Final week in Granada

It’s a bittersweet feeling to leave Granada. On one hand the kids are looking forward to being reunited with family and Tahoe friends, one the other, they are sad to be leaving their new friends. Both children have integrated well into their school and their sports teams. When I see how sad they are to be leaving Jose Hurtado, I think back to how scared they were on the first day of school. How far they both have come!  It’s been an emotional week with many farewells: their coaches, friends and teachers. Zoe’s swim teammates signed a Spanish Flag for her. Her class made a book with farewell notes. JT’s class also made a farewell note.

We’ve squeezed lots of shopping and visiting into our last week and crossed many items off of our "before I leave" list. We saved one special experience for last: Tom and I made a trip to the Arab baths. In the midst of all of last minutes errands it was a thoroughly relaxing interlude. One arrives, and is shown the 3 bathing pools, freezing cold, temperate and warm. There is also a steam shower and 15 minute massage. They also serve a lightly sweetened tea. One has a period of 90 to enjoy these delights. The setting itself is unusual, lovely tiles, warm floors, tranquil music. This time of year, they are quiet.

Over the past 3 months we’ve seen much of Andalucía and Madrid.  While we have enjoyed each place, each trip has reinforced what a great choice Granada has been for our family. The culture, the weather, the people the ability to learn Spanish have all been great. By living in Granada, we’ve experienced all of the benefits of big city living with none of the usual downsides. Granada is clean, safe, affordable, and friendly.  Access to nature is a bike ride away. The kids are begging us to schedule a trip to return within the next 18 months.  I hope their enthusiasm and their rich experiences remain with them far into the future.

Sevilla’s Christmas Splendor

The 2^nd weekend in December is a 4 day weekend.  December 6^th celebrates the signing of Spain's constitution and the 8^th, the feast of the annunciation.  A national holiday which is also a religious holiday seems odd to those who hail from a country with separation of church and state. Frankly, it also seems a little odd in Spain because while much of the country is Catholic, few attend services. Catholicism has become more of a cultural identity than a religious one.

Never ones to let a 4-day weekend go to waste, we booked a bus to Sevilla. My first impression of the city was not positive, but fortunately it improved with each experience. Most of bus stations we’ve passed through are quite new and surprisingly clean. Sevilla’s station was neither. The bathrooms were the disgusting and to add insult to injury, they were coin operated. It’s a rare moment when a bus port-a- john trumps a normal bathroom. 

As in Rhonda, we booked an “apart hotel”.  Despite its 2 star rating, it was an awesome apartment in a great location.  Tom had another “I wish I had stayed in a place as nice as this for the past 3 months” experience. These short term rentals are more economical than traditional hotels, are furnished with more character and offer a lot of space. On the downside, they lack services such as a front desk, room service, gym etc.  Our apartment was named after its street, Siete Revueltas, which means 7 turns. It was a narrow zigzagging almost alley sized-street closed to cars. The kids of course counted them and yes there were exactly 7 “turns”.

The city was brilliantly lit for Christmas. Each street has a specific style of lighting and I read that over 120 streets are illuminated. We saw at least 10 different variations. Since it was a holiday weekend, the streets were unbelievably crowded far into the night. Most stores close at 8:30, but Christmas markets are set up throughout the city and stay open quite late. Many corners had vendors selling roasted chestnuts. They used wood so the smoke filled the sky creating street scenes out of a Victorian Christmas card. In one plaza, lights and pictures were projected onto the side of an entire building.

The apartment was just steps away from the Metropol Parasol or as the locals call it “The Mushrooms” These are the world’s largest wooden sculpture with a museum of Roman ruins (found while constructing the site) on the basement floor, a food market on the main floor, and retail space on the upper floors. Tourists pay a modest fee to walk along the top. The view of the city is wonderful, especially at night. Zoe and I went up on Friday when all of the churches were celebrating the annunciation. When the bells struck the 9 o’clock hour from all quarters of the city and the lights shone through the haze of chestnut vendors, it was a surreal experience.

At the market, we bought stone crab claws and our favorite Spanish cheese queso Mahon curado. We thoroughly enjoyed watching the vendor slice jamon iberico (huge hogs that eat only acorns) for a queue of grandmas that was 20 deep. This was the first market where we’ve seen vendors selling rabbits, pheasant, quail and ducks gutted but with fur and feather intact. JT is not a fan of markets. He can’t quite overcome his aversion to the smell of fresh fish and meat. He hung around on the periphery while we shopped, and tried breathing through his neck gator—and given the state of that I am surprised he could smell anything else!

We really enjoyed touring the Mushrooms, but our favorite spot was the Plaza Espana. Every city in Spain has a plaza with this name, but in our humble opinion, this was the most spectacular. Built for the 1929 World’s Fair, the brick structure is beautiful in and of itself. But to make it even more special the building is embellished with ceramics. The roofs, the walls, the lamp posts, the fence surrounding the water were all decorated with hand painted ceramic tiles or constructed of ceramic itself. Built in a semicircular shape it has a moat with 5 bridges. At the center stands a huge fountain. Each province of Spain has a ceramic mural depicting a scene from when it became a province. We rented a row boat and the kids took turns rowing us. After our last experience, we skipped the rowing together step and they both did quite well on their own.

On Sunday, we strolled along the Rio Guadalquiver to the Torre de Oro. The 12 sided tower was used as a watchtower by the Moors. While there we hiked up the 112 steps for spectacular view of the cathedral’s flying buttresses. We also toured its small naval museum. Before having lunch, we took a quick walk through the Cathedral. It’s another impressive structure which holds the title of the world’s largest Gothic cathedral and 4^th largest church in the World. It’s bell tower, known as the Giralda, is one of the city’s most recognizable landmarks. Even more interesting, it’s where the remains of Christopher Colombus are interred. After lunch we took the bus back to Granada for the kids final week of school.

The Alhambra--Finally

We’ve been in Granada for 3 months and one of the first questions any Granadino asks us is “Have you been to the Alhambra yet?”.  Sheepishly we shake our heads and respond no. At first we thought we might go with my aunt, but they had toured it before. Then Tom left for 3 weeks. In between, we took many weekend trips to places around Andalucía. So, with a scant 2 weeks left, we decided we had to go.  We kept an eye on the weather forecast so we could pick the best day. Granada’s weather is like San Francisco: mostly it’s in the 50s, but some days it drops down into the 40s.  Based on the forecast, we decided on Tuesday, and arranged to have the kids leave school early.

The Alhambra is the single most visited site in Spain, with over 3 million tickets sold each year. I am sure the number would be higher, but they limit the number of visitor each day to minimize the crowding. Many of the courtyards, rooms and corridors are quite narrow. Ticket pricing in Spain is generally child- friendly, so the kids were free. Our visit was very affordable, with the audio guides costing as much as our tickets.

The Alhambra is not a single building, but rather a palace and fortress complex built by the Nasrid kings. Apparently recent excavations show evidence of Roman ruins, but mostly the historical record starts in the 700s. A succession of Arab kings built various parts. The location at the top of a steep hill insured its safety. The complex is a self-contained city, with houses, baths, orchards (olive, pomegranate, persimmons, oranges were all in evidence), and many gardens. Some of the gardens are ornamental while others were for growing food. The palace was designed to create a paradise on earth, thus in addition to the lovely gardens, there are several tranquil courtyards with reflecting pools, other courtyards with fountains designed to produce soothing sounds and still others for the baths.  The arches, stucco filigree and tile patterns which are all very characteristic of Arab building were stunning.

Of course, when the Christians conquered the Arabs in the 1400s, the Spanish kings, most notably King Carlos V in the mid-1500s put their own mark on the palace. While their additions are impressive in their own right some of them are quite different from the Arab style and a bit jarring in their contrast. Apparently in the 1600s, the palace complex fell into a long period of neglect until the Europeans took a renewed interest in the buildings in the late 1800s and began the long process of restoring the site.

Despite our planning, the day turned out colder than we anticipated and was overcast as well. While the kids were incredibly engaged, JT finally ran out of batteries after 2.5 hours. So he and Tom headed home, while Zoe and I took a quick turn through the Generalife or the summer palace before quitting the place ourselves. In retrospect, we probably would have enjoyed the experience more had it been warmer or when the gardens were in full bloom.  On the plus side, we had the good fortune to visit on a quiet day, so we could take pictures at our leisure in front of the best spots.  Ultimately, the overcast sky made photographing the palace a bit easier. Ultimately, we were glad we made the trip.

JT’s Bday

Celebrations commenced with chocolate and churros on Saturday.  As much as we all love chocolate, eating that for breakfast and chocolate mousse cake for dessert was too much to stomach in 1 day. Recognize that I am speaking only for myself, as the rest of the chocoholics in the family would have undoubtedly managed it without complaint.  There were a couple of restaurants in contention based on teacher reviews. We ultimately chose a nearby restaurant favored by the locals.  We chose well. The children were served a heaping plate of steaming churros, a cup of thick chocolate each for dunking and a glass of freshly squeezed OJ. Tom and I shared a toasted baguette slathered with butter with coffees of course. The tab for this feast was under $15.  Even better, the setting was beautiful, with stucco art deco vines painted along the columns and a beautiful mural.

The festivities continued into the big day.  While Zoe was having a manicure (one of her b-day gifts), I picked up the cake. JT and Dad had ordered a “truffa” or truffle cake. Strangely, they sell cakes by weight and they managed to order the 2 kilo (just under 5 lbs) version with Happy B-day JT in English of course. In addition to roses, they put adorable gumdrop animals atop the cake. Carrying a 5lb cake through town was a bit stressful. JT’s new favorite dinner is gambas pil pil, which is an olive oil-based version of shrimp scampi.  I haven’t peeled shrimp in these quantities in while. As Zoe and I were up to our elbows in shrimp guts I was reminded of exactly why. Ultimately, the results were worth it.  To finish the day, Zoe had Tom pick up the 2^nd Harry Potter movie as a gift, so we watched that. It’s practically a marathon in itself at a weighty 2 hours and 20 minutes. All in all it was a fun day.

The General Strike

Some aspects of Spain’s economic woes are obvious. Protest marches seem to occur almost daily. They usually end at city hall, so I see them on my way to language classes.  Empty storefronts, mostly restaurants are evident, and anti-government graffiti is everywhere. In other ways it is fairly subtle. While one occasionally sees beggars, they are far fewer than in Washington DC or San Francisco, which admittedly are much larger cities. But on November 14, there was a general country-wide strike.

The build-up was big, but the actual event seemed low-key. The city was well-postered and many businesses displayed signs announcing the strike. While many small business and restaurants were closed, all of the large chain stores were open. When businesses did open, they often kept some of their shutters down, just in case any violence erupted. I am sure. A lot of workers decided to stay home for the day, but others seem weary of losing yet another day of pay or revenues. Few buses ran and all of the government offices and rec centers were closed for all or part of the day. 

The previous day, Zoe’s teacher announced that she would be there and the kids and their families should make their own decisions. JT’s teacher didn’t say anything to his class. I opted to send the kids to school anyway, as Tom had been gone for nearly 3 weeks and I needed a mental health day. On the day of the strike, school was basically childcare since just a few kids showed up (2 in JT’s class and 7 in Zoe’s).  JT’s teacher and several others were part of the protest so they combined several grades. Instead of instruction, they drew pictures, played games, extended recess and watched movies. From my perspective, it was still better than their being at home, because at least they were interacting with other kids in Spanish and I had the day to relax. At the last minute, Zoe's swim group had practice when the pool opened at 5pm. While she was initially reluctant to go, only 8 (instead of 16) kids attended and the team had access to to 3 lanes (instead of 2), so she was happy.

That evening, we watch the main protest march as a real life civics’ lesson. In Granada, the marches are peaceful. In Madrid they are known for erupting into violence. I picked a strategic spot with an easy exit plan if things went south for any reason. While somber, the march felt somewhat ominous as the sky was overcast and the city police were at the ready, equipped with riot gear. Adding to the tension was the occasional loud firecracker. The marchers were chanting, but the protest seemed to have an air of resignation than anger. I guess there had been pickets the previous night and those had been much more spirited. All of this made Zoe very nervous so we did not stay very long. 

It was certainly different being in a small country where a general strike brings the entire public works system to a grinding halt. At the end, it was real life reminder to the children of the economic struggles of the Spain and how it affects ordinary citizens.

Cordoba

With just a month of our trip remaining, and Tom still traveling, we decide to visit Cordoba for the weekend. Of the 3 cities which most embody the conflict between the Christians and Muslims, Cordova is the least visited. (Seville and Granada are the other 2). Many people tour Cordova as a day trip from either Granada or Seville.  We depart Saturday and arrive in the early afternoon. Since we are only staying one night, I splurge on a posh hotel. The hotel is centrally located in an ancient neighborhood called the Juderia and directly across the street from the most popular site in Cordoba, the Mezquita.

Unfortunately, it’s raining again, so we tour the Mezquita first. It’s the most unusual building I have ever seen. It is a gothic cathedral constructed inside of a massive mosque. During its lifetime it has been consecrated and deconsecrated several times, depending on whether the Muslims or Christians were in power. Not surprisingly, like many important buildings in this part of Spain, the mosque was constructed atop a Roman temple.

The absolute vastness of the mosque makes describing it adequately difficult. The footprint occupies an entire city block, and at its largest over 45,000 people worshipped there. Over 1,000 stone columns connected by graceful double arches support the massive timber roof.  The mood of mosque portion is both tranquil and somber with the interplay of black, grey, pink and blue stones: jasper, onyx, granite and marble. The builders of the mosque saved ornamentation for the most important site, the mihrab, or door facing mecca. This part is richly adorned with copious amounts of gold and semi-precious stones.

The Cathedral was added in the 1200s. In stark contrast to the mosque, the cathedral is built in the gothic style where high, arched ceilings and large windows allow light to flow in. Over 200 columns were removed during this renovation. Ironically, this conversion while jarring probably ensured that the building wasn’t completely destroyed during the Spanish inquisition.

Later that night, after the rain cleared, we wandered across the Roman bridge and through the tiny narrow streets of the Juderia taking pictures. After a delightful Italian dinner, we, of course, indulged in ice cream.  Sunday brought warmth and sunshine. After seeing a couple more sites we opted for the touristy but thoroughly entertaining Spectacle of Horses show. There were 5 parts, each about 10 minutes long which showcased a different discipline of riding. Both the horses and riders were graceful yet powerful.  We loved it.

We were walking in the direction of tapas place written up in Trip Advisor, when we saw a huge number of people enjoying food just outside the Mezquita. In fact they were using the platform as a picnic area. They all seemed to be enjoying plates loaded with tortilla Española and salmorejo (a thick version of gazpacho). As everyone seemed to be speaking Spanish, we adopted the “when in Rome” attitude and sent Zoe into the fray to procure our food. After numerous people skipped her, she asserted herself and came away with 2 tortilla Española and 2 salmorejos. Was it worth it? Well, I will only say that we are forever ruined for tortilla Española. That will be the yardstick by which all future tortillas will be measured. For a dish made with only potatoes, eggs and olive oil, it was unbelievable rich and delicious. It was the perfect ending to a lovely day and we headed back to Granada shortly thereafter.

Madrid –2nd time around

The kids had a long weekend the first of November. Despite rules separating church from state, November 1^st, is all Souls day and a holiday. Since it fell on a Thursday, the state and local offices enjoy a floating holiday and viola; we had a 4-day weekend. We decided to return to Madrid since, without Tom, 4 days with everything closed could feel like an eternity. I picked the children up early from school and we caught the luxury Supra coach to Madrid. Supra tickets are double the normal price and while JT qualified for a discount, Zoe was full fare. In addition to movies, they serve snacks, bon-bons, and beverages including wine and a separate coffee service. It reminded me of the time Tom and I took the Chunnel 1^st class from London to Paris. The woman providing the service was especially nice to the children, encouraging them to take more candy. The bus even offered WIFI, although service was a bit spotty.

This time around, we opted for a hotel smack in the heart of the tourist district. Our hotel was part of the same chain as the one we stayed last time and was also an “Apart” hotel. Rather than a full apartment, we booked a large room with a tiny kitchen built into a space about the size of master bedroom closet circa 1970. While tiny, it offered a 2 burner stove, a microwave and a full complement of dishes for 2, including a white table cloth and matching napkins. Despite looking out over Gran Via, our room was surprisingly quiet and had a window that actually opened.

After our 4.5 hour journey, the computer was out of juice, so recharging it was a priority. Here we ran into trouble. When we plugged it in, we heard a pop and lights went out. We found the fuse box by the door, but in the dark we couldn’t figure out which one to flip. The guys at the front desk were nice, but seemed to think I was a dimwitted female tourist. They patiently explained that we needed an adapter to use the electricity. DUH! I was vindicated when the valet confirmed that indeed it was the plug itself that was broken and restored power.

Our next order of business was to go out for ice cream, an excursion which took much longer than expected. Madrid seems to be more of pastry town than ice cream. While a number of famous patisseries exist, we were hard pressed to find an ice cream shop. Compared to Granada, the offerings were a bit scarce, significantly more expensive and not as good. After scoping out the nearby offerings we settled on one and then headed back to the hotel to sleep.

Friday morning we ventured out to the Rastro flea market.  The name “Rastro” meaning “trail” is said to have evolved from the bloody marks left on the street from the cattle being transported to nearby tanneries. Apparently, the market has been operating in Madrid since the Middles Ages and has the distinction of being one of the largest in Europe with over 3,500 stalls. There were definitely fewer stalls than that, probably since we were there on a Thursday and a cold snap had just hit the city. Normally, the market is only open Sundays and holidays. It’s a combination of true flea market selling used and antique furniture, records, cassettes, clothes, and handicrafts such as jewelry, purses, belts and low priced items. Zoe bought some Christmas gifts and I found a cool Spanish t-shirt.

Saturday was Zoe’s birthday and we headed to the Reina Sofia to see Guernica, Picasso’s most famous work. The surrounding exhibits showed other art produced during the time of the Spanish civil war as well as magazine covers and other propaganda on both sides of the war. We saved Guernica for last and while impressive, the kids were flummoxed by it.

Afterwards we went for churros. I found a “locals” place that was reviewed as having some of the tastiest chocolate to accompany the churros. First, the waiter brought a basket of fried dough. We ordered 2 types, one type was thin, teardrop shaped and somewhat cakelike and the other unabashedly fried dough of the variety found at the Italian fairs of my childhood. These were accompanied by cups of old-fashioned hot chocolate: the drink that preceded the bar…the drink that came to Europe by way of the Americas and was served at royal parties in Spain. It was thick, super rich and so unbelievably decadent that Zoe actually couldn’t finish hers. Afterwards, for giggles, we rode the teleferico, a cable car suspended above the park, and enjoyed seeing the fall colors.

That night I had reservations at a nearby Bistro to celebrate Zoe’s birthday. We were running a tad late, so when I arrived I unthinkingly blurted in English out that we had a reservation for a table of 3. This earned us an English menu. Bummer! But Zoe and JT ordered and asked questions about the food in their best Spanish and when it was time to order dessert, the waitress brought us Spanish menus. Shockingly, the kids ordered more chocolate for dessert. It was rather large sampler, which the waitress kindly advised us. Zoe was in the bathroom so I let the waitress know that they could both order one as it was a special occasion. She very sweetly put a candle in Zoe’s and we all sang Happy Birthday to her (adorably inflamed face).

We awoke to the sound of torrential rain (again). Fortunately, the worst part of the storm seemed to have passed during the early morning hours and we only had to deal with a light drizzle.  We were heading back to Granada late afternoon, so we checked out, leaving our luggage at the hotel. Our last stop was the Thyssen Art Museum (Thyssen of elevator and escalator fame). Apparently, the rain made this a popular choice and the queues were ridiculous even right at opening. (Although by the time we left, they were triple the size). It was worth the wait, however, as the collection was vast and contained works by nearly every famous western painter. My one regret was that we did not see the special Gaugin exhibit, since it was sold out. This irked me terribly because when we arrived in Malaga last September the same exhibit was there. In Malaga everyone is in beach mode so it was very lightly attended and we didn’t go.  

Our trip back to the bus station was a little too exciting for my taste. We made the mistake eating lunch in a restaurant, budgeting an hour when it took 90 minutes. This would have been fine, but we didn’t account for the time it took to pick up our bags. We had to wait an additional 10 minutes at the hotel because the guy at the front desk was alone. After a stressful Metro ride, we arrived just 10 minutes before our bus departed. We took the normal coach bus back which unfortunately stopped for a 30 minute break in the middle of nowhere. On the bright side, they offered movies, a bonus when the computer’s batteries ran out again. Back in Granada, we spent a leisurely Sunday recuperating: waking at 9:30, enjoying the relative warmth of the southern climate and playing around with some painting of our own. It was definitely the right choice to head out of town. 

Zoe Competes in a Swim Meet

If it wasn’t an adventure, then it wouldn’t be Granada. Zoe had her first swim meet this past weekend. On the Thursday before the Saturday meet, the team emailed stating that the team store would be open for purchases the following evening. The minimum required “uniform” was a swim cap, shirt and shorts. So at 5:30pm Friday (in the rain…again) Zoe and I set out to buy the required items. The map and directions to the store were akin to a scavenger hunt: at Fuente Nueve, in the sports pavilion, under the bleachers. And what a scavenger hunt it turned out to be. After disembarking from the bus, we wandered around for 45 minutes asking different people for Fuente Nueve and/or the street name but no one seemed to know where it was. Oh my kingdom for a smart phone! Finally, some telephone workers pointed us in the right direction. Literally, just as I was telling Zoe it was time to bail, we saw the sign for the Fuente Nueve. It turns out it is name of the University campus and the “street” was just a path running alongside the sports field and the pool where the team used to practice. If we’d been with the team before this season, then the vague directions would have been crystal clear.  Once there, we spent another 20 minutes trying to locate the right set of bleachers, but we persevered and found it a scant 15 minutes before the store closed. Zoe now has a smart matching polo and shorts with the team logo.

The team rented a bus for the meet which was in the city of Motril, on the coast about an hour away. Early the next morning, we took the city bus to the departure point. I am not usually wandering the streets of Granada at 7am on a Saturday morning, so I was flabbergasted by the number of inebriated college kids who were on their way home. Our local kebab shop was still open selling food to mop up the alcohol, as were other establishments (such as churro shops) who cater to late night crowd.  The bus was of the luxury coach variety and Zoe boarded with some of the girls from her team.

As JT and I had most of the day together, we decided to have breakfast out. He indulged in a croissant and hot cocoa while I ate toast smothered in butter. Then we headed to Granada’s science museum. We’ve been there before, but it’s huge and we hadn’t seen the whole of it. Because this is Andalucía they actually shut parts of the museum down for siesta. And because it was built with EU bonds no doubt, on a rainy Saturday this amazing museum was nearly deserted. After the special exhibit on the brain, my favorite part was the butterfly pavilion. JT and I watched a butterfly emerge from its cocoon in the hatching area, and later one of the workers showed us a gigantic moth with antenna that looked like feathers. He also showed us the moth’s chrysalis which actually is camouflaged to appear as dead leaves among wood bark on the jungle floor rather than hanging suspended.

Finally Zoe called to let us know she was on her way home.  Meets are a little different here. At her age, meets are for all kids aged 10 through 21. All the competitors swim together in an event based on their seed times. Kids aged 9 and younger compete in a separate series of swim meets. Children swim in events selected by their coaches, so Zoe swam her first 200 back and 100 breast. The meet was just a 1 day, the 2^nd day is held a couple weeks later. Parents are not allowed on the pool deck, only in the stands. They have officials who do all the timing and refereeing (which coupled with the empty multi-million dollar science museum starts to give you an insight to Spain’s many economic problems). Zoe swam well and will do one more meet this fall. Fortunately, the next one is in Granada so we’ll be able to see it. 

An early B-day for Zoe

Tom flew back to the US Thursday morning to deliver Liberator to St. John, so we decided to celebrate Zoe’s birthday a week early.  Our kitchen is a bit spare for preparing anything complex, so we let Zoe choose between a bought or homemade cake. Zoe picked a bought birthday cake, the first one in her short 11 years. She picked a classic European chocolate mousse cake and it tasted scrumptious. Her b-day dinner menu was none other than mac and cheese with hot dogs (they really don’t have sausage per se other than chorizo, which isn’t quite the same).

Since Tom left, the week has been hard on all of us. The kids have thoroughly enjoyed having their dad around all the time, and they really miss him.  To add insult to injury, the rain started the same morning he departed. It continued throughout the day and that night just before I was leaving to collect Zoe from swim practice, a front moved through bringing a deluge of rain. It was so fierce that it reminded me of summer thunder storms in the east. The water ran in rivers down the streets, the gutters spewed torrents across the sidewalks soaking my shoes. By the time arrived at the rec center, I looked like a drowned dog, despite my rain gear.  When I arrived at the rec center, the news was broadcasting stories of flooding across Andalucía. Fortunately, the front passed by the time Zoe and I walked back, so it was just normal rain. 

Thursdays are the most challenging day of the week. It’s the one day both kids have sports at the local rec center: JT plays soccer from 6-7 and Zoe swims at 8 (until 10pm!). It’s a 20 minute walk each way to our apartment, so it makes more sense for us to hang out during the hour-long break than to walk home and back again. It’s the perfect time to feed the kids, but finding something substantial to eat in Spain at 7pm can be a real challenge. Our neighborhood is full of students, so there are several kebab and pizza shops. The rec center is in a newer more “suburban” part of the city and so far we’ve only managed to find a couple of bakeries who sell empanadillas and pizza. So we’ve had to adopt the practice of eating our main meal at 2pm and then the lighter snack after sports.

In that way and many others Spain is slowly seeping into our daily practices. The kids regularly go to sleep quite late.  One of best things about our apartment is it takes 3 minutes for the kids to walk to school. The sun rises quite late even with the time change, so they naturally sleep in. I admit that more than once we have awoken in a panic after 8:15 on a school day. When Zoe swims, she tries to have a siesta the following afternoon. We also eat a ton more “white” foods here. This is partly because the bakery near our house sells baguettes for .70 euro or about a dollar. Fresh baked bread is irresistible, so it’s become part of both our breakfast and lunch menu. Also, pasta and pizza are regularly rotated through the meal list and whole grain options don’t really exist.

Time is a great healer. While some of the days that Tom is gone will feel endlessly long, the weeks will inevitably fly. We have less than 6 weeks left and many other places to visit and things to experience in Andalucía before we leave.

A Tale of Two Cities

Last weekend we drove to Nerja, another city on the Costa del Sol about 40 kilometers west of Malaga. As it was just the weekend our trip to Torremolinos, the differences between the cities could not have been more apparent. To borrow liberally from Dicken’s Tale of Two Cities:

It was the best of tourism, it was the worst of tourism. It was the age of wise development, it was the age of foolish development was the epoch of cultural exploration, it was the epoch of the packaged tour, it was the season of rain it was the season of sun, it was the spring of friendship, it was the spring of family reunion.

Nerja is a lovely jewel whose geography has saved it from the fate that has befallen Torremolinos. That is, it is nestled among some very steep cliffs and the beaches are really coves, rather than wide flat expanses that lend themselves to great hulking high rise hotels. Thus, it has retained a wonderful character where people travel to experience a relatively authentic Spanish city. In contrast, Torremolinos makes little illusion about being anything other than a beautiful beach where foreigners can vacation with little to no interaction with the locals.  

We traveled to Nerja to meet friends from England. John Cole is married to Ian Ratcliffe’s (Tom’s very good friend from Darden) sister Jane. We haven’t seen them in nearly 10 years. They have children the same age as ours, and in the same order. Zoe and JT were thrilled to have English speaking friends and the children got along beautifully. It was a vacation for all of us as they entertained themselves non-stop during our entire visit.

Unfortunately, both Friday and Saturday were intermittently rainy. We made the best of it by taking the opportunity to visit the Nerja caves on Saturday morning. We took the audio tour and really enjoyed it. The caves were vast and with many beautiful formations. The most stunning was a 32 meter column in the center of a gigantic chamber called The Hall of Cataclysm. Over 8,000 years ago an earthquake hit causing parts of column to collapse. Apparently, there are cave paintings also, but they are in much smaller chambers and one has to take a spelunking trip to see them. By Sunday the weather turned and the sun finally shone. Zoe, Tom and I all swam in the Med. It was much, much colder than in September, so it was in fairness a very short swim, but wonderfully refreshing.

We ate some wonderful meals and JT ordered gambas pil pil which is basically shrimp scampi at each of them. Zoe and Georgie (short for Georgina) had a little dinner party one night. We went into Nerja central town for dinner and the only available tables required a configuration of 2 from our group sitting separately.  It was a nice place and we didn’t want to subject anyone to a couple of 8 year old boys--even our extremely well-behaved lot J, so the girls sat together.  As you can imagine, they felt quite “grown-up” and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. (I thought of my friend Jana living here while learning Spanish as I passed a language school in the town center).

Sunday afternoon we went to an amazing paella place on the beach. Apparently, it was once regularly featured in a Spanish tele-novela. They alternated 3 paella pans, each 4 feet wide and stirred with paddles. The chef’s shin guards” made of cardboard stuffed into his socks. The place had at least 80 tables. Paella was 6 euro and one could take their plate back to the paella pan for a refill. Given the Spanish tradition of Sunday lunch, the restaurant was quite busy. We were told that the wait is really exciting in the summer as there are a lot more people and the restaurant has no queuing system. Even better, it’s an all cash establishment. It was a perfect ending to a very fun weekend and the children were really bummed when it was time to leave their new friends. 

Torremolinos with Tante Gisela

Spain celebrates October 12^th (Columbus Day) as its National day. This year it conveniently fell on a Friday giving us a 3-day weekend. The timing was even more perfect as we had already arranged to meet my Aunt and Uncle from Germany in Torremolinos, a city along the Costa del Sol very close to Malaga.

We booked travel by bus as it is enjoyable and simple. Knowing that the students would take advantage of the holiday to leave town, we purchased tickets in advance. The extra time we had allowed for traveling to the bus station via city bus evaporated when Zoe forgot her ear buds and went back to fetch them. What a difference 10 minutes makes. JT and I watched an empty bus pass a minute before Tom and Zoe caught up with us. When the next bus arrived, it was nearly full. It seemed like everyone who had a 5pm bus out of Granada was on our bus. With luggage, there barely room to stand. With each successive stop everyone was shoved together tighter and tighter and the driver would yell, move back. I was having flashbacks to the Beijing train station on a Friday night.

Fortunately, we arrived with 15 minutes to spare and our bus was actually a little late getting into the station. The trip itself was uneventful with the exception of the 30 minute break in Malaga. As the hotel was only 5 minutes from the station, we asked the new driver if we could collect our luggage (as we planned to just catch a taxi) and oddly he refused. The rest of the passengers had disembarked just minutes before. Generally, people are quite helpful in Spain. Not always effective, but helpful and with the best intentions. This man was clearly an exception.

Upon arriving, the hotel made a great first impression. We booked an apartment, which was in a much older apartment-style building located near the rear of the property. The hotel’s open air bar was quite close and it was playing loud music. We couldn’t figure out how to start the air conditioner, when Tom noticed a sign on the back of the door stating we’d have to pay by the day which we were happy to do both for the coolness and the white noise to drown out the music. But after inquiring, we learned the system was “off” for the season.  It turned out that the rooms in the main building, which were less expensive and much newer, had fabulous ocean views. I would have gladly traded off the extra space for the view.

The hotel itself was quite popular with the packaged tour crowd and it seemed the great majority of people were on the full board plan ala cruise ship, except here alcohol was included. Most of the guests were retirees from England and Germany, some from Spain. The plus side of the “resort” was its daily activities, which were quite popular with the kids. Each day the hotel offered some kind of exercise, weapon oriented activity: archery, pistol or air rifle, game and a movie or show. Tom showed his true Sagittarian colors by scoring the most points in archery and air rifle. With Tom present the “cruise director” let JT try his hand at archery and air pistol also.

We found my Aunt after some initial confusion as their room was registered under my Uncle’s legal name, not the one I’ve always used. Actually, she found us. It’s been just over 10 years since we’ve last seen them. Zoe was just 4 months old. We thoroughly enjoyed spending time with them. Mostly that consisted of lounging by the pool in the warm sun, punctuated by quick dips in the freezing pool…which was colder than the Mediterranean itself.  It’s hard to feel self-conscious about your figure when you’re surrounded by 60 year old women in bikinis and 65 year old men wearing speedos. Europeans are not afraid to show some skin, no matter what shape their bodies and seem equally unconcerned about skin cancer as they all baked themselves for every possible moment that the sun shone.

Unfortunately, Saturday night we awoke to the sound that every parent dreads, especially when in a hotel, that of loud retching.  Of course Zoe had spaghetti Bolognese for dinner and chose the sink instead of the toilet in her delirium. Let’s just say it was a rough night. We weren’t sure if it was flu or food poisoning, but both Tom and JT had eaten some of her dinner. Knock wood, enough time has passed that it looks like the rest of us have escaped unscathed. Sunday we spent keeping Zoe quiet and well enough to travel home. Suddenly the bus didn’t seem like such a good idea. She did manage to make the trip without incident and by Monday was well enough to attend school. 

A Weekend in Madrid

While in Spain, we are committed to exploring Andalucia and other cities within striking distance. Madrid is high on our list of “must see” cities, so last Friday the kids played hooky and we drove there. Our “hotel” turned out to be an apartment overlooking the back of the Museo del Prado, arguably Spain’s most important art museum. It was also just a block away from the Retiro, the Central Park of Madrid. The apartment itself was spacious although a bit worn, but the best part was its two huge garden terraces.

We planned Saturday lunch with one of our classmates from Darden, which left a lot of touring to squeeze into a short amount of time. Tom suggested the open-top red bus tour as a good method to discover the city, so we did that first. Unfortunately, they’ve replaced real guides with recorded audio and we found the kid’s version far more entertaining than the dry adult version. It accomplished the task of orienting us to the city and its key sites, however. For dinner, we went with a traditional tapas experience, standing up outside. The selections were more meat and less seafood based (than Granada) and delicious. In Madrid, everyone seems to speak English fluently and I found that people pretty much responded to me in English whenever I spoke. So we tried having Zoe talk instead and everyone responded to her in Spanish. So they were either being nice, or she is speaking with a nearly native accent.

Saturday morning we headed to the Prado. (Several times we mistakenly referred to it as the Prada, and had people rib us about ending up with expensive designer goods). We opted for the audio tour and despite wanting to limit ourselves to 2 hours, had difficulty leaving. There were so many amazing paintings and let’s just say the red bus tour folks could learn something from the Prado about the elements of an interesting audio tour. Hands down the kid’s loved the Hiernonymous Bosch’s painting, ”The Garden of Earthly Delights. It’s such a fanciful and wacky painting that it’s hard to believe it was done in the 1500s…it looks like a Surrealist work. I realize now where Dali got his inspiration.

Then were off to Alfonso and Mercedes’ house for lunch. They entertained us in Argentine style with a wonderful barbeque lunch. Their children attend an English school in Madrid and all the children got along very well. It was such a relaxing and wonderful meal that we were all reluctant to end it and head back to the hotel. Given how late a night we'd had on Friday and the fact that we were still stuffed from lunch, we decided to call it night.

Zoe wanted to visit the Palacio Real and JT the Retiro so we saved both of those for Sunday. Unlike Granada, Madrid does not have siesta and most things are open Sunday. The Palacio Real was amazing…the amount of gold was stunning. I spent so much time admiring the ceiling paintings that my neck was sore the next day. The décor was over the top opulent. Much of it was completed while Spain was at its height of its power. Zoe’s really loved the throne room and exclaimed how easily she could live in that one room alone. Oh if only one could grow up to be a princess!

The activity JT chose was specifically to take a boat ride in the Retiro. Sunday is a very festive day in the park, with many families having picnics. Street performers set up shop near the entrance to the boat pavilion to catch families with children. In addition to musicians, there were puppet shows, magicians, jugglers, and bubble blowers to watch. The boats are wooden row boats, with heavy wooden oars and it was comical and somewhat telling to watch Zoe and JT trying to row in tandem. They started with rowing us in circles and graduated to where they were able to work together quite well, with some frustrating points in between. Despite being a chilly morning, by the time we were on the water it was warm and sunny and when JT was rowing alone, he was sweating from the exertion. Afterwards we all enjoyed an ice cream cone. Unfortunately, it was time to bring the weekend to an end and drive back to Granada. 

An Unexpected Playdate

When we left the US we were very tight on luggage weight and space. Each child was allowed to bring one special toy. Zoe chose an American Girl doll, and JT his stuffed polar bear “Polie”   This past week we invited Zoe’s friend Clara to lunch at our apartment. Since lunch is the main meal of the day, we had to vary from our typical PB&J to serve what we would normally eat for dinner. We decided on fajitas as it would be something that we might typically eat at home and would give Clara an opportunity to experience something new. She wasn’t a fan, but she was gracious about it. The moral of that story is stick with pasta.

After lunch the kids were playing out on our little patio and somehow Zoe ended up tossing Polie over the wall into our neighbor’s patio. Three sides of our patio are walls 5 floors tall and the 4^th is a set of cabinets about 8ft tall and 2.5 feet deep. We weren’t really sure that the patio on the other side even belonged to our apartment building, but the kids knocked on some doors and determined that it was mostly likely apartment 1C.  Since no one was answering 1C's buzzer Zoe wrote a note signed 1B and stuck it in 1C's mailbox. There was a lot of gnashing of teeth and “what if” scenarios being played out by the guilty party (Zoe), but JT was being a very good sport. That night, when I returned from dropping z at swimming Polie had come home. Our neighbor in 1C wrote us a note saying that our little Bear had a lot of fun playing with her cat on the patio, but alas, it was time for him to go home.

Trial and Error with Tapas

Granada is a student’s paradise as tapas are free with the purchase of a drink.  Generally, the freebie is the house specialty and we’ve been served such delicacies as pulpo (octopus), paella, olives, and fried eggplant.  Tapas here tend to fall into several categories: grilled, fried food, stews or seafood. Occasionally, chicken appears on a menu, but mostly the meat is beef or pork. I have yet to see a green salad on any menu. Tom and I try to limit our intake of fried food, but Zoe and JT love it.

When we arrived in Granada, we instituted a tradition of eating Sunday lunch out. This allows us to sample the regional cuisine and we picked Sunday since it’s the only day that we eat “dinner” at the same time as the rest of the population. Normally restaurants open at 8pm and when they do they are about as full as they would be for a four o’ clock early bird special in New York City-- most diners arrive at 9pm and leave at 11pm.

We haven't quite cracked the code on how to order properly. Before I wrote about not ordering enough, but usually we have the opposite problem. Tapas tend to be quite small, but the size of a racion can vary considerably from restaurant to restaurant. Because we like to sample different dishes, we generally avoid ordering porciones (the larger size) but sometimes we forget to tell the waiter. 

Based on positive trip advisor UK reviews, we tried a restaurant a little off the beaten path in the San Anton district. The décor was quite traditional and the restaurant had some interesting antiques, including an old AM radio where the stations were marked with the names of Spain’s major cities. In this instance the waiter was very kind and stopped us after we ordered 4 dishes and a soup saying that we would not be able to move if we ordered more. He was right, the food was fabulous, but rich and a bit heavy. By the time our last dish arrived, we admired it and sent it back to the kitchen so we could take it home.

Today, we had a repeat of that experience. It’s the final weekend of the 2 week long patron saint of Granada festival and many people from all over the province travel to the capital. In the central area, tents selling the bounty of the fall harvest including dried figs, dates, nuts, agricultural products, sweets and some fruits that I was unable to identify. It’s been raining since Wednesday, so there is a lot of pent up demand. We stopped at a place with some outdoor seating that looked lively and ordered a round of drinks.  It soon became apparent that there was only one waiter to serve some 15 to 20 tables. Waiters do not make tips so restaurants err on the side of having too few of them, but this was extreme. The man was so busy, he was literally running at times. So when he finally came to our table we ordered in a rush and forgot to mention we wanted the small sized portions, so he defaulted to the large size. This time we ended up bringing two nearly untouched plates (out of 5) home.

The other night Tom and I went out for a celebratory anniversary dinner. The restaurant, Alacena de los Monja's, loosely translates into the Nun’s Kitchen as it was set in a former 16^th century convent. The bar upstairs was modern with interesting art and the restaurant was beneath in a brick cave-like setting similar to a wine cellar. Arriving at 8:30, we were of course the earliest. The food was amazing. Here traditional Andalucian ingredients were used to create playful dishes with a modern twist. The most delightful dishes were the appetizers. One offered phyllo dough stuffed with pureed, spiced eggplant and served with a honey mousse. Bacalao, or salted codfish dishes generally are amazing too. This version was a warm salad with orange slices. We made the mistake of ordering coffee and ended up staying up to the wee hours of the morning while the caffeine wore off.

For the next couple of weekends we are traveling to see friends and family in Madrid and Torremolinos, respectively.  But for our next Sunday lunch in Granada we are going to tap into the city’s Arab roots and try either Middle Eastern or Lebanese food. We’ll be sure to provide a full report.

Escape from Granada

After 3 weeks in Granada, we were feeling a little city-bound. So last weekend we rented a car for a day to explore the surrounding area.  Eager for some water, we drove to a lake about 45 minutes outside of Granada. Just minutes outside the city limits, the towns are tiny or as Zoe described them “a couple of buildings, a school and a grocery store”.  Apart from tourism, agriculture is a key part of the economy, and olives are the top crop. Spain is the world’s largest exporter of olives (and Italy the largest importer of olives, apparently much of which are grown in Spain, pressed, labeled as a product of Italy and shipped elsewhere, but that is another story) and this region grows the vast majority of them. At an elevation of about 2,000 ft, the landscape is eerily similar to California’s Sierra foothills. Except as far as one can see, the hills were dotted with olive trees. Some of these trees seemed truly ancient with huge, gnarled trunks. Occasionally, an almond orchard broke up the silvery hills, but these were smaller and far fewer in number.

Our destination, Lake Bermejales, was a man-made reservoir.  After walking across the dam and gawking at the enormous fish, possibly trout, Zoe noticed a smudge of smoke on a nearby hillside and proclaimed a forest fire, more of brush fire, really, given the vegetation, but with the winds picking up it began to spread quickly. A crop duster soon showed up and began dropping water onto it. It made a couple of passes before it was joined by a helicopter. The helicopter was far more efficient as it had a huge bucket suspended from a rope/chain and scooped water from the dam which it then dropped in a dramatic plume. In short order, the heli repeated the loop. The crop duster made a couple more flights until a second helicopter showed up, then packed it in. Later, we read about some huge forest fires in Marbella not far from here. Clearly its the season.

The water was a lovely shade of green and the website showed people on a sandy beach with a pier and paddle boats. We drove nearly all the way around, yet were unable to locate a convenient beach access, or frankly anything really resembling a sandy beach. The road was narrow, curvy and vomit inducing, which kept us from making the complete loop. In one village, we asked an elderly man whether we could find a beach. He replied yes, but it was dangerous. When pressed for why, he responded that the water was deep. Finally, as Zoe and I were turning green with carsickness, we just pulled alongside the shore and went for a very refreshing swim. Unfortunately, the beach was full of evenly spaced small dead bushes, so getting in and out was a little uncomfortable (ahh, that's why there is a pier!). But once in, the water was fabulous, clear and cool but not too cold.

Afterwards we stopped in a town called Alhama de Granada for lunch. This was the first town taken from the Moors in 1482 during the Granada wars. Granada is name for both the capital city and the province in which we we live. We were struck by a building named the “Inquisition house” next to the town’s church, whose sign claimed that it was never used as such. Subsequent reading has thrown this into doubt as the Inquisition started in Granada province in 1480 as the Catholic Kings (Isabela and Ferdinand) gave conquered Jews and Moors the order to convert or leave Spain. Yes, the kids are learning some interesting history here.

Upon sitting down, we learned that the restaurant we selected offered a set tapas menu. You could make your dislikes known, but not voice a preference. We had packed a snack and planned to eat out. By the time we arrived we were quite hungry. We decided on lunch for 2 persons, a mistake given how much our children have grown and how much they like tapas. We should have ordered for at least 3 as the food disappeared into our famished tummies in minutes. Our waiter, used to the leisurely consumption of his Spanish customers looked at the leftover crumbs and remarked...that was quick!

Our foray into the countryside has restored us. While the public spaces are beautiful and abundant they are nonetheless city parks. Our closest nature is a walking trail alongside the river Genil near the pool where Zoe swims and the heavily wooded grounds of the Alhambra and we use them as often as we can. In the coming weeks, a couple of weekend trips back to the coast, and trips to Madrid and Sevilla are planned. And we still have plenty to do and see right here in Granada.

Week 2 Recap

By all measures, our second week has been a success. The kids are registered for their after school activities: swim for Zoe and soccer for JT.  We have access to our Spanish bank account. JT has books for all his subjects -and they were free. The school determined that the kids would benefit from working with a Spanish tutor, so they’re meeting with her once a week. Zoe befriended a girl from Granada. JT started speaking in class. (I guess he must have been pretty quiet the first week, because he told me one of the kids looked at him in surprise and said “You can speak Spanish!? 

When living in a country with a language in which one isn’t fluent, one takes great pride in accomplishing life’s most mundane tasks. Zoe started swim team this week. This required several rounds of emails and phone conversations as we tried to find a team that practiced at the pool closest to the apartment. A normal phone conversation does not require a script, a dictionary or an anxiety attack, but these are not normal conversations. One cannot fall back on hand gestures, pantomimes or internet pictures on one’s phone. There is no body language to smooth the transaction. Just words. So having a couple of successful phone conversations can really make your day.

JT is also registered for soccer. This required a bus ride (another success) to the central sports office which services the entire city, population 250,000. Ten minutes after the place opened, I arrive and take #34; they are serving #15.  Despite having 10 desks staffed, it takes nearly 45 minutes to work through the line. While I wait, I practice what I am going to say in my head. I see people with folders and wonder if I have all the right paperwork. After only being here for 2 weeks I understand that the Soup Nazi was probably modeled after a Spanish bureaucrat. No [fill in the blank] for you! I look at all the bureaucrats, most of whom appear jaded, and hope for someone who is patient. Thankfully, I hit the jackpot and am helped by a delightful, friendly woman. She lets me look at her screen. She deletes the second account I accidently set up for Zoe because I couldn’t remember the user name she’d been randomly assigned. She complements my Spanish.  I leave with everything accomplished. She makes my day.

Nearly every time we do something, it’s a learning experience. When we are lucky, it’s an experience that we can benefit from. Sometimes it isn’t.  Our dealings with the bank are a perfect example. Armed with the right passport, we return to the same branch customer service rep about our account. She compares Tom’s old passport with his new one, calls the branch office in Palma de Mallorca where we opened our account and decides we’re legit. She asks if we want to close our account and take out our money. I explain that we lost our ATM card and we’d like a new one. She literally rolls her eyes and says---why didn’t you tell me that in the first place. This after we spent a ridiculous sum of money to have the passport express mailed to Spain.

Thankfully, the majority of the time we have a misstep, we learn something. We look forward to the next time when we can do it better. We appreciate the small things, and try not to take them for granted. We really appreciate small business owners who are friendly and patient. We reward them with our business. Celebrating our successes, however small, is key. This week we are celebrating, just a little.  

The Mystery of European Appliances

European appliances are a bit of a mystery. During our 5 day stay in Malaga, I was never able to figure out how to use the induction stove. I have a gas stove, have always had a gas stove, and after this experience will always have a gas stove.  After pressing many buttons, a burner would start, but oddly, would turn itself off after 30 seconds. We tried using different pans and finally managed to work 1 burner, enough to make eggs in the morning. The apartment had a binder stuffed with manuals for the kettle, the microwave oven, the washer. Every appliance except, of course, the stove.

On the positive end of the appliance scale stands the electric kettle. Hands down it is awesome.  An electric kettle instantaneously transforms even cold water into a roiling mass. The microwave doesn’t compare as minutes after boiling, the water is barely lukewarm. This boils water so hot, it will sear the tastebuds from your tongue 5 minutes after it’s turned off.

 People have been telling us how fortunate we are that our apartment is equipped with a washer/dryer. Almost no one in Europe (or most of the rest of the world outside of the US) has a dryer. People hang their clothes to dry on a rack or line. Out of windows over high-traffic streets, up high where there the wind is full of dust, in courtyards with everyone else’s laundry, in humid weather where it takes forever. When removed from the line, the clothes are stiff as a board and feel like sandpaper. So having a dryer is huge.

We have a dryer, but we don’t use it. We hang our stuff out on the little rack on the porch like everyone else. But why, you ask, would I hang clothes out when I have a dryer. The dryer takes 3 hours to run. So does the wash cycle. Which means a load set on the wash/ dry cycle takes 6 hours. To put that into perspective the kids attend school 5 hours a day.  Even worse, the washer is the size of a pot you'd use to for a lobster boil, so basically it runs non-stop.

The other day, the washer stopped working. The magic reset: pressing “start” for 2 seconds only produced more beeping. Unplugging the machine didn’t work either. I pressed every button and held it for 2 seconds. Nothing. A baby icon flashed while all the buttons beeped. The flashing baby finally clued me into a child lock. After a little time on Google, we found directions for disabling the childproof lock. When we mentioned it to the kids, they looked sheepish and confessed to “leaning” on the machine when it suddenly started beeping. So our children ended up using the childproof lock to shut us out.

Our dishwasher has problems as well. It seems to lock but will turn itself off mid-cycle when it shakes itself open.  Several mornings, we’ve been confronted with hungry children and dishwasher full of dirty dishes. The apartment is stocked with the bare minimum of dishes, glasses and silverware, so it means we have to wash them before we can eat.  Clearly, there are worse problems, but why appliances are so different from Europe to the US remains a mystery.

Nocturnal Wanderings

Granada, a beautiful city by day, is transformed into a truly special place by night. For the first week, we cling to our normal schedule:  dinner around 7, kids in bed before 8:30, wake up no later than 8 (school starts at 9).  The other evening, the rental agent stopped by at 7pm and was undoubtedly perplexed to find us eating dinner. Weekend has arrived and we embrace the “when in Rome…”   On Friday at dusk we set out for the Albayzin. This neighborhood lies next to the Alhambra (14 century Arab citadel and palaces) along the Duaro River. Perched on a hill, it retains its Medieval Moorish roots with a veritable warren of narrow winding streets and white houses. 

Several streets have a bazaar like ambiance with tiny shops hawking tourist goods of a middle-eastern flavor from Moroccan tea sets to beaded shoes. This is definitely the spot to sample Arabic and Lebanese cuisine or savor tea and a sweet. While colorful and dynamic during the day, the streets are positively magical by night. In the tiny plazas, street musicians lay claim to a corner and lay out a guitar case or hat to collect coins. Some of these groups are quite talented and attract large audiences. You can’t spit without hitting a heladeria (ice cream shop) and nearly every person seems to be savoring a cone or cup. We find a shop that offers an orange chocolate concoction, my favorite since childhood and its nirvana. By 10pm the kids are toast, so we head home and sleep decadently late the next morning.

Saturday we have a different cultural experience. From the 15th to the 26th of September the people of Granada celebrate the festival of the Virgen de las Angustias, Granada’s patron saint. We knew from the posters plastered around town that it was a big deal and it started Saturday at 6pm. We didn’t realize just how big a deal it was until we stopped at the grocery store to stock up for weekend provisions only to find EVERYTHING was closed. The silent streets outside our normally bustling apartment should have been a dead giveaway.
 The festival kicked off with a floral offering. I imagined people laying flowers around a statue, but that would have been like describing the London Eye as a ferris wheel. When we arrived, a line of flower-bearing people hundreds long snaked around the block. In the road, various cultural and civic groups were lined up, some with elaborate floral baskets. Church and state comingle easily here so the bomberos (fireman), military and police groups were present alongside flamenco dancers, marching bands and equestrians (yes on horseback). Each group “performs” in front of the grandstand. Flanking each side of the church are 25 foot tall green metal racks. A few minutes after 6, the bells begin pealing ---they are huge and bronze and I am certain they can be heard throughout the entire town as they are deafening at this distance.  As if on cue, onto each side 9 men wearing harnesses scale the racks and begin handing flowers from street level to top. Each bouquet must be freed of its paper/plastic wrapping and stuck into the grill work. They work quickly and methodically. After 15 minutes it’s clear that this will go on for hours. We decide to come back tomorrow to see the finished product and instead wander up to the central part of town until hunger drives us home.

Survive and Thrive

We all survived the first week of school.  The kids are slowly making friends and tell me they understand more each day. One of the reasons we selected Jose Hurtado (other than it had room) was its reputation for integrating foreigners. In the first week, they assessed our children’s level of Spanish to determine whether they needed a tutor. (I am not sure what they decided yet). Our kids were each paired with someone to help them in class. In JT’s case, a bi-lingual child whose been here since she was 2. More generally, while the max number for each of their classes is 24, both kids have 20 students. In JT’s grade, his class had both a math and Spanish language arts test to assess his skills. On the downside, Granada is a small city and our community an insular part of town, so most children, as in Incline have been in school together since pre-k.  (Schools start with pre-k 3, but is only compulsory from age 6.) This does make it harder to make friends.

Spain offers 3 kinds of schools: private, concertado and public. Private and public represent opposite ends of the spectrum and concertado schools are a hybrid. Private schools tend to have a particular focus: international, Montessori, British or American curricula. A very small percentage of kids attend (fewer than 7%) as they are very expensive. The concertado schools are a hybrid…formerly Catholic schools and religion is part of the curriculum. Compared to regular public schools, they tend to fill up quickly. Children wear uniforms and must buy their own books and school supplies. Parents pay some tuition after primary school ends in 6^th grade, but nowhere as steep as the private schools. Given the size of our neighborhood, there seem to be a lot of schools. I haven’t figured out if that is because people work in the center and drive their kids in or they actually live in the neighborhood. There are at least 3 concertado schools within 10 blocks of our apartment.

In Granada, public schools have shorter days than US schools: only 9-2, but less recess. So over the course of the 5 hours, the kids have a single half hour break for snack and outdoor play. Before and after care is available for a modest fee. The aftercare includes a full sit down main meal with organic fruits and vegetables. It’s quite expensive given how cheap food is, so I am certain there is an equivalent of a reduced lunch program. The kids have math and language arts 5 periods each over the week. Oddly, 2x a week, math is blocked for 2 hours. Science is offered 4 hours a week, English 3, PE 2. They also have art, music and religion/values. Religion is an elective subject that the kids have to sign-up for, which we didn’t know so they have a free period instead. About 75% of the kids attend religion. English is kind of a joke, since in the kid’s opinion, the teacher doesn’t speak very well and speaks mostly in Spanish during the session.  

By the end of this first week, Zoe and JT have enough confidence to walk to school together on their own. They will also run to the corner store to buy bread. The lady at the local panaderia already knows Zoe’s order. After several missteps, we almost have all of their school supplies. The teachers are surprisingly anal on this point. JT is missing most of his books yet, because I didn’t realize I had to do more than file away the official looking paper he brought home. Slowly we are all adapting.

No Te Preocupe

If I had a nickel for every time someone has said, No te preocupe, I’d be living large. This ubiquitous phrase loosely translates to “Don’t worry about it”. But I do worry. I worry because I understand about 60% of anything anyone says to me. What if the essence, the critically important stuff is contained in the other 40%?

I am told we need the empadronamiento paperwork to send the kids to school. When I fill it out, she sends me off with "no te preocupe". Does this mean they will approve? Deny? Or it doesn’t matter? I worry that maybe someday they may say, your kids can’t stay in school without it.   

I worry because sometimes it does matter. When we buy the wrong notebooks and drawing pad for school, JT’s teacher decides the whole class can’t have art because the paper he has is missing a narrow margin around the outside. Really…what a great way to endear a child to his new class!

I worry because when we go to the bank to get a new cash card for the bank account we opened 10 years ago, they won't give us one because Tom’s new passport has a different number than his old passport.

I worry that the kids Spanish isn’t good enough for them to make friends. Today, Zoe, as an "extranjero", was assessed to see if she warrants a tutor. I worry that the local accent is too strong for them.

I worry because the swim team people seem so nice, but then tell us can’t watch practice to see if it’s a fit. And practice is from 8-10pm and we have to take a city bus to get there.

Deep down, I know it’ll all work out, but sometimes I just can't help worrying.

Our Granada Digs

When your husband turns to you and says “did you ask if she had another place available?” immediately after the rental agent leaves, it’s a clear sign that he does not like the place you’ve rented... For three months… For a small fortune. Gulp!

Malaga ruined us. While there, we rented a charming, albeit tiny 2-room flat a stone’s throw from the beach through Homeaway (VRBO). The location was prime: just a few steps from the newly renovated port, 10 minutes from the city center, tapas bars and restaurants. As a corner unit, the narrow deck wrapped 2 sides on the 9^th floor, with a view to the ocean (when leaning out) or to the port. At night the sound of crashing waves drifted through the apartment. Since it was so high, ocean breezes blew through continuously. Fully-renovated in January, the place practically gleamed, everything was so new.

Our Granada apartment, advertised as Jolie Granada (which is supposed to appeal to the British as we’ve seen no French tourists) is a bit smaller than our main floor in Incline Village and much larger than the Malaga apartment. The main part consists of a “great room” kitchen/dining/living area and 2 bedrooms, each just large enough for 2 singles and a double. The closets are spacious with built-in dressers. Unfortunately, it’s on the ground floor, which means it’s noisy, and the street is a busy throughway for Alhambra buses. The view is limited to the shuttered windows of the retired nun’s home across the street. The décor is IKEA, which I generally like, but the color scheme tends to bland natural woods, which I don't. On the bright side, the sun shines in afternoon and we’ve a small private patio with 2 large storage closets. JT has made this his spot for practicing headers. I describe it as perfectly adequate; Tom would likely use less flattering language. The most important aspect: location, location, location…it’s just a 3-minute walk from the kid’s school, and about 10 minutes from my school. The neighborhood has many bakeries, grocery stores, restaurants and even 2 bike shops.  It's not perfect, but it'll work. 

School Starts

The verdict on day 1: better than expected. Last night we had a lot jitters, butterflies and requests to homeschool. In the morning, it grew worse: can we skip today? I don’t want to go!  Why do we have to do this? As we all walked together, we fell into step with the hordes of other families making their way to school.  At the schoolyard, the scene was chaotic: tons of parents and kids greeting each other, loose lines by grade. Our kids were plainly terrified, make that practically catatonic with fear. Then it got a little better. The lady from the Bucknell exchange program who’d helped me via email, introduced herself, then an American man who’s been here for 6 years with a girl in JT’s class, and a British woman.  (Like the kids, we too stood out like sore thumbs). Knowing that some kids spoke English made it seem a little better. Then a boy who JT had met while playing soccer over the weekend, came up to shake his hand and point him to the right line.

The kids went in first, followed by all the parents. Everyone piled into the tiny “auditorium” to hear the principal give a speech stressing the importance of punctuality (which is basically ignored, after all, when your kids go to bed at 11, how do you get them to school on-time??!!). The rest was lost in the acoustics and hall noise. All the while, JT was giving Dad the “what have you gotten me into glare” Then the kids went to their classes and we left.

We worried aloud about what state they’d be in when we went to pick them up. Are we doing the right thing? Are they going to make friends? Will they be teased? Notice how only adults say “what an awesome trip!”  At 2pm, JT came bounding out with a huge smile and seemed very animated about his day. I think he was just happy it was over. Zoe seemed more subdued. They’d survived and were understandably proud of themselves. We were sure proud of them.  

R&R in Malaga

In my mind’s eye Malaga resembles Naples: a city with a rich history and culture, but a bit worn around the edges and past its prime. Happily, I am mistaken. It has a rich history and culture, yet is clean and safe. The town realizes that tourism is its lifeblood and invests heavily to ensure those areas are well-maintained, patrolled, and brightly lit. The fallout from the economic crisis is visible in subtle ways: that gorgeous sparkling airport that opened in 2010 is not air-conditioned. The tourist corridors are pristine, but off the beaten path shuttered buildings and deteriorating infrastructure are more apparent.

Our strategy to ease the children into Spain seems to be working. Initially, we planned to travel directly to Granada after arriving in Spain so that the children could acclimate to their temporary home. Later, we decided that it would be silly to pass on a few days at the beach during the heat of summer, especially since Malaga is “Spain light”. With so many British and German tourists, English is generally spoken in restaurants. Still, the kids use their Spanish for those transactions most dear to them: namely ordering ice cream, cheese and bread. Otherwise, they’ve both been clams. While I do the heavy lifting of dealing with information, taxis and bus tickets, Zoe stands at the ready to supply a word or correct my mistakes.

Call it jet lag, or call it inertia, but we have fully embraced Spain's crazy late schedule. Restaurants open at 8pm for dinner and it’s a leisurely affair.  The way we explain it to the kids: in Spain it’s not dinner and a movie…it’s dinner OR a movie. On a weeknight, a single waiter might serve 8 tables, so no matter what we order, a couple of hours just flashes by. After dinner it’s the obligatory search for the best ice cream and before we know it, the kids are staying up til 11pm each night and sleeping in until 10 each morning.

I had moments when I worried about what JT would find to eat, as he has grown increasingly picky over time, but he has managed quite well. His reaction to gazpacho: yum!..it’s ground up salsa. The boy who won’t eat potatoes in any form: falls in love with patatas bravas (fried diced potatoes with a spicy red sauce). At home, a sandwich isn’t a sandwich without Nutella. Here, JT regularly demolishes his own invention known as the “sandwich of paradise”: an open faced version consisting of bread dipped in olive oil and layered with a hard sheep’s cheese (oveja curado), and salami or turkey. And of course we all love the ice cream.

My only complaint: Malaga is full of tiny dogs. While I am personally not a fan of the toy variety of dog, I don’t begrudge others their choice of pets. At home, I think: coyote food. But the city, and our apartment building in particular, is full of elderly women who take the dog to the nearest post (right in front of the building) to do their business. It reeks like urinal and the cleansing fall rains are a couple of months off.

After 5 relaxing days in Malaga, filled with little more than building sand castles, swimming in the Med (cold, but not by Tahoe standards and murky by Tahoe standards), and the search for the perfect ice cream, Tom and I realize it’s time to focus on reality. School starts in a few days and while we've enjoyed this past week, it’s time to transition the kids to a school schedule. On Wednesday, a week after our arrival in Europe, we board the bus to Granada (a much more pleasant experience than Ryan Air on numerous levels) to start a new chapter.   

London Daze

Flying to Europe from the west coast is never comfortable in cattle class, so basically the flight met our expectations.  Before our journey, we’d read up on the latest theories about how to minimize jetlag. One measure advised adopting the eating schedule of the country to which you are flying. For us, this translated into no food after 2pm PDT or 10pm London time. Normally, this would have presented a challenge.

However, we neglected to read the fine print of our itinerary and learned upon boarding that Icelandair offers only food for purchase. There we were in Seattle airport...a foodie’s paradise with Ivars, and numerous gourmet options and we boarded our flight empty handed. Fortunately, children were exempt from the food blackout.  Zoe was committed to staying awake the entire flight, as evidenced fact enhanced by her drink of choice: caffeinated tea. I think she was waiting for me to fall asleep so she could tune into the Hunger Games. JT and I wisely had no such qualms and slept as much as we could.

Icelandair, on the positive end, moved our seats from their original spot at rear of the plane to the front, thus making us near first in line to clear passport control in London. The U.K. agents make US passport control look like teddy bears, they don’t crack a smile or exude an ounce of warm.  Fortunately, the process was far more efficient than I remember, maybe it was the computerization, but we were out in less than 15 minutes, and given our level of exhaustion, it was awesome. After short naps, we walked around Piccadilly Circus and took the kids to our favorite bookstore, Waterstones.

Armed with rain jackets and hotel umbrellas, we were prepared to face the worst London could throw at us. Fortunately, we faced nothing more severe than scattered showers and even saw the sun on our last day. With only 56-hours at our disposal, we planned to cram more into our stay than in all of our previous visits. This ambitious plan might have exploded in our given the time change and jet lag, but our time in London was largely a success. To start, we borrowed a page from the Tomeo family playbook and let each family member choose one activity. JT chose the London Eye (the giant Ferris wheel), Tom: Indian food, Zoe: Kensington Palace and Naomi: the Tower of London. Since many of these places were covered by the London Pass, we sprung for those and subsequently enjoyed a ride on the Thames, a tour of the Tower Bridge (the picturesque bridge that we thought was the London bridge), and The London Bridge experience (the actual London bridge).

Despite having seen many fascinating historical sites, the crown jewels and a palace, the London Bridge Experience was hands down the kid’s favorite. It’s basically a haunted house with some historical skits thrown in.  Our kids have never really been to a haunted house, so this proved to be the most memorable experience. With narrow passages, scary tableaus and bloodied people leaping out from every corner, my ears hurt for some time afterwards as Zoe screamed directly into them for several minutes solid at the end of the tour.

The Indian restaurant was amusing for different reasons. Tom chose a restaurant recommended by his London-based friend, who clearly placed food over family-friendly when making his suggestions. The restaurant lay just around the corner from Parliament and seemed to cater to a well-heeled clientele based on the elegant wood paneling, white table cloths and lack of kids menu. This was not your garden variety Indian food of shared curries and chicken tikka masala, but amazing Nuevo fusion Indian food. We endured several tense moments with Tom quite literally sweating it out while we debated how to surreptitiously bolt before ordering. With our completely exhausted children teetering uncertainly on the edge of collapse, we negotiated dishes they could live with and they rallied to actually enjoy the meal.  (although Zoe eschewed the native cuisine in lieu of basic Scottish rump roast).

Ryan Air, most noted for its rock bottom fares and on-time arrival percentage, was the low cost carrier we selected for our flight to Malaga. This portion of the trip was without question, the most stressful. This flight was responsible for my combing through every luggage retailer in Reno and Carson, tape measure in hand, in search of the elusive 20cm x 40 cm x 55 cm carry-on bag. Seriously, a cottage industry of youtube videos and products have sprung up around people trying to get as much luggage as possible onto Ryan Air flights. They have the box. And they use it.

We breezed through checking our luggage (just a hair under the 20 kg limit each), and snuck each carry-on out of the line of sight into the box and determined that one piece was a clear no pass. Upon boarding the lines were immense, and every 5 steps bold signs warned 1 carryon only IF IT FITS.  (seriously women are not allowed a purse separate from their luggage). Just as we a couple people back from boarding, an attendant pulled an elderly gentleman over to grill him about his luggage. It didn’t fit in the box and given the 35 pound per bag checked baggage fee (a whopping $55), he was naturally fighting it. I used this distraction to angle my overloaded backpack out of view and successfully snuck out the door. Ryan air is like riding a bus. Actually based on the tourist bus, it’s a step below riding a bus. The seats are tiny, advertising is pasted to the overhead bins and they pitch lottery tickets on the loudspeaker. Later, I read in the Malaga local paper that 3 Ryan flights in a single day had been forced to make emergency landing for running too low on fuel after being delayed en-route for weather.  Hmmm, I guess cut rate fares have a price.

All in all we love London. I could live here if only it weren't so bloody expensive. The prices would be reasonable if the pound and dollar were at parity, but far from it. Factoring in the exchange rate, and suddenly we are pouring money down the drain. Its been lovely, but a couple days feels just right.