The weirdest thing happened last night: I got into one car, Jessie got into another, and we went our separate ways. As in, I am not currently just a few feet away from Jess, but several miles from her. Like I said, weird...
I was afraid, at first, that our separation would leave me with the sense of having a phantom appendage after an amputation, rendering me awkward in other company, talking to a friend who wasn't there, offering to split an ice cream cone with empty space, reminding the air to grab the key before leaving the house, and asking no one in particular if they had an extra 20 cents to round out an exact payment. So far, though, I have adhered to reality and directed my comments and questions toward people who are actually somewhere within close proximity of my person. I am sure Jessie is, as always, infinitely more connected to reality, so I feel confident in claiming that she is fairing just as well even though I have not spoken to her in *gasp* 8 hours.
In short, Jess and I are home, safe and happy and ready to translate our experiences in Spain to new ways of living at home (especially in terms of our culinary pursuits). As I have time in the next few days, I will finish editing posts that I did not finish while in Spain and publish them to the blog. Sorry for letting the posts get out of order, but as the trip came to an end, good wifi connections became harder to find and our time in Spain felt ever more precious. It was hard to stick to anything like a publishing schedule then.
Thanks for making our trip that much more fulfilling by sharing your comments with us by blog and email. For my part, at least, I would love an excuse to stay in touch, so if you have requests for more stories, photos, or anything else, please continue to contact me/us via email.
~ Chase =)
Friday, July 8, 2011
Airport ending
What should have been a smooth and easy-going transcontinental transition encountered first a little pothole, then a gorge. Our intranational flight, initially scheduled to take off at 6:30 pm had been delayed repeatedly, and is now scheduled to depart at 1:30 am. The maddening part about this situation is that the weather here has been gorgeous, but we are repeatedly told that thunderstorms here earlier in the day and currently south of us moving north have caused havoc in the air transit system. The airport is already taking on characteristics of a refugee camp.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Lunch at Azafran (Centro)
That restaurant of Sevillan restaurants, Azafran - which is a Sevillan chain much like Cameron Mitchell's restaurants in Columbus - pulled through again.
Pictured below (I will edit the order and captions when I get to a computer) are today's winners: cured salmon in a caper vinaigrette over a bed of chopped egg and peppers, three soft cheeses layered with a fig and pepper compote, and fresh octopus with onions and a balsamic reduction. Can you see why Jess and I are in no way compelled to try another restaurant? This one has it all.
Azafran
Here are last night's delicacies from Azafran:
Baked sheep's cheese with honey, tuna belly in brandy, and a mostly eaten portion of anchovy with goat's cheese and walnut.
Friday, July 1, 2011
From Dungeon to Palace
Jess and I made a (very reasonable) mistake. We booked a room at a pensione in Sevilla. We thought pensiones, albergues, and hostels were all about the same thing. Not so much.
A pension is a very, very cheap, very, very basic sort of hotel. In the case of the pension we had booked a room at, it was like a 2nd floor, relatively clean dungeon inside a none-too-inviting old house. An albergue is ... harder to define. Most of the ones I see are primarily for use by pilgrims on caminos, old paths once tread by saints (if for no other reason than because those paths were Roman roads and the easiest paths to tread upon). So, albergues are often free for pilgrims (donations are suggested, however) or are hostel/albergues that are deeply discounted for the benefit of pilgrims. Hostels are glorious gatherings of world travelers in bright open spaces and shared dorm rooms, often in air-conditioned palatial buildings or very well-appointed large apartments. All of these cost about the same price, but typically only the latter two offer the conveniences of kitchens, free breakfasts, cool air, and fly-free bathrooms (if our pension was any indicator).
When we first arrived at the pension, Jess and I were relieved just to get out of the sun´s firing range, and were thankful that our room had a ceiling fan. However, soon the paper walls and windows that could not block out even a portion of the street noises echoing up the street outside made us start wondering just how relaxing our stay could really be in such a place. There was no social space, no excitement, and no place to put our ¨keep refrigerated¨ goods. We considered riding it out, telling ourselves that not every abode along the way had to feel like a treat. But then...
I hope I am not giving any surprises away by saying that Jess and I had purchased an exquisite block of aged goat cheese in Pamplona at a week-long craftsmans´ festival during our first week in Spain, and have been lugging it around city to city in Jessie´s Magical Backpack of Voluminous Wonders since then. We usually only have it out of the refrigerator for hours at a time, but it immediately begins to display its high odorous achievements during those few hours. As its pungency manifested itself to us in the room as a poignant reminder of its hircine powers, we realized that we would not actually survive three days in the room with our beloved block of cheese sucking the heat in as a deadly power source much like an old video game ultimate boss that has to be killed, like, 8 times before it actually dies, each time regenerating by gathering some swirl of sparkly dust around it while it rebuilds itself.
So, we hopped online, found a nearby hostel, booked three nights there, and jumped ship. This move seemed to personally offend the owner (whom we told we needed a refrigerator in Sevilla, and did not even mention how thoroughly everything else about the pension fell well below our expectations). He informed us that we would not find a hotel that offered a kitchen. It occurred to me that he probably has no idea what these hostels are like. Hostels are, to the young and adventurous, palaces of glory. His pension was.... not. Like I said, we were paying for a second floor dungeon (using the European form of ¨second floor¨, which means two floors above the ground floor).
Two blocks of luggage lugging later, we were in our palace. Here are some of the exclamations that we proclaimed as we checked in and were introduced to our room:
¨Oooooh, air conditioning!¨
¨Hey, is that an elevator? Why, yes, yes it is.¨
¨Free drink coupons for the bar on the rooftop terrace? Well, thank you very much, kind hostel personnel.¨
¨Jessica. There is a bidet in our bathroom. A bidet. I love this hostel.¨
¨So, which of the three refrigerators should we use for the cheese?¨
¨Hello, friendly vegan roommates. How long have you been in Spain? Several weeks, you say? Amidst several months in Europe? Oh, yes, I would love to exchange stories of our respective adventures.¨-- and so on.
Every once in a while, Jess and I turn to one another and express a general but excited sense of thanks that we made the change. I am, in fact, happy that we spent nearly an hour fretting that our time in Sevilla would be less than amazing, because that hour has made us appreciate (with abandon) every hour since.
By the way, even outside the hostel, Sevilla is fantastic, but too hot to explore before about 11pm. Last night, we braved the evening heat at about 7pm. Because we found a spectacular little restaurant with a menu we are more interested in touring than the rest of Sevilla, we plan to return to it at every opportunity (any meal between noon and midnight). I promise to take pictures and label them carefully, not only to share but in hopes of recreating these recipes in the States. Last night, we were too food-focused to think of cameras. Sorry about that.
Photos to come ...
A pension is a very, very cheap, very, very basic sort of hotel. In the case of the pension we had booked a room at, it was like a 2nd floor, relatively clean dungeon inside a none-too-inviting old house. An albergue is ... harder to define. Most of the ones I see are primarily for use by pilgrims on caminos, old paths once tread by saints (if for no other reason than because those paths were Roman roads and the easiest paths to tread upon). So, albergues are often free for pilgrims (donations are suggested, however) or are hostel/albergues that are deeply discounted for the benefit of pilgrims. Hostels are glorious gatherings of world travelers in bright open spaces and shared dorm rooms, often in air-conditioned palatial buildings or very well-appointed large apartments. All of these cost about the same price, but typically only the latter two offer the conveniences of kitchens, free breakfasts, cool air, and fly-free bathrooms (if our pension was any indicator).
When we first arrived at the pension, Jess and I were relieved just to get out of the sun´s firing range, and were thankful that our room had a ceiling fan. However, soon the paper walls and windows that could not block out even a portion of the street noises echoing up the street outside made us start wondering just how relaxing our stay could really be in such a place. There was no social space, no excitement, and no place to put our ¨keep refrigerated¨ goods. We considered riding it out, telling ourselves that not every abode along the way had to feel like a treat. But then...
I hope I am not giving any surprises away by saying that Jess and I had purchased an exquisite block of aged goat cheese in Pamplona at a week-long craftsmans´ festival during our first week in Spain, and have been lugging it around city to city in Jessie´s Magical Backpack of Voluminous Wonders since then. We usually only have it out of the refrigerator for hours at a time, but it immediately begins to display its high odorous achievements during those few hours. As its pungency manifested itself to us in the room as a poignant reminder of its hircine powers, we realized that we would not actually survive three days in the room with our beloved block of cheese sucking the heat in as a deadly power source much like an old video game ultimate boss that has to be killed, like, 8 times before it actually dies, each time regenerating by gathering some swirl of sparkly dust around it while it rebuilds itself.
So, we hopped online, found a nearby hostel, booked three nights there, and jumped ship. This move seemed to personally offend the owner (whom we told we needed a refrigerator in Sevilla, and did not even mention how thoroughly everything else about the pension fell well below our expectations). He informed us that we would not find a hotel that offered a kitchen. It occurred to me that he probably has no idea what these hostels are like. Hostels are, to the young and adventurous, palaces of glory. His pension was.... not. Like I said, we were paying for a second floor dungeon (using the European form of ¨second floor¨, which means two floors above the ground floor).
Two blocks of luggage lugging later, we were in our palace. Here are some of the exclamations that we proclaimed as we checked in and were introduced to our room:
¨Oooooh, air conditioning!¨
¨Hey, is that an elevator? Why, yes, yes it is.¨
¨Free drink coupons for the bar on the rooftop terrace? Well, thank you very much, kind hostel personnel.¨
¨Jessica. There is a bidet in our bathroom. A bidet. I love this hostel.¨
¨So, which of the three refrigerators should we use for the cheese?¨
¨Hello, friendly vegan roommates. How long have you been in Spain? Several weeks, you say? Amidst several months in Europe? Oh, yes, I would love to exchange stories of our respective adventures.¨-- and so on.
Every once in a while, Jess and I turn to one another and express a general but excited sense of thanks that we made the change. I am, in fact, happy that we spent nearly an hour fretting that our time in Sevilla would be less than amazing, because that hour has made us appreciate (with abandon) every hour since.
By the way, even outside the hostel, Sevilla is fantastic, but too hot to explore before about 11pm. Last night, we braved the evening heat at about 7pm. Because we found a spectacular little restaurant with a menu we are more interested in touring than the rest of Sevilla, we plan to return to it at every opportunity (any meal between noon and midnight). I promise to take pictures and label them carefully, not only to share but in hopes of recreating these recipes in the States. Last night, we were too food-focused to think of cameras. Sorry about that.
Photos to come ...
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Washington Irving's The Alhambra
You can find a digital copy of Washington Irving's The Alhambra at http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/i/irving/washington/i72a/index.html
Typically, this is just the kind of book you could find in audio format for free on Librivox.org, but apparently The Alhambra is not in as great demand as Legend of Sleepy Hollow or Rip van Winkle. All the same, if you like audiobooks and want to hear some classics for free, I highly recommend Librivox.
Typically, this is just the kind of book you could find in audio format for free on Librivox.org, but apparently The Alhambra is not in as great demand as Legend of Sleepy Hollow or Rip van Winkle. All the same, if you like audiobooks and want to hear some classics for free, I highly recommend Librivox.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The Cathedral of the Incarnation in Granada
The Granada Cathedral of the Incarnation was free with our city pass, so we figured we'd have a look.
From the side we entered, the cathedral looked more like a modest chapel than anything deserving the title "cathedral". Upon entering, our minds were not immediately changed. We were ushered into what Jess guessed was a dressing room for priests or others who need to don special costumes for their religious roles. This room was encircled by high mirrors glaring down at those standing before the dressers framing the room on all sides. Outside of this room, a hallway was lined with what appeared to be large wooden wardrobes.
Her guess seemed like a good one, assuming no one in the changing room expected any privacy. We continued forth from the dressing room and were finally blown away by the sheer size of everything in the cathedral (which clearly deserved such a characterization).
Not only were the vaulted ceilings unquestionably lofty, but every shrine (when I published the first draft of the post, I did not know that the caged-in statues and paintings of saints that surround the main chapel area were called shrines) was large enough to warrant its own small chapel.
Between the shrines were glass book cases, each quite large yet only able to contain two open books each. These books were several feet tall, a few feet wide, and contained exceptionally large fonts and dots that jumped up and down across the page. We decided that these were communal hymn books intended to be read from across the chapel by those 18th-century slackers in the back row. I guess that, back in the day this would have saved on printing costs (if for no other reason than that books were too often reincarnated sooner than necessary into their next life as latrine paper if put into the hands of those who did not fully appreciate their re-readability).
What Jess and I really wished we could hear and inspect more thoroughly were the two building-sized organs (each with their own entrance, in fact) that were situated on either side of the rows of pews in the middle of the cathedral.
Would they be overwhelming or magnificent to listen to, or a little bit of both? We still have no idea, because by this time we were ready to go rediscover the spice shops we had espied the day before.
From the side we entered, the cathedral looked more like a modest chapel than anything deserving the title "cathedral". Upon entering, our minds were not immediately changed. We were ushered into what Jess guessed was a dressing room for priests or others who need to don special costumes for their religious roles. This room was encircled by high mirrors glaring down at those standing before the dressers framing the room on all sides. Outside of this room, a hallway was lined with what appeared to be large wooden wardrobes.
 |
| Hallway lined with dark wooden wardrobes. |
Not only were the vaulted ceilings unquestionably lofty, but every shrine (when I published the first draft of the post, I did not know that the caged-in statues and paintings of saints that surround the main chapel area were called shrines) was large enough to warrant its own small chapel.
 |
| A shrine and, seemingly, a crypt below it. |
 |
| Hymnbook about half my height, perhaps taller. |
What Jess and I really wished we could hear and inspect more thoroughly were the two building-sized organs (each with their own entrance, in fact) that were situated on either side of the rows of pews in the middle of the cathedral.
 |
| One of the two multi-story organs sandwiching the nave of the cathedral, with the door to the organ included in the photo for scale. |
Would they be overwhelming or magnificent to listen to, or a little bit of both? We still have no idea, because by this time we were ready to go rediscover the spice shops we had espied the day before.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thief in training?
Jess and I are currently enjoying our first complete menu del dia - meal of the day - on the patio of a very classy little restaurant. I put my purse in my lap as soon as we sat down (rather than in the chair next to me at our four-person table), but took my phone out to take photos of our meal. After the appetizers were served but before the main meal, beggar-girls came around with small carbboard signs, one with writing, the other just a wordless sign. One beggar girl seemed particularly interested in me, placed her sign over my phone, and tried to slip slowly away with it - which would have worked beautifully if (a) I weren't paranoid, and (b) if I had taken the usual route of avoiding charitable opportunities by purposefully avoiding eye contact with the persistent beggar and looking the other way until she left. I took back my phone just as slowly as she had taken it, glaring at her and shaking my head.
Has she learned her lesson? Of course not, but if I had called for the police, poor Jess would have had to deal with all the translating and such, and on our last night in Granada. Memories they would be, but not the ones I want. By the way, here are the pics I still have thanks to my phone still being in my hands.
Has she learned her lesson? Of course not, but if I had called for the police, poor Jess would have had to deal with all the translating and such, and on our last night in Granada. Memories they would be, but not the ones I want. By the way, here are the pics I still have thanks to my phone still being in my hands.
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| Soda bread that could almost pass itself off as a yeast bread. |
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| White wine and Coke Zero, served in such a way as to seem worth their $8 pricetag |
 | |||
| Glorified potato salad (Andalucian tapas) |
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| Salmon with spinach and cheese |
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| Grilled vegetable crostini topped with goat cheese |
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| Cod in (what I am sure came from a 33 cent box of) tomato sauce with a pepper grilled in olive oil |
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| Gazpacho, cold and seasoned more densely than seems possible in such a homogeneous-looking soup |
The view from the Alhambra
The vistas stretched out below us, visible from nearly every room and garden, were enough to make the Alhambra worth visiting even if we had known absolutely nothing about its rich history and other inspiring offerings of aesthetic appeal.
The gardens of the Alhambra
Jess and I probably spent more time in the gardens than anywhere else in the Alhambra. They offered inviting cool shade, the sounds of birds and trickling water, and were vast enough to give us our own little secluded spot, letting us imagine living for a time in such a fantastically relaxing place.
 |
| Surprisingly, this long fountain - a part of the Garden of the Architect, and part of the larger Palacio de Generalife - dates back to the early 14th century, and is one of the oldest Moorish gardens in existence. Walking through it, the present beauty and calm of the garden seems too contemporary to be so very old. |
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| Another garden in the Palacio de Generalife, the Courtyard of the Cypress. The cypress that once provided ample shade to at least half this garden is long dead, but its trunk is preserved, strapped to a wall by an iron clasp. |
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| Gardens by the Villa de los Martires (Villa of the Martyrs), so named by Christians for the Christian slaves who were kept in dungeons below ground here while they served as construction workers for the Moorish kings. |
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| Rotate this image clockwise 90 degrees, and you will see the enormous cyprus trunk that once towered above this garden. |
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| A view of the Palacio de Generalife from the rest of the Alhambra |
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| Another view of the gardens by the Villa of the Martyrs |
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| As highlighted in a previous post, only kids seem to know how best to enjoy the fountains of the Alhambra |
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| A view memorializing a much appreciated offering of shade by one of many orange trees in the Generalife gardens |
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| More Generalife gardens |
(Revisiting unpublished posts from 2011) The water of the Alhambra
(Again, I never really finished writing this post, but I am enjoying revisiting memories of Jess's and my trip to Spain in 2011)
Yesterday's scorching afternoon did not portend great things, but it was our assigned time to visit the Nasrid palaces, so off we went. Sweaty, hot, and frustrated, we finally got into the palaces after an hour and a half of confusion and sun-induced misery. Within moments of entering the palaces, our bodies were cooled and our nerves soothed, and the effect was amplified upon our first sight of water. It is hard even for one who understands the basic physics at work to fully comprehend the great cooling power of running spring water through the corridors and gardens of a sun-drenched stone palace. The water ran into courtyard pools, through stairwell aquaducts, down garden bannisters... water brought the Alhambra to life. Even the winding walkway up the wooded hill to the Alhambra was lined with a waterfall-fed stream of cold water that Jess and I soaked our feet in after the long day of walking.
Fountain:
Pool:
Sideways photos of a pool:
Sideways photos of a stairwell railing water slide:
Water running right down the middle of a stairwell into a pool:
Sideways view of water running down the middle of a stairwell:
Not running, but another route via which the cooling water could flow:
Sideways photo of one with water:
A garden fountain:
A very long fountain (you'll notice that this was my favorite type):
Sideways view (sorry):
And, here, I really just did my best to get everything in one photo:
Yesterday's scorching afternoon did not portend great things, but it was our assigned time to visit the Nasrid palaces, so off we went. Sweaty, hot, and frustrated, we finally got into the palaces after an hour and a half of confusion and sun-induced misery. Within moments of entering the palaces, our bodies were cooled and our nerves soothed, and the effect was amplified upon our first sight of water. It is hard even for one who understands the basic physics at work to fully comprehend the great cooling power of running spring water through the corridors and gardens of a sun-drenched stone palace. The water ran into courtyard pools, through stairwell aquaducts, down garden bannisters... water brought the Alhambra to life. Even the winding walkway up the wooded hill to the Alhambra was lined with a waterfall-fed stream of cold water that Jess and I soaked our feet in after the long day of walking.
Fountain:
Pool:
Sideways photos of a pool:
Sideways photos of a stairwell railing water slide:
Sideways view of water running down the middle of a stairwell:
Not running, but another route via which the cooling water could flow:
Sideways photo of one with water:
A garden fountain:
A very long fountain (you'll notice that this was my favorite type):
Sideways view (sorry):
And, here, I really just did my best to get everything in one photo:
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