Six months and one day after I started the process, I picked up my official Extranjeros Regimen Comunitario card. Two trips to Orihuela, four to Alicante, much mail back and forth to the Philippines and Madrid and it's over-until Nov 2016, anyway. That's when I need to renew it. Now to undergo 40 hours of "integration" classes that consist of language, culture, civics, etc. I hope they don't interfere with cycling.
Tomorrow we're off to Alicante again, by train, to chase down Is' driver's license. She was told to contact the Traffico office if she hadn't received it within 60 days. Well, that's just passed so we're chasing. I'm dreading the start of another process to get mine. Hers was relatively easy; just go there, show the Brit (E.U.) license and wait for the mail. I have to go to mandatory classes. Hey! Howcome? I drive on the proper side of the road! then I have to learn 600 different laws and rules, study mechanics, towing issues, first aid, target practice and then take the exam...in Spanish. Oh boy! I'd almost rather not get one, just ride a bike and let her drive. That way I can sample all the wine I want. Hmmmmm.....
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Day Two
We had fine weather on the second day, making the 112 Km in good time. We travelled through some really beautiful country, vineyards and neat towns. All in all we did 170 Mk, climbing a total of 6010 feet, reaching a maximum altitude of 3160 feet. We celebrated the successful trip with a penultimate pint in Catral, three towns away from Algorfa, where I peeled off to make it home.
Wet arrival in Baneres
We finally made it, wet, but elated. We checked in and headed for the bar where we warmed up with a couple carajillos (strong black coffee laced with brandy). Then it was to the showers and a fine dinner.
Between Guadalest and Alcoi
Here we are in the mountains on the first leg, slogging along in the rain. It was somewhere near here that Thomas got a temperature reading from his do-everything Garmin cycle computer. We were dismayed to learn that it was 2 degrees Celsius.
A semi-dry Start
Here are 4/5 of us on the bus to our starting point in Guadalest. We were soggy from riding and loading bikes in the rain, and the bus conductor kept mentioning the five (fools) cyclists who were setting out for the mountains in the deluge.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Back from the Mountains
Made it back from the Guadalest-Alcoi-Baneres-Crevillent tour in one piece, though carrying some damp gear. We set out from Studz Bar in a steady rain, riding the bus to Guadalest while soggy from loading the bikes. There were five of us, aged 55 to almost 68, and all a little soft in the head. After coffee and tostadas we headed uphill (all the way, it seemed) toward Alcoy. The rain alternated between a heavy mist and pelting almost sleet. Thomas gave us a temperature report from his do-everything Garmin bike computer. It was 2 Celsius or 35 Farenheit, so we had to keep climbing vigorously to stay warm.
We stopped in Alcoi for lunch, getting directions to Baneres and leaving profuse apologies for the puddles on the floor. One man who told us how to get there shook his head in sympathy, pointing up while mumbling something like, "Muy alto!"
We dragged our sorry posteriors into the hotel just before dark and ordered the mandatory carajillos before hot showers and a sumptuous dinner. I thought about asking for my meal to be brought to the shower so I could steam a little longer.
Tuesday, we set off in fine weather, dropping about 2500' down to our starting level. We cycled through some really beautiful country, stopping in Salinas and Hondon de los Nieves for snack and lunch, before topping the final mountain range and sliding thru Crevillent to our penultimo cerveza in Catral. My whole trip was approximately 175 km; no accurate figure being available as the 'puter got a little water-logged and quit working. Thomas will send us all a report from his Garmin and photos from his smart-phone...someday. Will try to post them soon.
We stopped in Alcoi for lunch, getting directions to Baneres and leaving profuse apologies for the puddles on the floor. One man who told us how to get there shook his head in sympathy, pointing up while mumbling something like, "Muy alto!"
We dragged our sorry posteriors into the hotel just before dark and ordered the mandatory carajillos before hot showers and a sumptuous dinner. I thought about asking for my meal to be brought to the shower so I could steam a little longer.
Tuesday, we set off in fine weather, dropping about 2500' down to our starting level. We cycled through some really beautiful country, stopping in Salinas and Hondon de los Nieves for snack and lunch, before topping the final mountain range and sliding thru Crevillent to our penultimo cerveza in Catral. My whole trip was approximately 175 km; no accurate figure being available as the 'puter got a little water-logged and quit working. Thomas will send us all a report from his Garmin and photos from his smart-phone...someday. Will try to post them soon.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Waiting
This is a sketch I did while waiting for something. It seems as though I've done a lot of waiting lately, and I've a lot of doodles to show for it. It is now a habit to carry a sketchbook & pencils. As soon as I queue up in a line, out they come and something appears on paper. Whether it is good or bad is not the question. The important thing is that I didn't fall asleep and lose my place in line.
But, I digress. On July 11, I paid my fee and started the application process for my residencia. After I waited in a queue or other extranjeros (foreigners) with the completed paperwork, I was told that they could not process the application there in Orihuela. I had to do it in Alicante. So I went there and after the mandatory "take a number and wait over there" was told that I had to bring in a marriage certificate that had been validated by the civil authorities in Pasig City, PI, then by the Department of Foreign Affairs (1 week) and the Spanish Embassy in Manila (4 weeks).
Once that had been done, the certificate had to be notarized anhd authenticated by the British Consulate in Alicante, then sent to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Madrid (6 weeks)for a stamp. We then turned it in to the Guardia Civil who neglected to keep the copies we provided, so they sent us a letter to bring in the papers. This added 30 days to the standard 30 day wait, and once we got that straightened out, we were told to wait for a letter which would arrive in about thirty days with an appointment date to see the National Police for fingerprinting & photo submission. We finally did that ans were told that I could pick up my ID card in thirty days-in Orihuela where I started. That will be on December 15th.
Not bad-They let me stay in-country despite the maximum 90-day allowance for Americans. Aside from the waiting, the experience was a whole lot more pleasant than the manner in which Isabel was treated by the US government. Cheaper, by far, as well.
Other examples of waiting: "five minutes" for lost luggage in Barcelona took 4 hours. "Five minutes" for an e-mail with description of a substitute easel is currently passing the 4-hour mark. "next month" for internet connection took about three months.
I think I should buy a couple more sketchbooks.
Travelling Buddha has found a home
This is a sketch for a painting I want to do "someday". It is filed with the other sketches that never got developed. What is the solution? Drop everything and paint until you collapse, get it done, run out of wine...? If a work of art is never started and no one ever sees it, would it have been a good one?
Friday, November 18, 2011
Baby Eels
These are baby eels, fried in garlic and olive oile and served as an appetizer. They actually tasted much better once I learned that they were actually eel-substitute, otherwise known as Surimi. The real things are hard to find and prohibitively expensive. I gave thanks for that; too close to snakes for my blood. The wine is a LaMancha red of unknown parentage, but head and shoulders above a $6 bottle from a well known purveyor in Portland-for only Eu.0.99 (about $1.35). Asparagus, greens, potato salad-all grown locally, reasonably priced and brought to us weekly by the itinerant market.
Mid-November in Comunidad Valenciana
Last weekend Is and I climbed a third of the way up this mountain, Pico de Aguilas. with a friend from Redovan, the town at the foot. When I say climbed, I don't mean with ropes and chains as the students at the climbing school were using. We hiked up in beautiful weather, taxing our flat-land shoes and ankles. I hope to do the whole thing once I get the proper footwear and companion(s) who won't sprint ahead as I plod up it. I kept remembering a climb in the White Mountains that I did with Dyl & Kris. Up wasn't so bad, but down left me hobbling.
Cold and rainy today-winter is here. While it is not New England cold, it is bad enough for one whose blood has thinned to the consistency of a cheap LaMancha red, which by the way, is not hard on the palate. It certainly is easy on the pocket; allowing me to go out and buy a winter coat. Maybe I'll hold off on that, bundle up with second-hand stuff from one of the local markets and bring back one of the many nice ones lying useless in Westbrook, if I fly back mid-March.
That's one option that is being closely examined currently. Tax time approaches and I need to do some serious consulting with my accountant in Caribou. The rapacious eagle still demands its pound of flesh-I just hope a proctologist can give me an appointment shortly thereafter.
Anyway...will be doing some web-surfing for plane tickets and let everyone know when/if it becomes a reality. In the meantime I'll be cycling in all but the downpours and trying to paint otherwise.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Ramblin' On, again...
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally got our internet hookup in Fontana 1. It was first proposed for around August, then September, then October and on the second of this month we got it. Prior to that we had been using a neighbor's wireless, with his permission, whenever the right stars aligned. The other alternative was a trip to La Taberna, in town, and sit in a noisy bar, swilling beer and hooking up to their freebie. Not a good way to do internet banking, and on the wrong night you could be deafened by the Brits cheering on their favourite "footie" team. The beer was good though.
Highlights of the summer were the Valencia trip with Nick & Susan, and their visit. There was also the day, When Cecilia was here to visit, when I crashed the car twice. No injuries but to pride and wallets. We did discover a great local restaurant in the village of Mojon, while waiting for the first wrecker. Cooking was done over an open wood fire, wine was out of a jug and the hospitality was without fault. Jose, the proprietor, was gracious, explaining (in Spanish) all the foods and how he was cooking them. The waitress was Ukrainian and funny, and the patrons were curious but not intrusive. We were the only "extranjeros" there, and the only English-speakers. Somehow we managed to order a meal of chicken,lamb, sausage, potatoes, salad, red wine, bread and beer, consume it and leave in good graces. We took Nick & Susan back there for a repeat to which we added quail.
I'm throwing in some photos of lost tourists, sculpture form a Valencian museum of modern art and Is' birthday cake which I made. It looked like a real cake, but the icing wasn't shiny so she was suspicious. Actually it was four packs of one of her favourite candies, wrapped in a cake-shape and covered with plaster, candles and all.
Not very appetizing until one cracked open the plaster and unwrapped the Turron Alicante.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Off Road & Sol-Mar rent-a-car scam
Back in Westbrook for the summer, as it looks right now. Is stayed behind in Manila for a number of reasons.
Primary reason was that our inimitable State Department representatives in Manila denied her a visa. I won't go into a rant about it as they don't deserve the psychic energy. Suffice it to say that last Fall's incident with the Border Bastards has continued to complicate matters. Couple that with conflicting advice from various State Department and DHS "authorities", one-size-fits-all "guidance" from the Manila call center and the fact that no consular official could be spoken with by this citizen; and you have a dead end.
We're trying to make lemonade from the lemon(s) handed us by life. While there, Is will be closing the purchase of her lots at Tierra Alta. She also wanted to be present for the birth of her first grandchild and offer whatever help is needed. As always the case, there are a lot of other loose ends to tie up and the odd diversionary trip(s) to Bohol , Palawan or other scenic spots.
In the meantime, I'll be cooling my heels here, getting back on the bike, raising money for the MS Society, painting from the myriad ideas and sights that accumulated over the trip. working on a Spanish/Schengen visa and other residency matters.
Now a commercial message:
I'd like to thank American Express for their help in resolving a dispute that originated with a scam attempted by SOL-MAR Rent-A-Car of Spain. When I rented from them, they insisted that I also "rent" a safety kit(consisting of vests and traffic warning triangle which are required by Spanish law.) I was told that the 20Eu. rental fee would be refunded when I return the car and kit. Upon returning both, I was given the run-around and finally told that all refunds would be processed after 11:00 pm, (long after our flight was scheduled to leave) and my American Express charge would be credited the next day. I was shown a pile of "refunds" to be processed. There were at least ten contracts which would amount to 200 Eu. clear profit for somebody. Guess what? Two weeks later, no credit had been applied, so I contacted AMEX. They credited the charge and the conversion fee, and ultimately resolved the issue to my satisfaction. So, to make a long story short; I would recommend against renting from SOL-MAR rent-a-car. The branch I dealt with was in Alicante, but they have offices throughout Spain.
Primary reason was that our inimitable State Department representatives in Manila denied her a visa. I won't go into a rant about it as they don't deserve the psychic energy. Suffice it to say that last Fall's incident with the Border Bastards has continued to complicate matters. Couple that with conflicting advice from various State Department and DHS "authorities", one-size-fits-all "guidance" from the Manila call center and the fact that no consular official could be spoken with by this citizen; and you have a dead end.
We're trying to make lemonade from the lemon(s) handed us by life. While there, Is will be closing the purchase of her lots at Tierra Alta. She also wanted to be present for the birth of her first grandchild and offer whatever help is needed. As always the case, there are a lot of other loose ends to tie up and the odd diversionary trip(s) to Bohol , Palawan or other scenic spots.
In the meantime, I'll be cooling my heels here, getting back on the bike, raising money for the MS Society, painting from the myriad ideas and sights that accumulated over the trip. working on a Spanish/Schengen visa and other residency matters.
Now a commercial message:
I'd like to thank American Express for their help in resolving a dispute that originated with a scam attempted by SOL-MAR Rent-A-Car of Spain. When I rented from them, they insisted that I also "rent" a safety kit(consisting of vests and traffic warning triangle which are required by Spanish law.) I was told that the 20Eu. rental fee would be refunded when I return the car and kit. Upon returning both, I was given the run-around and finally told that all refunds would be processed after 11:00 pm, (long after our flight was scheduled to leave) and my American Express charge would be credited the next day. I was shown a pile of "refunds" to be processed. There were at least ten contracts which would amount to 200 Eu. clear profit for somebody. Guess what? Two weeks later, no credit had been applied, so I contacted AMEX. They credited the charge and the conversion fee, and ultimately resolved the issue to my satisfaction. So, to make a long story short; I would recommend against renting from SOL-MAR rent-a-car. The branch I dealt with was in Alicante, but they have offices throughout Spain.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
03/28/11 Posting
03.25.2011 Ramble
Sitting here in Pasig City with two fans going, an occasional stiff breeze blowing through Russ’ apartment, thinking about being cool again-someday. The exertion of thought makes me perspire. I hear Nick’s ubiquitous comment, “Be careful what you wish for.” Then I look out the window at the fruit-laden mango, marcopa and kaimito trees and remember that I am escaping winter. The trees are common property here in Kaimito (Star-Apple) Village, and fruit are there for the taking. You can wait for a breeze to bring them down, or as most residents do; use a bamboo pole with a bag on the end.
Today was trash day in the village. A security guard walks through the grounds blowing his whistle in a sort of “Tweeeeeet-tweet-tweet-tweet” pattern, and the residents carry out their bags to the collection truck. Yesterday, Is and Zarah carried the trash out only to be told that collection (every other day) had been the day before. They were victims of malicious Mynah birds-those that mimic cell phone ring tones, and one resident clown that repeats a car alarm all day.
Noise! That seems to be the most prevalent impression I have of Metro-Manila, more so than the contrast between have and have-nots. I can’t remember a moment of silence since we arrived. The C-5, a major thoroughfare, is a block away. During the day there is the constant whine, rumble and roar of traffic, truckless traffic, I would add. In a futile attempt to minimize congestion, commercial trucks are only allowed on the road at night. So, nights are filled with the sometimes muffler-less din of all sizes of trucks mixed in with the tenor whines of motorbikes, the frequent howl of emergency vehicles and the occasional roar of hot rods; all immune from any sort of noise-restricting laws.
Here in the complex, we have the barking/yelping of a couple of caged puppies who start in early morning when the owner goes to work and continue (without a siesta) until he returns mid-evening. School is out and children do children things; none of which are quiet. (03/28/11 addition: This morning we awoke at cock’s crow-literally. Russell’s next-door neighbor has acquired a fighting cock and, quite preposterously, tethered it to Russ’ gate-right under our bathroom window. Mind you, this is on the third floor of a condominium complex in the heart of Pasig. Oooops, for a moment I forgot where I was.) Anyway, this critter crows hourly at least and also leaves fumets in the hallway which makes a good megaphone; being made out of concrete.)
When we go to the local supermarket/shopping center, the cacophony continues. Everywhere one turns is a stall with people hawking condos, subdivision lots or high-rise apartments. The Food Court houses about ten vendors, from each of which emanates the plea of every one of the seemingly-dozens of staff; flogging their product. The peanut vendor rings a shrill Starvation Army-type bell; the amusement arcade deafens you with the amplified dings, squeaks, twangs and boings of various coin-eaters, a couple of large screen TVs blare insufferable adverts and over it all is a recent “hit” by some disgusting, twangy, white, teenybopper “star” whining about her hair not being cool.
And then the restaurant complex, which is a cluster of about thirty eateries with a common dining area under a large (2 acre+) open air tent, is the same story. The culinary offerings are delicious; coming from all over the Philippines, Asia and the rest of the world…but…then there’s the music-and I use that term loosely. Over the whole panorama of conversation, shouted food orders, delicacy-hawking and wall-less restaurant noise, is a super-amplified p.a. system blaring rap, crap, michael jackson or the rival to the afore-mentioned “oh-waow!”-howling like-california-type female(?). Naturally, all conversation is cranked up a few decibels to compete. What could have been a pleasant meal turns into a gobble-and-get-the-hell-outta-here session at the feed trough.
Black Forest, I’m coming…
Sitting here in Pasig City with two fans going, an occasional stiff breeze blowing through Russ’ apartment, thinking about being cool again-someday. The exertion of thought makes me perspire. I hear Nick’s ubiquitous comment, “Be careful what you wish for.” Then I look out the window at the fruit-laden mango, marcopa and kaimito trees and remember that I am escaping winter. The trees are common property here in Kaimito (Star-Apple) Village, and fruit are there for the taking. You can wait for a breeze to bring them down, or as most residents do; use a bamboo pole with a bag on the end.
Today was trash day in the village. A security guard walks through the grounds blowing his whistle in a sort of “Tweeeeeet-tweet-tweet-tweet” pattern, and the residents carry out their bags to the collection truck. Yesterday, Is and Zarah carried the trash out only to be told that collection (every other day) had been the day before. They were victims of malicious Mynah birds-those that mimic cell phone ring tones, and one resident clown that repeats a car alarm all day.
Noise! That seems to be the most prevalent impression I have of Metro-Manila, more so than the contrast between have and have-nots. I can’t remember a moment of silence since we arrived. The C-5, a major thoroughfare, is a block away. During the day there is the constant whine, rumble and roar of traffic, truckless traffic, I would add. In a futile attempt to minimize congestion, commercial trucks are only allowed on the road at night. So, nights are filled with the sometimes muffler-less din of all sizes of trucks mixed in with the tenor whines of motorbikes, the frequent howl of emergency vehicles and the occasional roar of hot rods; all immune from any sort of noise-restricting laws.
Here in the complex, we have the barking/yelping of a couple of caged puppies who start in early morning when the owner goes to work and continue (without a siesta) until he returns mid-evening. School is out and children do children things; none of which are quiet. (03/28/11 addition: This morning we awoke at cock’s crow-literally. Russell’s next-door neighbor has acquired a fighting cock and, quite preposterously, tethered it to Russ’ gate-right under our bathroom window. Mind you, this is on the third floor of a condominium complex in the heart of Pasig. Oooops, for a moment I forgot where I was.) Anyway, this critter crows hourly at least and also leaves fumets in the hallway which makes a good megaphone; being made out of concrete.)
When we go to the local supermarket/shopping center, the cacophony continues. Everywhere one turns is a stall with people hawking condos, subdivision lots or high-rise apartments. The Food Court houses about ten vendors, from each of which emanates the plea of every one of the seemingly-dozens of staff; flogging their product. The peanut vendor rings a shrill Starvation Army-type bell; the amusement arcade deafens you with the amplified dings, squeaks, twangs and boings of various coin-eaters, a couple of large screen TVs blare insufferable adverts and over it all is a recent “hit” by some disgusting, twangy, white, teenybopper “star” whining about her hair not being cool.
And then the restaurant complex, which is a cluster of about thirty eateries with a common dining area under a large (2 acre+) open air tent, is the same story. The culinary offerings are delicious; coming from all over the Philippines, Asia and the rest of the world…but…then there’s the music-and I use that term loosely. Over the whole panorama of conversation, shouted food orders, delicacy-hawking and wall-less restaurant noise, is a super-amplified p.a. system blaring rap, crap, michael jackson or the rival to the afore-mentioned “oh-waow!”-howling like-california-type female(?). Naturally, all conversation is cranked up a few decibels to compete. What could have been a pleasant meal turns into a gobble-and-get-the-hell-outta-here session at the feed trough.
Black Forest, I’m coming…
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Head Chef at Ft. Ilocandia Resort
03.23.2011 Ramble
Time to catch up. Can’t remember when I last rambled on, but I think it was after the Siquijor trip. Anyway, Geneva, Is and I flew to Manila on the 9th, and the next couple of days were hectic and rather stress-inducing.
The wedding went off without a hitch. Well, almost…The judge wouldn’t sign the official certificate until I produced three documents which I’d not been told to present. Two paparazzi crashed the event (everyone assumed that someone else had engaged them) and were totally rude about trying to flog their wares after the ceremony when we needed to get to the reception through noon traffic. One even walked into the reception lunch and approached us at the head table, trying to sell us a package. I told him where to go, but someone near and dear wound up buying from both of them at a later time. I would have let them suck hind tit, to put it nicely.
Other than the air conditioning failing, everything was fine and the food was really delicious. Among other local dishes, we had blue marlin steaks, steamed Lapu-Lapu, prawn tempura, crisp Pata (a crackling and in my mind, more delectable sort of lechon made out of pork extremities), indispensable rice and, of course-San Miguel.
Next day we flew to Laoag City in Ilocos Norte, the Northwestern-most province on Luzon. It is “Shameless, Thieving Dictator” (S.T.D.) country, his home province and where his widow, “Sinverguenza”, stacks her innumerable pairs of shoes; ensconced as a high-ranking, power-grubbing politician and one of their notorious progeny is also “serving” in a lucrative position.
We stayed at Fort Ilocandia, once a five-star-rated resort that was, coincidentally built during the last years of S.T.D’s reign and is rumored to have been built with the people’s purloined millions. It is now still nice, but rather dog-eared and scarcely populated. Of 400 rooms, no more than 20 were occupied, and we essentially had the place to ourselves-all except for two open of the four (reputed) restaurants. Not being a connoisseur of Chinese food, I would have to say that the fare at Red 8 was better than passable. At the Café Ilocandia, the Filipino and “western” offerings were a disappointment. I would be generous if I rated them mediocre.
The place was palatial, to say the least. We were told that S.T.D. built it as a venue for a daughter’s wedding, and it must have been a grand affair. Unfortunately, but predictably the halls are lined with photos of the disgusting duo rubbing elbows with some really historic world leaders such as Reagan, Castro and Gorbachev. I guess even great people have to suffer fools every now and then.
We did day trips to Laoag and Vigan, the respective capitals of Ilocos Norte and Ilocos Sur. We toured a couple of museums, ate at two surprisingly good restaurants, rode jeepneys, busses, tricycles and calesa, and had a really warm but good time. Vigan was my favored locale in that it boasts Chrisostomo Street which, architecturally, remains much the same as it was in the days of Spanish occupation and grandeur. The buildings are currently filled with eateries, stores and souvenir shops, much as any “Destination”, but if you squint to blur the details, you can look back a few hundred years.
Back in Pasig for the nonce; picking up documents, scheduling appointments, paying fees and eating well/cheap. Is has managed to reschedule her visa appointment for the 31st, but is classified as “sensitive but unclassified”. That is, no doubt, a result of the Border Bastards’ flagging her passport when they refused her entry last September.
Chances are 30-60 that if she is granted a visa; we will be able to convince the consul to issue it a.s.a.p. to allow her to fly with me on the 3rd. If she is able to the likelihood of her getting on my trans-atlantic flight is slim to none, given the late date. So many variables-so little time for San Miguel.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
March 01 Ramble
Back from Bacolod. I connected with a lot of my classmates, most of whom were at the "reunion" seven years ago. One of the missing was Hernan Maalat, who was a cancer victim a couple of years ago. Of the old "Mad" gang, Louis Isasi has passed on during the interim. Miss you guys.
Most of the guys remembered Dylan from '03 and asked how he was doing. I passed on news of all. Thanks to Philip Garcia and Louie Zabaljauregui who hosted me/us at sumptuous meals.
In fact, about all we did was socialize and eat for four days. Lechon at the Hollero's. They are Is' sister, Maryanne's family. Traditional breakfast at Millie's. Great luncheon given by Lope & Maricor, Peking Duck, Blue Marlin, and several other Chinese delicacies at dinner given by Philip G. Last but surely not least was a dinner of traditional Spanish/Filipino food at Zabal's. Urrrp! I miss my bike.
Dinner bell just rung. See ya!
Most of the guys remembered Dylan from '03 and asked how he was doing. I passed on news of all. Thanks to Philip Garcia and Louie Zabaljauregui who hosted me/us at sumptuous meals.
In fact, about all we did was socialize and eat for four days. Lechon at the Hollero's. They are Is' sister, Maryanne's family. Traditional breakfast at Millie's. Great luncheon given by Lope & Maricor, Peking Duck, Blue Marlin, and several other Chinese delicacies at dinner given by Philip G. Last but surely not least was a dinner of traditional Spanish/Filipino food at Zabal's. Urrrp! I miss my bike.
Dinner bell just rung. See ya!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Feb 13 Ramble
Sure has been a while since the last Ramble. Cold, drizzly England and splitting fingers after just two days.
Etihad Air was a very pleasant airline to fly. Not overly long to Abu Dhabi where we spent a couple of hours in transit area which was just one big, overpriced duty-free mall. Can’t say as I expected anything else, and it’s not a fair descriptor of the country. Don’t expect that I’ll ever see more.
Manila has grown in every direction. 1964 and the last-lunch-before-flying-to-college memories I have seem so faraway. Hell, it’s only been forty-seven years. In 2003 I took Dylan to the Manila hotel, hoping that we could sit on the same terrace facing the bay and have a Tom Collins or G&T, as I did way back when, but it was not to be. The terrace was no more and the whole thing was being renovated. Anywayyy, after clearing Immigration and Customs…
We packed ourselves into Russ Woods’ Pajero and headed for his apartment in Pasig, where a very much welcomed San Miguel was presented to me. The next few days were spent going to various governmental agencies, from the Barangay (neighborhood) Headquarters, Pasig City Hall, Bureau of Foreign Affairs and to the U.S. embassy. The least pleasant and efficient was the latter. I arrived at 0730 for a 0745 appointment and watched as late-comers for 0730 appointments were called, processed and sent away; all this starting after 0830. The office I was to see closes at 1000, and I was finally called at 0930. Could the complaints to senators, congressmen and the head of DHS have slowed things down? Does the Black List contain my name? Is that why the black helicopters are seen over Pasig City so frequently of late?
After the requisite shopping, money-changing, shopping, relative-meeting, (did I mention shopping?) and restaurant-trying, we flew to Dumaguete on the 5th. Geneva welcomed us (me with the by-now-requisite
San Miguel) and fed us before we crashed for a “granny-nap”. While there’s no jet-lag incurred between Manila and Dgte., we were overcome by sleep-deprivation, run-arounditis and lack of meaningful exercise. I MISS MY BIKE!!!!
One of our main reasons for staying in Negros Oriental so long was to get an idea of what Valencia is like. We had hoped to find a rental near where Is wants to build and stay for the majority of the time. No such thing exists, or is easy to find (within our need parameters). We’re extremely fortunate that Geneva has, and offered, her spare room and hospitality. Her house is not that far from Tierra Alta, but is quite a bit lower, therefore not of the same micro-climate, but we can get a good idea of what to expect. We made a couple of trips to the site during mid-day and found it to be hot and blistering hot. Maybe we should check it out in early morning or night for a complete picture.
Siquijor was our next destination. It is an island to the east of Dgte, Southeast of Cebu, south of Bohol and north of Mindanao. We could see all of the other islands during our various circuits for sight-seeing. It’s quite an island, providing white sand beaches, mangrove swamps, diving reefs, foreign-owned luxury resorts, lookout peaks and a relatively quiet, slower-paced atmosphere. Geneva was responsible for our invitation to stay at a beach house owned by one of Dad’s (therefore my distant) cousins. She provided liaison and tutelage to the caretaker staff. We found, during our frequent visits to the markets, that the fish here are quite a different assortment than those around Dgte., even though you can see it across the straits. Frequent visits were necessary due to the threat of brown-outs, and the possibility that refrigerators would cease to do so. One resort served warm San Miguel, which I preferred to that served with ice.
Took a lot of interesting photos which I will try to upload via Geneva’s not-quite-so-fast internet connection. She operates on broadband, which has to be reloaded with a sort of pay-as-you-go card through some sort of wireless dongle. It’s pretty reliable and all beyond me.
Our return trip was one for the books. Let me start by describing the boat. It was an enclosed craft, sort of like an airplane fuselage grafted to an approximately 80’ diesel-powered hull. Seating is eight abreast separated by an aisle. Eight rows forward and below deck level, five amidships level with the deck-aft of the pilot house and eight more rows in the stern. There are large laminated glass windows lengthwise for all cabins, but none of them open (for good reason) and most are opaque or semi-transparent due to weathering, age and grime. There is one escape hatch in each of the fore and aft cabins and two amidships, into the upper cabin. The hatches are equipped with turnbuckle-sort-of latches, but are left open a crack for ventilation to supplement the questionable air conditioning. All luggage is carried into the cabins and held in one’s lap or stowed under seats, in the few vacant seats, in the aisles (?!?) or in front of the escape hatches-what the *@#$%&?!!!!!
Picture this: There are 60 passengers and one crew (hatch-opener) in the forward compartment. We are in row 6, five back from the hatch which has luggage piled around and in front of it. Something happens and everybody grabs their life vest and baggage then heads for the hatch. Soon it is piled high with writhing bodies and baggage trying to get out against the flow of incoming seawater. How about this? A fire erupts and everybody rushes to one side to escape it, and the boat capsizes while the hatches are still bolted, but ajar. These scenarios played in my mind like an in-flight movie on the trip over, thankfully across smooth seas.
The return trip was different. A cool breeze which had been welcomed on the Lazi side of the island was a stiff wind on the windward Siquijor side; driving up four-foot seas. We were fortunate to be in the aft cabin, in the next to the last row. The proximity of the hatch outweighed the spray breaking over our fantail and penetrating to the luggage piled in front of it. The first third of the trip was spent wallowing in a following sea and the rest was spent rolling and pitching through a quartering sea off the starboard bow. Two minutes away from the pier, the crew started handing out barf bags, several of which were used during the hour-long thrash across the Cebu Strait. Four seats away was an approximately three-year-old boy who started wailing hysterically and didn’t stop till we landed in Dumaguete. In the upper cabin was an American (I could tell by the accent) who was in irons and guarded by three Philippine National Police officers. He kept up a tirade of threats and belligerent trash-talk that would have caused me to break out the duct tape early in the trip. I admire the patience and professionalism the officers displayed. At first I thought he was drunk, but after listening for about 30 minutes I decided that he must have spent too much time in the sun. All through this, I breathed through my mouth to try and minimize the stench. I couldn’t wait to hit dry land pay homage to San Miguel.
Etihad Air was a very pleasant airline to fly. Not overly long to Abu Dhabi where we spent a couple of hours in transit area which was just one big, overpriced duty-free mall. Can’t say as I expected anything else, and it’s not a fair descriptor of the country. Don’t expect that I’ll ever see more.
Manila has grown in every direction. 1964 and the last-lunch-before-flying-to-college memories I have seem so faraway. Hell, it’s only been forty-seven years. In 2003 I took Dylan to the Manila hotel, hoping that we could sit on the same terrace facing the bay and have a Tom Collins or G&T, as I did way back when, but it was not to be. The terrace was no more and the whole thing was being renovated. Anywayyy, after clearing Immigration and Customs…
We packed ourselves into Russ Woods’ Pajero and headed for his apartment in Pasig, where a very much welcomed San Miguel was presented to me. The next few days were spent going to various governmental agencies, from the Barangay (neighborhood) Headquarters, Pasig City Hall, Bureau of Foreign Affairs and to the U.S. embassy. The least pleasant and efficient was the latter. I arrived at 0730 for a 0745 appointment and watched as late-comers for 0730 appointments were called, processed and sent away; all this starting after 0830. The office I was to see closes at 1000, and I was finally called at 0930. Could the complaints to senators, congressmen and the head of DHS have slowed things down? Does the Black List contain my name? Is that why the black helicopters are seen over Pasig City so frequently of late?
After the requisite shopping, money-changing, shopping, relative-meeting, (did I mention shopping?) and restaurant-trying, we flew to Dumaguete on the 5th. Geneva welcomed us (me with the by-now-requisite
San Miguel) and fed us before we crashed for a “granny-nap”. While there’s no jet-lag incurred between Manila and Dgte., we were overcome by sleep-deprivation, run-arounditis and lack of meaningful exercise. I MISS MY BIKE!!!!
One of our main reasons for staying in Negros Oriental so long was to get an idea of what Valencia is like. We had hoped to find a rental near where Is wants to build and stay for the majority of the time. No such thing exists, or is easy to find (within our need parameters). We’re extremely fortunate that Geneva has, and offered, her spare room and hospitality. Her house is not that far from Tierra Alta, but is quite a bit lower, therefore not of the same micro-climate, but we can get a good idea of what to expect. We made a couple of trips to the site during mid-day and found it to be hot and blistering hot. Maybe we should check it out in early morning or night for a complete picture.
Siquijor was our next destination. It is an island to the east of Dgte, Southeast of Cebu, south of Bohol and north of Mindanao. We could see all of the other islands during our various circuits for sight-seeing. It’s quite an island, providing white sand beaches, mangrove swamps, diving reefs, foreign-owned luxury resorts, lookout peaks and a relatively quiet, slower-paced atmosphere. Geneva was responsible for our invitation to stay at a beach house owned by one of Dad’s (therefore my distant) cousins. She provided liaison and tutelage to the caretaker staff. We found, during our frequent visits to the markets, that the fish here are quite a different assortment than those around Dgte., even though you can see it across the straits. Frequent visits were necessary due to the threat of brown-outs, and the possibility that refrigerators would cease to do so. One resort served warm San Miguel, which I preferred to that served with ice.
Took a lot of interesting photos which I will try to upload via Geneva’s not-quite-so-fast internet connection. She operates on broadband, which has to be reloaded with a sort of pay-as-you-go card through some sort of wireless dongle. It’s pretty reliable and all beyond me.
Our return trip was one for the books. Let me start by describing the boat. It was an enclosed craft, sort of like an airplane fuselage grafted to an approximately 80’ diesel-powered hull. Seating is eight abreast separated by an aisle. Eight rows forward and below deck level, five amidships level with the deck-aft of the pilot house and eight more rows in the stern. There are large laminated glass windows lengthwise for all cabins, but none of them open (for good reason) and most are opaque or semi-transparent due to weathering, age and grime. There is one escape hatch in each of the fore and aft cabins and two amidships, into the upper cabin. The hatches are equipped with turnbuckle-sort-of latches, but are left open a crack for ventilation to supplement the questionable air conditioning. All luggage is carried into the cabins and held in one’s lap or stowed under seats, in the few vacant seats, in the aisles (?!?) or in front of the escape hatches-what the *@#$%&?!!!!!
Picture this: There are 60 passengers and one crew (hatch-opener) in the forward compartment. We are in row 6, five back from the hatch which has luggage piled around and in front of it. Something happens and everybody grabs their life vest and baggage then heads for the hatch. Soon it is piled high with writhing bodies and baggage trying to get out against the flow of incoming seawater. How about this? A fire erupts and everybody rushes to one side to escape it, and the boat capsizes while the hatches are still bolted, but ajar. These scenarios played in my mind like an in-flight movie on the trip over, thankfully across smooth seas.
The return trip was different. A cool breeze which had been welcomed on the Lazi side of the island was a stiff wind on the windward Siquijor side; driving up four-foot seas. We were fortunate to be in the aft cabin, in the next to the last row. The proximity of the hatch outweighed the spray breaking over our fantail and penetrating to the luggage piled in front of it. The first third of the trip was spent wallowing in a following sea and the rest was spent rolling and pitching through a quartering sea off the starboard bow. Two minutes away from the pier, the crew started handing out barf bags, several of which were used during the hour-long thrash across the Cebu Strait. Four seats away was an approximately three-year-old boy who started wailing hysterically and didn’t stop till we landed in Dumaguete. In the upper cabin was an American (I could tell by the accent) who was in irons and guarded by three Philippine National Police officers. He kept up a tirade of threats and belligerent trash-talk that would have caused me to break out the duct tape early in the trip. I admire the patience and professionalism the officers displayed. At first I thought he was drunk, but after listening for about 30 minutes I decided that he must have spent too much time in the sun. All through this, I breathed through my mouth to try and minimize the stench. I couldn’t wait to hit dry land pay homage to San Miguel.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Manila, 01 Feb. 2011
The enemy shelling started early this morning, just as we were waking and making our coffee. The first salvo took out the latrine and three guys who wanted to get in before the sun heated it up. I just put my poncho over my head hoping to shut out the light and some of the noise-just another day in the seige of Manila...
...then I realized it was the sound of garbage cans-it's collection day, so I jumped up to start another day in Pasig City, Feb. 2011. I did a hand wash. It's unadvisable to send wool (from the flight over) and technical fabrics to the laundry-I have no use for doll's clothes. Had breakfast of papaya and a cupcake-like concoction of rice flour, sugar and lye(!) that I've eaten in the past under a name I can't remember; just like the current name which I , likewise, can't remember. It has the consistency of stiff jello and has a faint, sweet taste that leaves you waiting for the flavour-burst. It doesn't appear. Final treat was some cousin of Alupi' (cassava/coconut mixture steamed in banana or palm leaves). This version had Ube mixed in. The sweet potato-like root crop gave it another dimension. It was all good-strong coffee and a San Mig to top it off. It was almost noon, so I can
claim that it was really lunch. Another day in Manila is half gone...
...then I realized it was the sound of garbage cans-it's collection day, so I jumped up to start another day in Pasig City, Feb. 2011. I did a hand wash. It's unadvisable to send wool (from the flight over) and technical fabrics to the laundry-I have no use for doll's clothes. Had breakfast of papaya and a cupcake-like concoction of rice flour, sugar and lye(!) that I've eaten in the past under a name I can't remember; just like the current name which I , likewise, can't remember. It has the consistency of stiff jello and has a faint, sweet taste that leaves you waiting for the flavour-burst. It doesn't appear. Final treat was some cousin of Alupi' (cassava/coconut mixture steamed in banana or palm leaves). This version had Ube mixed in. The sweet potato-like root crop gave it another dimension. It was all good-strong coffee and a San Mig to top it off. It was almost noon, so I can
claim that it was really lunch. Another day in Manila is half gone...
Monday, January 24, 2011
24.01.2011 Ramble
Sitting here in the EasyHotel somewhere on the fringe of Heathrow listening to Jimmy Buffett singing The Great Filling Station Holdup and totally identifying with the line that goes; “….And I wish I was somewhere other than here…”. We are in an hotel room that makes “Spartan” sound luxurious.
I can only think of the tubes that one can rent in a Japanese airport for the purpose of sleeping off a long flight. No desk, table, chair, hangers (which is ok because there isn’t a closet), coffee pot, shampoo, bath mat or thermostat. Fer Chrissake, it’s winter and we’re in England!!! Had to ask for second set of towels, forgot to rent the remote for the TV, and think I’ll pass anyway. The bathroom is about the size of the one in my 23-foot camper, but without the bath tub. If the shower drain is as slow as the sink drain, we will have waste water flowing into the main room; but that won’t hurt the carpet-there isn’t any. One needs to drop the toilet cover prior to pushing the lever as it is very energetic and likes to give back.
But, it’s not all bad. We have a window facing the driveway and are entertained by incoming headlights doing a shadow show on the blind. We won’t want for fresh air as the window leaks. The rain beats a bluesy tattoo on the window panes and the jets flying overhead drown out the whistling wind. Every piece of luggage is within easy reach of our universal furniture, the settee/bed/desk/table. Internet access is cheap, £3.5 for 4 hours
It’s only a five minute walk through a dodgy neighborhood to the White Hart Pub. The smoked haddock, sautéed leeks in stilton sauce with new potatoes was good. The ale gave me a headache when the first gulp hit bottom, and tasted somewhat like Rickard’s Red-which I despise. That’s what happens when you choose your draft by the design of the tap handle. I was trying new things, anyway. The atmosphere was pleasant, quiet and restful until an Australian family reunion joined three tables next to us and settled in; making noises like a stoned digeridoo band.
We’re a long, long way from Algorfa, and miss it keenly. Drove to Alicante airport yesterday, turned in the rentacar and proceeded to kill four hours walking around the terminal and sitting in Burger King. I know, it’s Spain, dummy, and one doesn’t eat a Whopper for the last meal. It’s kind of reminiscent of my first meal in Alicante Province. We were taken to an English (what else) fish ‘n chips place by our resident friends. Like a brain surgeon, I ordered Southern Fried Chicken… ‘nuff said. Anyway, the flight to Gatwick was delayed, we arrived just before midnight and stood in queue for the immigration ordeal. Actually, I sailed through, not getting the third degree about the denied visa; as I had the last two landings. My line, the non-EU-passport line was shorter than Is’ so I got to cool my heels a while. Then we walked fourteen miles in the damp cold to the wrong bus stop and waited too long to find out that there was no shuttle to our hotel. Long walk back to the cab dispatcher and £17 later we debarked at the Holiday Express in God-knows-where.
Noon checkout, city bus (with all our luggage) back to Gatwick, Bus to Heathrow and shuttle to this place; ten minute walk to the local beer store and life is again good. Well…better. Tomorrow we ooze out of here at 1000, take shuttle back to Heathrow and walk around until our 2040 flight to Abu Dhabi. I’m thrilled. Two and a half hours later we fly toward Manila and whatever “adventures” await there.
I plan to buy a new SIM card there, so will be sending out a text with the new Philippine number. Don’t know how long before we get to Geneva’s at Bongbong, but will update you all when I can. Hasta la vista!
I can only think of the tubes that one can rent in a Japanese airport for the purpose of sleeping off a long flight. No desk, table, chair, hangers (which is ok because there isn’t a closet), coffee pot, shampoo, bath mat or thermostat. Fer Chrissake, it’s winter and we’re in England!!! Had to ask for second set of towels, forgot to rent the remote for the TV, and think I’ll pass anyway. The bathroom is about the size of the one in my 23-foot camper, but without the bath tub. If the shower drain is as slow as the sink drain, we will have waste water flowing into the main room; but that won’t hurt the carpet-there isn’t any. One needs to drop the toilet cover prior to pushing the lever as it is very energetic and likes to give back.
But, it’s not all bad. We have a window facing the driveway and are entertained by incoming headlights doing a shadow show on the blind. We won’t want for fresh air as the window leaks. The rain beats a bluesy tattoo on the window panes and the jets flying overhead drown out the whistling wind. Every piece of luggage is within easy reach of our universal furniture, the settee/bed/desk/table. Internet access is cheap, £3.5 for 4 hours
It’s only a five minute walk through a dodgy neighborhood to the White Hart Pub. The smoked haddock, sautéed leeks in stilton sauce with new potatoes was good. The ale gave me a headache when the first gulp hit bottom, and tasted somewhat like Rickard’s Red-which I despise. That’s what happens when you choose your draft by the design of the tap handle. I was trying new things, anyway. The atmosphere was pleasant, quiet and restful until an Australian family reunion joined three tables next to us and settled in; making noises like a stoned digeridoo band.
We’re a long, long way from Algorfa, and miss it keenly. Drove to Alicante airport yesterday, turned in the rentacar and proceeded to kill four hours walking around the terminal and sitting in Burger King. I know, it’s Spain, dummy, and one doesn’t eat a Whopper for the last meal. It’s kind of reminiscent of my first meal in Alicante Province. We were taken to an English (what else) fish ‘n chips place by our resident friends. Like a brain surgeon, I ordered Southern Fried Chicken… ‘nuff said. Anyway, the flight to Gatwick was delayed, we arrived just before midnight and stood in queue for the immigration ordeal. Actually, I sailed through, not getting the third degree about the denied visa; as I had the last two landings. My line, the non-EU-passport line was shorter than Is’ so I got to cool my heels a while. Then we walked fourteen miles in the damp cold to the wrong bus stop and waited too long to find out that there was no shuttle to our hotel. Long walk back to the cab dispatcher and £17 later we debarked at the Holiday Express in God-knows-where.
Noon checkout, city bus (with all our luggage) back to Gatwick, Bus to Heathrow and shuttle to this place; ten minute walk to the local beer store and life is again good. Well…better. Tomorrow we ooze out of here at 1000, take shuttle back to Heathrow and walk around until our 2040 flight to Abu Dhabi. I’m thrilled. Two and a half hours later we fly toward Manila and whatever “adventures” await there.
I plan to buy a new SIM card there, so will be sending out a text with the new Philippine number. Don’t know how long before we get to Geneva’s at Bongbong, but will update you all when I can. Hasta la vista!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
18 Jan 2011 Ramble
We're down to our last week here, dreading leaving, yet looking forward to visiting the Philippines. We'll be landing in Manila on the 26th, and will probably spend a couple of days recovering. Plan to buy sim cards for our phones, and may be able to hook up to internet, but don't hold your breath.
We may have to visit some embassies, maybe visit with various relatives, and then book flight to Dumaguete or Cebu, as the stars dictate.
Our last week here will be spent packing, cycling as much as possible, entertaining all the new friends we've made and driving around to various sights and sites we've missed in our all-too-brief stay. Next year will be longer, less hectic (I hope) and more restful. I'll have to think less about how much snow I would have shoveled back home.
Don't know when I'll next update. Hasta luego.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Cycle day in Algorfa
10 JanuarySunday’s big question was, “Do I watch cycling or do it?” It was race day in Algorfa, with our team competing among others with neighboring Almoradi. About fifty cyclists showed to run the race which starts right next to
Photos courtesy of Is, who watched it for me.
Did I describe my “mates”? The average age is probably about 60, with 83 being the oldest. He rides a fixie. For the uninitiated, a fixie is a single speed bike with a gear combination of your own choosing. There is no free-wheeling. When the rear wheel rotates, the cranks (and your feet) rotate. So, when you are going downhill, you essentially peddle like hell to keep your feet from being amputated. Going uphill is another story. One guy from
I asked one fellow if, in the summer, most guys used hydration packs. His answer in a thick Scottish brogue was, “Most people stay indoors.” I guess the group cycles mainly during the “cold” months. Today was, I’m told, typical. I started in full length bibs, long-sleeved undershirt, winter top and a screaming-yellow wind vest, thin full gloves and half-finger gloves on top of that. My Bell Metro helmet, was fine until about eleven, when the lack of ventilation almost made me take it off. At our noon stop I stripped down to a minimum, removing the undershirt and my zip-off sleeves. Couldn’t do anything about the helmet or the bibs, and was wringing wet when I got home.
We have less than two weeks left here, and are both reticent to depart-but the tickets are bought and I have to leave. Gotta work on the visa thing once I get back to Westbrook. On the 23rd we fly to Gatwick, overnight near there, take a train to Heathrow area the next day and fly off toward
A few comments on a wine we liked: Gran Viñedo de Hacendado, a red naturally, from the Tempranillo grape. No vintage, but it is “Vino de la tierra de Castillo” and bottled in Barrica de Roble. I guess that equates to Castillian vin du pays bottled in the winery of Roble. Anyway, it was very good, considering that it cost no more than €1.45, was light and well-balanced. I prefer a little more gout de terre, but can’t have everything.
I will certainly miss the food. A trip through Carrefour, a French-owned chain supermarket/department store is a major form of entertainment. Not only are there three aisles of wine, two of liquor and two of beer; you can find everything from frozen suckling pig (whole in shrink-wrap) to Ortega Taco kits. Allioli takes up about four feet of refrigerator counter with every variation I didn’t know existed. Besides the traditional, I like the parsley-flavoured version. Chorizos, sausages, cured meats-my arteries will never be the same! Lamb is not a curiosity-it is a regular feature. Serrano hams hang from racks like the carcasses Rocky used for sparring practice. Vegetables from every corner of the globe, and cheap!! The fresh seafood runs the gamut from anchovies to octopus, with shellfish galore. A week ago, we bought two very respectable rainbow trout from
Saturday, January 8, 2011
08.01.2011
Sitting in an internet bar/cafe, trying to connect with Brooke and Dre. British footie on the telly just over my head, so my headset and microphone allow marginal conversation. The beer is cold and good, though.
Tomorrow is race day in Algorfa. I'm torn between riding with the peloton I've hooked up with or watching the local clubs race. I have a couple of new tires and great jerseys from DylKris to try out, so I'll probably do a ride. Hoping that the puncture/blowout flats are all done for a while.
Latest post 08.01.2011
03.01.2011 Ramble
Rat-Bastard rides again, despite an ignominious start to the cycling year. Thinking that the First was Sunday, I showed up at Studz Bar in Benijofar for the club ride at 0945. Being the First and a Saturday, the ride wasn’t supposed to happen no matter how long I waited, So I peddled off toward Torrevieja and had my first flat of the year. Serves me right for doing a good deed. Having ridden past a large piece of glass in the cycle path on the way in, I tried to just kick it off the path on my way out. Never saw the one that got me. 20 miles in 60+ sunshine-I love it!
Sunday saw twelve of us start out to do about 75K from Studz to the
After a quick wash and change at home, we took off for
Today, I raised the seat-post as high as was safe on Is’ fat-tire city bike, donned a mask to prevent recognition (it has no top tube, a basket on the handlebars fenders a bell and flats) and peddled the 10 kliks to Ciudad Quesada where I bought the only 700x23C tire in stock. The tire was a basic skin for €15, about the right price, but the two tubes were the equivalent of $6.70 each. Outrageous!! I will be bringing a bunch of tubes over here next winter-does anybody want to get in on buying a case? We can order it when I get in back in April, so that we have plenty for the season. Perhaps the Team Captain can put out an e-mail…?
Anyway, New Year’s Eve was relatively quiet. I cooked a couple of Teriyaki steaks, had a €1.45 bottle of nondescript Jumilla red wine, labeled Castillo San Simon. Grape variety is Monastrell, no vintage year, but the bodega has been in business since 1890. I wonder why.
Back to the festivities. We walked down to the plaza around 2330, collected the packet of grapes which each person is given by the Ayuntieamento (town government). These are meant to be eaten-one at each stroke of the church bell-at midnight. Along with the grapes we were issued a paper hat, noise-makers, lei and plastic vampire fangs. I was a party-pooper and ignored the canines
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
03.01.2011 Ramble
03.01.2011 Ramble
Rat-Bastard rides again, despite an ignominious start to the cycling year. Thinking that the First was Sunday, I showed up at Studz Bar in Benijofar for the club ride at 0945. Being the First and a Saturday, the ride wasn’t supposed to happen no matter how long I waited, So I peddled off toward Torrevieja and had my first flat of the year. Serves me right for doing a good deed. Having ridden past a large piece of glass in the cycle path on the way in, I tried to just kick it off the path on my way out. Never saw the one that got me. 20 miles in 60+ sunshine-I love it!
Sunday saw twelve of us start out to do about 75K from Studz to the
After a quick wash and change at home, we took off for
Today, I raised the seat-post as high as was safe on Is’ fat-tire city bike, donned a mask to prevent recognition (it has no top tube, a basket on the handlebars fenders a bell and flats) and peddled the 10 kliks to Ciudad Quesada where I bought the only 700x23C tire in stock. The tire was a basic skin for €15, about the right price, but the two tubes were the equivalent of $6.70 each. Outrageous!! I will be bringing a bunch of tubes over here next winter-does anybody want to get in on buying a case? We can order it when I get in back in April, so that we have plenty for the season. Perhaps the Team Captain can put out an e-mail…?
Anyway, New Year’s Eve was relatively quiet. I cooked a couple of Teriyaki steaks, had a €1.45 bottle of nondescript Jumilla red wine, labeled Castillo San Simon. Grape variety is Monastrell, no vintage year, but the bodega has been in business since 1890. I wonder why.
Back to the festivities. We walked down to the plaza around 2330, collected the packet of grapes which each person is given by the Ayuntieamento (town government). These are meant to be eaten-one at each stroke of the church bell-at midnight. Along with the grapes we were issued a paper hat, noise-makers, lei and plastic vampire fangs. I was a party-pooper and ignored the canines
Photos will not be in proper spot. I composed a WORD document at home and inserted photos, but it wouldn't paste to this format. Anywayyy....
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