This evening I walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Eugenia, my roommate, was cooking something on the stove. What's for dinner?
Sesos.
Pig brains. Mixed with eggs.
Dinner is served.
lunes, 30 de mayo de 2011
Dinner is served
A while back my friend and incredible blogger Sarah did two really funny articles on Stuff Americans Like and Stuff Europeans Like. One of the insightful entries under Stuff Europeans Like is "Eating the Whole Animal." Given the ready availability of boiled pig blood, stomach, chicken feet, and other internal bits, this is a very true observation.
This evening I walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Eugenia, my roommate, was cooking something on the stove. What's for dinner?
Sesos.
Pig brains. Mixed with eggs.
Dinner is served.
This evening I walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Eugenia, my roommate, was cooking something on the stove. What's for dinner?
Sesos.
Pig brains. Mixed with eggs.
Dinner is served.
martes, 24 de mayo de 2011
Oh hey there!
Oh hey there, cold symptoms!
Gosh it's been a while. Probably a month or two? I shouldn't be surprised you're back. I mean it's my fault. Consider the fact that I spent all day Sunday at the beach in a bikini with the hot sun and fresh Mediterranean breeze switching up the body temperatures for me.
Or the kids and their gusto for wiping their noses and then subsequently giving me high fives.
Or the school that decided that hand soap, toilet paper, heating and air conditioning was just not in the budget this or any of the previous 30 years.
Or flamenco classes in an unair-conditioned, un-vented, windowless basement that steams up like a Swedish sauna, or spinning classes with 25 of my closest, sweatiest friends. Then promptly emerging into the chilly wind.
Or the public transit system what with the buttons and "hold on for dear life we're going over road work at 50k" bars that everyone touches after sneezing.
Yeah it's been great catching up, but uh, (glance at phone and shift weight), well I'm pretty busy these next 2 weeks and gotta run.
It's great to run into you, but don't call, I'll call you.
No, don't call. Don't.
Don't make me do it.
Gosh it's been a while. Probably a month or two? I shouldn't be surprised you're back. I mean it's my fault. Consider the fact that I spent all day Sunday at the beach in a bikini with the hot sun and fresh Mediterranean breeze switching up the body temperatures for me.
Or the kids and their gusto for wiping their noses and then subsequently giving me high fives.
Or the school that decided that hand soap, toilet paper, heating and air conditioning was just not in the budget this or any of the previous 30 years.
Or flamenco classes in an unair-conditioned, un-vented, windowless basement that steams up like a Swedish sauna, or spinning classes with 25 of my closest, sweatiest friends. Then promptly emerging into the chilly wind.
Or the public transit system what with the buttons and "hold on for dear life we're going over road work at 50k" bars that everyone touches after sneezing.
Yeah it's been great catching up, but uh, (glance at phone and shift weight), well I'm pretty busy these next 2 weeks and gotta run.
It's great to run into you, but don't call, I'll call you.
No, don't call. Don't.
Don't make me do it.
lunes, 23 de mayo de 2011
Protests and elections
Yesterday were the local elections in Spain. The governing party, Partido Socialista Obrero Espanol (PSOE) is the socialist party. The main opposition party is the Partido Popular, the center-right party. The president, Zapatero, is of the PSOE, and was elected in the aftermath of the March 11, 2004 Madrid train bombings. Since the crisis started, most people have turned against him and the PSOE, claiming he does little to create jobs, stimulate the economy, or to relieve massive unemployment, which stands at 21 percent for the general population and a staggering 40 percent or more among the youth.
A little over a week ago, a group of young people started a protest in Puerta del Sol, Madrid's main plaza. The nonviolent protest was intended to lead up to the election, but with a swelling group of people camping in the plaza and gaining enthusiasm, the protest has grown momentum.
The protesters, who come from a variety of backgrounds and ages, share in common an outrage over the status quo. They call for a variety of things, but mainly an overhaul of the established political parties, a method for selecting parties' candidades, which is currently done internally, elimination of corruption, the reversal of an anti-piracy law recently passed, and as an undercurrent, jobs. The protest hit a nerve in Spain, and the camps spread nationwide. Calling themselves los indignantes, the indignant, the protests drew intense media coverage and international attention. It seems that after years of austerity measures by Zapatero, including across-the-board paycuts to civil workers, sometimes up to 7 percent, has finally gotten the average Spaniard into the street. Although they were declared illegal manifestations as of midnight Friday, the police did nothing to remove them as they are peaceful protests and the majority of participants (from what I saw) aren't drinking or taking drugs.
José and I went briefly to the protest in Málaga, in the Plaza de la Constitución. The plaza was filled mainly with young people, talking about their ideas, listening to speakers talk about their demands, and it seemed they were coming up with a coherent set of demands, which they handed out on a printed manifesto at a media tent that seemed to be hastily put together.
The elections on Sunday resulted in an an absolute sweep for the Partido Popular, the center right party, over the PSOE. This is unprecedented, as villages that have been PSOE faithful since the return of democracy in the late 1970's swung to the right.
It has been interesting to listen to the discussions in the newspapers, on the TV, and among friends of the elections. The main undercurrent I have noted has been a rejection of continuing the way things are. As an outsider, I clearly do not fully understand the process in it's entirety, but I do offer a few humble observations.
1. It's about time that the youth got angry.
Young people in Europe in general seem more politically active. When I asked Jose if many young people voted, José seemed surprised by the question. "Of course young people vote. My friends and I always vote, even if it's en blanco," he responded.
Sidenote: Voting en blanco is turning in your vote without any selection. It's a way of saying that you are going to exercise your right to vote, something important when the country in very recent memory (late 1970's) was a dictatorship, but also indicates that none of the political parties represent you. When you cast a blank ballot, it usually benefits the party that leads in the election, based on proportions of votes and other such things.
However, the inability even for college-educated, multilingual people to get jobs is a situation on the verge of exploding. The time has come for them to get angry, to get organized, and get things done. I wholly support what they are doing.
2. The youth are more politically involved.
This, I think, is awesome. The political apathy among young Americans is pretty bad. The difference, I think, is that young Americans have given up on the government. I don't expect them to do anything good for me; not higher education, not healthcare, not jobs, and consider them to be doing a good job if we don't start any new wars, there are public schools that relatively work, police and firefighters, and my roads are paved. Spaniards seem to have a belief that the government will provide for them. The government is responsible for most of the population's healthcare, educational grants, economic stimulus, job retraining, etc. Also, Spain's recent past as a dictatorship means that people understand that you might not always have the right to vote, and it's a shame to waste it.
3. Socialism is not a dirty word here
Americans think of socialists as ruthless Russian spies eating cabbage bent on destroying freedom or Cuban people without televisions or cell phones, but the reality that social democratic parties function fairly well and are a mainstream option here.
4. There is also basically two parties here
The main parties, PSOE and PP, are the main options here. There are lots of other options, particularly in local elections, but they are negligable.
5. Basque Independent party wins
On that note, a Basque independence party won in large areas of Basque country. Their participation was allowed only after a court ruling, as they were suspected of ties to ETA, the Basque terrorist group.
6. National elections in 2012
The Spanish political system has the option of calling early elections, which means that when things are not going well for the governing party or they're stuck with overwhelming opposition on the local level, they call early elections. Zapatero, in what has been deemed on all media platforms as a "dick move," will not call early elections. National elections will be celebrated the spring of 2012. Let's see how the indignados affect that.
Disclaimer: This entry is a collection of observations and information gathered from news reports and people, and is not up to the journalistic standards of anybody. Any factual errors or opinions are welcome in the comments section. I am interested to hear other's opinions on the subject. I also apologize for horrific photo quality, they were shot on my ballin´ new blackberry.
A little over a week ago, a group of young people started a protest in Puerta del Sol, Madrid's main plaza. The nonviolent protest was intended to lead up to the election, but with a swelling group of people camping in the plaza and gaining enthusiasm, the protest has grown momentum.
The protesters, who come from a variety of backgrounds and ages, share in common an outrage over the status quo. They call for a variety of things, but mainly an overhaul of the established political parties, a method for selecting parties' candidades, which is currently done internally, elimination of corruption, the reversal of an anti-piracy law recently passed, and as an undercurrent, jobs. The protest hit a nerve in Spain, and the camps spread nationwide. Calling themselves los indignantes, the indignant, the protests drew intense media coverage and international attention. It seems that after years of austerity measures by Zapatero, including across-the-board paycuts to civil workers, sometimes up to 7 percent, has finally gotten the average Spaniard into the street. Although they were declared illegal manifestations as of midnight Friday, the police did nothing to remove them as they are peaceful protests and the majority of participants (from what I saw) aren't drinking or taking drugs.
José and I went briefly to the protest in Málaga, in the Plaza de la Constitución. The plaza was filled mainly with young people, talking about their ideas, listening to speakers talk about their demands, and it seemed they were coming up with a coherent set of demands, which they handed out on a printed manifesto at a media tent that seemed to be hastily put together.
 |
| Plaza de la Constitución protest. Friday, May 20, 2011. |
The elections on Sunday resulted in an an absolute sweep for the Partido Popular, the center right party, over the PSOE. This is unprecedented, as villages that have been PSOE faithful since the return of democracy in the late 1970's swung to the right.
 |
| Plaza de la Constitución protest. Friday, May 20, 2011. |
1. It's about time that the youth got angry.
Young people in Europe in general seem more politically active. When I asked Jose if many young people voted, José seemed surprised by the question. "Of course young people vote. My friends and I always vote, even if it's en blanco," he responded.
Sidenote: Voting en blanco is turning in your vote without any selection. It's a way of saying that you are going to exercise your right to vote, something important when the country in very recent memory (late 1970's) was a dictatorship, but also indicates that none of the political parties represent you. When you cast a blank ballot, it usually benefits the party that leads in the election, based on proportions of votes and other such things.
However, the inability even for college-educated, multilingual people to get jobs is a situation on the verge of exploding. The time has come for them to get angry, to get organized, and get things done. I wholly support what they are doing.
2. The youth are more politically involved.
This, I think, is awesome. The political apathy among young Americans is pretty bad. The difference, I think, is that young Americans have given up on the government. I don't expect them to do anything good for me; not higher education, not healthcare, not jobs, and consider them to be doing a good job if we don't start any new wars, there are public schools that relatively work, police and firefighters, and my roads are paved. Spaniards seem to have a belief that the government will provide for them. The government is responsible for most of the population's healthcare, educational grants, economic stimulus, job retraining, etc. Also, Spain's recent past as a dictatorship means that people understand that you might not always have the right to vote, and it's a shame to waste it.
3. Socialism is not a dirty word here
Americans think of socialists as ruthless Russian spies eating cabbage bent on destroying freedom or Cuban people without televisions or cell phones, but the reality that social democratic parties function fairly well and are a mainstream option here.
4. There is also basically two parties here
The main parties, PSOE and PP, are the main options here. There are lots of other options, particularly in local elections, but they are negligable.
5. Basque Independent party wins
On that note, a Basque independence party won in large areas of Basque country. Their participation was allowed only after a court ruling, as they were suspected of ties to ETA, the Basque terrorist group.
6. National elections in 2012
The Spanish political system has the option of calling early elections, which means that when things are not going well for the governing party or they're stuck with overwhelming opposition on the local level, they call early elections. Zapatero, in what has been deemed on all media platforms as a "dick move," will not call early elections. National elections will be celebrated the spring of 2012. Let's see how the indignados affect that.
Disclaimer: This entry is a collection of observations and information gathered from news reports and people, and is not up to the journalistic standards of anybody. Any factual errors or opinions are welcome in the comments section. I am interested to hear other's opinions on the subject. I also apologize for horrific photo quality, they were shot on my ballin´ new blackberry.
viernes, 20 de mayo de 2011
In which I defy the laws of auxiliarship: Part five in an occassional series about how much I love my life
Wednesday night I was in step class and was super tired. I was doing the moves on the little step thing and then stepped wrong on my ankle and went down. I've had problems with my ankles for a few years and they are really prone to sprains and twists. In Turkey I had to wear a black boot around for a few weeks, as if I didn't stick out enough already. I sat down and Fer got me ice for my ankle. When class was over I walked at a señora speed back to my apartment. It was swollen but not too bad. I showered and got in pajamas and flopped down on the couch next to Laura and Rocio. I was sitting there with my ankle up, checking up on my usual haunts on the internet: email, facebook, blogspot, and my Spain application for next year.
I had been waiting for a week or two to hear about my placement. I found out back in March that I would be in Andalucia for another year. This was great news, but Andalucia is a large place. I had filled out my preference sheet, stating that I wanted to be in an elementary school and mentioning at least 5 times that I wanted to be in MÁLAGA, but this did not guarantee anything. The system that places auxiliars takes into account your requests, but schools get assigned in a first-come-first-serve order, meaning the sooner you get your paperwork in the better chance you have of getting a good placement. CIEE, which has a few hundred positions in Andalucía, operates the same way. When they assign you a placement, meaning that you'll be in Andalucía, they then keep track the order in which people turn in their confirmation documents. I, knowing this is how that process works, had those documents turned around and sent back electronically in under 2 hours. No way this girl is going to rural Jaen.
So I had been waiting (im)patiently to hear about placements. When I opened my email and saw nothing from CIEE I had assumed they did not do placements that day and resigned myself to waiting until the next evening to maniacally check my application. Just to be sure, I opened my application, to see if anything had changed. I was in the middle of saying something to the roommates, my evening nightcap in hand, my swollen ankle up on the chair, when I suddenly gasped.
Participation Decision: (Confirmed 3/7/11)
Application Decision: (Accepted and Placed 5/18/11)
PLACED! I frantically looked around to see where the school was. And there it was:
PLACEMENT INFORMATION
That would be an elementary school in the dead center of Málaga.
Suddenly I forgot about my ankle and jumped up off the couch, clapping and whooping. Exactly what I wanted.
Until this moment I had sort of expected something to go wrong. I was confirmed, but, despite confirmation from CIEE that I was for sure participating, I expected someone from the Junta to notice and not allow me to come back. Two years is normally the maximum. Somehow I got in, sometimes I marvel at how incredibly lucky my life is. I've had nothing but good things for 23 years and am really, really blessed. I got on the phone to Jose and to my mom and dad and brother.
The ankle? It's a bit swollen, but it'll get better. You just can't pass up an opportunity to jump up and down in absolute joy, those moments are perfect. I'm coming back. I'm ecstatic.
 |
| Unrelated, but cool, photo from Bodrum, Turkey. |
So I had been waiting (im)patiently to hear about placements. When I opened my email and saw nothing from CIEE I had assumed they did not do placements that day and resigned myself to waiting until the next evening to maniacally check my application. Just to be sure, I opened my application, to see if anything had changed. I was in the middle of saying something to the roommates, my evening nightcap in hand, my swollen ankle up on the chair, when I suddenly gasped.
Participation Decision: (Confirmed 3/7/11)
Application Decision: (Accepted and Placed 5/18/11)
PLACED! I frantically looked around to see where the school was. And there it was:
PLACEMENT INFORMATION
| 29005357, C.E.I.P. Doctor Fléming | |||||
| Pasaje Horacio Lengo, 3, 29006, Málaga, Málaga |
That would be an elementary school in the dead center of Málaga.
Suddenly I forgot about my ankle and jumped up off the couch, clapping and whooping. Exactly what I wanted.
Until this moment I had sort of expected something to go wrong. I was confirmed, but, despite confirmation from CIEE that I was for sure participating, I expected someone from the Junta to notice and not allow me to come back. Two years is normally the maximum. Somehow I got in, sometimes I marvel at how incredibly lucky my life is. I've had nothing but good things for 23 years and am really, really blessed. I got on the phone to Jose and to my mom and dad and brother.
The ankle? It's a bit swollen, but it'll get better. You just can't pass up an opportunity to jump up and down in absolute joy, those moments are perfect. I'm coming back. I'm ecstatic.
miércoles, 18 de mayo de 2011
domingo, 15 de mayo de 2011
A few good reasons to shop at Atarazanas market
 |
| Almudejar style entrance to the market. Photo credit: malaga.eu. |
 |
| Photo credit: mercadoatarazanas.com |
1. Free herbs: Buy a bunch of produce, get a bunch of parsley or mint for free. Deal.
2. Free molluscs: I caught a stowaway on my tomatoes the other day.
 |
| This guy was lucky that the Cordobesas weren't around, they do love them some snails. |
3. Fresh fish: The seafood selection is top notch. There are huge bins of octopus, sardines grouped into various sizes, monkfish, cod, navajas, mussels, and other marine life. Many fish are in that Tony Bourdain-approved state of rigur mortus, with their bodies arched like acrobats. As far as I know, this is the best place to get seafood in the city.
4. Fresh produce: All oranges have leaves and stems on them, all bananas are slightly green, no tomatoes have spots, all potatoes have dirt on them. Make sure they give you the fresh stuff when you tell them what you want, otherwise you´ll get saddled with the mushy avocados they keep in the back.
5. Fresh men: An average stroll through the market by a 20-something blonde yields more catcalls per worker than construction sites. I'll just have the lettuce, thanks, hold the whistles.
miércoles, 11 de mayo de 2011
Running out the clock
A week or two ago I got a call from an English academy near my house about substituting for a teacher who was sick. I stopped by with my CV in September and since then I've gotten a few calls to sub, but it's never worked out with private classes and such. This time I rearranged some classes and was able to go.
Upon arrival, the owner David quickly explained to me the next four hours of classes. One group of middle school kids, three groups of elementary kids.
The school is staffed entirely by British teachers and when I got there a bit before classes, it was like stepping into England. "'Ello, my name is Thom," said one. "Ello, my name's Judy," another. One had a cup of tea. It was weird to be surrounded by English. I brought up the royal wedding and was a hit.
Then the kids arrived and that whole speaking in English thing was out the window. The doors opened at 3:55 and the kids flew inside like a tornado. Backpacks and Spanish and yelling and running and loud and movement and everything.
Later on, in my third class, we were reviewing family. These kids were a bit better at English than the other groups, so we started doing surveys about their families. I had 15 minutes left or so. We reviewed more distant relatives (aunts, uncles, grandkids, great grandparents, etc. minus 3 minutes), we threw in some in-laws (minus 4 minutes), we talked about other things people say other than grandmother or father (mom, dad, grandma, nana, daddy, ma, grandpap, etc. minus 4 minutes.)
The clock was still going. Looking around, I saw it coming. The clock was slowly ticking, I couldn't let them out early, couldn't give them something new to do. Four minutes. The perfect storm of 4th graders, a small amount of free time, and lack of volume control was about to erupt. The kids were moving to the edge of their seats. It was time. I knew I had to drop the bomb that would carry me through to victory!
"Okay guys, WHO HERE HAS THE MOST COUSINS!?"
Eyeballs went to the ceiling, fingers were counted, mouths mouthed to the names of cousins.
Dropping that question in Catholic countries always takes some time. Bell rings, kids file out, I win.
(For the record, it was I who had the most, with a whopping 23 first cousins. Conrad/Haukeness FTW.)
Upon arrival, the owner David quickly explained to me the next four hours of classes. One group of middle school kids, three groups of elementary kids.
The school is staffed entirely by British teachers and when I got there a bit before classes, it was like stepping into England. "'Ello, my name is Thom," said one. "Ello, my name's Judy," another. One had a cup of tea. It was weird to be surrounded by English. I brought up the royal wedding and was a hit.
Then the kids arrived and that whole speaking in English thing was out the window. The doors opened at 3:55 and the kids flew inside like a tornado. Backpacks and Spanish and yelling and running and loud and movement and everything.
Later on, in my third class, we were reviewing family. These kids were a bit better at English than the other groups, so we started doing surveys about their families. I had 15 minutes left or so. We reviewed more distant relatives (aunts, uncles, grandkids, great grandparents, etc. minus 3 minutes), we threw in some in-laws (minus 4 minutes), we talked about other things people say other than grandmother or father (mom, dad, grandma, nana, daddy, ma, grandpap, etc. minus 4 minutes.)
The clock was still going. Looking around, I saw it coming. The clock was slowly ticking, I couldn't let them out early, couldn't give them something new to do. Four minutes. The perfect storm of 4th graders, a small amount of free time, and lack of volume control was about to erupt. The kids were moving to the edge of their seats. It was time. I knew I had to drop the bomb that would carry me through to victory!
"Okay guys, WHO HERE HAS THE MOST COUSINS!?"
Eyeballs went to the ceiling, fingers were counted, mouths mouthed to the names of cousins.
Dropping that question in Catholic countries always takes some time. Bell rings, kids file out, I win.
(For the record, it was I who had the most, with a whopping 23 first cousins. Conrad/Haukeness FTW.)
miércoles, 4 de mayo de 2011
That OH CRAP feeling
On my usual walk home from the number 8 bus stop after private English class/song and dance time with Fernandito, I was stopped dead in my tracks. By a floral store. That was closed. On a Tuesday evening.
It sounds like the beginning of a bad mafia movie, but it's probably far less interesting.
DÍA DEL MADRE EL 1 DE MAYO!!!!
Mother's Day is the 1st of May!!
For the record, it was the 3rd of May.
What I thought it said was HEY CLAIRE YOU DIDN'T CALL YOUR MOM ON MOTHER'S DAY OR SEND ANY KIND OF "SORRY ABOUT LEAVING THE COUNTRY FOR 3 YEARS" CONSOLATION FLOWERS!! YOU ARE A HORRIBLE DAUGHTER. THIS SIGN WILL BE UP FOR THE NEXT 8 MONTHS BECAUSE NOBODY WILL BOTHER TO TAKE IT DOWN AND IT WILL REMIND YOU OF YOUR FAMILIAL FAILURE AND YOU'LL PROBABLY HAVE TO TAKE A LONGER ROUTE HOME.
I quickly booted up the ol' interweb on return home and was firin' up the ol' Skype for a telephone on the interweb call. A quick glance at flowers.com (which is now 1800flowers.com, why would you make a toll free phone number into your website. Really?) and I breathed a long sigh of relief.
Mother's Day is the 8th of May in the US, giving me a full 5 days to rush order flowers.
Happy Mother's Day Kristen!
It sounds like the beginning of a bad mafia movie, but it's probably far less interesting.
DÍA DEL MADRE EL 1 DE MAYO!!!!
Mother's Day is the 1st of May!!
For the record, it was the 3rd of May.
What I thought it said was HEY CLAIRE YOU DIDN'T CALL YOUR MOM ON MOTHER'S DAY OR SEND ANY KIND OF "SORRY ABOUT LEAVING THE COUNTRY FOR 3 YEARS" CONSOLATION FLOWERS!! YOU ARE A HORRIBLE DAUGHTER. THIS SIGN WILL BE UP FOR THE NEXT 8 MONTHS BECAUSE NOBODY WILL BOTHER TO TAKE IT DOWN AND IT WILL REMIND YOU OF YOUR FAMILIAL FAILURE AND YOU'LL PROBABLY HAVE TO TAKE A LONGER ROUTE HOME.
 |
| The mothership. |
Mother's Day is the 8th of May in the US, giving me a full 5 days to rush order flowers.
Happy Mother's Day Kristen!
lunes, 2 de mayo de 2011
Ideas and advice
My parents are coming in June and we are making a(nother) route of Andalucía in car. We are going to a pueblo in Granada (Villamena), a pueblo in Córdoba province (Priego de Córdoba), a pueblo in Cádiz province (Conil de la Frontera), and a big city in Málaga province (Málaga). After that route, José and I were thinking of going to London and/or England and/or the UK for a few days. A buddy of ours, Hernan, moved up there a while back to work on the ol' English.
It's not certain that we're going, as we thought of this a grand total of 24 hours ago, and haven't told Hernan that we may come (Hernan, if you're reading, hi!), but it would be a sweet trip. I've spent a grand total of about a week in England, and it would be cool to visit.
All those loyal readers who live, have lived, have visited, or know someone's cousin's neighbor who spent a few years in London or in these Andalucian pueblos or something back in the 80's, let me know if you have any ideas of what to see, what to avoid, restaurants, day trips, etc.
Leave a comment or send me an FB message or an email or a text or a smoke signal, I'd be mighty obliged.
 |
| José and Hernan. |
 |
| This picture is required to exit the UK on a tourist visa. |
Leave a comment or send me an FB message or an email or a text or a smoke signal, I'd be mighty obliged.
domingo, 1 de mayo de 2011
Rain drops keep fallin' on my head
Over Easter vacation my friends Jackie, Eric, and I decided to go for a low-cost, high-beach vacation in the Algarve, Portugal's southern-most province and their version of Andalucía. I love Portugal. Last year's vacation launched the tiny country into my number one destination in Western Europe, mostly due a critical combination of food, Sagres Preta beer, EU debt, lack of tourists, castles, pastry, falling down historical buildings, scenery, crazy driving, and the possibility of getting bread with chorizo baked inside at any hour of the day. I was excited to spend a few days relaxing on the beach. Yes, I know Málaga has a beach, but the dirty, waveless paddling beach of the city is little comparison for the windswept, Atlantic surf-pounded, relatively-empty beaches of Portugal. I like a beach with caves and the possibility of body surfing for hours.
Looming over our trip, however, was the forecast of a week of rain. Rain. On our beach vacation. We were apprehensive.
On Monday I set out for Sevilla, as our bus left the next day at 7 a.m. Upon arrival, Jackie and Eric met me in Santa Justa station and we walked through the crowded streets of semana santa revelers to Eric's house. That evening we went to dinner at Luna's house, one of Eric's friends, who lives in Triana. Eric's friends all seem to be some sort of artist, as he met most of them through his roommates, who are in theater or drama or dance school. It's a creative household.
On the way back from dinner we saw a semana santa procession proceeding over the Triana bridge. The thrones are much smaller in Sevilla than they are in Málaga. However, this cofradía had the maximum number of nazarenos (KKK-hatted people) with them, and it was an impressive production.
We set out for Portugal and arrived in Portimão on Tuesday afternoon and went to our hostel. It was sunny. We had a bargain lunch of quiche (so cheap in non-touristy parts of Portugal!) and then put on our suits and headed to Praia da Rocha, the beach famous for its rock structures.
We promptly fell asleep on the beach. That night it clouded over. We stopped at a restaurant on the main plaza to fortify ourselves with some crisp vinho verde from the north before heading to a restaurant, where we ate grilled fish with boiled potatoes, washed down with a liter of house "aka shitty boxed" wine.
The next night was the final of the Copa del Rey, Spain's soccer championship. Like normal, it pitted F.C. Barcelona against Real Madrid, (a matchup called El Clasico, which is like civil war in Spain). We walked into a bar and asked if they would be playing the game, as the Portuguese league had a match that night too. The man looked at us with that distinct "you're not from around here" look and confirmed that they would, indeed, be showing it. We grabbed some seats, some Sagres, and waited for the game to start. By kickoff, we were surrounded completely by a group of Portuguese and African men, yelling and making bets on who would win, talking about Mourihno (Madrid's coach) and Ronaldo (Madríd's forward), both of whom are Portuguese. A small boy who took the chair in front of me decided that we were best friends, and spent the rest of the game staring at that foreign girl. He attempted to explain what offsides was in Portuguese, until he realized that offsides is actually an English word. The game ended after 2 overtime periods, with Ronaldo scoring Madrid's only goal, giving them the cup.
The next day was spitting rain. We had another break and salvaged a few more hours of beach time in a cove that was protected from the wind.
It started pouring, so we went back to the hostel to begin what turned out to be a lot of napping/reading time.
The next day it was stormy. We got back on the bus for a half-hour trip down the coast to Lagos, our next destination. At this point we were looking into turning around and heading for Sevilla, but due to our rusty Portuguese (to say the least) and the fact that the woman at the Plaza de Armas bus station in Sevilla decided that she didn't feel like printing off our return bus tickets, we couldn't manage to change our tickets.
As we got off the bus Jackie called the owner of our second hostel. The confirmation of our reservation did not have directions to the place listed, but said to call the owner, who supposedly spoke English and could come get us. Jackie got out her phone. The conversation went something like this:
"Hi, my name's Jackie and we have a reser....yes....ye........yes...."
Jackie stops smiling.
"Yes, for tonight, for thre..........."
Jackie's face gets serious.
"Yes, we are at the bu........bus..........yes, the bus sta.....ok...."
Jackie looks confused.
"The bus station. And what does your car look like so we know wha.......ok.....gree.......green Foc...ok...."
Jackie is frowning. Jackie shifts her weight.
"Ok, gre.....ok...."
Jackie hangs up.
"This woman is coming to pick us up. She has a green Ford Focus. She talks a lot."
The woman, who was the owner of our guesthouse, was very sweet to come pick us up at the station. Especially because we didn't know where we were going and it was raining. Shortly we saw a car approach and she jumped out, energy overflowing. The talking started. The talking continued. The talking didn't stop.
She learned English from working with tourists over the years and in the short ride to the apartment she told us about the town, where she came from, how her day was, her kids, the Portuguese identity cards, etc. It was a mix of English and Portuguese. When we walked up to the guesthouse she explained in detail our room, the apartment, the view, the weather, the towels, the bathroom, the guestbook, the beach, her trip to Tunisia, the process of bartering, the types of tourists she gets, where things are on the map, a good restaurant to eat fish, where the grocery is, what she would do later that day, and so much more!
On her way out, after about 40 minutes, someone dropped a vale. She turned.
"Hablas español?" she asked, eyeing us.
"Pues sí, trabajamos en España..."
"Ah! Well I have many Spanish tourists and my granddaughter speaks English and she learns in school and my daughter also speaks a lot and this one time my granddaughter was here and...."
After another 15 minutes we shut the door, sat down, and reveled in the silence. Any thoughts of going home early were dashed, thinking of the time that would be invested in explaining that we were leaving.
It was rainy, so we hunkered down and read and napped for a while. The view from the apartment was gorgeous, and for our own apartment, the price was supercheap.
We spent our time in touristy Lagos moving from café to restaurant to bar. When there is not much else to do than go to the beach, one becomes very attentive to the next meal. And alcohol consumption goes up.
We took a boat ride on our last day to see the grottos around Lagos. They're beautiful rock formations that have been worn away by the sea.
Our last night we ate at a fish restaurant recommended enthusiastically by our host. It was delicious. Eric and Jackie confirmed that it was reminiscent of a Wisconsin fish fry, which I have never been to, but can imagine. It was a giant hall filled with people eating fish. It was great.
The next day we made our way back on the six hour bus to Sevilla and I left for Málaga later that day. The rain was a bummer, but it was a good trip with Jackie and Eric. If you have the chance to get to Portugal, do so. You won´t be disappointed.
Looming over our trip, however, was the forecast of a week of rain. Rain. On our beach vacation. We were apprehensive.
On Monday I set out for Sevilla, as our bus left the next day at 7 a.m. Upon arrival, Jackie and Eric met me in Santa Justa station and we walked through the crowded streets of semana santa revelers to Eric's house. That evening we went to dinner at Luna's house, one of Eric's friends, who lives in Triana. Eric's friends all seem to be some sort of artist, as he met most of them through his roommates, who are in theater or drama or dance school. It's a creative household.
 |
| La bien pagá sung by a Frenchwoman. |
We set out for Portugal and arrived in Portimão on Tuesday afternoon and went to our hostel. It was sunny. We had a bargain lunch of quiche (so cheap in non-touristy parts of Portugal!) and then put on our suits and headed to Praia da Rocha, the beach famous for its rock structures.
We promptly fell asleep on the beach. That night it clouded over. We stopped at a restaurant on the main plaza to fortify ourselves with some crisp vinho verde from the north before heading to a restaurant, where we ate grilled fish with boiled potatoes, washed down with a liter of house "aka shitty boxed" wine.
The next night was the final of the Copa del Rey, Spain's soccer championship. Like normal, it pitted F.C. Barcelona against Real Madrid, (a matchup called El Clasico, which is like civil war in Spain). We walked into a bar and asked if they would be playing the game, as the Portuguese league had a match that night too. The man looked at us with that distinct "you're not from around here" look and confirmed that they would, indeed, be showing it. We grabbed some seats, some Sagres, and waited for the game to start. By kickoff, we were surrounded completely by a group of Portuguese and African men, yelling and making bets on who would win, talking about Mourihno (Madrid's coach) and Ronaldo (Madríd's forward), both of whom are Portuguese. A small boy who took the chair in front of me decided that we were best friends, and spent the rest of the game staring at that foreign girl. He attempted to explain what offsides was in Portuguese, until he realized that offsides is actually an English word. The game ended after 2 overtime periods, with Ronaldo scoring Madrid's only goal, giving them the cup.
The next day was spitting rain. We had another break and salvaged a few more hours of beach time in a cove that was protected from the wind.
It started pouring, so we went back to the hostel to begin what turned out to be a lot of napping/reading time.
As we got off the bus Jackie called the owner of our second hostel. The confirmation of our reservation did not have directions to the place listed, but said to call the owner, who supposedly spoke English and could come get us. Jackie got out her phone. The conversation went something like this:
"Hi, my name's Jackie and we have a reser....yes....ye........yes...."
Jackie stops smiling.
"Yes, for tonight, for thre..........."
Jackie's face gets serious.
"Yes, we are at the bu........bus..........yes, the bus sta.....ok...."
Jackie looks confused.
"The bus station. And what does your car look like so we know wha.......ok.....gree.......green Foc...ok...."
Jackie is frowning. Jackie shifts her weight.
"Ok, gre.....ok...."
Jackie hangs up.
"This woman is coming to pick us up. She has a green Ford Focus. She talks a lot."
The woman, who was the owner of our guesthouse, was very sweet to come pick us up at the station. Especially because we didn't know where we were going and it was raining. Shortly we saw a car approach and she jumped out, energy overflowing. The talking started. The talking continued. The talking didn't stop.
She learned English from working with tourists over the years and in the short ride to the apartment she told us about the town, where she came from, how her day was, her kids, the Portuguese identity cards, etc. It was a mix of English and Portuguese. When we walked up to the guesthouse she explained in detail our room, the apartment, the view, the weather, the towels, the bathroom, the guestbook, the beach, her trip to Tunisia, the process of bartering, the types of tourists she gets, where things are on the map, a good restaurant to eat fish, where the grocery is, what she would do later that day, and so much more!
On her way out, after about 40 minutes, someone dropped a vale. She turned.
"Hablas español?" she asked, eyeing us.
"Pues sí, trabajamos en España..."
"Ah! Well I have many Spanish tourists and my granddaughter speaks English and she learns in school and my daughter also speaks a lot and this one time my granddaughter was here and...."
After another 15 minutes we shut the door, sat down, and reveled in the silence. Any thoughts of going home early were dashed, thinking of the time that would be invested in explaining that we were leaving.
It was rainy, so we hunkered down and read and napped for a while. The view from the apartment was gorgeous, and for our own apartment, the price was supercheap.
We took a boat ride on our last day to see the grottos around Lagos. They're beautiful rock formations that have been worn away by the sea.
The next day we made our way back on the six hour bus to Sevilla and I left for Málaga later that day. The rain was a bummer, but it was a good trip with Jackie and Eric. If you have the chance to get to Portugal, do so. You won´t be disappointed.
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