Pre-ride on Boxing Day

29.12.10 Ramble

29.12.10 Ramble

Here’s a double-tap. I went to the smoky internet bar last night with the intention of sending the 27.12 edition, but got caught up in searching for flights for the rest of the trip. After a couple of hours and a pint of Estrella Levante pilsner ( had to temper my intake as I was driving the rentacar) I got us flights all the way up to my return to Boston. Here’s the basic:

Leaving Alicante (one hour on the highway from Algorfa) at 2130 on January 23^rd , arriving at Gatwick, England around 2330.

Flying out of Heathrow on Jan. 25 at 2040 and arriving Manila on 26 January at 2245, via Abu Dhabi.

Departing Manila April 03 at 1915 hr. changing planes in Abu Dhabi again and landing in London April 04 at 0720.

Flying outta Heathrow April 05 at 1500, and arriving in good ole Boston at 1735 on the 5^th. I am not ignoring the prospect of a screw-over by the Border Bastards, but I expect to spend the night in New Hampshire before grabbing a bus or train for Westbrook on the 6^th. Vamos a ver.

There may be some changes in the itinerary dates, but seeing as each change will cost about $200, I hope there aren’t any.

Today was the last full day on the rentacar, and we tried to use up the half tank of very expensive gasoline. Over here, you pay for the full tank when you rent the car and are told to return it as empty as you can. So we went to Murcia to hit Ikea for large items that are needed for the flat. On the way back there was a stop at the Nacional Policia to pick up Is’ Residencia, the document that makes her an official resident of Spain. With this, she can register at a g.p., get her health card, qualify to pay taxes and all sorts of other fun things. Next trip, I will get my N.I.E. (Numero Identificacion de Extrangero) or Foreigner’s Identification Number-“Your papers, puhleeze!” That and a visa of one sort or another will allow me to stay longer than the current 90 day “tourist” allowance. That’s good, because I don’t want to come over at the end of October and have to return to the Northeast in February. Now that would not be smart.

Some wine info that Dyl asked for. Realize please that these opinions are from the perspective of one who was habitually buying the bottom-dwellers on Hannaford’s wine shelves before this trip. Occasionally, I would slip in to Micucci’s and pick up a couple of $5 bottles and consider them a luxury. Anyway, tonight we tried a €1.15 bottle of Conde de Caralt tinto (red) 2009. It is a Catalunya denominacio d’origen blend of Temperanillo, Garnacha and Monastrell. It was quite good with the baked trout, and reminded me of a Beaujolais Nouveau or a young Valpolicella.

I recently picked up a few more of the €0.99 Fidencio tintos from La Mancha (denominacio d’origen) . This is head and shoulders above the fiver wine from Micucci’s, and considering the exchange rate, is a steal at $1.30. No info on what grape(s) are used, but who cares?

Have one bottle left of the –nope, I don’t, so can’t describe it. Anyway it was a Riserva, tinto, and well worth the €3.50 ish p.p.b. in the case lots we bought back in October.

There are a couple more bottles I picked up for new year’s dinner, so I will report after the fireworks.

Friends invited us to go to a show in another town, but we declined. It was a dinner-do with a show featuring Elvis and Tina Turner impersonators. Well…I’ve seen Tina in the flesh, and don’t want to ruin the memory. Elvis-I wouldn’t walk across the street to see him. Besides, the whole new year’s thing leaves me cold; though this year, after dinner, we will walk to the town square and watch fireworks, claim the fruit basket given to all residents and probably slip into a smoky bar for a carajillo before walking home-all of five minutes’ trek. No need to dodge the carnage on the street.

Hope to post this tomorrow, so am wishing you all a safe, happy new year.

Gaping Hole

27.12.10 Ramble

27.12.10 Ramble

Here’s wishing all of us a happy new year. I hear you’re getting battered with major snow over there-hope it passes here before the 23^rd which is when we fly to London. I think we’ll book the Manila flights for a couple of days after that. Trip insurance? Never bought any, but I think it’s time.

Christmas passed quietly. There was the requisite Eve dash to the big shopping center “Habaneras” in Torrevieja for last-minute thingies and memorable gifts such as a bathmat, shower caddy, rubber spatula and other “luxuries”. Of course I couldn’t get out of there without stopping at the chorizo and cheese departments, a quick dash through candy fro chocolate and Turon de Alicante. I still can’t get over the vast array of delicious-appearing but cholesterol-laden (I guess) foods. And the Mediterranean diet is supposed to be healthy? That must be where the red wine comes in -and what a selection! It is tempting to pick up a few expensive bottles in order to give the varietal report Dylan requested, but we still have a little left from our over-indulgence in Baza. Once that’s gone, I’m tempted to just stay with the €0.95 stuff. Works for me and the curious can come over next year and experience first-hand.

The move into Fontana on the 21st was not without problems. While the vacating Jacksons left about everything necessary (other than perishables) we found that there were no towels. Beach mats, sand toys, corkscrew and all the other necessities of life, but no towels. We used pillowcases and made do with sponge baths, cringing near the portable heaters. Heat/Aircon installation started Wednesday, and ended (more or less) the next. Apparently the builders had not installed some drain tubes properly and condensate from the aircon whould have nowhere acceptable to go. We were presented with three options and naturally had to accept the most expensive, time-consuming and delayed one-that of ordering an assembly like a bilge pump that will operate whenever the condensate level threatens to overflow the yet-to-be-installed drain pan.

Builders seem to be the major scapegoats here, and in many cases, deservedly so. The Fontana builder overextended and went bankrupt-fortunately after this site (1) was completed. There are a few quirks like switches for promised, but unisnstalled lights, short drain tubes, power access ports where there is no power –little things like that. And then there’s the story of the developer who raised big bucks from prospective buyers, built a “luxury vacation condo” and walked away from the four storey shell with the money. When officials inspected (wonder why they didn’t discover the problems earlier) they found that the materials and engineering were unacceptable. Now there is a vacant, un-salable raw concrete shell waiting for demolition by a disappeared builder. Aside from the scams, there are the vacant developments I mentioned earlier. These were victims of the recession, mostly uninhabited and in various stages of completion. It’s hard to drive anywhere and not pass great “urbanizaciones” or burbs with blackened windows, overgrown lawns and debris blowing in the streets. Kind of like ghost towns, though occasionally you find a lighted window. We were told to not even consider the Urbs, as they are burglar-magnets; the security companies having quit due to lack of funds. Sad, but then these were intended to be vacation or retirement homes-presumably bought with discretionary funds.

Throwing in a few photos. One is of a mystery tool I saw at the Castillo Sta. Barbara. I would welcome any clues or guesses. Another is of the gaping bathroom ceiling around which we lived for a couple of days, dodging bare wires, listening to shouted Spanish and holding or asking for the loo to be cleared for a while. Which reminds me of another item to be cured. The toilet seats are not of the highest quality, and have a tendency to crack in a strategically inopportune manner; causing ferocious “bites” to unwary posteriors.

Final shot was taken yesterday morning as I was readying for the Boxing Day ride that didn’t happen. 13C and I suited up and cycled to Studz Bar where the Sunday ride starts and ends. At 1003, I was the only cyclist in the parking lot, so I decided to head for the coast at Guardamar del Segura. The Med was sparkling blue with an offshore breeze causing manes of spray to trail the incoming surf-beautiful, but there were no swimmers. Headed south on the coastal highway and made it to Torrevieja and after a short break I made it back to Algorfa; fighting the now-in-my-teeth offshore gale. 51+Km. I have to guess as the speedometer has a mind of its own.

What's this?

17,12.10 Ramble

Thursday we went to Elche (Elx, in another dialect). It is, I read, a more typically Spanish city and also the site of the second largest palm forest in Europe. It is thought that the Phoenicians planted them sometime around the fourth century. One of the trees is a famous 7-trunked hermaphrodite with one that is date-bearing. I didn’t flock to see that one.

I had heard of a big leather/shoe store in Elche and found it. No more complaining about not finding size 48 shoes-they had models up to 53. Not every style in every size, but enough of a variety that I didn’t have to buy their only pair that fit me. I actually found a number of 47s that fit, so I’m beginning to think that my 48 cycling shoes are an anomaly.

Today was market day in Torrevieja-one of the biggest open air, itinerant seller gatherings in Spain. I guess! Hundreds of stalls cramming narrow downtown streets that are blocked off to traffic. You name it: leather, silk, olives, frankincense and myrrh…I found an almost new German Polizei leather jacket for only €50, and probably could have bargained it down some. Almost bought the requisite beret, but opted for a version of a peaked cap, quite like the one Andre has. Obviously, the “uncharacteristically cold” weather has made a hat desirable.

Which leads me to a rant, not a ramble. Every resident with whom I speak about the weather tells me of swimming in the ocean in December “last year”; birthday/pool parties around Christmas time; cycling in shorts and tees in January; bone-dry winters, blah, blah, blah…They are all liars; hiding some awful truth, hoping to lure in another duped expat. Oh, well-it’s still better than New England weather-Olde England as well, for that matter.

And that leads me to a truism. When people talk about the weather, they have nothing to say. I shan’t bore you further. Buenas noches.

Work Cave

Ancient caves near Lopera

Old, simple cave dwelling in Gor

Hiding from the heat-50 Degrees F

Alicante from above

Is on the very top

Carajillo on the Alcazaba

Alicante was today's exotic destination. After the morning in Almoradi setting up delivery of items for Fontana, we had lunch at a small seafood tapas bar on Calle Pablo Picasso. Of course I had tostada with tomato puree, serrano ham and manchego cheese-what else? Next time the seafood. San Miguel (alcohol-free, since I was driving) to wash it down and off to the bank in Algorfa for a few more arrangements.

Once in Alicante, we were promptly led astray by Guida, the GPS bitch. Seems she can't handle buildings over two storeys tall, goes into de-fib and lies to you. We drove up the tallest hill around and looked for the Castillo Sta. Barbara which was a klik or two away. With the help of a map and a passerby, we got to the base and drove up most of the 500+ meters, then climbed the rest. The Alcazaba is an amazing pile of stones, all of which were carried up by free labor. It dates back to the medieval days, and was occupied by Spaniards, Moors, English and French in various waves of succession. Looking down over the parapets gave me great waves of nausea and gratitude that I was never accepted at airborne school. Of particular interest was the five-holer, a narrow platform with an iron handrail, and no seat, on the outside of the wall, about 1200 feet in the air, from which the defenders could express their contempt on the assaulting troops. I would lock up.

I tried to put myself in the shoes of one of the hundreds of attacking infantry; looking up the cliff at the castle walls over a thousand feet up. I felt the weight of the siege ladder on my shoulders, felt the sweat soaking into the leather wrapping on my battle axe, heard the screams of my comrades who were being splattered with boiling oil or, worse yet, by-products of last nights' meal. I heard myself telling my squad leader, "Screw you, kill me now, that way I don't have to climb up there to die."

Fitting thoughts to wash away with a carajillo while looking over the city and the beautiful sun-lit Med.

Empty!

Punta Prima de Orijuela

Our first day on the coast was overcast with a threat of rain but warmish-about 60 F. Rested up after the long drive to Granada to return one car and pick up another which could be returned locally.

This place is kind of a blend of Venice Beach and Waikiki spread thin between ESBs (Ex-pat Storage Boxes), large, multi-storied concrete buildings designed by a range of architects from the unimaginative to those on drugs. The main drag is a gastronomic gulch graced by numerous Fish N Chips places, BK and Mickey D's along with the usual smattering of real(?) restaurants billing themselves as Italian, Indian, Mexican and the occasional Spanish one. Every block contains at least one Chinese emporioum of the caliber of the Dollar Store. There are innumerable tapas bars and pubs, none of which have we tried as yet. I'm told that places bearing Pub or Club in the name are more likely than not brothels-prostitution being legal here. Don't expect confirmation from me.

First impressions aside, it's not a bad place to be. Just have to get on the bike or in the car and move about two miles inland and you find the more Spanish areas. The ESB zone is quite large, with acres upon acre given over to cookie-cutter "urbanizaciones" or housing developments geared toward the retiree or vacationer. Some are tasteful, but very boring when you see twenty or thirty in a row, after row after row... A lot are unfinished. When the bottom fell out of the economy, the builders or developers just walked away. It's not uncommon to see hundred-unit high-rises with no windows, doors or occupants. Ghost towns on high...

Alhambra Sidewalk

New Rocket: BH Ventoux

09 Dec. Ramble

Yesterday, we packed up and left Cortijo Pepe Soria and headed for the Costa Blanca. It was about a four hour drive through some majestic scenery, comparable to the mountains around the Apache Trail in Nevada (USA). We'll miss the beauty of the Sierra de Baza and the snow-capped Sierra Nevada, but we won't miss the cold and (uncharacteristic, everybody says) wet weather. Bernard and Pam were great hosts and showed us a fine time during the month we were there. They showed us around and introduced us to their circle of friends who were all very welcoming and helpful. We'll miss the Brit tapas nights at Bar Mora.

We also met a pair of friends in Jose and Eva who ran the local Coviran market. their patience with our halting Spanish and friendly advice with groceries kept us in fine feed for the month. He is a marathon runner and is planning to do the 2012 New York Marathon. Naturally an invitation was extended, and if we are still in Maine near the end of Nov. 2012, we will host them and try to return the hospitality.

Today we drove the rented car back to Granada Airport which is about an hour past Gor, picked up another car which can be dropped off in Torrevieja which is a short bike ride from where we are now in Punta Prima and did the afore-mentioned drive again. This time, though, we stopped to do some ceramics shopping in Purullena, a small town in the center of the cave-dwelling area. Yesterday we stopped for a break in Cartagena and chanced upon the best (so far) restaurant of our trip. I was able to order a dish I haven't had since April of 1964: Squid cooked with rice in its own ink, with clams, crab, shrimp and fish added. My only regret was that I had to drink a Cerveza sin alcohol (fake beer) as I was driving. I would much rather have had a good red, but I made up for it tonight with re-heated leftovers and a Carinena Riserva.

More to follow...whenever...pictures too,,,

Update 03.12.10

We now have wheels. I found a good deal on a city bike that actually fits Is, so snapped it up for her. Then I tried out some segundo-mano MTBs kind of like Dyl's old Diamond-back, but they were somewhat low-end and the brake levers are reversed as they were from the British market. That was a nasty surprise on my test ride. So I had to bite the bullet and buy a used rocket bike. It is a light-weight Spanish bike with full Shimano 105 components and Campagnolo cranks and BB. I had to throw on a pair of el-cheapo flats which I'll rip off as soon as those that Nick is mailing with my shoes get here.

Pictures to follow, but I must vacate this place. It's an internet bar/cafe and the smoke is killing me. Got to stay healthy for the 80 K shop ride I was invited to go on this Sunday. Church of the Bicycle again!!!!!!!!!!

Ciao, Greg

Spain-Ramble 10

Ramble 10

02.12.10, Algorfa (just off the Costa Blanca), Alicante Province, Spain

.They call it the Costa Blanca because of the ancient industry of salt production, not white beaches. Haven’t really explored other than to cruise a few bike shops and supermarkets for supplies. Weather was miserable (though not as severe as Granada) until yesterday, when we saw the sun for the first time in days. I stripped right down to two layers!

.Is was stricken with a sore throat and an ear-ache yesterday. Probably from the ribs she ordered at a Fish ‘n Chips place at dinner last night. I was flayed by a guilty conscience and a resolution to eat Roman in Rome. I was tempted by the waitress’ description of the “southern fried chicken” and figured it would be a real adventure to try “southern” cooking in a Brit restaurant in Spain. No wonder I failed Brain Surgery I in school. What I got was 3 sort of McFingers pieces deep-fried in over-spiced soggy batter that even the combination of “Brown” sauce and Tartar sauce (both from packets) couldn’t make palatable. In my own defense, I must argue that I was put off the Lamb Shank by her description that it was “like, roasted, in a microwave”, by the mint sauce (again in a packet in the bowl on the table); and I had already tried fish ‘n chips. Granted they were wrapped in newspaper, sprinkled with vinegar, and eaten under a tree in a park in Luton, but…

.Anyway, I should have gone with the fish. Pyon gave me a slab of hers to try (since her cat wouldn’t eat the whole thing, which was as large as a respectable mackerel). It was delicious. Pyon is Burmese, married to Les and they are the first Brit residents of Fontana-1, where Is will buy her flat. They have been super “hosts” and guides; letting us camp on their sundeck to use the internet, setting up the VOIP call to Shannon yesterday and showing us where everything is. They were pleased to guide us to three bike shops and are looking forward to cycling together. There apparently is a trail from Algorfa to the beach at Guardamar-a mere 15K hop. I will be going out in a while to scope out the surface in order to make the decision as to what kind of bike I need. I know which one I would like, but that is in Westbrook and would involve significant dismantling in order to ship. I may buy locally, especially if I can find a good second-hand ‘Cross bike.

Somehow, while trying to re-design the blog appearance, I lost all I'd posted earlier and a few pictures. Since they take about six minutes apiece to load, I think I'll quit and find some red wine to salve my frustrations.

Cortijo Pepe Soria

Went for a drive in Sierra Nevada this afternoon in an effort to stave off cabin fever. I've lost count of the run on rainy days, but did get half a day's "sun" yesterday. Was enough to do a couple of loads of laundry and hang them till they were damp. Finished them off by the woodstove last night. The drive through the mountains was gut-wrenching in places, but was quite interesting. I drove through towns that aren't even on my map, and had my wonderations about finding my way back. Fortunately, I'd bought compass number 8(at least) in Guadiz a couple of weeks ago. You kids will each inherit an engineer's compass now. Plenty of others as well.

Anyway, I saw a lot of cave-dwellings-in-stopped-progress. This area boasts some ancient troglodyte habitations and a lot of modern ones, as well. Caves draw lots of inhabitants as they stay cool all summer and acceptable (about 62F) without heat in the winter. Many are dug in with southern exposures and feature concrete facades, to keep the hill in place, I suppose. I will send some pictures once I re-size them. Anyway, a lot of new digs were halted due to the economy, so there are a lot of stalled properties mining hills that look like ant hills. I don't think I would like them-it would be like living in a cave.

Responding to Dyl's request for photos of cortijo

Tried to post some but too large, will need to resize some at home and do more prep.

Made a run to the Guadix post office today to buy stamps. Finally got enough to mail Xmas cards, etc, but had to buy other than the right denominations. Was told to put two on each letter, so don't know how much is going to the economy. Oh, well, it might help avert a bailout...

Checked out some neat pottery shops. Found a cazuela which by mail order in the states, costs about $25. Here, it was Eu.2.5o. But getting it home would be horrendous. Bought a couple for Is' new digs in Algorfa.

Must vacate my spot at the Comunity Center and go home to carry firewood. It's not drizzling and I need to lug in a couple of days ahead, to give it drying time. Kind of like camping, but larger than a tent. I'd love to see what it's like in the summer. Probably will someday.

Gor is a neat little town of around 2000 people, though it doesn't appear so. It's tucked into the base of some huge hills that are in the Natural Park. We walk or drive by a spot that used to be up a cliff and comes down fairly regularly in installments.

Must run, Ciao!

Deserted Almeria, Fun spots in Nerja

Ramble seven sent 22-11-10

Ramble Seven (?)

Saturday the 20^th: an update and a few verbal snapshots. Is has flown off to England to see to some financial matters, all geared toward buying her place in Algorfa, where we may land sooner than later. We drove to Nerja yesterday. It is a pretty place on the sea just short of Malaga. To get there, we went to Granada and then to Motril, via the autovias or freeways. Some really beautiful country through which to drive and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it as a destination in itself. Anyway, the trip was beautiful, though uneventful till the end in Nerja where I could easily have met the Guardia Civil.

They are a national police force who are assigned to work in pairs, in districts other than those from which they come. This was intended to avoid external pressures and corruption of individuals by peer pressure. It apparently works, as the force has been around, and respected (sometimes feared) for at least a couple of hundred years. I wonder if I can score an item of clothing, or at least insignia.

Back to our exciting introduction to Nerja. We stopped for lunch at a bistro where it turns out the waitress had an English accent. It was warm in the sun, the Peroni (Italian beer) was €3 (about $4.30), and the toasted tuna sandwich was nondescript. After receiving vestigial directions from our hostess, we headed toward the Hostal Meñas which was supposed to be on Calle del Barrio behind a church. Our borrowed GPS had already gotten us lost, headed us into dead-end mining complexes and switched genders and now we had to rely on it to find a roof for the night. After half a dozen roundabouts (almost every other intersection) we headed into a narrow street, the sign for which said something like “Authorized Vehicles Only” . Well, after the long drive and the Peroni, and knowing that I was heading for an hotel, I believed I was authorized. I didn’t give much credence to Is’ comment that it was a “pedestrian zone” as I saw a car parked in an alleyway. The next thing I knew, I was navigating past racks of T-shirts, shelves full of pottery and carousels of key fobs and Nerja bottle openers. I almost scraped the drivers’ side mirror on a stone wall as we edged past a bunch of tables occupied by patrons with surprised or annoyed looks on their faces. Party-pooper Is ignored my request to grab a few chips off one guy’s plate as we snuck past. With no place to turn around, I had to keep going, making a number of turns toward what looked like a real street until we wound up at a plaza (see U-Turn Plaza) in front of the hotel where we eventually found a room. It was quite a spectacle. We emerged from the alley (on the right, behind Is’ head in photo) and maneuvered around in the midst of gelato-eaters, watercolor-painters and amused pickpockets taking a break under a palm tree. Without further incident, we backed around as unobtrusively as possible and found our way back past the guy jealously guarding his chips.

Luckily we found a rare parking spot on the street and eventually walked to the Hostal Meñas, arriving at 1332, to find it being locked up by an elderly lady who told us that, “Yes, there are vacancies,” but “No, it is closed now.” Freaking siesta time! She suggested another place and left. So, we walked around checking out a couple that were in the anticipated price range of €32, but didn’t find one that suited our needs. We finally settled on one in the hotel I almost torpedoed turning our rented Mitsubishi. It was very nice, clean and warm-a big item for we fugitives from the Sierras de Baza. €43 got us lots of hot water, a room over the plaza, a TV we never turned on and a continental breakfast.

Dinner, after walking around checking out the options from Italian and Indian to Burgers or seafood, was found at what looked like a “locals” restaurant. It turned out that it was, and we were the only foreigners at the owner’s birthday celebration. Delicious rack of lamb after copious salmon & mustard starter. The house red wasn’t sold by the half-litre, but our waiter provided a bottle with the news that if I only drank half, he’d only charge for half. Sneaky fellow knew that I couldn’t stop at half-Is was drinking pineapple juice- so the €12 bottle was a sure thing. Is had sole baked in potatoes and cheese sauce after a starter of prawns in something-or-other. €61 (tip included) bought a thoroughly delicious and enjoyable meal-yeah, expensive when you convert to $ at 1.43, but then it’s only once a month.

The few other meals we haven’t cooked, have all been very good and quite reasonably priced. Last Sunday’s lunch provided us each with five large lamb slices- some of which found their way home to go into a stew that provided three meals. Lots of bread, potatoes and vegetables accompanied the beast, as well as a couple of beers and a bottle of soda; all for under €20.

What would you expect from a bottle of wine that cost $1.42? I had my wonderations when I picked up the bottle marked €0.99. Imagine my surprise when I found that it was better than a $5 bottle from Micucci’s in Portland. I have to keep reminding myself that I spent a pretty sum to get to the store where I bought it, but what the hell…

The long drive and the delicious €1.15 bottle of Temperanillo are taking their toll and I must close for now. Tomorrow I’ll edit some photos to be posted on Monday. Cheers!

Monday, November 22, 2010

It’s not all sunshine and palm trees here. Remember, we’re in a Parque Natural in the Sierras de Baza (mountains), so the weather can be other than Mediterranean. Today is the third (here) blustery, rainy and ~45F day in a row. I had hoped to do a laundry, but without a dryer, there’s not much point to it. Drying inside is not an option, as the place is cold and damp inside. I’m using the propane heater in the living room to save on olive wood, but it is damp heat. The olive wood (at €65 per ¼ cord) is saved for night heat. No thermometer inside, but I think it is below 60F, even with the heat on. I’m sitting here wearing three layers and a hood, but recognize that I read all about it in various books about living here. It’s kind of like Fall camping, just in a house.

There is a swatch of sunshine on the hills to the west, and I hope that it’s an omen. No matter. After lunch and a shower, I’m going to put on my cleanest dirty shirt (isn’t that from a Johnny Cash song?) and drive to Gor. Yaaaay! There’s heat in the car, and I’m going to the community center which is gorgeously overheated. There, I’ll hook up to the internet on a hard-wire and spend a couple of hours communicating. Jose & Eva’s grocery store opens up at 1700 and I’ll pick up makings for Tikka Masala.

Then it’s back to the cortijo and work on drawing and painting while watching old English “copper” or CSI re-runs. TV is varied here, but not a lot is of value to me. I watch the news a lot, BBC, CCTV (China-based news), Al Jazeera, EuroNews and sometimes Bloomberg. There are lots of African, Indo/Pakistani, Arab and Eastern European stations with a smattering of Welsh, German or Nordic ones-all of which are unintelligible. Radio is non-existent other than cable, and when I get a faint station in the car it is, naturally, in Spanish which is becoming more familiar to me with use. (A big “thank you” to you, Dyl, for convincing me to load music on my ‘puter-it is invaluable!)

As Shannon said, the other day, “It’s a whole other world”. I tried to buy 18 stamps for Christmas cards, but the Gor postmaster only had about seven and couldn’t sell them all to me. Apparently the printer hadn’t delivered to the government. I suppose I could go try and buy them in a large city when I next drive to warm up, but gas is VERY expensive here. I bought ¾ tank the other day (32.95 L. for €40) It takes higher math for me to do the numbers, but $53+ for 8.69 gal. is around $6/gal. Anyway, it’s fun and a whole ‘nother world.

Miss you all and hope that Fall is being kind to you. Dyl, Thanx for the videos of the Helena Show. She’s really coming along, and I wish I could watch her antics in person. I mailed a small watercolor to Jordan from Mojacar, another coastal destination. I really wonder whether she will ever get it, but then…Hope the Job’s going well, Dre-will try to check out Brooke’s blog for news of you guys.

Hasta Luego & love to all…

Ramble-5

Saturday the 13^th-another walk to Gor, this time heading down a ravine past some cliff-dwellings. These are actually caves, with only a doorway to the outside. All except for one are run down and deserted, the exception looking well-kept but not currently occupied. A couple are quite elaborate, being three rooms deep, with aide-chambers, fireplaces and even a bath tub. We were told that these are now only used as sheep shelters or shepherds’ refuges. I took some pictures and hope to be able to show them here eventually.

We checked out the post office, which is open six days a week from 0830 to 0930. If anyone wants to experiment, you can send a card or letter (nothing we’d have to pack and carry) to us at:

Cortijo “Pepe Soria”

Arroyo Serval Num. 2

Gor 18.870

Prov. De Granada

Spain

It would be interesting to see whether we get it. Remember, we depart 22 December, and forwarding is not likely to be a reality.

Anyway, as with all other official services, things are quite different than those to which we are accustomed. In all fairness to the postman, who delivers out here on Sunday when he goes to visit his mother who lives up the mountain, he’s a one-man show. He has to open up the office for his hour, then go collect from the town’s drop boxes, drive to Baza and trade outgoing for incoming. Then he has to drive the 45 minutes back, sort the mail and deliver to the town. Somewhere during that period he has to fit in a lunch and siesta from 1400 to 1700. Who knows what time he quits? Parcels wait till Saturday.

Our favorite grocery stop is the Coviran Market, one of a chain, which is staffed by Jose and Eva, a fun, young couple who like to chat. They try their English on us and put up with our Spanish. The store is about the size of my living-room and kitchen but has everything from Absolut Vodka to Zumo de Naranja (orange juice) with escabeche (a fish in gingery sweet and sour sauce that we used to eat in Victorias), numerous chorizo types and other exotic snacks in between. After almost filling our rucks, there is the mandatory stop at the panederia where they sell the most delicious crusty bread. It comes in loaves about 24” by 6”, tapering toward the ends. This is handy, as the ends are no good at meal time and make for great snacks while climbing the ravine back toward Arroyo Serval.

Today, we also stopped at the butcher shop to buy a chunk of pork for adobo, but couldn’t resist buying a two-foot length of Chorizo which diminished by a third at lunch. Another decadent repast in the mid-afternoon sun, swilling San Miguel and aggravating my TMJ with the bread crusts.

All this

15 Nov 10

Hi, all

Finally found a free wi-fi spot at the local community center. With the help of the administrator, we've got access and connectivity, even when the center is closed. Problem is, we've got to walk to town (and back) and sit around in the weather. We are welcome, though, when the center is open.

Here's Ramble 4, which may be a repeat:

Day 14 in Spain, again a day of extremes, or at least great contrast. We awoke to blazing sun-the outside temperature slightly warmer than that inside. As the day progressed, I found that I was working outside without a shirt yet had to put on a couple of layers when I went inside for just a few minutes. Pam, our hostess, said that the thermometer in the shade read 31, which equates to almost 88F. I would have to question that, but it was quite warm. The nights are cold when cloudy and frigid when clear. Our host, Bernard, found that a couple of inches of water in his wheelbarrow had frozen solid overnight.

The house is a traditional structure, thick-walled and constructed of stone and cement, whitewashed and tile-roofed. Windows are small and constructed in the manner of gun ports in medieval forts-conical, with the narrower opening toward the exterior. The feature seems quite appropriate in light of the numerous revolutions and upheavals described in The Spanish Labyrinth which I’m presently reading. It details the social and economic factors leading up to the Spanish Civil War. Windows are glass-paned and wooden-shuttered, allowing air, light or darkness-a feature which makes sleeping late quite easy.

Anyway, it is quite sturdy with regard to the walls, but the roof doesn’t strike me as nearly as durable. There are no ceilings. The red tiles are installed upon a layer of mortar which is supported by a mat of split canes which, in turn, is supported by logs which are built into the tops of the walls. Floors are flagstones set in cement-rather cool; which must be welcome in summer, but leave a little to be desired after October.

We bought a load of olive firewood yesterday. €65 got us about a quarter of a cord, which is quite expensive compared to what I used to pay years ago, but then I have no recent basis with which to compare. It is quite dry and hard and burns slowly; providing a long, steady heat which is more constant than hot. For kindling, I wander the orchard picking up broken almond roots and prunings which are quite dry and oil-filled. We also pick dropped nuts; shucking them and roasting them on the stove. The husks we dry by the stove and burn for quick heat. Shells are also burned once we have a good bed of coals. Old nuts from last year are often found and are burned as is along with the hulls.

The wood stove is in the living room, along with a catalytic propane heater. There’s another heater in the bathroom-quite welcome at shower time. Neither bedroom has heat until December, when the solar-powered, generator-assisted radiators are turned on. Cooking or baking heat the kitchen along with whatever drifts in from the loving room.

Tomorrow, Saturday, we will walk in to Gor early, as the tienda closes either at noon or 1 or 2 PM-I can’t keep things straight yet. We need to buy beer, bread and other staffs of life. I also heard a rumor that there is internet connectivity at the community center. A must to check out. A visit to the butcher is planned, along with a visit to the Bar Mora, which is next door. Then the trek home.

Chilling at Bar Mora, Sunset and Valley View

Day one on the ground in España started with an 1100 wake-up. Was it jet-lag or the fact that I’d spent 48 hours without any meaningful sleep. Breakfast was in the blazing sun on the patio: Manzanilla olives stuffed with anchovies, pesto and cheese on mini-baguette alternating with slices of chorizo Pamplona. The latter were delicious, though I couldn’t help wonder whether they came from the losers of the corrida. Bernard, our host, graciously provided me with a Finkbräu, as Is had neglected the elixer of life in her provisioning. She had stocked some really good wine (€2.49 = $3.93) a far cry from the bottom-dwellers I find at Hannaford. Anyway, despite the fact that I’m in Spain, I decided that beer is more appropriate than wine for breakfast.

So off to Gor to find the tienda and buy some beer and other necessities. I distinctly remember Is’ words, “It’s only a twenty minute walk though a little hilly, so we shouldn’t cycle.” Well, she was 50-50 wrong/right. It was an hour and almost all downhill . The scenery was arid, but beautiful as we walked off the hardscrabble acres of the almond orchards, through part of the national park and down the black road into town, passing farms and buildings that brought strains of “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” to mind.

The town was right out of the pages of Driving Over Oranges or any of the numerous ex-pat chronicles; white-washed walls, narrow streets, shuttered windows (it was, after all, siesta time), and red-tiled roofs. The place was neat as a pin, flowers in window boxes, a cat here, a dog there and not a human in sight other than the five pensioners (we guessed) out for a walk. They gave us the evil eye despite our respectful “Hola”. I attribute it to Is’ camera and my backpack.

We ducked into what turned out to be a well-populated bar while in search of a tienda, and once inside realized where the population had gone. Without partaking, partially due to the advancing sunset but more because of the smoky interior we asked for and received directions in staccato Andalusian Spanish. We arrived just after the 1700 re-opening and bought our provisions, finding out that they had no bread other than sliced sandwich loaf. We got directions to the other grocery in town and learned that if we wanted real bread, we’d have to go to the bakery which would be open Saturday from 0800-noon.

The trek home took about two hours but wasn’t all slogging uphill. There were numerous photo-ops, and then after I decided to lighten my load (18) by one beer, we discovered that there were loads of almonds lying alongside the road. Finding the proper rocks, I cracked a bunch and we finished the trip munching on gleaned nuts and cool beer. A fitting end was the great sunset as we made our way down the path to the cortijo.

Saturday at Cortijo Pepe Soria.

We skipped Friday night at the Bar Mora which is a local event-free tapas, and inexpensive beer. Unfortunately, the place was a smokers’ bar and we didn’t want to be asphyxiated. During the day, though, we walked in to catch the itinerant vendors’ market. Kind of like a farmers’ market, but also includes shoe and clothing merchants. I tried to find some slippers and was also attracted to some shoes, but it turned out the shoes weren’t leather and size 48 is unheard of. Guess I’ll have to wear out my water-sneakers.

Vegetables were reasonable and fresh. We were tempted to try the churros and hot chocolate, but decided to skip the calories, opting to wait for a pass at Bar Mora. On the way there we stopped at one of two tiendas where I found Jose Cuervo Gold for only about $2 more than N.H. I commited that to memory and headed for the panederia or bakery. We went overboard there, buying a couple of half=baguettes and a crusty round loaf that made great garlic bread.

Bar Mora is a fairly inauspicious fifteen-table bar with a pinball machine a six-stool bar and a really, really big stuffed bull’s head on the wall. I mean big! His eyes are the size of 8-balls, and his horns awe-inspiring. Imagine the size of the cojones on the matador who faced him in the ring. A plate of calamares, with salad of lettuce, tomatoes and olives plus two beers cost €2.80 which amazed me. That’s about $4.20. It was enough to get us halfway home, up the three mile hill to the cortijo.

Anyway, Saturday was much like any other. Sleep till about 0930, eat a lazy breakfast, go pick roots and prunings from the orchard for firewood. It’s good exercise; walking the rows, carrying a bushel-bucket, pruning shears and a hand saw, bending intermittently to pick up a stick that any serious wood-burner would laugh at. It saves burning propane, or buying firewood at €4 per bucket, and did I say it’s good exercise. I would hate to have to do it, knowing it was the only source of heat for my family. I try to imagine what a peasant’s life was like a couple of hundred years ago and remember that there but for the grace of God go I.

Back to the house for lunch around 1330. It was miserable! Sitting in the blazing sun, temperature around 70F, Serrano ham, fresh salad, black Aragon olives, local cheese, crusty bread with pesto. Had to limit myself to a “Sin” for a beverage. That is an Alhambra beer sin (without) alcohol, a discovery I made by not reading the label. Anyway, they really taste like beer, and don’t put me to sleep when drunk in the daylight. That’s a pavlovian carry-over from putting myself to bed with a beer when I worked midnights.

After doing up the dishes, I cracked almonds for a while, then read from my Drawing text and did a few drawings. It’s a dog’s life.

Tomorrow, we rise early (~0800) break fast and walk to town to try and get Is to mass at 1100. We just guessed at the time, as we forgot to check on Friday, and she didn’t want to call the Guardia Civil post to ask. If she misses it, I guess we’ll just have to grab lunch at Bar Mora and walk home keeping our eyes open for firewood I can collect later on the bike.

And land in a big city far, far away

I'll cross the ocean

This guy will wake me

Flying tomorrow

Tomorrow's the big one. Flying out of Logan to London, bussing to Stansted and flying to Almeria, Spain. I'll be picked up at the airport and will drive a couple of hours to the finca in the almond orchard in the middle of the National Forest. I wish I could be more specific than that, but I don't have the information yet.

The plan is to spend about six weeks there, travelling to Granada and other cool spots, including a nearby lake where I hope to get in some fishing. Obviously, I will be looking at used bicycles as the finca is rather remote.

Baggage includes a sketch pad, a watercolor pad, paints, brushes, pencils and a couple of books on drawing/painting. Oh yes, I am also carrying the leather-bound journal I use as an idea book, which Shannon gave me waaaay back when I decided to study art. As a matter of fact, tucked in the binding is the $20 she slipped in with it saying that starving artists need a good cup of coffee now and then. Let's see if I can bring it back.

Have a great winter, All, I'll see you after April 5.

Fountain at Place d'Armes

Nick at Flagstaff

Ramblin' on

Bon jour from Montreal. Spent the last few days in Quebec City, so far my #1 favorite city in the world. That slot used to be held by Hong Kong, but it fades in comparison even though I haven't been there since it reverted to China. Working on major revision of "the Adventure", and will detail in future, when appropriate.
Tomorrow I'm heading for Manchester, N.H. to meet some people from the Philippine Consulate, and then on to an overnite at Dyl's.

SteppinStones

This is a collage I did in collaboration, and donated for auction to raise funds for my granddaughter, Jordan's school. It is drawn from the Stepping Stones Montessori School logo which, in turn, was derived from Jen Cousin's watercolor of her daughter, who also attends the school. The auction is in November, I think.

After Cezanne

This is a collage based on impressions I had while at the Cezanne Retrospective at the Philadelphia Museum of Art last year. The crowd consisted of the Culture Vulture who knitted a sweater to match Ellsworth Kelley's Meschers which was alegedly inspired by Cezanne's Large Pine And Red Earth. Then comes Hungry Joe with the growling stomach and golden arches on the brain. Gloxy is watching the howling baby on the floor trying to get the attention of Absent Dad who is eyeing Modern Mama as she hooks up with one of Picasso's Bathers. The ghost of Cezanne is walking offstage to find some solitude.

Greetings to All,

What with an upcoming adventure, I'm re-invigorating the Ramble. No details yet-some of you may know, but I want to get all the details carved in stone; not just scribbled with chalk.

Cycle-wrenching has sort of been put on the shelf, but I may be getting back into it in 2011 in a peripheral sort of way. Parts delivery will come to a screeching halt with the new adventure, possibly to be resumed if my employer has part-time openings.

The rest of my time will be spent working on painting and mixed-media collage-building. Still trying to self-educate. I couldn't sign up for another of Deb's great classes because the "adventure" will commence early in the semester and besides, I needed to save the funds for art supplies or bail money . I reckon my education will continue sans discipline until next year.

Anyway, check in once and a while, as this might be the only way I'll be able to communicate quickly about events.

Disclaimer: If you see an horrible photo of an horrible painting/collage in this post; it is because techknowlege has eluded me again. My apologies!