Among the many interesting facts we learned on our journey was that the Spanish NEVER believed the earth was flat. NEVER. It was a total lie perpetrated by, of all people, Washington Irving. But we'll get to that later. The only hope of getting through this post semi-coherently is to tackle it sequentially. Here goes.
Chapter 1: Vieques - Out of Chaos Emerges Splendor
Some of you know that we have been going to Vieques for years but for the rest of you a bit of background is in order. Vieques is an idyllic, unspoiled, wild horse inhabited island off the coast of Puerto Rico. How can an island remains unspoiled within the orbit of the timeshare-riddled, Club Med, all inclusive horror that has become the Caribbean? Well, the secret is to start your history as a Naval Bombing Range. Yes, for decades the Navy lobbed everything they had at Vieques. This came to an end when they lobbed one too many things and took out a native Viequenese citizen. A hue and cry ensued and the Navy turned tail and left. Now, being the Navy, they had taken for themselves all the nicest beaches and unparalleled vistas that the island had to offer. Upon their departure, they ceded these to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Dept. and thus the island was spared the rampages of the developers (see The Rum Diaries).
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| Sailing to Vieques, Captain Tom pointed out a prop from one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. |
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| Deirdre admires the figurehead on the "prop" ship. This is a VERY unflattering picture of me-- I really do have a chin and I'm very thin. |
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| The oldest living tree on Vieques, a Ceiba tree which is over 300 years old. |
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| Some of the wild Paso Fino horses brought over by the Spanish. Note the young colt lying down. |
Alex, as part of his "period of adventure" has been in Vieques all winter crewing on a charter sailboat and, prior to our departure to Portugal and Spain, we decided to visit him and get some beach time. We met him and his boss, Captain Tom, at the marina on the mainland and had an absolutely marvelous sail over to Vieques. Turned out Alex had a lot of charters but we did spend some quality time. We had SO been looking forward to snorkeling on Blue Beach but it was not to be. Regrettably, just prior to our arrival, a four year old had unearthed some phosphorus weaponry and had tossed it on the ferry pier which certainly drew the attention of the authorities. I didn't really follow the whole story of where it was found or how her parents didn't notice that she was toting munitions but the upshot was they closed Blue Beach. Luckily there are about 16 other marvelous beaches. Lest you think we are insane for frequenting such an island, I would point out that except for that one land mine (real? who knows?) that Michael encountered on one morning walk we have never had a dangerous encounter on island.
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| Michael did get a chance to try out his underwater camera. Star fish abound at this snorkeling spot. |
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| The fish like to stay close to the reefs & rocks... |
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| but occasionally a curious fish will come out from behind the rocks. |
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| Hopefully not when the barracuda is looking for dinner. |
Anyway, after five days of sun and fun, we headed out. Alex accompanied us to San Juan and then headed to Boston where his summer job awaited him, while Michael and I moved on to Europe.
Chapter II: The Costa del Sol - Where Brits Go To Die
We began our trip in a town called Fuengirola on the Costa Del Sol. In the 60s it was where everyone hip and hippy went. By the 70s/80s, it was the venue of German package tours, a couple of decades just got lost in history and now it is where the entire elderly population of Britain winters. To begin with, as a New Englander, my idea of the seashore/coast/beach is tasteful, shingled cottages dotting dune clad, windswept beaches. The Costa del Sol is comprised of gigantic, communist inspired high rises looming over a paltry stretch of sand. There will be photos. Take a look. Just suppose that all of the people in all of the high rises want to go to the beach. Now look at the beach. We ran the calculation and, in July, they would have to be stacked in rows ten high vertically to all be on the beach.
Beach overpopulation was not a problem for us because the weather (as it has been in all of Europe this year) was blustery and cold. Pasty faced Brits, wrapped in Burberry, motored their power wheel chairs through the town glowering at each other. It went beyond British reserve to enmity. We left town quickly.
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| Some of the high rise buildings lining the beach in Fuengirola. |
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| You can glimpse the sliver of beach between the buildings. |
Chapter III: Andalusian Driving
Now it got good. First, let me say that the roads in Spain and Portugal are terrific. Beautiful, wide, few cars, guard rails. Thank you European Union. All that money you sent them (no matter how much you resented it) was well spent. As we motored our way to Cordoba I thought to myself "Ah, Deirdre, finally a vacation where you are neither weeping, nor making small animal sounds in stark terror, nor exhorting Michael to SLOW DOWN NOW. Marital bliss is insured." Not really.
There's always something. In the case of Andulusia it is the fact that the most historic portions of every interesting town seem to be the old Jewish quarters. And, the Christians or Moors or whoever was running the show at the time, would only let the Jews have like a very little section of the town. So their roads/paths/trails were very, very narrow. Now, in other countries, they deal with this by making those areas pedestrian zones and creating parking areas outside the cordoned off area. Not so in Spain. In Spain they don't believe in the following things: 1) Parking lots; 2) Signage; 3) Helpful people.
Being totally committed to having the most authentic experience anyone could ever have in these adorable old cities, I booked hotels smack dab in the middle of the most inaccessible neighborhoods possible. We did very bad things to our brand new rental car.
I won't bore you with every single horrible adventure we had in streets that averaged 5' in width but will confine myself to Granada. After following our GPS on a merry goose chase through almost every alleyway of the city, Michael had finally reached his tipping point. Knowing we could not be more than a few blocks from our hotel, he boldly followed a local down a one way street the wrong way. I thought bad thoughts but remained mute. "The GPS says only 200 meters!" he said. Things went well until we noticed that the local had put his car in reverse and was now backing up at high speed directly toward us. At the last instant, he turned the car on a dime -- an unbelievable maneuver in a street 6' wide-- and backed into his driveway. We crept forward, praying for an escape route, while almost clipping an old lady dressed in black who clearly didn't expect us coming at her from behind. Just then, the GPS gurgled and a new message appeared --- 550 meters. Oh God, how did that happen? And now a car coming from the opposite direction. And a motorcycle. And two joggers. No one is happy with us.
I leave the car and approach the oncoming traffic explaining in my bestial Spanish that we are Americans (no one appears surprised) and that these streets are very confusing (no one seems to care) and what should we do (no one offers an idea). Desperate, I spy a tiny, tiny little driveway-kind of thing that you could maybe turn a moped around in. As I begin to direct Michael to back up to reach it, the black draped old lady begins beating on the car and gesticulating that we are going the wrong way. Duh. Should have taken care of her when we had the chance. Good thing Michael mastered the three point turn, because 27 points later we were headed the right way out. Just several gashes on the car and a swatch of the old lady's coat as souvenirs.
Over the course of multiple cities, having learned our lesson, we would endeavor to find a parking lot outside the historic district. Sometimes we did. More often, we'd be doing fine, turn a corner and be in the rat maze once more. Very stressful. Car didn't like it either.
Chapter IV: A City By City Tour
God, did you really think I was going to make you endure a recitation of every tourist site we saw in Spain and Portugal? I just wrote that to make you roll your eyes and sigh. Here are the most amusing/insightful/immaterial things we saw/experienced in our travels.
* There was a theme. It was this. It was a church. The Moors made it a Mosque. The Reconquest made it a Church again. In one case, the Mesquita, they just built the new Church inside the gigantic Mosque and left the Mosque standing-- which was a different spin on it.
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| Mexico doesn't enjoy a monopoly on the Virgin Mary, as seen in this ornate depiction of the Virgin in the Church built in the Mezquita (a former mosque). |
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| The original Moorish design of the Mezquita is evident here. |
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| The towering cypress trees of the Alcazar garden in Cordoba. The pools, flowers, topiary & paths reveal its Moorish origins. |
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| We came across this celebration with mother, daughter & baby all flamencoing to the music in the plaza while celebrating "The Crosses of May". |
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| The Roman Bridge across the Guadalquivir River. |
* In Ronda, which is a scenic White Town, there is a giant gorge (300 ft) traversed by the New Bridge. When the townfolk commit suicide there is strict segregation of the sexes. Males leap from one side, females the opposite. At that point, why would social convention matter?
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| The oldest bull ring in Spain at Ronda. |
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| Do you trust the people that built this platform? What is the weight limit? If not, don't venture on to it. |
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| The New Bridge from which many have fallen to their death, including the architect of the bridge during an inspection tour. |
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| Arcos de la Frontera, another town built on a very steep cliff. |
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| One of the joys of a vacation is discovering things by happenstance which are not listed in the guide books. An individual has built various scenes depicting the birth of Jesus in the rocks of Arcos. This shows Jesus & Mary in the background as they go to Bethlehem for the census. Note the census taker on the left. |
* There are no liquor stores. We looked. Hard. How do these people cope?
* Back to Washington Irving. He spent time living in the Alhambra and wrote a couple of books about his time there. He was Ambassador to Spain for reasons that are hard to understand (campaign contributions?). At some point he made up the lie about the flat earth thing and wrote a book containing the lie and the rest is history. Bad history.
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| The Cruces de Mayo (Festival of the May Crosses) was taking place in Andalusia. This was one of the most impressive of the displays we saw. |
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| The Generalife Garden of the Alhambra with its walkways, fountains & living arches. |
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| More of the Generalife Garden. |
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| The remnants of the Moorish baths. Notice the tile work on the floor. |
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| A view of Granada & the mountains from the Alhambra. |
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| An interesting blend of architecture in the Albaysin section of Granada. |
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| A view of our hotel in the Albaysin. |
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| It is very difficult to fully capture the splendor of the Alhambra... |
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| when even the ceilings are works of art... |
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| and the columns and walls are so intricately designed and constructed. |
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| The Moors loved gardens, fountains & flowing water. They constructed an elaborate irrigation system that started 6 miles upstream and fed the entire Alhambra and town. This was about 700 AD. I know, the Romans knew how to do this too. Why don't we know how to do it better? |
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| A plaque to commemorate Washington Irving's time spent in the Alhambra & his subsequent book. We read this & his book on the Conquest of Granada prior to embarking on our trip. |
* Everyone said that if you understand Spanish, you'll understand Portuguese. Mais non! Portuguese is like you take a population that speaks Spanishy, then you breed them with Eastern European speakers, then you make them speak with 6 or 8 marbles in their mouths. Luckily they are all taught English in school and like to practice.
* Portugal has the coolest sidewalks ever.
* The neatest place we stayed was in Lisbon in the Alfama district which is the home of all things historic and atmospheric. We stayed in an apartment the size of a mini van on a five foot wide street. Looking out our windows we could reach across and shake hands with the neighbor or steal their laundry which was proudly displayed. We were going to go out to hear Fado one night but Michael was sick (actually he was sick the entire vacation) so we were moping around when the sound of Fado came wafting in the window. Great Fado. We were 100 feet away from the club. Saved $100 and got to wear our jammies. Sweet.
* Same apartment. Next night. Screaming from street. Woman really going at her husband (?) who is standing in street calmly talking on his cellphone. She is warming up. Throws a flower pot at him shrieking. He backs up a bit. She runs and gets plates and heaves them one by one. Puts up his hand to deflect and keeps talking. Woman's mother runs into street and tries to reason. No reasoning. Woman grabs three cafe chairs and hurls them. Mother intervenes. Mother and daughter rolling in street screaming at each other while husband chats on phone. Crowd gathers. Husband saunters off. Now THAT is a cross cultural experience. Michael says I am a voyeur.
* They have a washing/drying machine. Yes, two, two, two machines in one. How can we say we are the leaders of the Free World and we don't have one of those things. It fit in our minivan apartment and worked like a charm.
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| This is an elevator which connects to the Bairro Alto. It was designed by a student of Gustav Eiffel. What is not visible in the photo is the walkway behind the elevator which leads to Bairro Alto. |
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| Lisbon boasts of the largest carriage museum in the world. This was one of the more garish models on display. |
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| The interior of the Church of the Monastery of Jeronimos. |
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| You meet the devil in the most unlikely of places. |
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| Notice the wave pattern in Rossio Square. This is designed to look like waves & has ben known to cause sea sickness in some people crossing the square. |
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| More wave patterns in the square before the Monument to the Discoveries. |
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| The Portuguese tile the outside of their buildings, as well as the inside. They learned from Brazil that tiling the outside of the buildings reduces the humidity and makes interior life better. Wasn't humid when we were there. |
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| Our street in the Alfama. |
* The Alhambra may be the coolest building(s) I have ever been in. The ultimate house tour. Check out the photos.
* Andulusia looks a lot like Mexico which made us wonder at first why we went there. It's not like Mexico. Seeing hispanic looking people our new social patterns emerged and we made eye contact, smiled and say Buenos Dias. They looked at us like we were mad. We stopped by day 2.
* Spain and Portugal are very conflicted about the Gypsys/Roma. I mean they can't even really decide what to call them. They say Gypsy is a slur so everything in writing says Roma but everyone says Gypsy so we just don't say anything. There are very many of them there. The women carry rosemary stalks and try to give them to you saying it is a gift. Oh,oh,oh. Do not take them because then they grab your palm and read your fortune and then demand money. And not coins. Coins are bad luck. 5 Euros will do nicely. Now you know.
* OK. So what about the total collapse of the economies of Spain and Portugal (you knew it had to get heavy sometime, right?). Well, who knows? It was entirely invisible. I am not kidding. You have to really drill down to see it. We had traveled for 10 days before we even got an inkling. We landed in Tavira Portugal (on the coast, cute) at a guest house (also cute). We were having a wine with the people who ran it (also cute) and discovered that he was an architect and she was a social worker. He had been designing the building for his friend as apartments when the crash happened. The friend realized he was never going to make it work financially. Our guy said he'd finish it out if he could run it as a guest house and when things got better they could figure it out. He waits tables at night. There is no complaining. As he said, "This will just be a time in our lives. It will be fine." Very different. He's one of the lucky ones according to him. However, with 30+% unemployment for young college grads and their living at home (yech!) and no marriage, babies etc. life could get more tense if it continues much longer. Oh, and there was that sit-in at the Seville Cathedral.
* We were driving on the freeway when we saw a Gypsy/Roma caravan. Remember what they looked like? Anyway, times have changed. No more donkeys or horses. Tractors. No more wooden wagons. Metal wagons (that look like the old ones) with intricate designs. There were 30 or 40 of them doing about 30km an hour with a police escort. Everyone else was doing about 120km so it was a bit interesting.
* The Inquisition was bigger than you thought. I don't know about you, but my history courses never really explored the extent of the Inquisition. Maybe they thought it would scar our young brains for life. I'm telling you, everywhere we went they were judging and burning and just being plain evil. And there was a lot going on simultaneously that never registered with me. 1492 was a particularly jam -packed year: Reconquest of Granada; Columbus and America; Inquisition. It was a wonder Ferdinand and Isabella ever got a moment's sleep.
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| Our trip included going to Gibraltar. The top of the rock was in the clouds. |
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| A young Barbary Ape (macaque). |
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| This is the way Deirdre & I felt upon our return. Happy to lie down together & recover from our adventures. I think we are prettier (Deirdre comment). But maybe not. |
Chapter V: The Homecoming
Now, not to moan, but honestly this trip was a bit snake bit. If something could go wrong it did and if people could find a simple way to annoy us they did. A lot. But thus is the world of voyaging. By the time we boarded the plane from Madrid to Boston, Michael had graciously shared his persistent illness with me. Sounding like we belonged in the tuberculosis ward at Saranac Lake, we failed to make any close friends on the flight to Boston. But thank goodness for good friends. Betsy and Fred picked us up, medicated us, fed us and didn't mind that we fell asleep in their beautifully prepared food. Marilyn treated us to the elusive Chinese meal and pretended that we made sense while in our jet lagged, medicine induced stupor we attempted to communicate. By day 2, after a brief coffee with the pals, all I could do was cancel visits with out other loved friends ( sorry Beth and David and Wendy) and look forward to seeing the rest of the Boston crew in August. We made it back and are slowly on the road to recovery. There will be buckets of photos with this blog. Enjoy. Let us know what is new with all of you -- please.
Late Breaking News: Justin's company's film Max Rose will be shown at Cannes this week. There was an editorial in the New York Times last Sunday about Jerry Lewis and the film. We wish them well.
