Our only full day in Sevilla, and there are really only a handful of things that is on our to-do list: 1) buy pottery/spanish tiles, 2) go the Cathedral, 3) go to the Alcazar, 4) more shopping, 5) eat. Not too bad.
Start the morning off by walking through the nearby Murillo Gardens and notice two women eagerly cutting off sprigs of rosemary or something from a bush, and keep moving along, trying to not to get their attention. Walk around the area, grab a chocolate pastry from breakfast, and move our way back towards the Cathedral. Being a Sunday, the Cathedral does not open up to the public until 2 PM; no problem, plenty of time for walking the narrow streets of the neighborhood and wander through shops, which we do, very often. The day is magnificent- a far cry from the cold and rain of Madrid, instead, a sunny and warm Sunday, ideal for walking around.
After being initially intimidated by the streets on the map, I come to realize that it's not that bad, and the streets all end up crossing another alleyway that goes this way or that, and everything is alot closer than the map indicates as well. So, for the first several hours of the day, we just walk around the neighborhood, getting lost, finding our way back, stopping into stores, enjoying the little plazas (especially the Plaza de los Venerables- yes, Vansmack, there's a picture of me under the sign), before finally ending up across the square from the Cathedral and having lunch.
Lunch. It was a warm and sunny day, so we decide to sit outside, just a few steps from the Cathedral. There was really only one thing for me to have: paella. And what a wonderful paella it was. But first, a glass of sherry to start the meal. I order the paella, and it comes in the paella pan, but is then plated table-side. Several pieces of chorizo, a handful of shrimp, some scallops and two large langostines are the highlights of the dish. I make a complete mess. I have to peel the shrimp, and I have to take apart the langostines, but thoroughly enjoying all aspects of it. Meg ordered a pork dish, which was very good, but also got a side order of mushrooms, which were very tasty (black mushrooms we were told; I think they were black trumpet, but I will have to investigate further). Also, sangria to wash it all down with. The only trouble- when we got the bill, all the prices were 20% higher than on the menu. Apparently, there is a sur-charge for sitting outside, which was not noted on the lunch menu, but is apparently noted on the dinner menu, and the menu posted. Oh well, it was a tasty lunch, outside in the warm air, across the plaza from the Cathedral; we can pay for the ambiance.
We walk around the Cathedral, trying to find the entrance, which we eventually do. There is a line already formed, as the Cathedral is about to open. As the line moves, we find ourselves confronted by two gypsy women, aggressively touching us and talking to us very fast, and all of sudden I find a sprig of rosemary in shirt pocket. I immediately tell them no, no, no thank you (some in spanish, some not), and begin to make sure that nothing is being taken while I'm being harassed. The woman accosting me makes a few waves of her hand in front of me, then presses her thumb to my forehead (an oily thumb at that), and makes a gesture for money. I again say no, and she grabs the sprig of rosemary out of my shirt, says something that I don't understand and walks away. I'm hoping that it wasn't a curse, but who knows. Meg then comes up and says that those were the same women we saw earlier in the morning cutting things from the park. I should have made like a tour guide once told us in Granada- if you see a gypsy coming up to you, just kick them. Actually, I doubt that I could do that, but nevertheless......
With that behind us, perhaps it was providence that we then enter a church. According to the Vatican, the Cathedral of Sevilla is the third largest church in Christendom (on the floor at St. Peter's, you can see little gold plates noting where such and such church would fit inside St. Peter's); however, Sevilla is considered the largest cathedral (St. Peter's isn't a cathedral) and the largest medieval church in the world. Anyway you cut it, it's a big church. It replaced and was built over a mosque that originally was on the site, and the minaret that accompanies the cathedral was turned into a bell tower. The bell tower keeps the moorish architecture in place, so the bell tower maintains its originally moorish design. Additionally, to reach the top of the tower, instead of using stairs, it is ramped all the way to the top; ramps were used so that you could ride a horse to the top to make the call to prayers. I thought that the ramps made it easier to climb, but Meg didn't necessarily think so. The bell tower provided a wonderful 360 degree view of Sevilla.
Two other points about the Cathedral.
1) It is the burial site of Christopher Columbus; after all, Sevilla is where Columbus launched his expedition to the new world. There is a large monument showing his casket, as held up by four figures representing the four kingdoms of Spain united by Ferdinand and Isabella. It is quite a draw as there were numerous tour groups that stopped and photographed it- even though most of the groups were either Japanese or German. Anyway. . . .
2) There is a courtyard that is full of orange trees, and on the particular day we were there, the air smelled of oranges. Even near our hotel, there were a number of orange trees, and their smell very pleasantly permeated the air.
We then walked back to our hotel, stopping again at various markets to purchase tiles and one very large purchase of pottery, and finally arrived at our hotel to rest before finishing the afternoon at the Alcazar. However, a quick review of the travel guide revealed that the hours it is opened was very different than what we had been thinking. The Alcazar closed at 5, and we realized this at 4:40. We quickly decide to rush over there, and when we arrive at the gates, we're told we can go in, but we have 30 minutes. No problem, so we go in and just walk around the building. There is something very freeing about arriving at the end of the day and having very few people around, couple it with a gorgeous day. As we walked around, the main building done in moorish style, with the walls done in tiles, it was simply comforting. The building stayed cool despite the heat of the day; and the general solitude the end of the day provided us made the entire time we were in the Alcazar seem much longer, in a good way, than the 30 minutes we were told we had. The gardens that are part of the grounds were wonderful, and that was probably what I most would have liked to explored further. Again, the smell of oranges filled the air as we reluctantly exited and headed back to our hotel.
Dinner. We chose a restaurant near our hotel that looked very good. What turned out to be funny is that their menu was nearly exactly the same as the place we went to for lunch. Uncanny, eh? I have an ox tail stew, which is very tasty, and Meg has what's billed as a fillet in sevilla style. It turns out that the "fillet" is basically a pork cutlet covered in a sauce. Now, the sauce was terrific, but Meg was very let down by having a pork cutlet instead of a beef fillet, and an apparently not completely cooked one at that. With that disappointment, we decided to have dessert, which was really good and helped make up for the fillet issue. And with that, we headed back to our hotel, but not before we stopped at a cafe across the alley from our hotel, and had a glass of sangria, then headed back to our room (but not before I bought a can of beer out of vending machine). I have already documented the cafe and what happened later here; in case you couldn't tell from the syntax, I had had a bit to drink that evening.
So, with that, we left Sevilla the next day for Porto. Sevilla by far was the most enjoyable part of our trip to that point. I hadn't been to Sevilla since the 92 Worlds Fair as part of a high school trip (as I noted in my last posting about flamenco). I remember going to the Fair, staying until closing, and being unable to get back to our hotel because the buses had stopped running, and no cab would take a group of 6 high schoolers. We eventually made it back to our hotel, and got about an hour of sleep before we had to catch a bus for our next destination. I don't think Sevilla really had made that much of an impression on me, but for some reason, I knew we had to go there for this trip. Could we have gone to other places, sure, we could have gone to Granada, or to the coast and Malaga or Valencia. Or we could have gone to Barcelona- however, that 92 trip did leave an impression on me of Barcelona, and it was not a good one. Maybe it was because we were there a month or so before the Olympics, or, maybe it was because I was 16 years old and didn't find Barcelona very interesting. For whatever reason, we chose Sevilla, and glad that we did. We had a great time; other than the random restaurant issues (btw, the waiters really are pushy), it is a beautiful city. However, we missed all festivities related to the April Fair; in fact, there were only two events that we saw that seemed to show that the Fair was going on at all. 1) The firework night and 2) ladies walking around in flamenco dresses. Now, that may be how a lot of women in Sevilla dress when going out, but for some reason I doubt it.
Added bonus: it's a sister city with Kansas City, and any city that wants to align itself with Kansas City has to be good.
As for the curse, I can only hope that it has already happened.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
What a surprise
A short break from my recounting of our Spain/Portugal trip to report on a recent finding of mine. Today, I joined a colleague in taking a jaunt to a local delicatessen and to just take a walk outside. We get to said deli and look in the cooler as my colleague is purchasing a beverage, and what do I happen to see in the cooler???
Big Red!
Ohhh Big Red, how many bottles did I drink in college of your lovely bubblegum-ish, syrupy flavor. I don't care that you claim on your label "Made with Vanilla!" because I can't taste it. I just get the lovely red cream soda, bubblegum flavor. Ohhh, the numerous $.69 2 liters we would buy when we were broke college students. And how upon leaving college, I would vainly search for you in the various supermarkets and corner stores of places I would visit. Once, I even found one of your other flavors, Big Peach, at a truck stop in Bristol, Tennessee- OOOOOOH what a joyous day that was.
So, I want to thank you for making it to San Francisco, and to the owner of the deli for sagely stocking it in your cooler; you have yourself a fan.
I wonder if destiny played a role in this today, since today I also had a
Moon Pie; I know, and to borrow a phrase, how terribly southern of me.
Big Red!
Ohhh Big Red, how many bottles did I drink in college of your lovely bubblegum-ish, syrupy flavor. I don't care that you claim on your label "Made with Vanilla!" because I can't taste it. I just get the lovely red cream soda, bubblegum flavor. Ohhh, the numerous $.69 2 liters we would buy when we were broke college students. And how upon leaving college, I would vainly search for you in the various supermarkets and corner stores of places I would visit. Once, I even found one of your other flavors, Big Peach, at a truck stop in Bristol, Tennessee- OOOOOOH what a joyous day that was.
So, I want to thank you for making it to San Francisco, and to the owner of the deli for sagely stocking it in your cooler; you have yourself a fan.
I wonder if destiny played a role in this today, since today I also had a
Moon Pie; I know, and to borrow a phrase, how terribly southern of me.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Toledo and arrival in Sevilla
April 12, a bright and sunny morning in Madrid as we check out of our hotel, and take a cab ride with a very disappointed cab driver to pick up our rental car. To get from Madrid to our next destination, Sevilla, we will drive. What are we driving? A yellow blue Mini (thanks Meg for reminding me). After we find our way to the right highway, we are on our way to our first stop of the day: Toledo, Spain.
Toledo was the capital of Spain (or at least of the territories under control by various groups, including the Moors) until Philip II moved to Madrid in 1561. The old city, despite portions of the city coming under bombardment during the Spanish Civil War, still retains many of its old buildings and feel- including the city walls.
We drive into Toledo, and find a parking lot very close to the Alcazar, which was subject to heavy fire during the Spanish Civil War, and the site of one of Franco's first victories (the garrison stationed in the Alcazar at the breakout of fighting supported Franco, and survived the siege, allowing Franco to eventually come to its rescue). The Alcazar is currently closed, as it is undergoing renovation as it is turned into a military museum. With that closed, we walked through the narrow streets, paved with stones and bricks, to the Cathedral. The Cathedral of Toledo is a prime example of Spanish gothic architecture. It also houses many paintings of El Greco, who lived in Toledo. The paintings, primarily religious paintings, are housed in the Sacristy, along with other artists, such as Velazquez, Reubens and Goya. Meg doesn't really care for El Greco and his use of space and the body- El Greco tends to elongate faces and fingers, almost to the point of the grotesque. She also thinks they all look dead, since the elongation of the face and fingers make them look hollow and shriveled. After wandering through the church, we take leave of it, and walk back up the hill towards the parking lot as we have other business to attend to.
Wine. The area that we are to cover from Madrid to Sevilla crosses several large wine growing areas of Spain, including the Madrid appellation and the La Mancha appellation. So, eager to get going and sample some wine, we head out for Sevilla. The countryside is quite beautiful, covered with trees (almonds I believe), windmills, abandoned and falling apart houses and barns, and old castle walls on hilltops. But, no vineyards or wineries so far as we can tell. We keep moving on, looking for a single word: bodega. Bodega signifies the location of a winery. As we hit the highway to Sevilla, still no luck. However, having done a bit of research beforehand, I know there's a city along the way that I know has wineries, and keep that in mind as we make our way south.
Having only passed 1 winery, which was closed, we hit the town of Valdepenas. Valdepenas is its own appellation as it produces a distinct style of wine, in that it's a red/white blend and meant to be served chilled. He hit the town of Valdepenas and see many wine companies, so we stop and drive around trying to find an open door. However, no such luck. We don't know if nothing is open because a) it's siesta time, b) it's a Saturday or c) they simply are not open to visitors. After driving around for nearly an hour, we give up, and continue our journey to Sevilla. I would like to note that it is very apparent that wine tours in Spain is still in its infancy. Other than the big Rioja areas northwest of Madrid, there is not a large amount of effort, at this time, put into wine tourism. This greatly contrasts with, not only the U.S., but also France, and, as we will see, Portugal. I know that for a long time now, Spanish wine has not had the best reputation- often cheap swill not good for much else than mixing for Sangria. However, Spanish wine has begun to show very positive signs, even beyond Rioja. Maybe I didn't do enough research into wineries in the areas of our drive, but the available resources were very haphazard, and not very informative in the way of stopping and tasting.
Driving south, we pass through several small towns, and as we get closer to Sevilla and Cordoba, the remnants of the Moors becomes even more apparent. Small towns, covered in white buildings, churches containing Moorish arches in their bell towers, orange groves interspersed with almond trees, and just a general feel of the towns.
We arrive in Sevilla around 6, and try to find our hotel, which is located in the Barrio Santa Cruz, which is a very old part of the town and used to be the Jewish Quarter, before the Reconquest forced them (along with the Moors) out of Spain. The Barrio Santa Cruz is made up of buildings, 5 floors or so high, and alleyways not much wider than our Mini (say 7-10 feet wide at their widest). Oh, and there's not much signage, which our practically useless maps and directions rely on. So, we enter the Barrio, winding our way through narrow (and possibly one way) streets, trying desperately to find a street that is near our hotel. After going in circles a few times, and not having any luck with street names, we finally find our way out of the maze and, miraculously, on a street 2 streets away from out hotel. However, our hotel, as we come to find out, is on a pedestrian only walkway, with no practical way to get our car there (the 3 alleys that lead to our hotel range basically only allow for people to walk single-file). But, we find the local parking garage. We park, get our bags out, and drag them to our hotel. I only wish we had been aware enough to take pictures of us trying to maneuver through these streets and how close we actually were to other cars and buildings.
I should point out at that moment that the weather has changed dramatically. Madrid, which is located in the center of Spain, had us in clouds and rain for nearly the entire time we were there; on the other hand, as we started moving south, the temperatures only got higher, ranging into the 80s and sunny. The Barrio, it is said, is often 5 degrees cooler than the rest of Sevilla due to the closeness of the buildings, which block the sun.
We hit the hotel, and decide what to do next. We decide that tonight would be a prime night to hit a flamenco show, and we are recommended to one just around the corner from our hotel. We miss the early show, but buy tickets for the late show. Having some time to kill, we wander the neighborhood, and stop for some dinner. I have fried nuggets of cod, which are wonderful and Meg has beef, which is very tasty. We share a plate of white asparagus, and wine. Afterwards, we head back to the flamenco show.
Flamenco is a show where a dancer, normally a woman, dances using a series of stomp-stomp-stomp across the dance floor (for use as additional beat and percussion), while doing a series of intricate arm and hand gestures, ranging from grabbing her skirt or dress and swooshing it around her, to raising her arms above her head and twisting her hands and wrists to using castanets to keep the beat and additional percussion. The dancer is accompanied, in our show, by a guitarist (playing traditional spanish guitar- think a banjo player, using the thumb for the bass lines and beat, and the fingers plucking the rest of the strings for melody) and two singers (in our show, male). The singers sing out a story or poem, and the guitarist and dancer then provide the song and melody for the story to continue. It was a very fascinating experience- noticing how the 3 different guitarists had ever so slight differences in beats and melodies (one, probably slightly more advanced than the others, was able to go up in scale and make his melody more modern, while the others stayed in their ability), as well as the guitarists watching the dancers' feet for their percussion and beat. The singers vocal styles also differed, but their facial expressions were amusing (think a mix of Joe Cocker and Al Jarreau). The dancers styles also differed from showy to more technical and precise. It was a very enjoyable 2 hour show, and upon reflection, made me glad that when I first visited Sevilla in 1992, I skipped the flamenco show option- I can only imagine how that 17 year old boy, uninterested in the technical and operational aspects of any music other than alternative, would have viewed this spectacle (I imagine I would have taken away that it is primarily dance-based, and would have found it boring, thereby not allowing me at this point to take as much interest and observation as I did this last time).
With the end of the show, we walked back to our hotel and rested for our only full day in Sevilla.
Sorry about the length of these posts (and probable running on and on and on's recollections), but I feel it's important that I try to capture these fleeting moments in words, as inexact as that may be. Having last been to Spain in 1992 (I was in high school), my memories of Spain are certainly colored by who I was then. Being older and a different person, writing these experiences down allow me to internalize the changes in Spain, the changes in my experiences in Spain and the changes in myself. As noted above, there would have been no way that I would have focused on the interplay between guitarist and dancer during a flamenco show when I was 17- I would have been bored out of my mind with the dancing, and I would have come away with a negative perspective. As it is, going to a flamenco show was something that I now considered and looked forward to, even though as I unaware of the intricacies of the dance and the show (which I am now able to appreciate).
Anyway, I've gone on long enough for this posting- I'll try not to ramble on, but I think these ramblings are not only necessary to convey the experience Meg and I had on our trip, but also as way for me to remember this trip in more than just pictures.
Toledo was the capital of Spain (or at least of the territories under control by various groups, including the Moors) until Philip II moved to Madrid in 1561. The old city, despite portions of the city coming under bombardment during the Spanish Civil War, still retains many of its old buildings and feel- including the city walls.
We drive into Toledo, and find a parking lot very close to the Alcazar, which was subject to heavy fire during the Spanish Civil War, and the site of one of Franco's first victories (the garrison stationed in the Alcazar at the breakout of fighting supported Franco, and survived the siege, allowing Franco to eventually come to its rescue). The Alcazar is currently closed, as it is undergoing renovation as it is turned into a military museum. With that closed, we walked through the narrow streets, paved with stones and bricks, to the Cathedral. The Cathedral of Toledo is a prime example of Spanish gothic architecture. It also houses many paintings of El Greco, who lived in Toledo. The paintings, primarily religious paintings, are housed in the Sacristy, along with other artists, such as Velazquez, Reubens and Goya. Meg doesn't really care for El Greco and his use of space and the body- El Greco tends to elongate faces and fingers, almost to the point of the grotesque. She also thinks they all look dead, since the elongation of the face and fingers make them look hollow and shriveled. After wandering through the church, we take leave of it, and walk back up the hill towards the parking lot as we have other business to attend to.
Wine. The area that we are to cover from Madrid to Sevilla crosses several large wine growing areas of Spain, including the Madrid appellation and the La Mancha appellation. So, eager to get going and sample some wine, we head out for Sevilla. The countryside is quite beautiful, covered with trees (almonds I believe), windmills, abandoned and falling apart houses and barns, and old castle walls on hilltops. But, no vineyards or wineries so far as we can tell. We keep moving on, looking for a single word: bodega. Bodega signifies the location of a winery. As we hit the highway to Sevilla, still no luck. However, having done a bit of research beforehand, I know there's a city along the way that I know has wineries, and keep that in mind as we make our way south.
Having only passed 1 winery, which was closed, we hit the town of Valdepenas. Valdepenas is its own appellation as it produces a distinct style of wine, in that it's a red/white blend and meant to be served chilled. He hit the town of Valdepenas and see many wine companies, so we stop and drive around trying to find an open door. However, no such luck. We don't know if nothing is open because a) it's siesta time, b) it's a Saturday or c) they simply are not open to visitors. After driving around for nearly an hour, we give up, and continue our journey to Sevilla. I would like to note that it is very apparent that wine tours in Spain is still in its infancy. Other than the big Rioja areas northwest of Madrid, there is not a large amount of effort, at this time, put into wine tourism. This greatly contrasts with, not only the U.S., but also France, and, as we will see, Portugal. I know that for a long time now, Spanish wine has not had the best reputation- often cheap swill not good for much else than mixing for Sangria. However, Spanish wine has begun to show very positive signs, even beyond Rioja. Maybe I didn't do enough research into wineries in the areas of our drive, but the available resources were very haphazard, and not very informative in the way of stopping and tasting.
Driving south, we pass through several small towns, and as we get closer to Sevilla and Cordoba, the remnants of the Moors becomes even more apparent. Small towns, covered in white buildings, churches containing Moorish arches in their bell towers, orange groves interspersed with almond trees, and just a general feel of the towns.
We arrive in Sevilla around 6, and try to find our hotel, which is located in the Barrio Santa Cruz, which is a very old part of the town and used to be the Jewish Quarter, before the Reconquest forced them (along with the Moors) out of Spain. The Barrio Santa Cruz is made up of buildings, 5 floors or so high, and alleyways not much wider than our Mini (say 7-10 feet wide at their widest). Oh, and there's not much signage, which our practically useless maps and directions rely on. So, we enter the Barrio, winding our way through narrow (and possibly one way) streets, trying desperately to find a street that is near our hotel. After going in circles a few times, and not having any luck with street names, we finally find our way out of the maze and, miraculously, on a street 2 streets away from out hotel. However, our hotel, as we come to find out, is on a pedestrian only walkway, with no practical way to get our car there (the 3 alleys that lead to our hotel range basically only allow for people to walk single-file). But, we find the local parking garage. We park, get our bags out, and drag them to our hotel. I only wish we had been aware enough to take pictures of us trying to maneuver through these streets and how close we actually were to other cars and buildings.
I should point out at that moment that the weather has changed dramatically. Madrid, which is located in the center of Spain, had us in clouds and rain for nearly the entire time we were there; on the other hand, as we started moving south, the temperatures only got higher, ranging into the 80s and sunny. The Barrio, it is said, is often 5 degrees cooler than the rest of Sevilla due to the closeness of the buildings, which block the sun.
We hit the hotel, and decide what to do next. We decide that tonight would be a prime night to hit a flamenco show, and we are recommended to one just around the corner from our hotel. We miss the early show, but buy tickets for the late show. Having some time to kill, we wander the neighborhood, and stop for some dinner. I have fried nuggets of cod, which are wonderful and Meg has beef, which is very tasty. We share a plate of white asparagus, and wine. Afterwards, we head back to the flamenco show.
Flamenco is a show where a dancer, normally a woman, dances using a series of stomp-stomp-stomp across the dance floor (for use as additional beat and percussion), while doing a series of intricate arm and hand gestures, ranging from grabbing her skirt or dress and swooshing it around her, to raising her arms above her head and twisting her hands and wrists to using castanets to keep the beat and additional percussion. The dancer is accompanied, in our show, by a guitarist (playing traditional spanish guitar- think a banjo player, using the thumb for the bass lines and beat, and the fingers plucking the rest of the strings for melody) and two singers (in our show, male). The singers sing out a story or poem, and the guitarist and dancer then provide the song and melody for the story to continue. It was a very fascinating experience- noticing how the 3 different guitarists had ever so slight differences in beats and melodies (one, probably slightly more advanced than the others, was able to go up in scale and make his melody more modern, while the others stayed in their ability), as well as the guitarists watching the dancers' feet for their percussion and beat. The singers vocal styles also differed, but their facial expressions were amusing (think a mix of Joe Cocker and Al Jarreau). The dancers styles also differed from showy to more technical and precise. It was a very enjoyable 2 hour show, and upon reflection, made me glad that when I first visited Sevilla in 1992, I skipped the flamenco show option- I can only imagine how that 17 year old boy, uninterested in the technical and operational aspects of any music other than alternative, would have viewed this spectacle (I imagine I would have taken away that it is primarily dance-based, and would have found it boring, thereby not allowing me at this point to take as much interest and observation as I did this last time).
With the end of the show, we walked back to our hotel and rested for our only full day in Sevilla.
Sorry about the length of these posts (and probable running on and on and on's recollections), but I feel it's important that I try to capture these fleeting moments in words, as inexact as that may be. Having last been to Spain in 1992 (I was in high school), my memories of Spain are certainly colored by who I was then. Being older and a different person, writing these experiences down allow me to internalize the changes in Spain, the changes in my experiences in Spain and the changes in myself. As noted above, there would have been no way that I would have focused on the interplay between guitarist and dancer during a flamenco show when I was 17- I would have been bored out of my mind with the dancing, and I would have come away with a negative perspective. As it is, going to a flamenco show was something that I now considered and looked forward to, even though as I unaware of the intricacies of the dance and the show (which I am now able to appreciate).
Anyway, I've gone on long enough for this posting- I'll try not to ramble on, but I think these ramblings are not only necessary to convey the experience Meg and I had on our trip, but also as way for me to remember this trip in more than just pictures.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
A Detour
I had initially believed I would be writing the remaining entries of our Iberian vacation at home- yes, I failed in keeping up a somewhat daily rambling of the trip, but late nights and even later mornings conspired to keep me away from posting. But, I am in fact not at home. . .rather, I am sitting in the American Airlines terminal in Los Angeles at roughly 1 AM Saturday, April 19, a mere 29 hours after we woke up in Lisbon to head to the airport. We carefully laid out our plans for our baggage, since we were bringing home a fair amount of wine, how best to ensure that nothing broke. We purchased wine shipping boxes in Porto (that's another entry), we bought tape, we wrapped up bottles in sweaters and shirts in the luggage. We got to the Lisbon airport with plenty of time, the British Airways lady covered the boxes in "Fragile" stickers and we were told to first take the bags to "Oversize luggage" and that we would receive our bags in LAX at the Oversize baggage door. Awesome. Bags are off.
Fly to Heathrow, no problems, other than walking 10 miles- picked up some Cadbury chocolate, looked around the british stores in Heathrow, hoped for curry house, but no luck, instead, settled for an Irish pub. Head off to our gate, no problems, plane is just over half full, so Meg and I take over 3 middle seats (the seating went 2-5-2), stretch out, read a bit, and just wait for the 10+ hour flight to LAX to end.
Land at LAX, work our way through passport control (after another 5 miles), then wait for our luggage. Now, we get the bags, as expected, and we are standing near the Oversize baggage door, but no boxes. . .all of sudden, tumbling down, end-over-end is one of boxes and it slams into the bottom of the carousel. We see an inky colored box coming towards us, a sure indicator that there's at least one broken bottle in there now; and there is. We take the box off the carousel, and it begins to pour out its delicious contents, meticulously packed only 13 hours earlier and bought we get hopes and expectations of a future decanting. The second box comes down, much the same as the first, but no release of its treasure. So, we stand there, unsure what to do because the boxes were not supposed to come out via the carousel, and we are looking for someone to explain. We eventually end up with a superior who gets our info and agrees, Yes, American Airlines messed up and we are at fault for the delivery and breaking of the bottles. However, since we hadn't passed through customs yet, there was nothing that could be done about extricating the broken bottles from the boxes until after customs, afterwards, head to the American baggage service center and they should be able to help. No problem.
We hit customs, sends us around for what we think will be the place to go over our purchases; instead, stamps our declaration and says "Exit to your right." That's it? That's what we had planned for? OK, so we exit and next stop is the re-check baggage section, and we skip past it since we were told to the American baggage service center to fix the leak, the guy agrees, and directs to the American baggage center for domestic flights.
Well, guess what. The domestic baggage service center says, tough luck, American is not responsible for broken glass or broken liquor bottles and the woman in the international baggage center is wrong, and that includes how the bag was delivered. In other words, the superior in the domestic center agreed that they delivered the boxes wrongly, but because they were glass, American is not at fault. Anyway, after a few minutes of telling the woman how she could be helpful (another box? we don't have boxes how about some tape? we don't have tape, but we can offer you a plastic bag so it doesn't dribble everywhere. Great, that doesn't solve the immediate problem of getting the unbroken bottles out and seeing which bottles broke. But, we are now very late for our connection back home.
We hurry over to the Alaska Airlines check-in, and, thankfully, there were 5 other people just in from London all trying to get on the same flight, so they held the flight for a few minutes to accommodate those passengers. Unfortunately for us, they were unable to find a box or a solution in time for the flagging and soggy wine box, whereupon, a decision was made: Meg would take the flight with all the bags, except for the boxes, which I will stay with and hope another solution would present itself. Alaska takes the luggage and does a quick security check to make sure it makes the flight. I linger, trying to find a new way to get home, and one of the helpful Alaska employees finds a large box for the wine. With the new box, I head back to American to re-do my flights.
I walk up to the American counter at about 8:40, and notice there's a 9:05 flight to SFO. I recount the story for our boxes, the fights and delays with American which is the reason I'm in front of the counter in the first place, and the he just says, sorry, flight is already closed for check-in bags. Here I just came from Alaska, which held the plane to ensure more passengers got on and made a great effort to get those bags on the plane, all within 10 minutes or so, and here's American, baldly saying, sorry, rules are rules, no matter how sob the story. So, no flight home tonight for me, rather, tomorrow morning it is. I'm offered a discount voucher for a local hotel which I decline- why should I have to pay for a hotel when I missed my connection trying to fix a problem created by American.
A funny: Afterwards, I sit outside and enjoy the cool L.A. night, and I keep getting text messages from Meg. Her flight should have taken off by now, so why am I still getting messages. I begin to wander back over to Alaska, thinking, hmmm, maybe there's some sort of delay or plane issue, and I might be able to make it after all- alas, it was just traffic, and the plane leaves the gate as I approach the Alaska terminal.
So, here I am at 1:20 AM, Saturday morning, trying to make it home from our 10 day vacation in Spain and Portugal. . .I had certainly anticipated some issues with flights, since Meg and I always run into something, but had not expected this. Check-in opens at 4:00 AM, so I'll wait to do that, then head up to the gate and hope to get on an early flight to SFO. If I don't, then I won't get in to SFO until noon, nearly 36 hours after we left Lisbon.
I suppose there's always gotta be a story about the getting there and/or getting home.
Fly to Heathrow, no problems, other than walking 10 miles- picked up some Cadbury chocolate, looked around the british stores in Heathrow, hoped for curry house, but no luck, instead, settled for an Irish pub. Head off to our gate, no problems, plane is just over half full, so Meg and I take over 3 middle seats (the seating went 2-5-2), stretch out, read a bit, and just wait for the 10+ hour flight to LAX to end.
Land at LAX, work our way through passport control (after another 5 miles), then wait for our luggage. Now, we get the bags, as expected, and we are standing near the Oversize baggage door, but no boxes. . .all of sudden, tumbling down, end-over-end is one of boxes and it slams into the bottom of the carousel. We see an inky colored box coming towards us, a sure indicator that there's at least one broken bottle in there now; and there is. We take the box off the carousel, and it begins to pour out its delicious contents, meticulously packed only 13 hours earlier and bought we get hopes and expectations of a future decanting. The second box comes down, much the same as the first, but no release of its treasure. So, we stand there, unsure what to do because the boxes were not supposed to come out via the carousel, and we are looking for someone to explain. We eventually end up with a superior who gets our info and agrees, Yes, American Airlines messed up and we are at fault for the delivery and breaking of the bottles. However, since we hadn't passed through customs yet, there was nothing that could be done about extricating the broken bottles from the boxes until after customs, afterwards, head to the American baggage service center and they should be able to help. No problem.
We hit customs, sends us around for what we think will be the place to go over our purchases; instead, stamps our declaration and says "Exit to your right." That's it? That's what we had planned for? OK, so we exit and next stop is the re-check baggage section, and we skip past it since we were told to the American baggage service center to fix the leak, the guy agrees, and directs to the American baggage center for domestic flights.
Well, guess what. The domestic baggage service center says, tough luck, American is not responsible for broken glass or broken liquor bottles and the woman in the international baggage center is wrong, and that includes how the bag was delivered. In other words, the superior in the domestic center agreed that they delivered the boxes wrongly, but because they were glass, American is not at fault. Anyway, after a few minutes of telling the woman how she could be helpful (another box? we don't have boxes how about some tape? we don't have tape, but we can offer you a plastic bag so it doesn't dribble everywhere. Great, that doesn't solve the immediate problem of getting the unbroken bottles out and seeing which bottles broke. But, we are now very late for our connection back home.
We hurry over to the Alaska Airlines check-in, and, thankfully, there were 5 other people just in from London all trying to get on the same flight, so they held the flight for a few minutes to accommodate those passengers. Unfortunately for us, they were unable to find a box or a solution in time for the flagging and soggy wine box, whereupon, a decision was made: Meg would take the flight with all the bags, except for the boxes, which I will stay with and hope another solution would present itself. Alaska takes the luggage and does a quick security check to make sure it makes the flight. I linger, trying to find a new way to get home, and one of the helpful Alaska employees finds a large box for the wine. With the new box, I head back to American to re-do my flights.
I walk up to the American counter at about 8:40, and notice there's a 9:05 flight to SFO. I recount the story for our boxes, the fights and delays with American which is the reason I'm in front of the counter in the first place, and the he just says, sorry, flight is already closed for check-in bags. Here I just came from Alaska, which held the plane to ensure more passengers got on and made a great effort to get those bags on the plane, all within 10 minutes or so, and here's American, baldly saying, sorry, rules are rules, no matter how sob the story. So, no flight home tonight for me, rather, tomorrow morning it is. I'm offered a discount voucher for a local hotel which I decline- why should I have to pay for a hotel when I missed my connection trying to fix a problem created by American.
A funny: Afterwards, I sit outside and enjoy the cool L.A. night, and I keep getting text messages from Meg. Her flight should have taken off by now, so why am I still getting messages. I begin to wander back over to Alaska, thinking, hmmm, maybe there's some sort of delay or plane issue, and I might be able to make it after all- alas, it was just traffic, and the plane leaves the gate as I approach the Alaska terminal.
So, here I am at 1:20 AM, Saturday morning, trying to make it home from our 10 day vacation in Spain and Portugal. . .I had certainly anticipated some issues with flights, since Meg and I always run into something, but had not expected this. Check-in opens at 4:00 AM, so I'll wait to do that, then head up to the gate and hope to get on an early flight to SFO. If I don't, then I won't get in to SFO until noon, nearly 36 hours after we left Lisbon.
I suppose there's always gotta be a story about the getting there and/or getting home.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The Chairman
Our adventure continues....
Day 3 in Madrid has us hitting more art museums, the Thyssen Museum of Art and the Reina Sophia Art Museum. The Thyssen basically picks up from where the Prado left off, and moves from Renaissance into the 20th century and impressionism (with some more modern thrown in). The Reina Sophia is all modern art, primarily spanish, and features a large collection of Dali, Miro, Juan Gris and Picasso, including his Guernica. While the Thyssen was more Meg's style (the American landscape paintings are atrocious, with only a handful of decent American art; apparently the good stuff is in Bilbao at the Guggenheim which is having an American art exhibit), the Reina Sophia was nearly all modern, which is more along my lines.
Headed back to the hotel to prepare for the tour with the Chairman, but not before hitting a wine store just around the corner from our hotel. We bought a few bottles there, and was surprised to discover that the person running the wine store used to work at Rubicon Restaurant in San Francisco; sometimes it's a very small world.
The Chairman is the head of the Wellington Society in Madrid. The Wellington Society celebrates the military victories of the Duke of Wellington over Napoleon's army in Portugal and Spain (the Peninsular War). Anyway, the Chairman has been based in Madrid since 1975 and now leads walking tours (amongst others) over central Madrid, stopping, quite often, to tell a story about a corner and to have some tapas and wine. The first story he told us was about the building that is now the hotel where we were staying- apparently it used to house the dead bodies from a prison next door (which is now a spanish government bureaucratic building) before they went to the morgue. With that lovely story setting the mood, we proceeded to hit several small bars, eating and drinking our way around Madrid, with the Chairman pointing out various locations, their historical significance and a related story- such as the murder of a prominent Duke who was a well known ladies man (perhaps at the direction of the King of Spain). Anyway, it was an amazingly fun and informative 5 hours, stopping in at various places (all honorary members of the society), learning about Madrid. Also, we were able to share some of our knowledge as he is often travelling to the U.S. for family, and had various discussions about the U.S. Civil War, wine, and the novels of Erik Larson. The food and wine were nearly as good as the stories and narrations- the highlight being the final stop on the tour, where we had several rounds of meat empanadas (much smaller than the versions seen in the U.S. and Mexico), topped with a sweet pepper salsa that was excellent.
Finally, with all the discussion of various wars, and my obvious interest in various battles, the next morning, the Chairman dropped off two bullets that were used in the Battle of Salamanca. If you are ever in Madrid, and looking for a fascinating walking tour of history, food and wine, we highly recommend using the Chairman.
After a long walk and a night of eating and drinking, we made it back to our hotel somewhere after 1 in the morning, exhausted. The next day, however, was the drive to Sevilla, with a stop in Toledo and wineries, provided we could find them, so we could afford a late night, our final night, in Madrid.
One post-script: Apparently, the only soccer teams in Spain are Real Madrid and Barcelona, because those were the only teams we of which we could find souvenirs. Why is this curious, well, I was looking for something from another Spanish team, and every store we went in to only provided those two teams. So, as a result, I was unable to find anything from this team.
Day 3 in Madrid has us hitting more art museums, the Thyssen Museum of Art and the Reina Sophia Art Museum. The Thyssen basically picks up from where the Prado left off, and moves from Renaissance into the 20th century and impressionism (with some more modern thrown in). The Reina Sophia is all modern art, primarily spanish, and features a large collection of Dali, Miro, Juan Gris and Picasso, including his Guernica. While the Thyssen was more Meg's style (the American landscape paintings are atrocious, with only a handful of decent American art; apparently the good stuff is in Bilbao at the Guggenheim which is having an American art exhibit), the Reina Sophia was nearly all modern, which is more along my lines.
Headed back to the hotel to prepare for the tour with the Chairman, but not before hitting a wine store just around the corner from our hotel. We bought a few bottles there, and was surprised to discover that the person running the wine store used to work at Rubicon Restaurant in San Francisco; sometimes it's a very small world.
The Chairman is the head of the Wellington Society in Madrid. The Wellington Society celebrates the military victories of the Duke of Wellington over Napoleon's army in Portugal and Spain (the Peninsular War). Anyway, the Chairman has been based in Madrid since 1975 and now leads walking tours (amongst others) over central Madrid, stopping, quite often, to tell a story about a corner and to have some tapas and wine. The first story he told us was about the building that is now the hotel where we were staying- apparently it used to house the dead bodies from a prison next door (which is now a spanish government bureaucratic building) before they went to the morgue. With that lovely story setting the mood, we proceeded to hit several small bars, eating and drinking our way around Madrid, with the Chairman pointing out various locations, their historical significance and a related story- such as the murder of a prominent Duke who was a well known ladies man (perhaps at the direction of the King of Spain). Anyway, it was an amazingly fun and informative 5 hours, stopping in at various places (all honorary members of the society), learning about Madrid. Also, we were able to share some of our knowledge as he is often travelling to the U.S. for family, and had various discussions about the U.S. Civil War, wine, and the novels of Erik Larson. The food and wine were nearly as good as the stories and narrations- the highlight being the final stop on the tour, where we had several rounds of meat empanadas (much smaller than the versions seen in the U.S. and Mexico), topped with a sweet pepper salsa that was excellent.
Finally, with all the discussion of various wars, and my obvious interest in various battles, the next morning, the Chairman dropped off two bullets that were used in the Battle of Salamanca. If you are ever in Madrid, and looking for a fascinating walking tour of history, food and wine, we highly recommend using the Chairman.
After a long walk and a night of eating and drinking, we made it back to our hotel somewhere after 1 in the morning, exhausted. The next day, however, was the drive to Sevilla, with a stop in Toledo and wineries, provided we could find them, so we could afford a late night, our final night, in Madrid.
One post-script: Apparently, the only soccer teams in Spain are Real Madrid and Barcelona, because those were the only teams we of which we could find souvenirs. Why is this curious, well, I was looking for something from another Spanish team, and every store we went in to only provided those two teams. So, as a result, I was unable to find anything from this team.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
What to do
Arrived earlier today in Lisbon, had a lovely dinner of barbecued pork tenderloin and Meg had 1/2 a chicken. It rained. And, I must admit, a stop at the Hard Rock Cafe-Lisbon. Had a Portuguese beer (Sagres) which was really good. Saw one of Noel Gallaghers guitars (an Epiphone from the later years). Did I mention the beer was good?
Anyway, time for a catch-up:
Madrid- 2nd day in Madrid started at the Prado, which is one of my most favorite art museums in all the world- it has a large selection of spanish art, including Velazquez, Goya and El Greco. The collection is made up primarily of pre-19th century art. I loved it- Meg did not care for the large collection of Jesus and various Mary pieces around the whole of the museum.
Afterwards, we walked around the area surrounding the Prado and down to the train station where we had lunch. We then hopped in a cab and headed for the Palacio Real, then off to dinner.
Our initial attempt was to get paella, but the restaurant apparently was closed or the door guy didn't cotton to our appearance, so we left and went out wandering for food. . .more tapas. And we found it at Malaspina, just off of the Puerta del Sol. Lots of sausage, calamari (huge rings), spicy patatas bravas, and a jar of sangria. It was packed, loud and smoky. Oh, apparently smoking is an option, some restaurants allow smoking, some don't. I'll let you figure out which ones appeared to be busier (hint: it's not the non-smoking places). We stumbled back the hotel and called it a day. In the rain.
I wish I had some words of wisdom to insert in this space, but I don't. The trip has been going really well, except for the rain that we've encountered in Madrid and now in Lisbon. A Mini is a much better car than the piece of crap we got in Portugal.
That's all I've got in me for today, a long drive and being soaked has tired me out, not to mention a long day of port tasting (mmmm). . .
Tomorrow- The Chairman.
Anyway, time for a catch-up:
Madrid- 2nd day in Madrid started at the Prado, which is one of my most favorite art museums in all the world- it has a large selection of spanish art, including Velazquez, Goya and El Greco. The collection is made up primarily of pre-19th century art. I loved it- Meg did not care for the large collection of Jesus and various Mary pieces around the whole of the museum.
Afterwards, we walked around the area surrounding the Prado and down to the train station where we had lunch. We then hopped in a cab and headed for the Palacio Real, then off to dinner.
Our initial attempt was to get paella, but the restaurant apparently was closed or the door guy didn't cotton to our appearance, so we left and went out wandering for food. . .more tapas. And we found it at Malaspina, just off of the Puerta del Sol. Lots of sausage, calamari (huge rings), spicy patatas bravas, and a jar of sangria. It was packed, loud and smoky. Oh, apparently smoking is an option, some restaurants allow smoking, some don't. I'll let you figure out which ones appeared to be busier (hint: it's not the non-smoking places). We stumbled back the hotel and called it a day. In the rain.
I wish I had some words of wisdom to insert in this space, but I don't. The trip has been going really well, except for the rain that we've encountered in Madrid and now in Lisbon. A Mini is a much better car than the piece of crap we got in Portugal.
That's all I've got in me for today, a long drive and being soaked has tired me out, not to mention a long day of port tasting (mmmm). . .
Tomorrow- The Chairman.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!
Stop doing whatever you are doing to make that noise!!!!
Sorry, here in the Barrio Santa Cruz in Sevilla, Spain, it gets quite noisy between midnight and 2 AM. . .tonight, apparently is fireworks night in the alleyways; funny, it hasn't always been fireworks night. As a result, the room above us has cranked their tv to high and now we are being treated to a combination firework (boom, boom, boom, boom) and random music from a TV show (btw, the Jennifer Love Hewitt test still works even when she's dubbed in spanish- guys, you know what I'm talking about). In any event, I'm sitting here drinking a beer in a can that I bought from a Pepsi vending machine downstairs in the hotel- only 1.20 euros, beat that Yancys.
Anyway, I know I'm due for a long posting, but tonight will not be it. Instead, a review of an occurance from this evening.
Meg got weird looks from the Frenchies two tables over and the spanish waiter after I caught an amusing mis-translation/mis-spelling. The menu was for "Pimientos Asados" which is some type of pepper dish. The english translation that accompanied the line was "Roasted beepers vinaigrette." In the most serious voice I could come up with, I asked Meg- would you like some roasted beepers? To which she started laughing and (seriously, the fireworks sound like someone is bombing the neighborhood- I get it, y'all like to have fun), couldn't believe that it said beepers. People were very concerned about her well-being after laughing so hard. Helpfully, she had a glass of sangria available to help her get through this tough moment. She started laughing even more when it was pointed out that even is the "b" was a typo, the word would still read "peepers," which is always funny. (Just want to point out that even after reading this to her, she still laughed until she cried.)
Anyway, have a noon flight tomorrow (Monday) on some airline called Air Berlin; I expect it to be very terse and stringent. We are flying from Sevilla to Porto, Portugal via Mallorca. For those of you not geographically inclined, Mallorca is an island off the coast of Spain in the Mediterranean. Should be an interesting experience. Hopefully I'll be able to recount the experiences of the past few days whilst in Portugal- we should have some free time available.
I think the fireworks have stopped. Nope- a few apparently went off in the lobby of our hotel, the stairway down to the lobby is right out front our hotel room door.
Off to the land of Port.
Sorry, here in the Barrio Santa Cruz in Sevilla, Spain, it gets quite noisy between midnight and 2 AM. . .tonight, apparently is fireworks night in the alleyways; funny, it hasn't always been fireworks night. As a result, the room above us has cranked their tv to high and now we are being treated to a combination firework (boom, boom, boom, boom) and random music from a TV show (btw, the Jennifer Love Hewitt test still works even when she's dubbed in spanish- guys, you know what I'm talking about). In any event, I'm sitting here drinking a beer in a can that I bought from a Pepsi vending machine downstairs in the hotel- only 1.20 euros, beat that Yancys.
Anyway, I know I'm due for a long posting, but tonight will not be it. Instead, a review of an occurance from this evening.
Meg got weird looks from the Frenchies two tables over and the spanish waiter after I caught an amusing mis-translation/mis-spelling. The menu was for "Pimientos Asados" which is some type of pepper dish. The english translation that accompanied the line was "Roasted beepers vinaigrette." In the most serious voice I could come up with, I asked Meg- would you like some roasted beepers? To which she started laughing and (seriously, the fireworks sound like someone is bombing the neighborhood- I get it, y'all like to have fun), couldn't believe that it said beepers. People were very concerned about her well-being after laughing so hard. Helpfully, she had a glass of sangria available to help her get through this tough moment. She started laughing even more when it was pointed out that even is the "b" was a typo, the word would still read "peepers," which is always funny. (Just want to point out that even after reading this to her, she still laughed until she cried.)
Anyway, have a noon flight tomorrow (Monday) on some airline called Air Berlin; I expect it to be very terse and stringent. We are flying from Sevilla to Porto, Portugal via Mallorca. For those of you not geographically inclined, Mallorca is an island off the coast of Spain in the Mediterranean. Should be an interesting experience. Hopefully I'll be able to recount the experiences of the past few days whilst in Portugal- we should have some free time available.
I think the fireworks have stopped. Nope- a few apparently went off in the lobby of our hotel, the stairway down to the lobby is right out front our hotel room door.
Off to the land of Port.
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