Vacation 2: Granada, Day 1

Granada, day 1, was really day 2. Day one was a 10 hour bus ride to get there. Inaki wanted to head into town on the night we arrived, but I fell asleep in the hotel bed before he had the chance to say anything. But, we got up early the next morning, as you can see above, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for adventure. We stayed a little south of the University area and had maybe a 10 minute walk into the old town. This was nice because we got to see some different neighborhoods.

One of the first things I noticed about Granada was the sidewalk. It's made of big, flat black and white stones that have been laid on their sides in simple designs. Inaki made a comment early on in our trip that I think was true throughout, the Moors really designed Granada as a city to enjoy life in and paid attention to small, delightful details. Here is a shot of your typical sidewalk in Granada.

We knew it would be a nice day when we saw this little friend caught in a tree in the first square we came to.

Although we had a map, we cruised over to the tourist info office to be sure we weren't missing anything fabulous. There, we learned that Granada has 2 old towns, rather than one. The Realejo, which is the newer, Christian old town and the Albaicin, which is the older, Muslim old town. We decided to walk around the Realejo a little and just get lost a bit. We ran into the cathedral and also some stadium seating for the processions that would happen that day for Easter week. Inaki told me what was written on the side of the cathedral was in blood, so I thought I should probably take a picture.

Next, we got lost up a hill and into a neighborhood that lead us to Carmen de los Martires (house of the Martyrs). For some reason, all the big houses in Granada are called carmens. Hmm. This particular Carmen had a huge garden attached to it and we walked all through it snapping pics and getting a taste of what the Ahlambra would be like on our visit Thursday.

Here's a view from the top of the park.

After the park, we strolled down into the Realejo and stopped in the Plaza del Principe. It was full of people dressed in their Sunday best and just waiting around. We weren't sure what was up, so we asked a policeman and he said that the procession of the 3 favors would end there at around 3 that afternoon. They carry the virgin in on a big float and the people in the square can go kiss her cloak and ask for 3 wishes, more or less. We thought, "hey, we could use some wishes, let's stay!" So we started to bar hop, just like everyone else in their suits and dresses, boozin' it up before the religious ceremony, what!?

These were our first tapas in Granada, which is famous for giving you a bit of food with every drink you buy. The first place had a yummy tuna and tomato sandwich on a little roll with some chips. The brand name of the chips down there was "Kiki", which made me think of Kins! Anyhow, it was delicious. At the next place, we got something similar, but it was good too. You don't really get a choice.

What impressed me most about the bars in this plaza was all the Virgin stuff on the walls. Apparently there are lots of virgins, not just Mary, and I'm not sure which one this was, but she sure was sad. She was crying her eyes out in every photo we saw of the float. There were a few display cases of the 3 favors throughout time stuff in each bar. One of them even had this shot of the virgin float holding a baby! Yes, a big, 100-year-old, lifesize virgin holding a baby on her right arm, sobbing of course, and no one else to be seen in the picture! Mom and dad just rested little Juan right there and stepped away. Our camera started to die at this point and now I wish I would have snapped a pic!

Anyhow, I guess religious gear goes about as well in a bar as sports pictures or whatever else. I was pretty mesmerized by the flat screen in the corner broadcasting all the processions from all over Spain as well. It can take, what looked like, up to 100 people to carry these floats through town. There was one clip of a Jesus going under an archway and all the men carrying him crouched down, rested their section of the float on their backs and crawled through, so not to knock his block off. Pretty amazing. I could see the soles of their feet from under the tapestry below moving inch by inch to get through.

At 2:30 or so, we walked out into the square and settled in for the procession. We thought they'd bring her in and people would start asking favors and that would be it. Oh no. They did a stations of the cross mass first. Did I mention we were standing? The stations of the cross mass is one I actually remember from Catholic school. It was so long and so sad and no thanks. At the very least, my memorization of the Our Father in Spanish came in handy. That was our first big project in Spanish class freshman year, memorize the Padre Nuestro and the Santa Maria. Thanks to Senora Nassib, I looked like I knew what I was doing.

Once we got to the 12th station, I was like, "finally, haul that virgin in so we can get to wishin!" But no, they have 2 extra stations in Spain, what!? I asked Inma why when we got back to Pamplona and she said, "I dunno, maybe he fell 2 more times?" Anyhow, those 2 extra stations proved to be 2 too many for Inaki. On station 11, just as the virgin and the purple hooded folks were passing us, Inaki had to squat down. He looked like he was praying, but really all the incense was getting to him. The whole country smells like it for about 3 weeks and those kids waving it around like Gogo Yubari are effective. We had to duck out of the crowd before we got to finish the ceremony so Inaki wouldn't pass out, but it was still cool to see. Here are the 2 procession shots we got before the camera died.

After we got ourselves together, we strolled over to the Albaicin and stopped in a tea shop for some hierba buena. I think I'll leave that description for another time as it's a long one and I want to get some good photos in. I'll post more soon I hope!

Vacation 1: Nerja

Inaki and I got to have a fantastic spring break this year! We went south by bus, which was a long trip, but worth it to get to spend time in Granada and Nerja. I think this post will mostly be pics and explanations, so enjoy!

Let's start with Nerja. It's a beach town on the southern coast of Spain that's so touristy the bar owners were Irish and initially greeted us in English. It's still very charming with it's windy, narrow streets and white stucco buildings. It's also home to the Balcony of Europe, which is a 3 story balcony built on the Mediterranean. We could practically see Africa. Check it out.

We were thrilled to have good weather and cruised around town all day just getting the lay of the land and enjoying wearing sandals! The beaches here weren't as long as the ones in Oregon, so long strolls on the sand were hard, but we scooted over to the longest beach first, Burriana.

We got a little thirsty and hit up one of the many English pubs just off the beach for a beer and a bit of futbol. The spot we chose was called "Olas" which means waves. The gal walked right up to us and said, "wha'll ya ave then love?" Wow.

That night, we stopped at the supermarket and got some big prawns and cooked 'em up in our kitchenette. For this part of the trip, we rented an apartment, which is just a hotel with a kitchen. It was nice not to have to eat out every night! Here is the view from outside and inside the apartment.

Delish!

The next day was a little rainy, but it was Easter Sunday, so we got to see a procession march through town. I cannot get over the KKK uniforms they wear! Crazy. This particular procession reminded me so much of the scene in Godfather 2 when Robert De Niro is going to kill Don Fanucci and he's bounding from roof to roof following him as he walks through a procession below on the street.

We weren't sure what all these herbs were in the final picture, but they smelled amazing! All the folks who lived in town were tearing them apart and scattering them for the procession to walk on on their final leg.

With the clouds in the sky, we decided to grab a coffee and watch the waves for a while.

Then we walked as far as we could down the beach and circled back to see a famous boat that's displayed in Nerja. It was a part of a cheesy show that was filmed here in the 80's called Blue Summer. Apparently, when it was released, there was an uproar because the mother was left alone in Nerja for a month to care for the kids while the father worked. People thought it was very inappropriate. I'm sure you can see why people were so pissed based on the opening credits.

Anyhow, this boat is where an old fisherman named Chanquete lived. There's a famous episode where the kids band together and protest the government wanting to move Chanquete's boat. I think that was right after Bea gets her first period.

After that, we got a red martini and a tapa. In the south, they still hold true to the culture of tapas in Spain and you get a free one with each drink you buy. This one was paelle and deilicious, but Inaki was not happy with the service or price!

That night we got a clear evening walk on the beach, beautiful!

The next day was all this all the time...

That night, we went to a little restaurant for a dinner out. We had some delicious salads and a really nice waiter. A couple at the table next to us said he was the best waiter in Nerja, imagine that! Anyhow, I ordered a Jameson shot for dessert and he asked if I was Irish. I said no, I'm American and he goes, "American from America!?" He was so shocked I'd ordered a Jameson instead of a Jack Daniels that he gave me a second one and gave Inaki a honey rum to try and didn't charge us for any of them. Thanks Sergio!

Our final full day in Nerja, we took a touristy trip to the caves of Nerja. Cool to see, but a little spendy.

You just kinda walk down some stairs and into a huge cavern. Pretty neat stuff! We headed back to Granada in the morning the next day and there will be a few blogs on that amazing city to come! Bye for now Nerja!

The joys of direct translation

Inaki, Paco and I went to Santander this weekend. It was fantastic and we have no pictures, so this little tid-bit will have to do.

We rode with Paco and stopped just past Bilbao to grab a snack and stretch our legs. I got a cafe con leche and a garrote (pastry) and Paco and Inaki split a russian salad, a sandwich and then a pastry, followed by coffee. They were making fun of me saying, "geez Darby, you ate so much, we'll have to get more now." Unfortunately, this is usually the case, but these were obviously sarcastic comments.

So, I responded by translating literally and saying, "yeah, I'm a pig." Inaki started to chuckle and said, "don't say that." I asked him 3 or 4 times why and he wouldn't properly explain to me why I shouldn't say it. Paco didn't seem phased and said, "no, Inaki, it's ok to say I ate like a pig." But, that's not what I said.

Inaki finally explained to me, "cerda is something that we call a woman who does things with men and then doesn't get paid for it. Like, a lot of things and a lot of men. But worse than that really."

Although he couldn't fully explain the meaning, this is what our conversation would have sounded like in English if you had been a fly on the wall:

Inaki and Paco: "Geez Darby, you ate so much, we'll have to get more now"
Me: "Yeah, I'm a dirty whore."

Sidra season!

As I sit in my living room watching a bit of snow fall outside, I'm reminded of my first sidra experience of the season from about 3 weeks ago. What's sidra you ask? It's magic in a bottle, that's all. More than in the bottle, the magic in sidra is going to a sidreria, sipping it all afternoon, meeting new people, eating delicious food and partaking in a centuries old Basque tradition while layin' round the shanty and puttin' a good buzz on. The sidra, or cider, itself isn't anything like the syrupy stuff you might risk having a pint of around Portland from time to time. It's briny, sour and must be drunk in quick little shots so the sediment doesn't create a murky riverbed at the bottom of your pint glass. Hence, the buzz.

Inaki and I have been talking about being here for the sidra season since we left Portland in July. When Esteban and Mirentxu suggested we go a few weeks ago we immediately became giddy with excitement. Esteban knew a great place in Beruete, which is a village in the hills of Navarra. We heard there might be some bad weather and planned to have to hike 2 km in the snow to get to the cider house, but we were lucky and the snowplow had come through that morning, so we parked right next to the house. And when I say house, I literally mean house. This sidreria was run from the animal level of an old farm home. The family that owns it lives upstairs on the house level and dad cooks the meet, mom taps the kegs and son does whatever else needs to be done.

We got there early and the family was finishing shoveling snow from the driveway. Esteban's buddy Ignacio immediately yelled out of our car window, "hey kid," addressing the son, "you need to make sure you have a contract in place, there are child labor laws you know!" A smile broke across each family member's face as they knew Ignacio and were pleased he'd returned. We hopped out of the car, pulled on our hiking boots and headed into the cider house. Mom tapped a keg for us and let us have a few pulls before sending us out into the snow for a hike with the family dog.

Here's a shot of the tap room. I love how the beams and wood look greasy and covered in the years of cooking and steam filled conversations that have gone on beneath them.

Here's a snap of me getting my first "txot" as it's called here. The cider has to be shot out of the barrel to break up the sediment and then thrown back so it doesn't get warm or start to settle.

The barrel in the next picture was barrel #3 I think. During the day, one barrel was left with a perma-tap in it, but the others were opened by mom. She'd find the hole in the side of each barrel, shove a metal pipe in and let the sidra flow as we filled our cups and stepped back for the next person to aim their glass at the tap and try not to spill any. When we were done with that barrel, she'd take a big ball of animal fat, tear off a piece and cover the hole until the next time they tapped it. You can see the fat ball on the front and the hole, covered, to the upper right.

So out we went, into the snow and the hills of Beruete. The family dog seemed to know where to go and we just followed him. When the road forked and he went right, so did we. At the end of the line, he simply stopped, turned around and walked us back to the sidreria. Too cool. And, so filthy! When he rolled in the snow, it left a little muddy stain where he had lain.

Here's a shot on the hike and one looking back at the sidreria. It's white, so it's hard to see, but when you find it, you'll say wow.

When we trudged back up to the house at about 2, other customers had begun to arrive. As it usually goes, people start out shy and stand around in their own little groups, but by the end of the day, we're just one big group chatting and rosey, new best friends. This time we bumped into some folks Inaki knew from Pamplona and a group from Catalunia. Mom came into the taproom at about 2:30 and told us to settle into the dining room. We grabbed a picnic table and waited for the first course. Here's what the atmosphere was like.

View of the apple orchard from the table with lacy little curtains. Too sweet.

The typical sidreria menu is all family style. They bring out one huge plate at a time and you serve yourself. There's always a huge loaf of bread at the table as well. Some places don't even give you extra plates, but this one did. First course is usually a tortilla bacalao, which is a cod omelet. Mmm.

No funny business with salad or soup or anything that wastes space in your stomach. Next course is chuleton, or t-bone steak. You finish one and they ask you if you want another and it's basically bottomless. The meat is such high-quality, most likely from a cow they raised at the farm we were eating at, that they can cook it rare as rare can be. It's like steak sushi. They grilled it in this hut to the left, outside the taproom and would rush it into the dining room still sizzling. Yep, lace curtains there too.

Open grill over burning coals, oh yeah! They had just taken a rack off and were about to transfer this one to the heat.

The final product.

We ate until we couldn't eat anymore, all the while jumping up to taste sidra from freshly tapped barrels, "txots!" When we were stuffed, they brought out the dessert, which is another staple and fixed menu item: walnuts, cured cheese and a fruit compote kind of a thing (membrillo). All three flavors in your mouth at once are to die for. Nutty, earthy, creamy, sweet and salty. At this particular sidreria, they offered a digestive of apple brandy that they made there and coffee, of course.

Inaki is the kind of guy that likes to get a lot of value for his money. His motto is, "if it's free, give me 2." So, when we go to sidrerias and the sidra is all you can drink, he's not shy about filling that glass. When he arrives to an inevitable state of euphoria, he likes to start using his head for things it doesn't typically get used for. One of those things is cracking walnuts by placing them on the table and crushing them with his forehead. Observe:

Yep, he did it. But he's always a little sore the next day.

I don't think I can find a better place to end this blog as this is a pretty good grand finale. We all headed home in a steamy car (DD driven!) to long afternoon naps after a bit of bowling.

The sidra season starts in January and goes until mid-April. So, if you want to go to a really cool sidreria, now is the time to be here. There are some good ones that are open year-round, I've heard, and I'll be testing them out and letting you know for sure. Regardless, it's a one of a kind experience and I think I'll buy an orchard in HRV when we are back in Oregon and try to get the sidra ball rolling state-side!