Life: Idiotropic

It has come to me that when life gets rough, I stop blogging. Or I blog a particularly nice cappuccino and skip the real issues. It came to me on the first day of our trip that I never blogged our first trip to Spain. I posted a photo of flyswatters as a hint, but never delved in to what will be cataloged, I hope, as the worst vacation ever. It will come... in short snippets... but not today, our first Spanish vacation since we moved here. Ha. Wow. Deja Vue.

It began sort of normal (assuming that any day in my household can be classified as "normal)...

We got up, we ate, we got out on time (meaning one hour past the time we set as a goal). Though I do not normally seek accolades, I do feel that I deserve nothing short of a gold medal for the job I did packing. A cat with his 3' tree and supplies, a dog with supplies, luggage with supplies enough for 6 people for 12 days. 6 people. A Citroen Picasso. A seven person vehicle with absolutely no storage space. Ok, so we sort of cheated when Kirk drove his truck the first 2 hours to drop off the dog in Albacete with friends, but still. Monumental task no less.

Here's quick lesson #1: When using Mapquest to calculate distance/time, do this for each leg of your trip. DO NOT as I did, try to use logic without taking into account topographical items like, oh, major mountain ranges.

Mapquest said Valencia to Granada would be 5 hours. I thought, "Well, Albacete is 2 hours south. Granada is 5 hours south. So, Granada is 3 hours from Albacete." We arrived in Albacete after 2 hours, dropped off the dog, stopped for a quick lunch at, gulp, almost too embarrassed to say... McDonalds (for the first time in 5 years), and reset the GPS for Granada. 5 hours.

"What??!?" I think. "That doesn't make sense!!"
"Did you check the map?" Kirk enters with logic and reason.
"NO, I didn't check the map. I used Mapquest." And I proceeded to explain my math equation.

So, 5 hours later... after driving towards the coast to the east, then south and back west again through magnificent countryside that truly took our minds off the time... mountains and fields, low clouds hovering between mountain tops and church steeples, foggy ribbons of white, orchards and cities surrounded by a labyrinth of amazing cave dwellings, a list of places I want to see when I can stop and enjoy them with my camera in hand... finding our way at night in the wet light streaked roads in the heavy rains of Granada and south through the mountains, we curved around on a narrow winding road up and around the mountain's edge with drop offs scarier by day, but ominous still at night, we finally reached the gas station.

And this is what I didn't tell Kirk initially. This was the deja vu. See, the major pain in our last vacation was rooted in the location and condition of our loosely termed, "Spanish Villa." And that catastrophic experience began by meeting our host at a local gas station because "it would be impossible to find on our own."

Those words were daunting. "How's the road?" I'd asked. "Paved mostly, then a short part is gravel, but it's passable." Until it rains.

So here we are parked outside a bar across from the aforementioned gas station. I jump out and find Greg waiting at the door. American accent seems odd here, but I lead him to our car. Kirk rolls down his window. I jump in the car to escape the rain. And I listen while Greg explains to Kirk how we'll get there... "it's narrow... just follow me..." and "We'll make a three-point turn."

This is when Kirk and I both silently, but collectively held our breath as we got whacked in the head with "oh no. Don't be Spain 2007." Last words from Greg: "...and you'll need to back up a little to build up speed and then go as fast as you can to get to the top. If you can't make it, just back down carefully and try again."

Back up? Down a steep muddy hill? With a significant drop off? In the rain? At night? No thanks.

And we laughed that nervous laugh, a cross between trying to stay good humoured and breaking into sobs - terrified as we drive down narrow streets that look like sidewalks and make turns that seem impossible up a road that doesn't exist on our GPS, slick steep roads, then that three point turn. I closed my eyes, held on to the car door handle, and held my breath as Kirk sped up the muddy hill, the car slipping and sliding in the soft worn places of the driveway.

Ok, to be fair, Kirk wasn't terrified and he was amazing at handling the car. I was ready to be out of the car and into a warm comfortable place. I was worried that we would all go careening off the cliff.

It was so dark getting in that I could only see what was in front of me and had a very difficult time finding the stepping stones to get through the wet slop to the stairs that led to our apartment.

And our place wasn't bad. I wasn't as bad as the last one. But I've come to realize that though Spain gets rain, they don't build for it and don't insulate for it. The back two rooms including the bathroom were damp and musty and very, very cold. Droplets of water leaked down the wall near Arianna's bed and a large puddle was pooling by the door. Greg dropped an old pair of boys corduroy overalls on it to soak it up and said he'd be back in the morning to repair it.

The rest of the place - one more bedroom and a living room with two sofa "beds" and a tiny kitchen - it was better... not perfectly clean, not at all new, but ok. The fireplace lit did warm the place and though there was barely room for the 6 of us to move around from place to place, we managed. The girls spend most of their down time this week there either watching the Brady Bunch together (they got the DVDs for Christmas) or playing card games. The sheets and blankets were old and cold... but after that long day we didn't care.

Hungry, but it's 8pm and the shops are closed and the restaurants don't open until 9, so we dine on the box of cheerios that I brought and hope for an open market tomorrow. Tomorrow will be Sunday, so our chances aren't great.

End of a long travel day.