Silent Night (or Shut Up About How Your God Is Better Than Mine And Practice Peace)

                                           Silent Night

It was my job to do this year's Christmas cards and for all of November I wracked my brain to find something that didn't show a fat guy dressed in red or a reindeer with an alkie's nose or something dripping religious treacle.  Yeah, yeah, I know what Christmas celebrates, but given the state of the world and all the intolerance and hatred spawned by religion, I'm not in a particularly religion-friendly mood.

Anyway the card features a painting partly inspired by a midnight walk I took in my forest on Gelot (Ringdahl) Hill in New Sweden.  The air was bitterly cold, but still and every star was visible.  It was so bright in the woods that I could read by starlight.  The only sound I could hear was the snow compressing under my snowshoes, and my labored breathing.  Now that was peaceful. God was there-I know, because nothing else could have made a night so beautiful.

Peace to you all!

Overnight tour to Lorca

Last weekend seven of us took off in rather chilly and windy weather for the city of Lorca in the province of Murcia.  It was a relatively flat ride under blue skies, skirting the Sierra de Espuna and its accompanying range.

Lunch break in a sunlit square, out of the wind could only be improved upon by having a beer and a Murciano, or pastel de carne.  On the way back we stopped in Murcia at Zaher, a bakery/bar which I'm told was the originator of the meat-filled pastry.  The other six had never had the delicacy and were very pleased with it.

With time to kill before we could check in at the hotel, we explored the city center, climbing the hill to the castle and the cathedral which was damaged by the 2010 earthquake.  All around the area were many ancient buildings shored up with and reinforced by steel girders.  It's a beautiful area, nevertheless.

And then there was dinner with the accompanying delicious house wine.  We started with calamari, patatas brava, jamon serrano y juevos and gambas al ajillo and never made it to the main course; having filled up on lots of accompanying bread and at least eight bottles of red.  What a feast!

And then Petter realized we had to get on the bikes in a few hours.

And so we raced home on Sunday

11/11/13 Update

It's been almost a month since we got back to Algorfa, and it's been BUSY.  Two days after landing, we were off to Valencia to attend a competition by the three regional champion bands at the Palau des Artes Reina Sophia.  Our friend Roberto Teruel plays saxophone for the Albatera band who came out on

top in our province of Alicante.  The concert pitted the best bands from Castellon, Alicante and Valencia.  Our local band won, so the next step is the nationals in Madrid.  Anyway, we had a fun trip and got to listen to some great music in an iconic concert hall.  I can't decide whether it looks like a space ship or a fish.

 A couple of days after the concert we picked up the keys to the new house and started moving in.  This, after packing up, storing  and shipping a ton of stuff in Westbrook.
 So last Friday we're in the new place, having a housewarming for 24 guests and I'm sitting down for a break and  a bite when the doorbell rings.  It turns out that the shipment of stuff from Westbrook, which I'd been told would arrive on Monday, is here-all twenty two boxes and a table.  It's all unpacked, put away and we're into cleaning and shining up the old place so it can be photographed and put on the market next week. In the meantime, I've got to do my cycling, do some more paintings for the exhibition in April and get into some of the relaxation and chilling I've been bragging about.  More about that when it happens.  Saludos!

Farewell to Maine

This is a view from the deck at Howieland on Sebec Lake.  Some of you have been there, most probably wish they have.  Bones and I went up for what I expect will be my last hunting trip, as I've decided to close that chapter.  Many war stories were re-hashed, much beer processed and I took a few cholesterol bullets in the gut, courtesy of Simone's delicious sausage gravy over biscuits.  I've been trying to figure out how I can get it through the mail...

One shot, one kill and one barrel to clean.  It was delicious smothered in sour cream, toasted garlic and smoked paprika.

I can only think of one other spot in Maine where I've had more fun times and nicer views, but didn't have time to go there this trip.  That would be Flagstaff Lake, and I will return next year, or the year after.  Who knows?  There are big fish there.

After a brief visit and , as usual a fine meal with Doug and Rita in New Sweden, I spent the night in my tent on my land which went up for sale a couple of days later.  Kind of a nostalgic visit, as I love the place, especially the campsite I had the loggers leave untouched.  The rest of the land bears logging scars, but in the long run will be a healthier stand of woods and will support more wildlife.  After a cool night (I forgot to close the flap) and a mild rain, I bid adieu to all the memories and fine times and headed south.

I won't regale you with the details of the last week other than it entailed packing, shipping, lifting, cleaning and emptying the flat for the tenants who move in 1 Nov.  Bruce and Sylvia came over to lift a few one night and we were fortunate to still have a couch and a couple of chairs.  Adios, Westbrook.

The trip back to Algorfa was successful.  We didn't land in the Atlantic or Petrograd and only missed one connection, the last, in Murcia.  It afforded me the opportunity to re-acquaint myself with Spanish beer from the tap.  Vanessa and Richard met us at Callosa and chauffeured us home, while his "welcome home" slithered down my throat to re-acquaint me with canned Spanish beer.  Can't decide which is better, so I need to head for the cafe and investigate further.  It's good to be home, and resting for the next move-to the new home, but more on that later.

7 August and the nights are cool

Last weekend we went to New Hampshire to visit Dylan, Kristin and the granddaughters, Helena and Isla (the latest edition: 6 months).  It was warm enough for them to frolic in the pool, but I shied away from arctic temperatures and tried to stay out of Dylan's splashing range.

Helena doing the Madonna imitation                        Isla, caught in the act of attempted snacking

Two days to go before the MS ride.  I went out with Nick and cruised around the old Brunswick Naval Air Station for a couple of hours.  The old base was closed down a few years ago and is sort of depressing in its present state.  Back in "the day", it had P2Vs and P3Vs (anti-submarine patrol planes) flying around the clock, a full complement of support staff and the requisite Marine complement for security.  Progress....

 
Speaking of progress, here's a view from the cockpit of my latest ride.  Real comfy , slightly squirrely and lots of fun.  I picked it up last week through Bruce from Ernie's Cycle Shop.  One of his customers was selling it and I had just spoken with him about wanting one.  Anyway, I told him that my first trial ride was fun, but I felt tippy in it.  He told me that I'd be hard-pressed to tip it over and later told me that he'd almost bet me $50.00 that I couldn't do it.  Well, I did-not on purpose, but by not leaning right while doing a fast, tight turn.  Lost a little skin, had a laugh and now know enough to lean properly.

Today's ride was a real work-out, and I found the reason when I loaded the trike on my car.  The left disc brake was pinching the rotor.  Fixed it up and I'm planning on doing the 25-miler with the Team on Saturday.

Late July from Westbrook

I found a big bottle of wine that tastes as good as I can get at Mercadona, but at only five times the price.  Look at my smile.  Have settled in at the Westbrook digs, but we're dismantling it.  I've been photographing stuff that is going up for sale or auction, been giving books to the library, clothes and stuff to Goodwill, and jettisoning perfectly good stuff that I can't be bothered with to ship or try and sell.  I've tried to learn all the ins and outs of selling on eBay, but it all seems like such a pain.

Have yet to go up to New Sweden and see what's become of the land after logging.  The motorcycle is running and seems in as good a shape as previously, so all I need to do is load up and hit the road.  I was hoping that Derek was ready for another road trip, so we could travel together, but he's probably still recovering from the Montana trip.  The land is going up for sale-gotta pay the Spanish piper for the new house.  Any interest out there?  80 acres of old farmland for $60,000.  Get it while it's hot.

Derek with new low-speed helmet from Montana

Have finally gotten back on the bike, doing about 20 miles a day for the last three.  It feels odd being back on the large-framed Trek, but I do appreciate the triple ring and the aero bars.  The weather has been beastly hot until today.  I expect it will be cool when I head out tomorrow at 0715 to go for my annual physical.  I pride myself in being the only patient who arrives on a bicycle.  

Is, Bruce & Sylvia, returning from Fort Gorges

Bruce and Sylvia from Ernie's Cycle Shop invited us to go on the maiden voyage of their new Rangeley boat.  We toured Portland harbor and then stopped at Fort Gorges in the middle of the bay to grab a sandwich and explore the old fort.  It is quite a piece of engineering, history and granite.  It's ironic that by the time the fort was completed, armament design had surpassed the defensive capabilities designed into it.  Another example of good planning.

Off to bed now, without watching the final episodes of Fawlty Towers.  I wanted to see them all before I donate the VCR tapes to Goodwill.  NYPD Blue is next in the queue.  Hasta Pronto...

Rude Awakening

After a very hot 95 km. ride with the Amigos B group, shower, lunch and a siesta, I woke up startled to see an angel hovering over me.

After I recovered my composure and figured out that it wasn't the angel of death, I resolved to never again sit in the sun in the plaza and drink beer with Ian and Trevor.  

Just kidding.  This is actually a photo of a mosquito net that hovered over one of the beds in Las Pinas,  Philippines.  Have to admit, though, that it gave me quite a start the first time I awoke to see it.

Our short visit home is about to end.  We leave Monday, taking the Altaria to Madrid where we'll spend the night near Plaza Sol.  I want to find another great restaurant, then get some rest before the noon flight to Boston.  Things will be hectic as soon as we hit the ground, but I'll fill you in on that later, as things will surely change.

House purchase negotiations and arrangements here are almost complete, and as soon as we return in October (maybe sooner?) we'll be moving to the new digs.   Next post will probably be from the other side of the pond.  Hasta pronto.

Dancing With Death in Manila Taxicabs

The grinding howl from underneath the cab brought a grinning apology from the cabbie, "Sorry. Sir, no brakes." as he worked the gearshift to slow and swerved left; just missing a large truck by an inch or so.  On entering the back seat I had noted the shattered remains of his right-side mirror and realized that it was the first I had seen in over twenty rides we've taken since we returned.  It was certainly not the first near miss, and will surely not be the last.  We have five more days here and I don't plan to spend them indoors.
The photo was taken to try and illustrate rush hour in a monsoon downpour.  Traffic is bumper-to-bumper, speed ranging from almost reverse to fer-chrissake-slow-it-down fast.  Hanging off the back of the jeepney directly in front are the conductor and a hapless passenger who wants to get home no matter how wet he gets.  He could be wet a long time.  Our ride from the airport to Pasig took two hours for a trip of about 25 KM-longer than our flight from Dumaguete to Manila.  Anyway, the rides are always entertaining; if you enjoyed the car chase in The French Connection.  More likely than not, the seat belts are missing or buried under a seat cover.  Apparently they aren't required, but that must be for passengers, as I've noted 50/50 use by drivers.  Mandatory equipment is the rosary hanging from the mirror.  Sometimes there are several hung in various parts of the cab.  Could they be at expected impact points?  Usually there is a plastic Jesus and/or a bobblehead on the dash in front of the driver; perhaps functioning as a rudimentary aiming device. 
Cabbies run the gamut from the wannabe tour guide to the taciturn technician.  They have all been honest, though not necessarily knowlegable of Manila's micro-geography.  Traffic law compliant?  I'll remain silent on that, but will state that they are all excellent accident-avoiders.  A discussion of drivers' philosophy here would keep me up all night, but let me paraphrase it: " I can get to that space first, whether it is rightfully mine, and besides, my cab is worth less than your car or I have a bigger knife hiding behind my bigger balls."  I wish them all a safe trip home.

Bacolod to Dumaguete and points north

16 June, somewhere south of Manila.  Staying with Is' brother Charles and his wife Joy.  They are all off getting massages-a Fathers' Day treat.  I'm staying home because my body is a temple and I'm pretty selective about to whom I allow access. 

Had a good stay in Bacolod, and got to see a bunch of friends and classmates.  As usual, ate too much.  Checked out the new "Arts District" which was fairly close to where we stayed.  A couple of nice galleries there and we connected Therese Hinojales, artist and atelier owner.  We discussed our various techniques, materials and favorite artists; exchanging email addresses and websites.  At another gallery Is asked whether they had any works by Rafael Paderna, one of her long-ago instructors who originated on Negros.  Turned out that he has his own gallery in Bacolod (we had last heard that he was in California), and after a phone call we had a date to visit him the next day.  That was the highlight of our entire stay, so far. 

Paeng, as he's called, lives in a beautiful house/gallery/studio he designed and partially built himself.  We spent over an hour with him and his wife viewing his works, old and new, as well as his latest passion-sculpture in cast and welded metals.  Beside his own work he had many works by former students and current popular artists.  Below is a quick shot of his "Birdman" which won top national prize in a contest wherein the winner was to have his work recreated or placed in a Manila park.  It never happened and he learned through the grapevine that it was because he was from the provinces and not a big Manila name.  Effing politics.

And then we were off to Dumaguete, and visits with Geneva, Ave (Is' neice) and the Valencia town office where she paid the staggering sum of PHP 600 as taxes on her land.  The photo below, right is a shot of the club pool at the development where her lots are.

The other photo is a street scene shot in Malibay, one of the less glamorous neighborhoods of Metro Manila. A scene from the opposite end of the spectrum.  Of course, they are not the extremities, but pretty close. 

Catching up from Bacolod

Last week was my first taste of Korean food.  I've avoided it since the 60's when I had a Korean roommate at the University of Hawaii.  Whenever Sam would open his jar of kimchee, 4/5ths of us would leave the room.  Fan, who was Chinese, was too polite to leave....or was he secretly gorging on the questionable stuff.  Anyway we hosted all the clan that could be gathered on short notice at HoGalbi, a very nice restaurant that sits in place of the one where we had our reception two years ago.  The food was delicious.  Joining us were Anthony and Lope Consing, (seated are) Chico Locsin, Maurice Locsin and Tito Hector Hofilena.

Our last night in Manila we tried a (hand-pulled) noodle shop we'd walked past almost daily.  We'd shied away due to Is' wheat allergy, but decided that she could look for rice noodles or just plain rice.  The food was amazing!  Can't remember the name or the style of cooking, but it was picante, though not as intense as Szechuan.  More details to follow, if I can get back there on our return to Manila.

Here's the security specialist doing the pre-flight manifest check.  He's just finished shaking down the woman on the left; looking for guns hidden in her hairdo.  Pilot in background, inhaling some sort of powder.  Maybe he had a cold.

Then there was the flight down to the provinces.  We decided to hedge our bets and leave for the airport early, so as to beat the rush hour.  We over-estimated and were able to check in with one and a half hours to kill before our noon flight.  THEN, they announced a two and a half hour delay.  We sat in the departure lounge for four hours dozing and people-watching.  I was amazed.  Lunch was two steamed red hot-dogs on buns that tasted like the real things.  Only thing missing from my favorite road-trip meal was the relish, the half-pint of milk and the salt and vinegar chips.  I made up for that with a San Miguel; all for the equivalent of $4.57.  Hell, in an American or European (forget France) airport you couldn't even look at a beer for less than $8.00.

In Bacolod, now, to catch up with classmates and Millie K. and check out the visual art scene.  Taking advantage of |Is' hair appointment to do internet stuff.  'Later

Becoming a mall rat

Suman.  This one's for you, Nick

Tuesday we went to a huge 5 storey mall to get some business cards printed and wound up ordering several T-shirts decorated with some of our paintings, as well. We were told to come back in an hour, so we decided to give them two and had lunch.  Upon our return, we learned that theshop had only had two sheets of transfer film and that their regular supplier was out of stock as well.  Bukas is manana so we wandered around looking for an evening bag to go with Is' gown.  5 hours down, no joy.

Wednesday we found that the shirts were done, approved the set-up on the cards (six different versions) and were told that they'd be done by 1600 on Thursday.  Bueno, as Is had a fitting at 1400 relatively near the mall.  Continuation of bag-search with added task of finding AO Sept solution for my contact lenses.  Another 6 hours gone and all I found was that Pollo Loco is nothing like that  which Joe fed me in L.A.  I did get to experience rush hour in Manila, since we queued up for a cab at about 1730.  After at least 45 minutes in line, we were spit out into inchworm-paced traffic for an half hour trip that usually takes fifteen minutes.  That proved to me that Monday's two hour ride from the vicinity of the US Embassy to Russ' house, a distance of no more than 15 km. was not an anomaly.

True to our luck, the seamstress never showed and we wasted half an hour waiting; only to be told that she would come to our place tonight at whatever time.  That screws up Thursday evening.  The cards weren't ready both times we checked...

BUT, we had the good fortune to reach the fourth floor where the art galleries lurk.  We spent two hours killing time visiting most of them and viewing some really interesting pieces.  We were warmly welcomed at ART CIRCLE by it's proprietor Allan Caspe who, upon learning that we are painters, was most helpful with our queries about authentication, pricing and the art scene in general.  He gave us an exposition brochure in which we located Rafael Paderna, one of Is' former art teachers who now has a studio/gallery in Bacolod.

Finally, here's a photo of a really interesting scuplture by Ral Arrogante, called Horseman Figure:

Sweltering in Manila, 6 June, 2013

No marvelous color photos with which to grace this post-it's too damn' hot and muggy to carry a camera.  The ever-present cloudbursts are of no concern, as I have my underwater camera, but it's just another thing to weigh down the clothes and make them stick to the skin. So far, I've re-hydrated with a case of San Miguel numerous bottles of water and half a litre of tequila to kill anything in the water.  I'm beginning to feel like a carachter in a Michener novel; bouncing from sweltering bar to almost-air-conditioned bar in the eternal pursuit of something to kill or ward off tropical parasites.  The only thing I look forward to other than de-planing at Madrid is the cold shower at the end of each day.  I've been here a week, and there's twenty days to go.

Don't be surprised if I pull a double-Van Gogh and cut off both my ears.  If you've been following this blog, you'll remember my 2011 rant about the incessant noise here in Manila. I can't say that it's gotten worse, but it isn't any better.  Anyway, we fly to Negros for a week, starting the 7th, then rush back for second fittings of her gown and my suit.  Had to go to a tailor, as all I could find on the racks here were dark woolens, shiny sharkstooth or piped "guido" suits that look as though they should be worn by a cross between Elvis Presley (on drugs) and a Times Square pimp.  So I ordered a conservative, light linen suit which will probably turn out looking like something Don Johnson would have worn on Miami Vice.  I think his tailor was a pimp.

Looking forward to going home to Spain.

Mid-May in Spain

No, this photo is not of Spain, nor was it taken in mid May.  It was actually cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey and was taken on Prince Edward Island, Canada.  Not having any recent photos, I decided to fake a pass.
We've been house-hunting for the past couple of weeks; staying up cruising realtors' websites until the wee hours, and driving all over the province viewing possibilities.  We've covered grand intown apartments to wretched four-bedroom flats, to overpriced villas and long-neglected town-houses in "urbanizaciones" that remind one of ghost towns.  I would have jumped into a typical Spanish town-house, but Is didn't want a place with the sidewalk right under the front door.  She liked some houses in urbs that were accessible only by car and had no amenities nearby other than a Brit. bar and a dying corner store.  We finally found a nice town-house right in the village so the process is started.
I'm 80% packed for the trip to the PI.  That happens in eleven days-Oh joy!  Another month off the bicycle-just as I was getting back into shape after the year I spent in England last month.
Pardon my whining, but you can't blame me.  I'll be leaving warm, dry, great cycling on safe roads for wet, humid pandemonium in cycle-impossible Manila.  The leisurly afternoon paseos with "Hola, buenas tardes." as a greeting will be traded for hectic dashes through the jostling crowds of Manila and the blaring of horns.  One bit of silver lining will be the return to the home of GOOD San Miguel Pale Pilsen-elixer of the gods.
Hasta whenever....

House-hunting Begins

Busy day today.  The shipment of fourteen boxes from Is' house in England was supposed to arrive at 1400. Then the shipper called and asked if it could arrive at 1600.  We said OK and rescheduled an appointment to view a house.  That was for 1700 then the shipper called back and said that it would be much later than 1600, blah, blah,blah.  We stood our ground , got the shipment at 1600 and went to see the house as scheduled.
All the time we were cooling our heels, I was on the phone to the third and fourth then third Travelocity agent trying to rectify a flight reschedule caused by a British Airways flight cancellation.  By the time the hassle was done, I had spent easily an hour and a half on the phone to those four agents, been disconnected twice and run around several bushes.  The bottom line is that our flight to Boston was delayed by thirty minutes and our flight back to Madrid was advanced by twenty-two hours.  All this was accomplished at no cost with the help of a very competent agent named Hazel who had a Philippine accent.
Back to the house-hunting.  We looked at a great house (a bank repo) in Formentera, a nice town about 4 km. away.  Right in town, three bedrooms, garage, lots of space and very little wrong with it...EXCEPT an awful stench of sewer gas (methane) leaking in through the garage floor drain.  If it weren't for the odor, we'd jump on it, but we have to hold and do some research on methane abation, drain re-construction or odor-eating plants.

Scapa, Tomintoul, Oban, Aberlour,Ardbeg, Strathisla and Singleton

One might think I am planning a road trip through Scotland, but these names are part of tonight's project.  They are the remnants of Russel's whiskey collection, which must be properly laid to rest before we all vacate early Saturday.  Ten mostly-consumed bottles sit on the table begging to regale us with visions of foggy crags, soggy bogs and sagging Haggis.  Well, forget the latter.
Among the collection are a couple of odd ducks; the Irish Tullamore Dew and some seven-year-old rum direct from Cuba.  Maybe I'll have a taste and raise a glass to the gorgeous, green-eyed Cuban blonde, who added spice to my time at the University of Hawaii where my "moveable feast" began.  
Back to Spain soon, for the next chapter.

Departure Imminent

We've our tickets outta here, and the cherry tree has produced a fine crop of blossoms.  They will do a lot to  brighten up the view of the garden, but probably have been rained off by next Saturday. We'll miss the greenery but it will be good to be back on the Costa Blanca.  No lawns to mow there.

Day 10 in Bedfordshire

Yesterday was a sparkling day, today not so, but at least it's dry enough to hang out another wash.  The house has been viewed several times, and there is one viable offer.  Every time a viewing is scheduled, I pack up the painting gear and wander around behind stray animals in the yard until the prospective buyers disappear.  Then I unpack my shoebox and go back to whatever painting.  I guess it's better than watching paint dry.  Haven't started anything big or even serious, but have done several experimental pieces or studies with which I'm pleased.  Am watching a lot of artists' demos on YouTube, and have been spurred to try some really different stuff.  Unfortunately my studio (space) is in Westbrook and a lot of materials are in Algorfa.  Someday I hope to have everything in one place.
It's beginning to look as though we may fly out on the 20th.  Hallelujah!

Antidote to British Weather

Having missed my last chance to ride with my Amigos because of an appointment with my Spanish tax accountant; I decided to reward myself with a ride around the Embalse de Pedrera.  It was a beautiful sight and I drank it in, storing up sunshine in anticipation of snow, fog, drizzle and sub-freezing weather-all of which we're told await us in England.  Temperature was around 23C and I got my second light sunburn of the year.
Iave  looked up gyms in Luton and found one that has six spinners that provide "virtual cycling".  You know, the computer & tv equipped excuses for a bicycle that show you a film and program resistance to match the terrain on the program selected.  GBP16/month sounds alright-if the machines aren't booked up solid except for zero-dark-thirty.
Today's lunch was an overdose of foods I'll sorely miss:  Toasted slices of pan de pueblo, rubbed with raw garlic, topped with grilled tomatoes, toasted garlic, basil, chorizo Iberico and cheese, drizzled with olive oil and served with semi-bitter purple and green olives which had been prepared in a brine containing bay leaf, thyme and rosemary.  Had to have ice-cold pilsner and not tinto as it was lunch and I didn't want my siesta to last too long.  Get thee begone, bangers, mashed and mushy peas!

Packing winter gear

Today, while Is was at her Spanish class, I sat outdoors at Cafeteria Badulake on the plaza in Algorfa; talking painting, politics and all sorts of stuff with Johannes.  His wife Susanne is one of Is' classmates and Johannes and I meet to have coffee and wait for them.  The sun was blazing, and there was a cool breeze to counteract, so it was very pleasant; especially since Johannes had picked the upwind table and we were free from the emissions from the cancer ward.  I know, there's nothing worse than a reformed smoker.

So, anyway, back to the winter gear...As spring washes oveer the Costa Blanca, we are heading for  Luton, England to prepare her house for sale.  I just checked the weather there and was dismayed to see that the temperature is -1C, and the wind is at 24 km/hr.  Who cares from where it's coming?  It's still bloody cold.  I brought no boots to Spain, the worthiest shoes I have are a pair of Canadian brogues, but they won't keep out any significant snow-It's expected, I'm told.  My suitcase contains an eclectic mixture; wool sweater and socks, cycling jerseys, water-sports shoes, windproof vest, tropical-weight travelling shirt, bottle of Tequila, two kilos of garlic-ed peanuts and a large chorizo.  I'll be damned if I'll do without the necessities of life.

I hope to be back here in about three weeks.  Hate the thought of wasting away in the fog, rain and snow...I've gotten used to sunshine.  Better go pack some lemons to go with the Tequila. Next post will probably be from the east side of the big pond.
"Talogo", which is the local slang for "Hasta luego".

GregLocsin'sArt is up and under construction

I'm still in the throes of developing the site, so any constructive suggestions would be appreciated.  Bear in mind that my background in  web-stuff is so basic that I just learned what an URL is, though I can't tell you what it means.
Check it out at http://greglocsinart.blogspot.com.es/

greglocsinart.com

Mid-March in Costa Blanca has been cold and windy with a few days of moderate rain.  That's kept us indoors painting and working on cataloging our work.   Many were the nights I stumbled off to bed bleary-eyed and talking to myself.  Cycling took a back seat due to cold, wind and wet.  Ultimately, I decided that I'm too old to be breaking bones, or catching pneumonia on a bike.
We've started the process of setting up a joint exhibition and are waiting for confirmation and a date.  It looks like November will be the earliest, but that's a good thing since we'll be returning to Spain in mid-October.  Corollary to this project, I have been wrestling with the idea of building a website or starting another blog with which to display my artwork.  The first step was to buy a domain name to use in the event that a website is the final outcome.

Now to sift through and try to decipher all the website-building blather then weigh the expense and bother versus the potential gain.

Madrid & Toledo in February

On the 4th we took the train to Madrid, experiencing our first near miss in connections.  The local train out of Callosa was ten minutes late, and we had only twelve minutes between scheduled times to catch the Madrid train in Murcia.  We had barely sat down when the doors closed and we were off.  

Madrid was quite a bit older, but the weather was excellent.  It rained one night, but that just cleaned the streets.  We had lunch with Cely at El Lacon, one of our favorite watering/feeding spots, then set off to find a supermarket and pick up provisions.

Tuesday, we went to the US embassy to apply for my new passport (which arrived today, much to my surprise)and were out of there five minutes before my scheduled appointment time.  A first!!!!
Since we had lots of time, we went to the Joaquin Sorolla museum which was four blocks away.  Is was enraptured; Sorolla being her favourite artist.  We made the mandatory pilgrimage to the gift shop, leaving behind many light banknotes in exchange for heavy books.  

After a cheap bus tour to the north caused by taking the right-numbered bus on the wrong side of the street, we wound up at the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum to catch a temporary exhibit of expressionist plein-aire paintings, and then ran through the permanent exhibitions, trying to see all before they closed at 1900. We failed, but did get to the gift shop to pick up more heavy books, including an out-of-print catalogue from the 2012 collaboration between the French National museum and Thyssen showing an exhaustive collection of Hopper's work.  More heavy books added to our rucksacks.

Cancelled our planned trip to El Escorial the next day to rest and just chill out preperatory to our day trip to Toledo.  I figured that it had been there for hundreds of years and should stand for a couple more.

Toledo was great.  Other than the fact that there seems to be a souvenir shop every 75 feet or so, it was beautiful.  We managed to get a tour of a jewelry factory and watch the artisans working their metal skills on fine filigreed trinkets.
Next stop was a museum depicting the Sephardic life in old Toledo.

Then it was off to a mediocre lunch in an attractive restaurant-Cely's usual spot being closed.  After that there was the El Greco Museum, and then a long wander to see what there was to see.

Finally, around 1900 we dragged ourselves onto the train and returned to Madrid to pack for Friday's return.  My final souvenir was a bad cold caused by inhaling second-hand smoke and getting a sore throat.  Same thing happened in Barcelona and London.  Maybe they should sequester smokers in a glass booth similar to the one planted in the center of the Taipei airport, instead of polluting the outdoors.

February update

Lots of interesting events happening this time of year.  We had the pigeon races a couple of weeks ago.  Last week we had cold, fierce winds that blew roofing tiles off and sent them crashing into the courtyard; scattering shards like shrapnel.  The blow kept me off the bike for five days.

Then a warm spell which brought the almond blossoms out early.  The cycle group did another foray over the mountains and into the Hondon Valley in which some orchard areas appeared snow-covered.  Back over the mountains again into the Vega Baja and homeward.  When I got near home, I decided to go an extra thirty kliks to log 161 and complete my (imperial) century for the year.  That leaves the Whaleback as the only cycling "must" this year.

Is and I cycled to Formentera on the Segura River trail yesterday; marveling at the fact that it was the first of February, and we were sweating in our shirtsleeves cycling in bright sunshine.  Pardon me while I crow about the weather.

Today was cool and windy again, but we hit the Orihuela medieval market again, this time with David and Margaret.  A great time, weather notwithstanding.  We gave paella a miss and hit the "massive bread" counter.  Dave and I had foot-long slices, an inch thick, topped with Morcillo (black sausage) and chorizo Criollo, respectively.  The ladies settled for monster slices of pizza.  A bottle of Jumilla crianza washed it all down well.  I couldn't finish mine, and brought one chorizo home wrapped in a third of the bread.

Next year we might have to have half a suckling piglet, or a rack or ribs or any of the countless other temptations that assaulted our nostrils as we wandered for hours.

Monday, we jump on a train and head off for Madrid to start the passport renewal process.  We'll take in the Thyssen Museum, do a couple of day trips to Toledo and El Escorial then return Friday.  "'talogo" (the Vega Baja way of saying, "Hasta luego")

Flocking Pigeons

Hemingway may have run with the bulls in Pamplona, but he has nothing on me.  I flocked with the pigeons in Formentera.  After a fine lunch and the mandatory vino tinto at Rebate Restaurant, we hurried to Dave and Margaret's home in Formentera on the banks of the Rio Segura to observe the annual pigeon (mating) race.  Our vantage point was the fourth floor roof of their building and it soon turned into the front line of the battle. 

 A brief synopsis:  A fertile female is presented to a host of anxious males, and the race is on.  The males had been painted with vegetable dye, in the pattern and colors of their respective owners, but the female is left in her natural colors.  After wheeling and soaring, the female will eventually select her beau from the constantly competing males and then they will settle in somewhere and start cooing and billing, among other activities.   It is then that the event judge must identify the successful male and announce the winner to the crowd.  The proud owner then collects unbelievable amounts of money.  I've been told that the prize is often in the tens of thousands of Euros.

Before that happened, we were surprised to have the flock of males settle onto the roof with us and start their pecking, puffing up and jostling among themselves in order to eliminate competitors and put on the best show for the lucky damsel.  We found ourselves fluttered upon, stepped and landed on and herded from corner to railing by aggressive and human-contemptuous males sporting  all colors of the rainbow.

As dusk settled, we were hailed by the judge down on the street.  Apparently the reluctant lady had hidden in a tree and the contest was being called off till the coming Wednesday.  We were asked to shoo/launch/or otherwise evict the male horde which was more interested in procreating than it was scared of us.  The things you are called upon to do when you don't have a shotgun!