Home Again, Home Again...

Just looked at my photos and thought, hmmm, which one shall I post that will best sum up my trip? As if one photo could do that -- but the possibilities are: Egg yolk custard, possibly the richest dessert I've ever eaten... The Alhambra at sunset... Penitentes entering a church after a procession... A memorable cheese and wine interlude... Drifts of poppies... The sparkling clear sea... The public market in Almeria... Or the mountain of red garlic inside... I think I need to set up a Flickr account and post them all -- but I have to learn how to do that...

Odd how, after returning from the Yucatan, my dreams are filled with green and flowers and smiling brown-skin people -- but now, after Spain, I'm dreaming of mountains and stone walls and steep stairways. But I went into the Mediterranean! Yes, it was literally freezing-ass cold but we flailed around in it for awhile... and it wasn't like the Aegean where you get used to the cold and can relax into it. No it wasn't.

So I went to the beach. And there were flowers everywhere we wandered -- not just at the beach but in the mountains and the towns and cities. And the light was fantastic, the clouds always changing. Why am I not dreaming of these things? Because stone dominated -- massive stone buildings, cobblestone streets, craggy stone mountains, stone stairways. I love stones. I pick them up wherever I go. I brought a backpack full of them home from Turkey 40 years ago and I still have every one of them despite the number of times I've moved. But I don't love these dreams.

I look at my photos and am awed by where I've been, what I've seen. And the photos that got away are just as vivid -- the glossy black and white magpies in the field of yellow-orange button flowers interupted with emerald green, set off by the almost cobalt blue sky... There are a number of those planted firmly in memory. It's all planted firmly in memory and I'm grateful for every moment of it.

View from a Hilltop -- or Two -- or...

To be in this part of Spain is to climb hills whether in car or on foot. Yesterday I thought: I feel like the mountain goat, compelled to scamper to the highest point -- not by my nature, though, but by my daughter. And whether in car or on foot, the nature of this sort of travel (guide book writing) involves a vast number of U-turns... or 10-point K-turns. The latter are executed in the car in streets too small for sensible vehicular traffic and involves me folding the side mirror in alot to help facilitate these K-turns.

But we turned the car in (only somewhat the worse for wear) back in Almeria on the coast and took the train to Granada where we are now either seen climbing a steep hill on foot or descending one and the cruelest words I can hear after many hours of this is Oh, sorry, we have to turn around and go back up that (particularly steep) hill... Wanna guess what I mean by "many"? One day we actually kept track and we were on our feet 10 hours... Mostly walking briskly though we do pause to press ourselves against walls so cars can get past -- and oh yes, we do pause for refreshment though usually at tapas bars where we stand also... And breakfast is usually a stand-up event too...

And, lo! A procession is proceding by at our corner as I write! Drums and brass and woodwinds, 100 strong... I'm actually going to miss this when -- or if -- it ever stops... We thought last night would be the end of it -- but, no. Our Easter is punctuated with these musical interludes -- and I'm sure one of the giant statues is being carried by, too -- but for me it's all about the music...

We had Easter Brunch with a lovely family from Alaska -- friends of a friend of Zora's... Crepes and quiche and fruit and bread, every bite perfectly delicious -- a homecooked meal Now Zora's having a rest and I've got unlimited E-mail time -- hooo hooo! But she's written about all our adventures in great detail so I refer you to her blog, linked to mine: rovinggastronome...

There are so many moments, so many impressions to share that my mind screeches to a halt when I try to choose. But the snow-covered Sierra Nevada Mtns looming behind the Alhambra, the nearer mtns turning rosy like the Sandias at sunset, the lilacs and roses and wisteria blooming even as snow is predicted. The song of the robins (which are all black here -- the bird not its song) and the little owl that evenly as a metronome sounded all night long at one of our mountain stops. The arab baths, candle lit and mysterious if a bit sketchy. The silk market's winding narrow streets with stalls of bright fabrics and moroccan goods. Hearing Moroccan Arabic being spoken and being seized by a deep nostalgia for my time in Maroc -- or is it nostalgia for my youth? Clouds of frankincense that accompany the processions. The countless cafes and the conviviality of the people.

And now I think I'll go and have a bit of a rest, too -- read a bit. I brought the perfect book with me -- Possession by A.S.Byatt... It's long and rich and poetic and complex and I never want it to end. Yesterday I expressed regret to Z that I only have 200 pages left. No matter what time we get to bed, even if it's closer to morning than midnight, I read for awhile.

So -- I brought the perfect book and also packed the perfect clothes. Nothing superfluous. I'm comfortable -- even with no heat in many of the places we stay (including this apt), even in all this cold. Even walking up hill and down the endless hills in the occasional rain squall. It's all good.

Just Thought of Something Else

One night we were in a tapas bar and the telly was on and there was Obama. We couldn´t hear what he was saying because the flamenco music was so loud but he was so earnest and serious and then he smiled and both Zora and I started to cry. Such a relief to have a President we can be proud of and care about.

The Sensory Excursion

Yikes... that was a long time to wait for internet access! Just not all that available in the places we´ve been -- which mainly consisted of small towns hanging off the sides of mountains accessed by narrow mountain roads described in one guide as ´¨slithering¨ along the sides of mountains... Tell me, would you want to drive on a road described as slithering? Yeah, me neither and I was in constant danger of swallowing my lips each time I sucked my breath in as we rounded a hairpin turn. But that´s a thing of the past. Now it´s: hey, no guardrail? eh, whatever...

The towns themselves are -- well here I am, already, lacking a good enough word to sum up, as if one good word could ever do it, comfortable rooms with down comforters (it´s cold up there) and meals including wild mushrooms and nutmeg dusted crocquets and fine wines and dozens if not hundreds of tapas -- and the village fountain, all exquisitely tiled and water the best I´ve had in a long long time...

But let me tell you about the Spring flowers! Scarlet poppies exclaiming along the roadsides, in almond orchards and meadows, in billows of wild borage and magenta and purple somethings... I decided they´re saying NOW! And then there are the bowers and cascades, the mounds and blankets, banks and billows and sprays of every shade of yellow flowers -- even a bright yellow thistle I´ve never seen before... And a wild oregano with a sky blue flower...

And I saw a bird that, if I only saw one bird in Spain this would be the one I´d want to see -- and I didn´t even know there was such a bird in all the world! Large, it is, with vividly striped black and white wings and an orange belly and chest -- a long curved bill and a crested head... I have to call it the oompa loompa bird because I can´t think of its name, though... the Spanish name is Abubilla... I have it written down in my journal... It flew up right in front of our car (on one of those above described mountain roads) -- a bit of weaving ensued...

We had really good gelato twice today in different towns... And no ham... no pork products at all... Yesterday we had pork for all three meals -- it´s a way of life here and fairly unavoidable... I remembered the ham sandwiches for breakfast from my last trip here and the comida del dia at lunch is usually pork something... and all the tapas... but then there are the fine wines... I like to think of it as balance... Oh, and with the ham sandwiches for breakfast are huge glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice and ohmygod the best coffee... Yes, balance for sure...

A couple more days here on the coast then we turn the car in and take the train to Granada for the rest of the trip... Well, train to Madrid and spend the night there and then fly home from there on Wednesday the 15... It´s all going fast -- it´s all going slow -- time has no meaning...