land (for which ‘extremely mature’ works also), even more desert-like
in some parts than around Madrid.  Our specific destinations, Cáceres
and Trujillo, require a three and one half ride each way, including a
thirty minute rest stop.  The round trip is about 600 km.

Cáceres was a Roman settlement.  The old town now is strictly medieval
and Renaissance in appearance.  Having no other building styles to
ruin the effect, the old part of town has been the site of many movie
productions.  It is on the highest spot; the new sections lie below
and around it.  Its many medieval and Renaissance palaces are in
magnificent condition as far as we could tell from the outside, either
from superb maintenance or restoration or both.  All the streets are
cobbled and make for awkward walking, but this adds to the authentic
feel.

We wound our way to the Casa de las Veletas, which is now an
archeology museum.  Here we saw some fine objects starting from the
Early Paleolithic era.  A display shows paintings from the Maltravieso
Cave, which is nearby in the flood plains.  There are also some
excellent examples from the Copper and Bronze Ages, and from the
visits of the early Phoenicians (who were from the area we now call
Lebanon).  Iron age objects from the pre-Roman area join those from
the Roman and Visigothic eras to round out this section of the museum.

What’s amazing is not just the fine condition of so many ancient
things, but also the fact that they are here, in this tiny town in the
middle of Extremadura.  We are not close to the sea here.  Anyone who
travels here must travel over hard, dry ground, probably along the
river so they could drink along the way.  In particular it is
interesting that there are Phoenician objects here, showing either
that they made the journey or, more likely, that they traded for
objects that were passed along in who knows how many subsequent trades
before arriving here.

Also, this is a tiny building in a tiny community.  In the U.S. I
would expect to see a collection of this quality only in large museums
as only the large ones could afford to buy this stuff.  Maybe this
museum did not have to make purchases.

There is more to this museum and this town, but let’s eat!  We have
made it to 1:30 p.m. and for once are not the first and only patrons
in the restaurant.  We choose one that was in the guide, which is rare
for us to do.  Its prices are reasonable, with the menu of the day for
1600 (about $10).  Its name is El Figón de Eustaquio that the book
said served mainly regional delicacies.  The menu of the day included
the pot of the day, ‘La Olla del día,’ which was bread soup.  It was
some sort of delicious broth with bread in it.  Peg also had a soup as
a first course, whose name I have forgotten.  With lunch we had the
wine of the region, Ribiera, which is a young wine (nouveau in French)
and it is quite a joy to drink.  The bottle was included in the price.

We hobbled around more of the village until we had to meet our bus in
the Plaza Mayor for the trip to Trujillo.

Trujillo, dating from Roman times, is the hometown of the Pizzaros,
those who conquered the Incas, as you might recall.  The town rests
upon a hill, although the view is less impressive than what Cáceres
offers.  This is a quiet town.  Stork nests abound and are occupied by
the graceful birds.  There are fewer people, fewer tourists, and no
buses today because of road work.

We trudged up the hill, landing in the Plaza Mayor (16th and 17th
centuries), which I think is more impressive than the one in Madrid.
It is larger, it has large and old buildings, and I think that the
structures are less uniform, making it appear somehow more natural.

In the middle is a huge statue of Francisco Pizarro, leader of the
expedition, on a horse.  He (and the horse, I think) are armored.  The
church behind it is early 16th c Gothic.  A toothless old man (or at
least he looked old) made sure that everyone ‘contributed’ the
required 25 or 50 pesetas to see the place.  Of more interest is the
Palacio de los Duques de San Carlos.  It is across the street.

Sister Bucky’s Touché

Meet Sister Bucky.  She is a nun of the Hieronymire order. I have
named her after a nun that does delightful 5-10 minute art lectures on
BBC television from time to time.  Our sister Bucky is a perky, 40ish
woman in traditional habit.  One member of the touring group
complained about something being unfair and she handled him quite
well.  No, she did not pull out her ruler (although I would have).
She told him he had to wait for some reason that I did not quite
catch.  She collected 200 pesetas and began the show.

The nun’s official place of residence is nearby but is in need of
restoration.  The Duke’s family permits them to stay here provided
they maintain the building.  The money they collect from us goes for
that purpose.  The part of the palace we see is the courtyard (open
roofed patio) and the second floor arcade (through glass only).  Bucky
shows us the beautiful stonework and the widely studied staircase.

The staircase is like one we saw in Montpelier.  It is hard to see how
it remains standing.  There are no vertical supports.  It is as if it
were cantilevered, meaning that the steps were inserted into the
walls; the steps do not fall down since when you step on them, the
part in the wall wants to rise (like a teeter totter) but cannot due
to the weight of the wall on top of the end.  I do not think that is
how it works but I have no other explanation.  It looks dangerous but
20 of us make it to the top.

Sister Bucky calls us down.  We are held up by the complaining man.
Bucky sees her chance and shouts to him, “It is not fair that you are
making everyone wait just for you!”  The perfect touché!

It is a lovely tour that ends with her showing us the Visigothic
capital found during renovations of the monastery.  Sister Bucky asks
me if I understood her.  I did, quite well, except for a few words I
did not know.

I like her and want to have a cup of coffee with her.  Me, who feared
nuns and their rulers almost as much as I came to dislike the religion
and superstition that they preached.  Would Bucky have told me that if
I touched the ‘host’ (what a name for a wafer!) my hand might get
stuck in my mouth?  No.  She’s too nice, too friendly.

As we leave, nuns in the chapel we pass through are singing, or
chanting, or is it praying.

Church of Santa María

The bright sun makes us glad we are not here in the middle of August.
We would be turned into dried up bricks in a moment, then used to
build a wall.  Up the cobble streets we walk.  At the top of the hill
is the Church of Santa María.  The door is locked so we look about the
outside.  The thick bell tower is Romanesque while the remainder is
Gothic.  I think it was built in the 1400’s.

As we were leaving, a young man climbed the steep twenty steps to the
door.  He has the keys and in we go.

The interior has been untouched since the 16th century, and thus is
one of the best examples of church decor of medieval Spain, perhaps of
all of Europe.

Ferdinand and Isabel worshipped here.

The altar is the main attraction.  It is adorned with dozens of 15th
century religious paintings that are in immaculate condition.

Peg puts in 100 pesetas and the whole place is illuminated.  Gold
gleams from every corner.  Only the best for El Niño.

Behind us as we face the altar is the choir, about 20 feet up on
balcony with an expertly carved balustrade, which I think was wooden
but it may have been stone.

We leave only because it is time to get back on the bus.  An hour and
a half in Trujillo is a bit short.

3/15/98

My first argument

We arrived back at Plaza Castilla last night around 10 p.m.  We lost
an hour on the way back sitting in Saturday night rush hour traffic.
Someone had been smoking.  Peg told me it was the same man who was
late for the bus this morning and we sitting in the back row. I
finally saw him and said that smoking was not permitted on the bus.

He told me to shut up and to turn around and face front.  That steamed
me up in a microsecond.  I sat for a moment and then turned and told
him that he was giving me a headache and the smoke was making it
harder for Peggy to breathe.  He repeated his shut up and turn around
response.

Well, he went to that well once too often.

Two men behind us joined in the argument against our smoking friend.
One said he had been smoking all day.  Don Smoker said that I had my
shoes off several times and the odor was killing him.  That made my
allies even angrier.  He then said that smoking was permitted in the
back row.  Everyone knew that was bull.  Smoking on buses has been
prohibited for years.  One of my allies called out for our guide.

“Sofia, we have a problem back here.”  By this time, everyone on the
bus was looking back at all of us arguing and no doubt knew what the
problem was all about.

Sofia sauntered down the aisle. She was probably worried about what
sort of mess she was about to get into.

“Is smoking permitted on the back seat in the bus?  This guy has been
smoking all day and now he is trying to tell us that it is permitted
in the back row.”

Sofia is looking at everyone trying to size things up.  She did not
know who was involved in this as she walked the aisle.  She said that
neither smoking nor eating was permitted.

There were no smoking signs on every window, but no ‘no eating’ signs
so perhaps they put that somewhere in the fine print.

I could not hear what Sofia said to the smoker.  He never smoked
again.  However, he was rude again, when I looked at him to make sure
he was not smoking.  I thought I smelled smoke again.  Turn around and
face front, he said.  I grumbled in English but otherwise I ignored
him.

Getting angry in a foreign language is not easy.  Remember how Ricky
Ricardo switched to Spanish whenever Lucy screwed up.  Well, I was
able to do it without descending to the level of Don Smoke.  I was the
only one who had the courage to say something, although I am sure
others were bothered.

The Spanish Got All the Good Stuff and its in El Museo de Las Americas

El Museo de Las Americas is near Ciudad Universitaria, the college
campus west of the old part of Madrid.  This museum contains:

the largest collection of pre-Colombian art in Spain, if not the
world.

Time lines of native South American as far back as 25000 BC.

a large collection of period maps

demographic charts showing changes in Native Indian, Caucasian
and African populations in Central, South and North America, and
the Caribbean, from about the 17th c. to today.  For example:

At the beginning of the 19th century in N. America, the
population was about 11.6 million, 78% Caucasian, 16%
African, 1% mestizos, 5% Native Americans.

South America at the same time: 16.9 million, 31% mestizos,
Africans 5%, Indians 44%, caucasians 20%.

videos projected onto three 10′ x 15′ screens, giving panoramic
views of various nature and live wildlife scenes

videos of Amazonian Indian dances, agricultural and gathering
techniques

large collection of maps from the Age of Exploration

full scale native South American and dwellings

samples of colonial clothing and paintings depicting colonial
life

pottery dating as far back as 700 B.C.

gold jewelry, including some very small and finely crafted beads,
gold helmets from 1000 B.C. to 200 A.D. The gold helmet and the
beads were displayed outstanding craftsmanship.

display about written language in South American, which dates as
far back as 4200 B.C. or 9200 B.C. (I cannot read my handwriting)
in Mexico, and actual samples.

There is much more that I did not even see.

Forget any of the displays of pre-Colombian art you have ever seen.
To think in terms of what I have seen in the U.S. and elsewhere would
have mislead me into not going to this museum.   I have heard that the
Spanish got all the good stuff.  Now that I have seen this place, I
know that this is true.

3/16/98

After our trip to the cultural heights offered in Andalucia last
December, I did not think I would ever be more energized by Spain.
The entertainment and field trips of the past two weeks have added
more than I would have thought possible.  Certainly the rest of March,
having come in like a lion, will go out like a lamb.

3/17-24/98

Once upon a time I wanted to be 1) an artist and 2)a poor and starving
one.  I am sure I would have been successful at the latter.  So I
became a mediator.  I promised myself that when I had time, and when
having to make a living as an artist would not be necessary, I would
take up the avocation again.  So I began to sketch a bit in
Montpelier, and continued here.  I bought a few more pencils with
Neal’s help, and he brought me a book on drawing.  Until now, I have
almost had to force myself to draw.  Now that I can see some progress,
I have had a glimpse of the old eagerness that once kept me up late at
night.

Santiago Rusiñol and other shows

The many exhibitions have helped my drawing.  Mostly I go alone as Peg
does not often like exhibits of just one artist.  But one day we went
together to an exhibition of the works of Santiago Rusiñol (1861-
1931), from Catalan.  His canvases are full of light, which
overshadows his form, so to speak, yet gives his forms life in an
impressionist sort of way.  As you entered the Mapfre Vida, a cultural
foundation of the insurer MAPFRE, a woman just finished dressing
studies her hands in a natural pose.  A beautiful painting that made
me just want to stand there for an hour.

I have the time to enjoy this painting.   I have the time to
enjoy this painting.  Walking slowly about.  Time.  I have time.

Fountains.  Flights of stairs.  Children in a courtyard.

Another day I went to an exhibit of photographs by a Portuguese woman.
Also there is an exhibit of drawings.  I make copies of some of the
works I like on my little pad that I carry now in my backpack; ‘la
muchila’ in Spanish, a word I have a hard time remembering.
Afterwards I ate lunch in the garden.  New growth is beginning to
appear on buses and trees.  I sat and watched.  Nothing in particular,
everything in general.

Another journey takes just me to the Residencia de los Estudiantes.
The exhibit building is part of in-use student residences tucked some
400 meters from Recoleta, the large boulevard that leads to the Prado.
Here there is another free exhibition, this one about Garcia Lorca.
Someone has collected photographs, drawings and other items sent or
given to him by friends when Lorca was alive.

There is a photo of Andrés Segovia playing outdoors for a few friends.
And one of Lorca and Dali sitting on the beach.  There are two nudes
by Dalí, beautifully and realistically painted.  I draw each of them.
In one, the woman is standing in water with her back facing us.  There
is another nude, this one a Picasso, also realistically and expertly
painted.

A video shows scenes from the times of Lorca’s creative period, from
around 1913 to about 1936.  Lorca was killed in or just after the
Civil War.  Standing there, I do not remember if he was killed in
battle or executed by Franco.  A young woman, a student employed to
monitor the exhibit, told me that he was executed not only because of
his Republican position, but because of his homosexuality.

The Spain of 1898

There are many exhibits about the Spain of 1898.  The Spanish-American
War marked the end of the Spanish empire and most of the shows mention
this war.  At the Plaza de Colón, the city’s exhibition space is
crammed full of memorabilia.  Newspapers with headlines and stories
about the negotiations and the war.  One talked about how the
President was not going to declare war, wanting to give negotiations a
chance to work.

In another 1898 exhibit, the army commander reports that the Spanish
soldier is loyal, hard working, organized and willing to lay his life
down for his country at a moment’s notice.  The commander lamented the
severe food shortages by concluding his homage, “I only wish I had
enough for them to eat.”

Each exhibit I have seen has been exceptionally well organized and the
displays are of the highest quality.

Patones and other mountainous sites

On the 19-20th, we planned to go to Valencia to see the biggest
fireworks in Europe.  It was a national holiday of something or some
such. Although Emilia had the day off work, she had to do chores on
Friday and she could not go to Valencia.  Too bad, not only because of
the fireworks, but because we were going to camp out.  I miss camping.

Instead, on Thursday the 19th she took us to a mountain village about
60 kms. north of Madrid.  The village is called Patones and entry
requires passage over a narrow bridge with room for only one car at a
time.   There is no parking inside the village and not many spaces at
all anywhere nearby. But we arrived early, abut 9:30, and by beating
the crowds, have easily found a place to park.

Patones sits nested in the mountains but the plains are clearly
visible and close by.  All lanes and streets are steep, even those
that cut across the hillside.  Each building is made of stone and many
are restored.  Most restaurants have outdoor seating.

This would be a nice place to draw.  I cannot take the time today.
Again I wish I had a car (no bus service comes here).  I could take my
time when I wanted to and not have to bother anyone.

Saturday March 21 she took us to various place in the mountains north
of El Escorial.  On the way we stopped in El Escorial for coffee.
Emilia cannot pass up a cafe.  We walked through the free parts of the
monastery (El Escorial), which include the cathedral.  Peggy and I
marvel at the Cathedral.  Emilia seems not to care.  I think she
dislikes the Church and that gives the visit an entirely different
meaning for her.  Peg and I are looking at art and architecture.
Maybe Emilia sees the one-time pro-Franco institution, and the
institution that gave us the Inquisition.

El Escorial looked quite different this time compared to our visits in
December.  Today we can see the building clearly.  In December we
could not even see the roof for the clouds and rain.

Peguerinos is small village with a stream running through it, but
otherwise is not of particular interest.  We walked along the stream
and the small lake that it feeds.  We pass another village where
Emilia once rented a place for weekend escapes from the hot summer in
Madrid.  She decided to spend that money on learning English so can
not afford the rent.

We drive through the highest points in the mountains.  We see many
families, friends and lovers picnicking along the side of the very
rough track.  Emilia says she once came here alone during the winter
and found herself in a snow tunnel with 8’9′ drifts on both sides of
the rode.

What to do, what to do

Plans are afoot.  We have decided to leave Spain.  Eastern Europe is
our general destination.  Poland seems like the most interesting of
the countries.  Gadansk and Krakaw  are the best cities to see.  Still
some history left.  Warsaw was bombed to death by the Germans and then
rebuilt in Ugly by the Soviets.  We have picked some other spots in
Poland’s countryside that the books recommend.

There does not seem to be much of interest in the Baltic Republics
(Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia) but the Czech Republic and Slovakia have
a fair amount to offer.  Likewise with Hungary.  I doubt we’ll go to
Romania.  The travel guides have nothing good to say, nothing good to
see, despite the Roman occupation (thus the name ‘Romania.’).
Bulgaria has a bit more to offer than Romania.  Both, however, are
very poor countries just beginning to awaken from the oppression of
the Soviets and countless backward centuries.  Turks were there until
the end of WWI, I think.  Bulgaria borders Turkey, Greece, and the
former Yugoslavia.  Nice, stable place to visit, no?

We have reserved a spot on the tour to Santiago (St. James) de
Compostela, the famed pilgrimage destination from around 1000 A.D. or
so.  We will be there May 3-9 for a total cost of $140 each!  This
includes all transportation, lodging, meals and excursions.

Our friend David is joining us, arriving on May 1 from Dallas.  He’ll
be here for two weeks.  Peg’s cousin and her husband are arriving on
April 26th.  Dani and Arlette are French speaking Belgians.  They have
never been to Spain.  They are in their early 40’s and seldom leave
their local area, let alone go to another country.

3/28/98

Cuenca and Cuidad Encantada with Emilia

Yesterday, Emilia drove us to Cuenca.  It is a medieval town in the
mountains, about 100 miles to the southeast toward Valencia.  It is
about 150′ above the Rio Huécat.  This affords breathtaking views.  At
some points, the old town is only one street wide; that street is
named Calle Alfonso VIII.  The Plaza Mayor is reached by passing
through an ancient and rounded arch.  Some buildings in the town hang
onto the side of cliff, jutting dangerously over the edge.

The castle is at the far end of town, where it sits upon the narrow
triangle of land.  Great views, perhaps the best.

The Casas Colgadas has cantilevered balconies that jut over the gorge.
Nearby a small arch allows passage into residential areas and the
Bishops Palace.

We walked over the gorge on an iron footbridge.  On each end of the
bridge men started talking to us, explaining the sites.  Both wanted
to be paid.  We did not pay them as they had not given us a chance to
decline.  We politely pretended not to have heard and simply repeated
our ‘no thank you’s.’  We entered the Parador, a beautifully restored
16th century monastery.

Emilia asked where we would like to stay.  We did not know we were
going to stay the night.  Apparently at some point we talked about it
and she thought that was the plan.  For her, a 200-mile round trip
journey means an overnight stay.  She drives slowly and often
overcautiously, so it is understandable why she expected to stay.  We
have brought no clothing or toiletries.  She is gracious as usual.

We had lunch at a place offering regional specialties.  Peg and Emilia
had delicious but greasy baby goat cut into small pieces.  The local
wine was delicious, a 1990 red, and only $5.00!.  Afterwards and
despite the growing lateness, she is willing to drive to Enchanted
City with us.  Figuring we would get there faster, she asks me to
drive.  The little diesel carries us up the beautiful and steep
mountainsides, affording delights at most every turn.

Enchanted City is about 45 minutes by car from Cuenca and it is not a
city at all.  It is a national park.  For 200 pts. you see some
delightful rock formations, often huge and shaped recognizably.  Peggy
says that the rocks were formed from lava.  The wind and perhaps an
ancient ocean have shaped some rocks into the forms of turtles and
large ships, and a variety of other shapes that dwarf the gawker.
There is a large, flat field that is obviously a lava flow.  There are
narrow passages and arches blown into the rock.  This would make a
great place to camp.  There is a hotel on the site charging 5000 pts.
per double room.

3/31/98

The weather this month has been fantastic, getting as warm as 25C.
The Paseo de la Castellana and some other major roads and even many
back streets are lined with trees and shrubs now greening in the warm
sun.   We have seen the white blooms of the almond trees and
wisterias’ red ones.  Sidewalk cafes open now and you can sit in the
sun.   We have even had to choose the shade at times.  My sweater sits
unused, waiting for duty in the cool Junes of Central Europe.

Spain, continued

2/1/98

Siguenza

Siguenza is a beautiful medieval town.  All its streets are narrow and cobble-stoned.  Its cathedral was begun around 1150 and finished in the early 16th century.  It has a beautiful, thin
arch in front of a main (if not the main) entrance.  Nearby is a castle, now a Parador (formerly state-run and now privately run hotels in historic structures), in which we wander.  It has been beautifully restored and decorated, giving the feel of what it would have been like to live in it during its glory.  Except it probably would not have been as comfortable without heating, darker with fewer windows to let in the light.

The Plaza Mayor was commissioned by Cardinal Mendoza.  It is fully cobblestoned.  The surrounding structures are in fine shape.  The style is Renaissance.

We depart through one of the narrow, cobble-stone alleys, which winds past two to three story stone and stucco dwellings.  The cold, sunny  winter day takes us to Medinaceli.

Medinaceli

High on a hilltop sits this small village and its main attraction, the triple Roman arch of the 2nd or 3rd century AD.   This is the only triple archway to survive in Spain and its
silhouette is used as a symbol on road signs leading to national monuments.  The lonely arch greets you when your reach the top, marking a main entrance to the village.  It stands alone now but it begs to have the company of other structures. The cobblestones
around it are well used.  Turn around and there is magnificent view of the surrounding countryside.

The village is in the process of being restored.  Its old
dwellings has been neglected since the end of the 19th c, but now
foreigners and natives have begun the task of putting things back
together and modernizing.  For the Spanish, this village serves
in large part as a weekend retreat from Madrid.  We drive around
the small town’s sparsely cobble-stoned, unnamed streets.  This
takes less than 10 minutes at a crawl.  Many of structures are
detached and semi-detached, rather than the more typical
apartment buildings and row houses.  Excavations of Roman sites
is on-going in the village.

Neumancia

This site sits on a lonely hilltop just north of Soria.  Here in
135-134 BC, Iberians fought off the Romans, choosing death rather
than surrender at the end.  They must have had good defensive
structures as they were apparently surrounded yet held off the
conquerors for some part of a year or somewhat more.  Most of the
ruins are Roman, being foundations of buildings and streets.
Sounds of slashing swords, even the crunching of sandals in the
streets, would carry far along this hilltop and down the slopes.
The sky at night, normally clear as this is dry Spain, would
doubtless even now yield a star-studded heaven.

2/4/97

Trouble with Telefonica

We awoke to find the line was not working. I called them from a
public telephone, standing in the rain.  It seems that they have
not received the deposit of 32400 ptas.  I have to fax them a
copy of the receipt, which is from a bank where I paid the
deposit in early December.  Late in the afternoon the phone is
back on.  In the meantime, incoming calls can still get through.

Negotiating with fast talking, harried Telefonica employees while
in the and standing on Bravo Murillo, a very busy street, is a
challenge for me.  Trucks, buses and cars obscure their words.
Finally, I understand what I am to do after a second call to
them.

Later in the day I called back to see if they received the fax.
Their representative had not but since the phone started working
a short time later, I decided the problem was solved.  I called
the next day and confirmed that this was the case.  We also spent
some time trying to determine if our bank account number was
correct.  There were more numbers on my bank statement than they
showed on the bill.  We could not get the computer to accept the
additional numbers.  But since they had received their money for
the phone bill (as opposed to the deposit), we decided that they
must have it right.

2/7/98

Alcalá de Hernares

Went to Alcalá de Hernares via the Cercanias train, which serve
the areas immediately surrounding Madrid.  It’s about 18 miles to
the northwest of Madrid.  The University was founded in 1498 and
it was important until 1836 when the Universidad Complutencia
moved to Madrid.  Until then, all the important Church leaders
were educated in this small town.  Cervantes, Calderon de la
Barca, Gari de Dallas were either educated or taught here.  There
was a School of Medicine.

We took a guided tour of the university building.  It is in
Italian Renaissance style with lots of Spanish flavor.  There are
large patios surrounded by three story Roman arched structures.
Peg says that the older of them is quite unique.

Peg writes:

Cardinal Henry Cisneros endowed the university in 1489.  The
first building, set up like a cloister, was completed in 1500,
and is in pure Renaissance style.  Very simply decorated, white
Roman arches making a square with a pretty courtyard in the
center.  Its simplicity and elegance has an enormous impact.  The
2nd story is set back from the arched walkway so that it is even
more dominant.

The more impressive courtyard was completed 100 years later and
is purely neo-classical.  Also very beautiful, with three floors
of open arched walkways making a large square.

The facade of the building is about 150 feet long, moving into
early Spanish baroque – still absolutely white, but more heavily
decorated and four storeys high.  As part of the complex, there
is a chapel with a false front about 2 storeys above its roof.
On its top, and the tops of other bell towers in the city center,
are stork nests about 4 feet across and 2 feet high, housing
enormous storks.  Emelia says they used to migrate, but they seem
to be so happy in this part of Spain that they stay here
year-round.

The university was originally a cluster of 40 buildings.  Over
the next couple of hundred years, many monasteries, convents and
other universities clustered in the town, making it very
important.  When the university was moved into Madrid in 1836,
the city went into instant decline.  Now it is being restored,
but there seems to be so much of it that I can’t imagine that the
whole thing can ever be done.

2/15/97

Having company is a treat

In this living-just-the-two-of-us, don’t-try-this-unless-you-get-
along-very-well-and-have-practiced-it-being-just-the-two-of-you
life style that we follow, having company is a treat.  This is
especially the case when people are appreciative of what they see
and do and eat while they are here.  It was a special treat for
us to have young people who seemed to understand so much and be
so willing to try some new things.

A friend of Peg, Patti, and her teenage twins, arrive from
London.  Patti and ‘Pehhy’ had not seen each other in about 15
years.  She and her boys are here only for a few days, just
enough time for a few local must sees, such as the Prado and El
Palacio Real, and the always magnificent Catedral de Toledo.

In Toledo we had a memorable seafood lunch in La Ria (the
Estuary).  Patti insisted on finding it as it was in the guide
book.  It is a tiny place, seating maybe 20 snuggling people, and
it is in a tiny alley.  The garlic shrimp were unforgettable.

2/21/97

It’s Carnival!

We went to ‘carnival’.  This festival consists of big parades
everywhere in Spain.  In Madrid thousand march wearing tons of
fabulous costumes.  Lovely young ladies and handsome men who
dance the entire route, which is at least a mile.  Some of them
were very sexily dressed, never seen under Franco.  Some of the
floats displayed South American Indian themes, playing music with
heavy drums, of which some in turn played a salsa beat (sounded
great, even if the Indians did not play salsa music before it was
invented!).

Costumes adorned many of the watching crowd.  These costumes
reminded of Halloween.  Devil themes.  Witch themes. Death
themes.  Sheep themes- a group bah’ed past us complete with
shepherd but no dog.  Makeup of death: pancake faces, dark
circles under eyes.  An occasional Superman disrupted the theme.

In the middle of the parade a strong and cold wind struck us,
bringing a heavy, cold downpour a few minutes later.  We had our
umbrella with us and snuggled against the wall of a building with
a few million others.  A couple without umbrella or cover stood
next to us and we invited them in.  She looked very unhappy.

At the end of the parade, an enormous Devil sits upon his throne,
heavy beat of music playing deep thumps that certainly they must
hear in Paris.

Next Wednesday is  another carnival event: the burying of the
sardine.  I think it has something to do with Lent.  (Catholics
are supposed to give up things during Lent, like meat, eating
fish instead- but why bury the fish?). The internment occurs at 5
pm. Now, why didn’t El Greco paint this scene?

2/22/97

Up into the mountains with Emilia, Nina, their mother, Jaime and
Maria Eugenia.  Emilia continues to keep us involved in her life.

2/24/97

Home repair

I had forgotten how satisfying home repair can be.  Today I
repaired the leaky toilets.  The two gaskets cost less than a
dollar.  I will be content to forget again.

Not having seen this type of flush mechanism before, I could not
tell that the gasket could be changed.  I showed the whole unit
to the shopkeeper.  I said I wanted a new one.  She said I did
not need a whole new piece, just a gasket.  She showed me how to
remove the piece holding the gasket in place.  She could have
taken me for a ride and did not.

There are more repairs on the way, so I shall not be able to
forget again just yet.  One of the vollet (the wooden slatted
blinds that are in a channel, and are drawn up with a chord that
is on the interior wall) is need of repair.  We cannot open it
and our bedroom is dark.  The chord is broken.  The chord on a
lamp is ready to break off, and the whole socket wobbles.  To the
ferrerteria I must go.

Health Care in Spain

Health care is available to every citizen without regard for
ability to pay.  People with private health insurance will not
get any better care but they may have to wait less for care,
especially for things like kidney transplants.  If you do not
have health insurance, you are charged according to your ability
to pay.  Fernando indicated that people sometimes found clever
ways to look poor if they had a health problem, had no insurance
yet had assets.

Care is of very high quality.   Even those with private means go
to public hospitals and clinics for most procedures.  All of the
most modern technologies are readily available, with waiting
lists as indicated for those without private cover.  My only
experience here is with the dentist and I just picked one nearby
for a cleaning.  The equipment was modern, top notch and very
new.

Bar food

If ever you are hungry, there is a solution not far away in any
town.  Here in Madrid, the solution is almost every way you turn:
the bars.  The bars serve food from as early as 6 a.m. until as
late as 6 a.m.

There are common offerings available:

1) tortillas.  A Spanish tortilla is an omelette but it
does not have the consistency of most omelets.  There
are two ingredients:  eggs and potatoes.  Somehow they
cook the potatoes in olive oil until they are creamy,
and then they somehow get the eggs to mix in evenly
with the potatoes.  The result is a creamy consistency
that makes the tortilla a tortilla, and an omelette
something quite different.

2) patatas ali oli.  These are boiled potatoes with a
garlic rich mayonnaise generously, perhaps over-
generously added.   This is a potato salad with bite-
sized pieces that will keep the vampires at bay for
days.  I love them (the potatoes, that is).

3) patatas bravas: I think that they boil these
potatoes too, but when you place the order they go into
the deep frier.  Then a thick, garlicky (what
else)tomato sauce is added.

4) mushrooms buttons in olive oil and varying amounts
of ‘ajo.’   Can you guess what ajo means in Spanish?

5) pulpo.  octopus with various oil-based sauces,
usually with, guess, ajo.

6) calamari, usually fried.

7) bocadillos.  These are baguettes of various sizes.
They have either a slice of chorizo (see below) or of
cheese, but rarely both.  You can even get a tortilla
bocadillo.

Sometimes an appetizer is served free with a beer.
These have a small slice of chorizo on a slice of
baguette.  They have sandwiches here but a sandwich is
grilled and served hot.

8) bonito is tuna.  In the bars it is canned, but in
the markets you can buy it fresh at about 1/3 the price
we paid in Dallas.  Served with oil, maybe a little
vinegar and a slice of bread.

9) bocarones are anchovies, according to our local
bartender.  But they do not taste like anchovies.
There are also anchoas on the same menus.

10) chorizo.  Chorizo is sausage that has paprika in
it.  The paprika makes it red.  They are mild in
flavor, but sometimes they are a little hot.  They can
be hard like pepperoni, or uncooked and thus soft.
They can be long, short, fat, skinny.  In the bars,
soft chorizo is cooked in a tomato looking sauce and
served with bread.  Great stuff!

11) rotisserie chicken, served with fried potatoes,
many with a sauce made from the chicken.  Wow!  A whole
chicken in the bar with fries cost about $5.00.

12) Breakfast.  Forget cereal.  Churros.  Deep fried
donut thing,  about 4″ long.  Eat ’em with the coffee
that is great everywhere you go, and cheap.  Or how
about some hot chocolate?  Try that if you like
chocolate bars because that is how rich it is.  There
are other assorted pastries and every now and again you
see a croissant, but the French do those much better.
We eat cereal at home.  Eating breakfast here every day
means needing the national health service pronto!

13) Berenjenas: eggplant (aubergines in the UK and
France).  Baby eggplants are green.  In the bars, these
babies are cooked in a thin red sauce.  Cumin is the
predominant flavor.

14) Murcillo is blood sausage.  Tastes good but I do
not like the idea.

15) Paella is frequently available and sometimes is
even given as a tapa with beer (thus no extra charge,
although it is only a few bites).  Paella is a rice
dish that I love to cook and eat.  It has onions, green
peppers, chicken and/or chorizo a/o fish a/o mollusks
a/o shrimp a/o lobster a/o pork or a/o anything else,
even rabbit.

So, what do Peg and Gary eat?

We sometimes dine very similarly to how we might in the U.S.  We
make pancakes (no syrup- Aunt Jamima costs about $10 a bottle at
the American store), with turkey bacon and coffee.  You can get
pork bacon here.  This is the Land o’ Pork, after all.  But the
Spanish are growing faintly health conscious (I hear that you can
no longer buy cigarettes from vending machines installed on each
floor of the hospitals) so we can get turkey bacon.  Most days we
have an excellent and healthy fruit and fiber cereal.

Lunch might be salad, or sandwiches made with turkey or ham, with
a few artichoke hearts or olives, both being quite inexpensive.
We buy some excellent bread, chapata integral (whole wheat and
other grains which together make a very dark loaf) or plain
chapata. A chapata is long like a baguette, but wider.  There are
baguettes, regular and whole wheat.

We sometimes have soup, often with garbanzos.  Garbanzos are
widely used.  It is a main ingredient in ‘cocido,’ a Madrilean
specialty.  Codido might have murcillo and tripe.

For dinner, we sometime pan fry a portion of ternera (beef steak
cut very thin) and enjoy some mushrooms with it.  Very Spanish.
Lots of ajo if you like.  We might have some red cabbage sliced
thinly and warmed with olive oil.

How about a few whole artichokes?  They are cheap and in 30
minutes or less they are so tender that you can eat the choke
(that’s that funny, hairy part) as well as the heart but you
still have to scape the leaves with your teeth.  I stuff the
leaves with, you guessed it, ajo.

They like Italian food here but you should only get it in an
Italian restaurant.  I make various dishes often, and have made
my own pasta for the first time.  Pizza.  Make it yourself.  The
commercial ones don’t look very good to me except at Pizza Hut,
and I didn’t come all the way here to eat there.  The Mercadona
sells pizza flour, with leaving.  Its very good.  They do not
sell yeast.  I have not found any yet.

Berenjenas (eggplants) are plentiful.  Oranges, clementinas and
mandarins are plentiful and taste even better than the fresh ones
I’ve had in Florida.  Fruit juices are everywhere, even peach,
and cost less than $.75 a liter (about a quart).

You cannot get curry here as easily (or as spicy) as you can in
the UK, naturally.  So we make our own.  Yesterday I made a
cauliflower curry from a recipe in a Spanish language cookbook
that Marie gave us.  From the same book we are trying a recipe
for cooking baby onions.  It has raisins, tomatoes and probably a
few pounds of ajo.

Adventures in Spanish

New words come my way almost everyday.  I would learn one or two
of them each day except for the ‘memory out’ messages my brain
keeps on sending me.  I think the message itself is faulty.  It
is not as if I were having to remember too much and my memory
being therefore overburdened.

I do notice, however, that I can communicate with less difficulty
in general compared with when I first arrive.  There are fewer
‘what?’s’ and ‘heh?’s’ that I feel compelled to mouth.  It is
still the case, however, that I can easily lose or fail to pick
up the thread or context of the conversation.

For example, last week we went with Emilia to the mountain cabin,
the one without any running water.  Emilia’s mother joined us
(and was trying to understand her new calculator the whole time).
I sat next to her and introduced myself and Peggy.  A look of
utter confusion took over her face.

“What is Peggy (pronounced ‘Pehhy’ by the Spanish)?  What is
‘Gary?”  It took me and Emilia a few minutes to get her to
understand that we were telling her our names.  She thought that
Pehhy and Gary meant something in English.

“¿Cómo té llamas,?” I asked.  She gave me a story about someone
named Guacolda being the ‘mujer’ (woman or wife) of someone named
Lautaro.  I tried writing these names down and I was getting it
wrong and she wrote them for me.  I still could not figure out
who these people were and what they had to do with her name.  If
she would just say, “Me llamo…” I would have understood
perfectly.  I finally had to ask Emilia for help.

What do these names (and I could only assume that Lautaro and
Guacolda were names) have to do with your mother’s name.

“Nothing,” said Emilia.  Now I was more confused than ever.

“Then what is her name?”

“Its Guacolda.”

Then this story does have something to do with her name.
Finally, I got it.  Lautaro and Guacolda were husband and wife
during the time of the Spanish conquest of Chile, I think it was
Chile (memory out), and thus Mom was named after the woman!

It is amazing how the most simple things can get so befuddled.

Spain
(continued)

1/1/98

Last night people crowded into Puerta del Sol.  The custom here is to
eat a grape with each stroke of the clock at midnight.  We did not
stay awake to see it.

Reflections on the year

Tradition calls for reflection on the past year.  Since this has been
a special year for us, for once I will practice this tradition.

The year began in the often muggy and foggy winter in the St.
Petersburg area of Florida.  For most of four months we had been
living aboard Meredia, our 34′ trawler.  We slept in the aft cabin on
a king size bed.  The forward cabin had a similarly sized berth and a
galley.

On this day a year ago we were on our boat with my mom, her boyfriend
and my sister cruising the Intra Coastal Waterway.  We saw a few
dolphins from the flybridge.  Later that day we visited Peg’s parents
in nearby Plant City.  We had not met Tom and Kathy yet; now they are
close although far away friends.  Not many days later we saw a sea cow
off our port bow.

Today we see a gray sky and cool temperatures (not normal for Madrid),
no relatives, no friends and no boat.  From this point of view, it’s
easy to miss being home.  Yet we would not want to trade places with
ourselves (a funny sounding thing to say).  We have seen and done so
much that a day or even a month in the boat in the most beautiful of
weather cannot be easily compared.

Nonetheless we wish we could have seen and done even more.  This means
that we wish we had more money.  This would have required more time
mediating, training mediators and managing a legal department at a
bank.  These activities were marvelous, but they demanded our time,
our freedom, in return.  Here we have our time and if not as much
freedom as we would like, as much as one could reasonably expect.

Before we embarked on our journeys in Europe in May of 1997, I found
it difficult to imagine what living in Europe would be like.  Clearly
it would not be the same as touring.  As a tourist you are inevitably
limited to swimming near the surface, or taking short, shallow dives.
So now I probably can say what it is like.

What living in Europe has been like

More than any other aspect of living here, the sense of history and
time most strongly grips me.  Additional aspects of importance are:
getting to know a few people, and getting to know some cities and
countries in a way that touring does not ordinarily allow.   I feel
more relaxed than I ever have, and I think that this comes from a
changed sense of time.

The sense of history comes from reading about and then visiting
ancient cities, sites, cathedrals, palaces, old buildings, ruins on
the one hand and museums on the other.  I have come under the spell of
wondering:  where did our ancient ancestors – before the Romans-  come
from and wander to?  What were their lives like?  What were their
dreams – that is, when they had enough food in their bellies to dream
of things other than food?  Standing on many sites that were occupied
or made use of as long ago as three and four thousand BC is moving.

When you tour, you rarely get to know anyone.  In Wales, we did have a
few conversations with Julie and a few of the very friendly locals.
In Scotland, we did likewise with Billy, whom we have just seen and
will probably see again.  In Montpelier, we are staying in touch with
Olivier, the proprietor of the internet cafe we used.   We would have
liked to stay in touch with our landlords there.  However, we did not
like the way they tried to make us leave before our oral and written
agreement said we could.  Emilia and Maria from Madrid will always be
glad to hear from us.  We probably have not made any life long, deep
and close friends.  Unless we stay here or somewhere longer in a
single location than we plan to, we probably will never do so.
However, we are building up friendships that are adding to our sense
of well being and our understanding of the people here.  They help us
understand better how things work, where to get this or that, what to
avoid.

We miss friends and family.  Email has greatly helped since some of
our close ones are connected.  With some relatives we communicate
regularly, especially my sister and Peg’s sister. In a way, we
communicate more and better with them than we did when all that
separated us was a cheap, long distance call.  We communicate even
more frequently with Susan and Neal.    Most of our friends are busy
and cannot respond as often as they would like.  Others do not seem
interested in communicating at all.

Traveling and living in foreign lands has required us to learn a great
deal about the practicalities.  How do you find a place to live?  What
is a fair price?  What parts of town are good to live in?  Where
should you go for food, household goods and special purchases?  What
do you have to do to get a phone?  How much do local calls cost?
Living as we have means having to say, “I don’t know,” frequently.  It
means having to have an “I can find out” attitude.  It means having to
deal with the stress of having to figure things out, and making some
mistakes (fortunately all of ours have been minor).  For me having to
deal with all of our business with the Spanish in their language has
been difficult at times.  I speak a lot better than I comprehend.

With regard to our physical conditioning, we walk a lot more than we
did at home.  But at home we went to the YMCA everyday.  The two seem
to balance out if we continue to stretch daily and keep the muscles in
tone.  Walking a lot takes care of the legs but does not do much for
the arms, back and stomach muscles.  Generally we were better off
going to the YMCA since all these things were taken care of in our
daily visits.  If you factor in the stress of work, we are better off
now.

We have learned that you must have things to do to keep you as busy as
you want to be.  Hobbies.  Anything legal and healthy.  Even if you
have the money, you cannot just go see monuments and visit museums all
the time.

Variety of activities is important.  I have enjoyed reading as much as
I want, but after a while, I just have to take a break.  The internet
has been great, but you cannot do that all day long.  The satellite tv
we now have is surprisingly good.  I love doing this journal.  I need
all of the above and more to stay psychologically fit.

I stopped working last May.  I did not feel completely relaxed until
we arrived in Spain.  I now feel a deeper sense of calm than I recall
ever having felt.  I do not feel rushed.  I worry less about money
than I ever have.

Common wisdom says that as you are dying, your whole life passes
before your eyes.  I have not had to wait that long.  A flood of
memories has washed over me.  This began in Glasgow and has just
recently abated.  Most of these memories were of the most embarrassing
moments type.  Although many of these situations are unlikely to be
repeated, I feel that these images serve to deepen my grasp of human
relations, to encourage me to listen more carefully.

Perhaps this phenomenon is occurring because I have the time and
energy for it.  Why have I been more relaxed, more content than I have
ever been while this flood of memories was still washing over me?  It
could be because none of these memories are really horrible.  Though
they were stressful at the time, I would not call any of them
shattering.  In the big picture, they are very small.

We now know how much it takes for us live here comfortably, a middle
to upper middle class life style.  This does not allow for luxurious
quarters, but comfortable and safe ones.  Since this is what we are
accustomed to, it is not a disappointment for us.  Other than having
to wait for Don Gas to bring bottled gas here, there have not been any
significant inconveniences.  Otherwise the worst we have faced is
running toilets here, a loose kitchen counter in Glasgow and a minor
conflict with the landlord in Montpelier which was resolved as we
wished.

If we had come directly to Spain, we would probably be spending
considerably lower rate than we have been, perhaps as low as
$15,000/year.   It would depends on what else we did besides seeing
what there is to see locally.  If you were sufficiently gripped by a
hobby like painting or writing, and did not give a hoot about touring
outside Madrid, you could have trouble spending all of the $15,000
(per couple).  These figures are for two people, and include health
insurance.

Keeping track of our finances from Europe has been easy.  It would not
work as well if we had to rely on the mails, but it would still be
adequate for most purposes.  Long distance telephone calls to the US,
if they were necessary for this purpose, are not as expensive from
here as they once were.  It is now cheaper to use your home phone or
even telephone booths than using, say, AT&T, Sprint, etc.  I can call
Fidelity Investments toll free or ‘cobro revirtido’ (collect).  To
reach Smith Barney by telephone, we call our broker and he calls us
back.

This journal has been an excellent choice.  Writing is not easy for
me, but I enjoy the challenge.  Editing is a chore I do not wish to
face.  It was especially hard for me when I entered into the computer
the months of May through mid-August;  if you recall, our computer was
down from June until mid-August.  I would rather allow a few weeks to
pass before I edit my own work.  Only then can I begin to be
objective.  Even so, there is a wise rule that says you cannot be your
own editor.

These last six months have been well worthwhile.  Doing this was the
right thing for us to do.  I feel heavenly.  Vertigo ergo sum.

1/2/98

Via Digital came and installed the satellite dish.  They drilled a
hole in the wall to pass the cable and connected it all in less than
an hour.  I could have done it myself easily if I had a drill and a
crescent wrench.

We met Billy, our Scottish landlord, and the fellow who came over with
him for lunch today, then did a two-hour walk.  They are in a hotel
near the Opera, a high rent area.  They bought a package deal: hotel
and all transportation for about $900.  Saturday was beautiful here,
although cold, so their first day was a good one.  Yesterday was a
little cloudy, and today was cloudy, foggy and pretty yukky in general
– just like Scotland.  Billy was impressed with how beautiful Madrid
is.  As it does most people, Madrid surprised him.

1/3/98

Peg writes:

We went to the National Library to check out that show they’ve put
together about ancient Rome.  The show was made up mostly of books
from the 15th-17th centuries, open to engravings and drawings of Roman
buildings, maps, monuments, etc.  There were also some large
reproductions of engravings from that period.  Apparently, about the
time of Pope Leo X, they realized that Ancient (Roman) Rome was
deteriorating due to lack of interest.  Amazingly, that thought
coincided with the beginning of the Italian Renaissance (1450), when
classical learning began to be appreciated again, after the ignorance
of the Dark and Middle Ages.  They began to capture the architecture
on paper, and to restore some works.  However, when you look at the
maps of the city that were drawn from the 1500’s-1600’s, it’s obvious
that there were a lot more ancient buildings then than are left today.
Progress and increasing population always put pressure on old
neighborhoods.

Nonetheless, the exhibit was extensive.  We’ve seen a couple of other
shows like this – temporary exhibitions – and all of them have been
very impressive.

After that, we walked back up toward our neighborhood up a major
street.  We passed three or four major plazas, mostly with fountains
in the middle,  and surrounded by beautiful 5-story buildings.  I’m
looking forward to seeing the many tree-lined streets in the spring,
when they’re green.

1/6/98

Emilia and her sister Nina (I called her Tina most of the day) picked
us up.  We are meeting six of their friends to do what many Madrileños
do every weekend:  go to their cabin in the mountains. Their cabin is
in the foothills northeast of Madrid. It took about an hour to get
there.  Large, rounded rocks stick out of the dry soil.  Peg thinks
this area looks glacially formed.  Some large rocks stand
independently, poking 15-30′ into the air.

Nina-tina is a part owner of the cabin with her bosses, Jaime and
Maria Eugenia.  The latter are both dentists with offices in downtown
Madrid.  Jaime is from Bolivia.  Most everyone spoke some English.
Herman was born in Germany and learned Spanish just by living here.
He has been here for 20 years.  I think he is married to Julia, who is
with us today.  No one in the group was born in Spain though most had
lived her a long time.

Julia refers to Herman as ‘her man.’ Peg and she discuss the
connotation of ownership.   In Spain, ‘husband’ is ‘marido’ while
‘wife’ is ‘mujer.’  Translated, you say my married one for husband and
my woman for wife.  They could say marida for wife, but they say ‘my
woman’ instead.   They could say ‘my man’ for husband, but they do
not.  Thus ownership of the wife by the husband is implied, but not
the husband by the wife.  Peg and I explained this but the distinction
seemed unimportant to Julia.

We bought two kilos of beef, chorizo and murcillo (blood sausage)in
the town nearest the cabin, Manzanares Real.  It is a tiny town but it
has a large but not very old looking castle in it.  Nearby is Lake
Manzanares.

From the town we climbed a dirt/stone rode, at times feeling like we
were driving in a dry stream bed.  Emilia tells us that during heavy
rains the road does flood.  Although the cabin is not more than a few
miles from the road to Manzanares, it takes about 45 minutes to reach
it.

The cabin is made of stone.  There is a fireplace, a few beds, a
large, crude wooden table, and shelves for storing kitchen utensils.
Outside is a picnic table.  Nearby and nestled against large boulders
are a grill and an oven, both charcoal powered.  The charcoal used is
not as compressed as the one used in the U.S.  It does not get as hot,
but it is easier to light and achieves maximum output quickly.

Herman grilled the beef (1000 ptas per kilo, about $3 per pound).  We
ate some guacamole on bread while we were waiting, and when the mean
was done,  we sat outside.  We drank some wine and, after the meal, a
little bourbon.

The sun was shining brightly.  It was about 40 degrees.  On the way up
we were driving in a light fog.   The cabin was above the fog, so we
could look down upon it as it covered the valley.  Occasional wisps of
fog blew over our site.  When the fog cleared from the valley we could
see that we were in a desert.  There is shrubbery, but it is low and
rough.

The cabin normally offers a great view of Madrid.  Today, though, we
had to be content with the warm, friendly company of our new friends.
I am sure they will invite us back.  Peg, who was hesitant to go
because of the weather, is eager to return. I could live here awhile.
Too bad there is no running water.

These people seem typically Spanish: charming, engaging,
unpretentious.  I love to watch and listen as they talk with friendly
intensity.

1/7/98

Peg writes:

The holiday season here officially ended yesterday with the Day of the
Kings.  Epiphany (January 6th) is the day the children get their gifts
– the Kings  alias, the Wise Men, bring them.  The next time a child
asks you how Santa manages to get the gifts to so many children all
over the world in only one evening, you can tell him/her that he
doesn’t have to go to Spain – the three Wise Men deliver the gifts
here.  The evening before the children get their presents, there are
huge parades in all the towns, celebrating the arrival of  the kings.
We just got Via Digital-satellite TV, so we could watch parades from
three regions of Spain.  In some towns, the kings came in on horses,
in others on camels, and in others, on floats.  Quite the to-do!

Gary again:

There are parades everywhere in Madrid.  Each local council – in
Madrid there are several ‘ayuntamientos’ – sponsors a parade.

Fernando, our landlord, came by to get the rent.  He prefers to be
paid in cash.  He arrived around 9 and left at 10:30.  We told him
about our journeys and new found friends.  We learned that the area we
live in has an underground stream or used to have one coming flowing
at ground level.  He gladly gave us hints on things to do, excursions
to make, places to visit.  He obviously enjoyed talking to us; he
speaks very little English so most of our discussion was in Spanish.

1/09/98

Peg writes:

Signed up to do a second English class today – 8:30 am – 10:00 am on
Monday and Wednesday.  That is in addition to the one I’m doing from
8:00-9:00 on Tuesday and Thursday.  The class I started last month is
really TOO easy.  These marketing people don’t want to do any
homework, don’t want to read, just want to spend a couple of hours a
week chatting.  All I have to do is bring in something to get things
going, and we just talk.  I note a couple of things down that they
consistently do wrong, and we spend about 10 minutes the next session
talking about that.  They apparently like it – I got some good
feedback from the agency when I went to pick up my check today.  I do
structure it a bit on most days – if not, the extroverts do all the
talking (that includes me).

Actually, I tried to get them to do an hour last Thursday without my
saying anything (a valid technique in advanced classes, so I read) but
it’s apparently too much effort for them to sustain a discussion for
that long on their own.  I kept having to ask questions to keep things
going.

They have no idea what they’re going to have to do when they get to
class.  As I don’t really know what I’m doing, and as they don’t seem
to care.  I’m just trying stuff out.

They are uncomfortable with past and future tenses, so Tuesday they’re
going to have to work hard.  I thought I’d give each of them a page of
a daily calendar, with meetings and stuff scheduled in.  The day is
February 13.  Each one will have to tell the class what is scheduled
on his sheet.  For some of them, Feb. 13 will be last week, for
others, it will be next week.

I’m teaching 5 hours a week, on four days.  That’s enough for now.
It’s lots of fun.  To really support yourself, you’d have to work
quite a few hours, and you’d have to schedule them so that you’re not
spending hours a day on the metro.  Also, I think that once you’d
established a reputation, you could get better choices on times and
locations, to minimize travel and down-time between classes.

Muslims in Spain

It is generally said that the Muslims were “expelled” from Spain in
1492.  This is misleading.  In 1492, Muslims and Jews were given the
choice between expulsion and conversion to Christianity following the
reconquest of Granada, the last holdout of the Moors.  The Spanish
began trying to reconquer Spain starting in 718.  Efforts continued
during the next several centuries.  Toledo was retaken in 1085.

During the thirteenth century the Spanish made great progress toward
their goal. By mid-century the only Moorish enclave left was Granada.
The Portuguese won back their country in the previous century.

The Moors were generally tolerant of other religious, although I have
read that there were some brutal exceptions to this rule.  They
brought a great deal of learning to the Iberian peninsula.  Much was
lost from Spain because of the expulsions.  Some of that learning went
to our previous city of residence, Montpelier, where the Moors and
Jews helped establish schools of medicine that are still well
respected today.

Some converted Moors and Jews were subsequently ill-treated.

Spanish Radio

The F.M. stations here are outstanding.  There are two all classical
stations and both are commercial free.  Their selections are generally
very good.  In Montpelier, the classical stations offered excessive
amounts of opera, usually women singing heavy stuff.  Each offering
would be followed by endless discussion.  Here, they offer a nice
selection and little chat.  Just enough to tell what they played and
maybe a little about the piece or the composer.

Radio Ole has few commercials and plays flamenco and flamenco infusion
music.  They may throw a little Zarzuela in from time to time, but I
am not sure what that is, so I cannot be sure.  The flamenco is often
good, although the singing, with its exaggerated vibrato (if that’s
the right name for it), can be annoying.  Flamenco infusion is of
modern origin.  It takes basic flamenco elements, such as the rhythm,
the clapping, the guitar, and adds a variety of other instruments such
as the violin.  I think some the of the clapping is canned, being just
too regular for strictly human hands.  Unlike France, at any rate, you
can hear traditional folk music that is distinct to the country.

On shortwave I can get BBC on two frequencies.  The VOA comes in only
occasionally.  Late at night I might get Radio Holland and a few other
European countries offering programs in English.  The reception here
is not as good, or the offerings considerably less than in Montpelier.

1/12/98

We met Ana today at 5:30 p.m.  Ana is also seeking to improve here
English.  I suggested that we meet in the afternoon, say around 2:30.
“Later,” she plead, “as I will not have yet eaten lunch.”  So now its
5:30 and we are searching for her here at the Puerta del Sol.  She
suggested that we meet at a bakery and I am standing in one scanning
the crowd.  Peg walks around to see if there is another one and she
finds one and at about that moment, Ana taps her on the shoulder.  My
description of Peggy worked.

Together we walk in the crowd of chatting Spaniards to a plaza that is
a few blocks away and near the Zarzuela theater.  The latter is
reopening after renovations.  Ann says that getting tickets means a
wait of perhaps a month.

Anna tells us how important it is to have a good command of English if
you are job hunting here.  With an unemployment rate as high as 20%,
an employer may use language skills in English as a way to select one
applicant over another, even if the job does not require the use of
the language.  This accounts for a good deal of the fervor with which
so many here take lessons.  It does not account for why the people who
do take lessons do not seem to study hard.

Anna lives with mother.  Since she is unemployed, and single, this
appears to be necessary for her survival.  Anna is fairly fluent but
after an hour she is becomes tired of talking English.  After an hour
in Spanish and I am as tired as she is.

1/13/98

I found this on the web:

A Timeline: Prehistory to the Visigoths (To A.D. 711)

c.13,000 B.C.  Prehistoric people create cave paintings at Altrmira.
c.1,300 B.C.   Iberians inhabit Spain, perhaps migrating from North
Africa.
c 1,000 B.C.   Phoenicians colonize Cádiz and Malaga.
c. 900 B.C.    Celts reach Spain, perhaps migrating from France.
c. 650 B.C.    Greeks colonize the eastern coast of Spain.
250 B.C.       Carthaginians take over the south coast.
206 B.C.       The Roman general Scopio Africanus defects the
Carthaginians, beginning six centuries of Roman rule.
19 B.C.        Caesar Augustus completes the Roman conquest of Spain.
A.D. 74        Rome bestows citizenship on the Spanish.
A.D. 380       The emperor Theodotius declares Christianity the state
religion of the Roman Empire.
c. A.D. 400    Germanic tribes invade Spain.
c. A.D. 500    Visigoths conquer Spain.
A.D. 711       Muslims from Morocco conquer the Visigoths.

Moors and the Reconquest (711-1250)

711-716        Morocco conquers Spain in the name of Islam.
722            Pelayo achieves the first Christian military victory
over the Moors, initiating the reconquest.
756            Moorish Spain, let by Abd ur Rahman, secedes from the
caliphate of Baghdad.
c. 800         Santiago de Compostela, alleged burial site of St.
James, achieves fame throughout Europe as a pilgrimage
center.
912-961        Abd ur Rahman III reigns as Spain’s greatest caliph.
1012-1109      Alfonso VI reconquers most of Spain for the
Christians, aided by El Cid.
1090           The Almohades from Morocco reconquer Spain for the
Moors.
1147           The Almohades from Morocco conquer the Spanish Moors.
1212           Christian forces break the Moors’ hold on Spain in the
decisive battle of Las Navas de Tolosa.
1236-1248      Fernando III captures two of Spain’s three remaining
Moorish stronghold, Cordoba and Seville, leaving only
Grenada under Moorish control.

I am part Sicilian (which probably makes me part Greek, Spanish,
Norman,  African, and who know what other groups, oh, as yes,
Phoenician (from around modern Lebanon) and, of course, Greek and
Roman, and who knows what else).  My other part is Scottish (which
probably makes me part Celtic, Saxon, Norman, Danish, Norwegian and
who knows what else).

Somehow there may be some Visigoth’s way back there, making me what I
really feel like, somehow: Spanish.

1/16/98

Most consumer items are cheap here.  There are a few exceptions.
Shoes are not cheap, although they are comparable to what I am
accustomed to paying.  Sunglasses are very expensive.  Since I broke
mine, I have been trying to find something reasonable and most
everything is $30-$150.  Today I finally found a pair for $17.

I also found an decent pair of walking shoes for $7.00!  I tried them
on and was thrilled that they fit.  There are shoes on sale everywhere
but the least expensive thing I could find that I trusted was $50.
That is not much more than in the states.  These cheap shoes were in
El Campo, my last resort for shoes and sunglasses.  There are no shoe
salesman around to help.  I walked with the new shoes on to a customer
service desk.  I said I needed help with these shoes, pointing to the
ones on my feet.

“Digame,” she said.  This is the Spanish way of saying, “Can I help
you?”  Literally it means “Speak to me!”  It is in the imperative
form, so it is a command.  To us this seems rude, but to them, it is
not.  They also answer their phone with “Digame.”  Not, “Hello.”  Not,
“This is El Campo, can I help you.”  No matter where you call or go,
they greet you with, “Digame.”  I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it.
I have to answer the phone with, “Hola.”

I said that I was not sure if the price was correct.  She said, “You
will have to take those shoes off before you go to the register.”

Did I miss something?  Of course, I said, I will do that. To myself I
said, “Did you think that I came to your desk to find out if I could
wear the shoes out of the store?”  Out loud, “But is the price
correct?”  Without my having told her the price, or it being visible
on the shoe, she said, “Yes, it is.  995 ptas.”  Exactly right.  Sold,
to the gringo who can’t stand the expression ‘Digame.’

1/17/98

A temporary exhibit of Spanish life circa 1898 has opened at Ciudad
Universitaria.   This is a university complex which houses la
Universidad Politecnica de Madrid and la Universidad Complutense de
Madrid).  The exhibit is near where I lodged and studied in 1967 and
going there brings back memories.  Unfortunately I can not recognize
any particular thing.  The memories of what things looked like is too
vague, I guess, or they have changed too much.  The sparseness of the
landscape, which consists of desert sparseness, is unforgettable.

The first room you enter is a small theater where there is a
continuous slide show.  Since it seated no more than, say, 50 people,
I assumed that the rest of the exhibition was of modest dimensions.
How foolish of me.  “Modest dimensions” and “Madrid and Spain” just do
not seem to go together except in stores where you snuggle with
everyone buying vegetables, especially short, older woman who sneak
into line in front of you.  This exhibit is enormous, far too big for
anything temporary.  But it is temporary nonetheless.

Madrid overwhelms me with its extensive exhibits of mind-boggling
collections, its wealth and beauty.  Here, I am over-whelmed by
thousands of excellent photographs of women in typical dress and in
fancy-go-to duds.  Men and women at work and play.  Paintings galore
of everyday life and special events.  Decorative art.  Eating and
cooking utensils.  A well-preserved horseless carriage.  Toys.  Books,
including commonly used school books:  grammar, geography, history,
etc.  Too much to remember.

If there aren’t 100,000 pieces in this exhibit I’d be surprised.  The
halls were loaded with people and their well-behaved children.

Nearby is the Museo de América, packed with stuff brought here from
the Americas.  There is also a high tower with a restaurant on top
that affords a view of the city.  Both have to wait another day.

1/18/98

Today is Sunday.  Museums are generally free Saturday afternoons and
Sundays.  We make a brief trip to the Prado to see if their book store
has any models which Peg could send to her nephews.  There are not
many book stores whose entrance way is the Prado.  A delightful way to
shop.

Nearby is our real destination: the Museum of Decorative Arts.  Glass
objects from the III-II Century B.C. sit casually behind thin glass.

1/19/98

Movie with Marie.  The Ice Storm, Kevin Kline, Sigorney Weaver.  I
think they did an excellent job capturing the neurotic excitement of
the early 1970’s.  Been there, had that zany, anxious feeling that
something was amiss somehow.  A feeling of being so close and yet so
far.  The feeling of going Beyond Alcohol, nervously, to explore the
inner self and other realms of what I now see as illusions and non-
sense.  The teenager who was elecrocuted struck me with his wide-eyed
innocence as he casually watched power lines fall onto the guardrail.
There was something wide-eyed and innocent about the times, so much of
both that in some ways we all casually watched as something about us
was destroyed by jolts of reality.

1/21/98

Long walk to El Campo.

1/23/98

Today our journeys take us to the other Municipal Museum of Madrid.
This one contains art and costumes.  The earliest objects are
prehistorical.  There is an excellent coin collection from Roman
onwards.  Goya’s ‘Dos de Mayo’ is here.  There are several fine models
of the city displayed here.  Pedro Texeria did one in 1656, which is
the oldest plan of the city.  A model from 1830 shows the city in all
its splendor.

The front facade of the building is a baroque portal by Pedro de
Ribera, one of the finest such facades I recall seeing.  This
building, which is near the heart of Madrid, once housed the Hospicio
de San Fernando (a hospital).

Portraits of kings line the walls.

The Basque Country: Bilbao to Pamplona

1/30/98

Having decided to go the Basque country at the last minute, it is not
until noon that we get the car.  We arrive in Burgos, almost due north
of Madrid, by around 2:30 after passing through the Sierra Guadarrama.
The day that began cloudy now is sunny yet still only about 10C (about
50F).  We are in the Basque country.

El Cid (1026-99) was born here.  He is entombed in the Cathedral,
which also holds one of his swords; the other is in the Museo Ejército
(Army Museum) in Madrid, which we saw recently.  El Cid was made
immortal in the poem of the same name.  Charleston Heston played him
for the big screen Hollywood production.

Born as a military camp in 884 on the orders of Alfonso III, Burgos
has lots of outstanding architecture from the Middle Ages.  The most
fabulous is the Cathedral, started in 1221 and finished in 1731.  It
is mostly Flamboyant Gothic.  It looks to me like several distinct
structures glued together.  It has two enormous, 275′ towers.

The Cathedral is built on a hillside.  On the rear side you can get
closer to the tops of the towers than you can in most such structures.
The detailed decoration of the enormous structure is thus more visible
than normal.  We could not get in.  Closed for repairs or renovations.

We got back on the highway to Bilbao and passed through more dramatic,
mountainous scenery; the coast in this area is mountainous almost to
the water.  We passed by Bilbao, having heard its hotels and hostales
were expensive  and the city industrial.  We stayed in Castro
Urdiales, a coastal town recommended by all of our books.  They all
knew what they were talking about.  The town is a charming fishing
village on the Atlantic coast, called here the Costa Verde (Green
Coast).  I think I would enjoy living here, except for all the rain
that seems to fall here.

A getty protects the harbor from the larger waves.  The harbor
contains large fishing trawlers, pleasure vessels and smaller craft as
well.  This town may be the oldest settlement on the Cantabarian
Coast, says Fodor.  The Romans called it Flaviobriga.

A church called Santa Maria overlooks the town from a cliff perched on
the edge of town. It is dramatically lighted at night.  Just behind
Santa Maria, a Gothic structure, there is a castle, also illuminated.

All along the marinas are arcaded structures housing cafes, bars,
restaurants and assorted shops.  Across from the tourist bureau sits a
building with ‘restaurant, habitaciones (rooms) blazoned across the
entrance.  We got a room here for 3600 ptas (about $25).  It was quiet
after the restaurant closed around midnight.

Nearby are narrow streets that create a canyon-like maze crowded with
shops, bars and assorted eateries, as well as the occasional club.
Green mountains surround these canyons, offering what look to be
delightful paths to explore by foot.

1/31/98

Our room has a small balcony overlooking the marina.  Here we eat the
breakfast we brought with us, shunning the omnipresent churros
everyone else is eating.  We cannot shun the cafe con leche.  Then its
the Guggenheim for us, some 20 miles away on the ría (estuary) that
splits Bilbao.

The Guggenheim opens at 11:00 so we have to wait.  But we are here to
see the building, so we take turns wandering and glancing about at
this big piece of aluminum foil.

There are dramatic views of cavernous and unusually shaped galleries
cluttered by experiments gone either wrong or nowhere at all, with a
few exceptions.  High catwalks take you from one wing to another,
exposing bird-like views of the areas below.  A few rooms are
rectangular, and in them hang rectangular pieces.  The other rooms
contain non-rectangular pieces.  I guess this is a way of categorizing
art: squarish on the one hand, odd shaped on the other.

As we drove out of Bilbao (also called Bilbo) we looked for more views
of the structure and got a few.  It cost us 700 ptas each to get into
the museum.  I think I would have paid 1000 ptas to see the museum
without the art in it.

From Bilbao we head past San Sebastian.  I would have liked to have
stayed in S.S. a few days.  S.S. is on the coast.  The river enters
the Atlantic.  You can see where the river meets the ocean from the
city streets.  Nearby, 4-5 story 19th century buildings line the river
practically to the mouth.  But we have to be back on Sunday.  We go on
a few more miles to the French border, crossing it twice looking for
border guards so we can show that we left the country.  No luck.
Nothing but abandoned buildings, some with their windows broken and
boarded.

We head for Pamplona and arrive in time to walk around and leisurely
select a place to stay.  It’s another night above a restaurant for us,
just a half-block from the old part of town.  This one cost 5000 ptas,
and is attractively decorated.  The shower spews hot water.

Pamplona offers more maze-like streets where the bulls try to trample
and butt gringos and other idiots.  If you live through one of these
beatings that they can give you will be lucky.  On t.v. we saw an
American getting a heavy dose; he was unconscious by the second blow.
Perhaps Hemingway should have entitle his book The Star Also Rises.

Finding a place to eat a meal, rather than just the wonderful but
no-veggie bar food, at a decent hour (for non-Spaniards) is difficult
in Spain.  We were the first ones in at around 9 pm and had trout for
dinner.  The waiter told me that the preparation was typically basque,
which in this case meant trout very crisply fried on the outside with
the grilled flavor penetrating to the flaky flesh.

Our hotel room above another restaurant cost 5000 ptas.  It was
comfortable and quiet.  By 9 the next morning we were on our way to
Siguenza.