Life: Idiotropic

Sometimes advice isn't specific enough, but then there's Google maps.

A couple months ago I heard about the beautiful waterfall at Navajas where young couples like to go to swim, so early this summer I tried to find it.  Navajas isn't far away.  It's just a small town 30 minutes up the highway past Segorbe.

The town itself is really pretty with unusually palacial homes for a town its size, so I wonder what the history is.   It was Moorish before 1238, but so were all the towns in this area up to that time.  It is known for the river that runs around it and many wealthy Valencians have built their summer homes there, so those might account for some of them.

Our first attempt put us west of the town where the water was pretty, but irregular in depth and not safe to play in for my little ones.  Today we found it... the "Salto de los Novios" or Lover's Waterfall not because I'm particularly brilliant, but because I looked up another town on Google Maps and accidentally checked the box that overlayed geotagged photos from Picassa albums onto the map.  It was amazing. Instead of looking at a simple map, now I was looking at thumbnail photos of exactly what I'd find there.

I scrolled down to Navajas and found the waterfall.  Beautiful.  So today, knowing now exactly where to find it, we headed into town.

We could have stopped at the parking spot overlooking the river at the end of the roundabout, but my driver decided to take the two-way "horse and buggy" road down the beginning of the trail while I prayed that no one would be coming up the road in that moment because there was clearly no room for two.

The trail begins along the soft red rock cliffs with caves in the sides and a fountain at the base where the water comes out and makes a short falls into the river there meeting with the other part of the river at the bridge and following it down.

The path itself is extremely well groomed - an easy one for young and old, so the girls enjoyed skipping on it.  The water is cold and crystal clear.  Just past the bridge large flat white stones  jut out into the river making platforms for people to stand on and a narrow path for the water to push through.  There it pools into a large calmer place with the waterfall in the background.

A smaller bridge crosses again to an area with large built in lights.  They look like concert lights.  From there you can see more on the hill, so they must have concerts or events of some kind there.

Families filled the large grassy area.  There are a few picnic tables, but most sat on blanket and threw balls to tiny dogs.  My girls ran across the bridge, climbed on a rock, and nearly slipped into the water. 

We followed the trail for a while.  I'd hoped that it would hug the river and give us more photos ops for pretty water and dramatic falls, but it didn't.  We heard the water, but could only get small glimpses of it.  The rock formations there were stunning though, so we found ourselves touching the rocks and discussing how they might have formed that way.  We found crystaline structures and hard white veins through the cliffs, perfectly striped areas with differing textures and colors, shards that looked like California's Devil's Postpile and some that could have inspired the Alhambra's ceilings.  Luci reached up to touch a white smooth rock.  It looked rounded.  She pulled her hand away covered in soft white powder.

We found an old bridge, some interesting trees, and a grove of bamboo.  I found a grasshopper and a butterfly, so I was happy.  Bugs are cool.

We let the girls play in the shallow water with their Barbies before heading home.  A few Spanish kids came and played with them.  They all spoke Spanish together.  I wasn't listening, but they were able to communicate.  That makes me happy.

I have the most amazing friends.  Globally.  It's really phenomenal.  I remember one day in Germany, I came home to find a potted plant and a bottle of malt vinegar by my garage door.  Maria.  She has a talent for leaving wonderfully fun and sometimes quirky gifts then apologizing that the flowers weren't perfect because "they toppled over" in her car.

Here, my friend Eva is the occasional bearer of some really spectacular fruit.  One day I was just getting into my car from the bus stop and she sped up next to me and handed me these tomatoes.  Royal tomatoes.  These are what the prince prefers.

And today I was out running errands and returned to find this.

I am spoiled and I absolutely love my friends... all of them... even the ones who don't bring me vinegar and fruit.  ;)


But there's really nothing quite like a tray of really spectacular fruit. 


Later tonight Kirk will prepare an absolutely delicious Korean meal.  Bulgoki and several different types of kim chi.  All delicious, but so much work.   I'm really missing the Korean House in Midwest City right now.

A good day is one when you have the perfect balance of work and play.  A day when a glowing sense of accomplishment is rewarded with something cold and made on premises.

So my three youngest darlings and I need to renew our passports and the best way to accomplish that quickly is to head into town and go to the US Consulate in Valencia, a first for me.

We took the train in and walked to a narrow pedestrian street with about 20 mopeds parked in front of a very fancy building with enormously tall old wooden doors and a doorman sitting at a desk watching the security cameras.

I told him we had an appointment at 11.  He said the consulate would be closed until noon.

Huh.

So we waited a bit hoping that it was he who made the mistake. We were early, after all.  And sure enough, a wirey man with disheveled hair came walking briskly into the room and over to us shaking our hands, sweetly greeting the girls, and welcoming us before asking us to wait 5 minutes downstairs while he opened up the office and disarmed the usual security.

Five minutes later the security guard nodded and looked towards the elevator to indicate that we could go and soon we were up the elevator and buzzing to enter the tiny little office that takes care of all the Americans in the province of Valencia all the way down to Murcia.

It doesn't seem like it would be so hard.  There can't be that many of us, I think.  But apparently there are... and apparently they aren't all here on official business.  And this good-natured man is required to visit the Americans who sit in Spanish prisons every three months. 

[Shudder]  I can't imagine.

The service in this small office was fabulous though and so friendly.  He apologized for the thick protective glass that he has to stay behind while serving us.  I think he would have rather been sitting down at a cafe doing our paperwork there.  It was a nice government experience.

Afterward with a bit of time to kill before catching the train back to Puzol, we stopped at il Gelataio near the Plaza de Toros for a bit of ice cream.  Perfectly located at a main tourist thoroughfare, I've passed this dozens of times assuming it would be commercial and ordinary.  Boy, was I wrong.  Il Gelateio serves up the best ice cream I've tasted so far here in Valencia.

It's creamy and rich without being heavy.  The flavors are true with a melon that tastes as if you're biting into the fruit itself and a dark chocolate ready to take on the best of the chocolate lovers.  If you can't decide on one, the friendly staff will combine two flavors into a generous "small" scoop.  Perfect for kids and belly-conscious adults.

It isn't mass produced.  Every ice cream served including their small variety of soy ice creams are made right there on the premises.  The small family business is open year round with the exception of a few weeks in the January and February when they take a short vacation.

Today was the day that I was going to be out and about enjoying the absolutely stunning weather in Valencia and perhaps lunch at the beach just for fun; however, I NEVER go out without my shower and, unless camping or extremely desperate, I NEVER shower in ice water which is what we have today since my hot water heater thing is flashing "F1" over and over.

Apparently "F1" means that there is a "block" that prevents the thingie from lighting that will heat up the water that I need to do laundry and dishes and shower.

My landlord suggested that I call.  "But you speak better Spanish," I protested.  "But you can better explain the problem," she suggested. 

Fine. 

So I called the natural gas company who told me to call the maintenance folks at this number, so I called them and they understood me and I understood them or at least I think I did... we'll find out.  So if, today before 2:30, someone comes and fixes it, then I understood.  And if, no one shows up, then either I misunderstood or it's Spain and the guy was running late and couldn't come because 2:30 is lunch time and no one in Spain works after 2:30 unless working at a restaurant.

We shall see.  Until then, expect random blogging... because I'm stuck at home and have already covered the furniture with cobwebs for Halloween, so what else to do?

This is a relatively new sight here.  Apparently cruise ships have been successful coming to my Valencia, so this year even more ships are sailing into the port and releasing the hoards of tourists into the old historic center of town.  If you want a relatively "tourist free" downtown, don't come on Tuesdays.  That is when the ships come in and release their bipedal cargo to clog the narrow walkways near the cathedral and mercado central.

So I'll avoid Tuesdays, and continue to enjoy the view.  The lights are pretty at night as the ship takes them all away.  

Sometimes hiding in a normal day of errands there is a little bit of oddity to brighten the day.  This was a guitar day and a hectic one, but as we were walking the girls to their classes, one draw my attention to what was walking just three feet in front of me:  a man with a rabbit riding quite calmly on his shoulder.

We followed him for 3 blocks before turning off to the Casa de la Cultura here in Puzol and the little black and bunny just sat there.  Yes, it's a real bunny.  He did turn around once.  Next time... if I am that lucky, I will get out my big camera and get a good close up.  :)

Spain is good at slicing things thin.  I love the nearly see-through chicken boneless skinless chicken breasts that I buy.  They're amazing for stuffing and rolling or adhering Serrano ham to and dousing in herbs.  But, after buying nearly exclusively chicken for the last month, I needed something new.  The pork isn't quite as thin, but I can buy it in nice packs with perfectly sliced pieces all uniformly 1/4" thick.

I am not particularly good with pork.  A ham is easy.  You come up with a rub or sauce and baste it to death.  Thin little cutlets?  Scary.  But I looked up a recipe and found this on Yahoo Answers of all places and with a few tweaks of my own, the actually turned out really good and everyone liked it.  That alone is miraculous.

So... here it is with my tweaks.

Peppered Pork Cutlets with Onion Gravy

Ingredients
Combine well in a bowl or shallow dish.  The flour shouldn't be white nor speckled, but full enough of spice that it has color.:

• 1 cup flour
• 1 T+ paprika
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper 

Dredge 16 1/4" boneless pork cutlets lightly in the flour spice mixture, then cook at medium high heat in a preheated pan in a T of olive oil until lightly brown on each side.  Remove pork and set aside.


Add 1 cup thinly sliced onions to the hot pork pan and cook for 3 minutes.  Add 2 T flour and mix in.  


Stir in 1 cup chicken broth or 1 cup dry white wine or a mixture of the two and mix well.

Add the pork to the onion broth adding a little more broth as needed.  


Serve with a sturdy pasta and a nice green salad.

Screens.  You know those wire mesh things that block windows in most American homes?  The things that fall off when you don't want them to and won't come off when you need to break into your own house?

Well, most European homes don't have them.

They hang beads and lace and chains in their doorways to keep out flies, but when the windows are open, it's an open invitation to all things winged and scaled to fly or creep in. 

The good thing?  Well, first, it's much easier to break into your house.  And, secondly, it makes play much more fun.

Last year I found them playing jail.  This year, they've combed their rooms for things that they needed to "barter."  Arianna, who's been brainstorming ways to get rich quick, got out old fabrics, plastic bags, buttons, thread, and a stapler to create a selection of fashion statements worthy of Milan's catwalk. 

I told her that she was not allowed to accept her sister's money for these creations, so they all set up store out Arianna's window and used their rejects to "barter," a fun game that they kept up until it was too dark to see what they were trading.

It's an absolutely phenomenal autumn weekend in Valencia where the mornings and evenings are cool, but not cold and the sun warms the air in the day so that you can still dress for summer, but bring a light sweater just in case.  The view is at it's cleanest with all the smog blown away in last weeks rain storms.  There is a profound sense of calm and though there are a million places I could go, I just want to stay home and putter around the house.

Though I don't feel particularly stressed, a tangible awareness came upon me this week reminding me that we may only have 9 more months here.  Thanksgiving is coming and Christmas.  There are parties to prepare and trips to plan and take.  The house will need to get ready for the move and it takes more than a day to do that.  There are more coffee dates ahead and Spanish classes... but... this weekend, I just need to enjoy all the beauty from my windows that stay open.

The doors are open too and the fresh breeze flows through the house.  I've cleaned and decluttered and as much as I'd like to be walking on the beach or climbing a mountain, I feel at peace with the productivity and calm of my weekend.

No visitors except for Ratoncito Perez who snuck in last night to leave a small wrapped gift for Arianna who lost her first molar last night.  She was thrilled with her little falla figure - a special treasure from Valencia who is now sitting on my desk awaiting super glue because she dropped it while cleaning her room.  Pobrecita.  This is the same girl who dropped a special 10GBP coin into a self-flushing toilet after being warned not to take it to school. 

But this is life in my house.   Even in the calm while enjoying the beauty of this place, the drama sneaks in.  A house of girls is rarely quiet.

This little pueblo is what brought us down here this weekend.  Not the sun or the sand or the sea, but this tiny village set in the mountain overlooking the sea just 20 minutes from the water's edge where we'd spend every evening until dark.

I'm lucky enough to have friends from here so I was excited to see the village I hear them talk about and to participate in a celebration that's been going on for 150 years (next post).

The loquat, or níspero in Spanish, is originated in southeast China, but is grown all over the Mediterranean.  In Spain, Callosa is the leading producer of this delicious fruit.   Leading up to it you only see fields of these large leafed trees sneaking up into the hills, some open and some covered in white tented areas.  In the spring they'll be hanging with a tender fruit that is slightly sweet and a little sour with juices that run down your chin when you bite into one.

Like many old Spanish towns, the streets stemming from the church are narrow with a line of two story homes standing wall to wall on either side with only a couple feet of sidewalk between the front door and the street.  Made for horses, cars use these roads now, but Callosa is great at directing traffic through them with easy signs pointing the way at each intersection.

Oh, I will be back... there are several restaurants to try including one run by a man in pirate costume that I met this weekend.  His is next to a huge waterfall just north of the village.

This trip I was able to try one thing that is native to Callosa, some home made ice creams at the Heladeria Emilio Colomina.

This tiny place is just to the left as you walk down S. Francesc from the main square.  There are just a few tables, all full of locals who know a good thing when they taste it.   My girls try the cookies ice cream so thick with oreo bits that it's more black than white.  I'm looking back watching these two older ladies talking together at the table behind me sipping on something that I've never seen before.   So I ask what it is.  "Alaska." 

I have no idea what "Alaska" has to do with this refreshing cup of goodness, but I'll order one.  Lemonaide with a generous scoop of home made vanilla ice cream floating on top.   The sour lemon and sweet vanilla balance themselves so nicely, I really wanted to order another.  Now that I think of it, a 90 minute drive isn't so bad... can't I just get one now?

You truly never quite know what you may run into here in Spain, so I've learned not to be too surprised.  My latest shock came with warning from my Spanish friend, Elisa who told me that I'd be staying just near the Russian church.  The only problem is, that I arrived into Altea beach late at night, so I had no idea where it was.  Then we're leaving the next morning for a few hours of snorkling and climb out of the thickly tree lined road into an open place at a roundabout and there it was, just sitting there, looking really like someone dropped it on accident and just hadn't returned to pick it up.

A real Russian Orthodox Church in Spain.  Valencia is known for the big blue ceramic domed churches.  They are especially beautiful here near the sea.  This one is shiny and bright gold.

It's the first Russian Orthodox Church to be built in Spain and has only been here for three years to be home to the Parish of San Miguel, the parish of mostly Russian attendees who live in the Altea Hills.  An exact replica of a 17th C Russian church, nearly all the materials came from the Ural Mountains in Russia including the beautiful engravings that adorn the Valencia made alterpiece.  There are detailed mosaics on the outside and bright shiny domes.  The inside is small, so the details are almost overwhelming.  Everywhere you look there is shiny gold metal or paint and the ceiling has deep colored frescoes.

It was a quick trip. The girls waited in the car.  I ran around snapping with my camera.  I heard Russian spoken outside and though no photos were allowed, no one was there to stop me on the inside.

A quiet place, but a bit eerie.  May be I've watched too many movies.  Elisa told me that the Russian Mafia lives in these hills and the church is for them.  She's read about it in the news because the police go up there a lot.

Imagine that Benissa's coastline was once a giant chocolate chip cookie and then along came Cookie Monster held tightly on a leash so that he could only eat half.  Now, you have this varied coastline with bites taken out of it and little rocky crumbs scattered about sticking out of the water.  That's Benissa and that's what makes it absolutely fabulous for swimming, snorkling, kayaking, spear fishing, and a myriad of other things. 

A continuous line of rugged coves from Calpe down to Moraira, this section of rocky coastline is home to a tremendous amount of tropical fish and cephalopods - a snorklers dream.

The road north from Calpe climbs a small hill towards Benissa and winds along the water on the ridge above where white houses with rounded turret-like extensions have a spectacular view of the coast.  From here, small signs point the way down tiny steep driveways that lead you to the water.  There's no warning, so you musn't drive fast or you'll miss the turns.  We did turn around several times over the three days we snorkled here.


Benissa's website is in English and incredibly detailed listing snorkling routes at six of Benissa's coves and even listing the types of sea life living there and what depths you'll encounter.  I copied it all into an email and sent it to myself so that I'd have it available on my iPhone during the trip.

Day One

On day one we tried Cala Baladar lured by the description of "shallow and transparent waters and abundant sea life."  Unfortunately, our trip was planned around a holiday weekend and checking the tides didn't even cross our minds.  The sea was high and the waves rough enough that I worried about my younger ones getting pushed into the rocks.  I can see how it would be amazing. A slippery rock shelf sprawls out from the beach piled high with white rocks to the aqua sea.  It was relatively flat and smooth and would have been easy to walk on dry, but wet, the thin layer of algae felt more like a wet ice arena than a rocky place.  We all nearly fell multiple times.  The sea churned where the shelf ended and a prospective snorkler would begin her adventure to the sea.  Tempting and absolutely beautiful, this cove will have to wait until calmer seas.


From here, we drove just little bit farther to Cala Advocat which would become our favorite.  The parking lot was nearly empty at 11am and just a handful of fishermen stood at the pier's end watching their lines.  A small bar sat at the back of the parking lot serving snacks to a few who lounged there nearly all day.


Again, the sea was high today, so what little beach there would have been was even smaller.  At the widest part, there was only 5' of beach between the water and the wall and most of that was taken up with piles of sea weed that was in that day.  I walked carefully along the beach around to the other side of the cove.  With the tide out, the beach would easily line the entire cove.



A pool style metal ladder is attached to the cement pier half way down so that you can enter the water at a deeper part.  This is the perfect cove for children because the pier creates a calm area protected from the currents where the kids can snorkle easily.  Between the ladder and the rocks sticking out at the end of the pier is a place with large sea plant covered boulders that create valleys in the sea where fish dart in and out.  We've seen all these fish before at the Oceanographic, Valencia's popular aquarium.  We felt as if we were swimming in one of the giant tanks there with so many amazing creatures swimming around us.  I followed them and they didn't seem bothered by my presence.


At the end of our first day we stopped at the little bar for lunch.  Open from June 1st until mid October each year, the sweet lady who runs it is a local icon now known well by travelers who have been drinking her special Agua de Valencia for the last 20 years.  The girls enjoyed their hamburgers and I ordered calamari which Luci raved about exclaiming that it was "the best calamari that I've ever had."


Day Two

Day two was similar to the first trying first a cove that was too rough, then settling into our favorite.  It was sad.  The first cove at Cala Llobella was just what it promised to be:  quiet, secluded, beautiful.  There wasn't a sign pointing it out, so you had to know to look for "La Chaka" and turn sharply there down the hill to the empty parking lot.  The thin path led directly to a beach full of large white stones.  A women sat on a large boulder in the distance reading a book, but our beach was otherwise private.  I could have lounged there all day and, since I'd decided that today would be a lounge day instead of a water day, it would have been perfect with the pines overlooking us on the hills and just the sound of the rolling waves to dream to.  Sadly, this solid rock shelf jetted out with a slick surface like Baladar and waves that were just rough enough to keep our girls from the water.  May be with low tide it would have been better.


At least we know Advocat now and it was just around a bend to the north 4 minutes down the road.  Today I stood on the pier watching Kirk snorkle all around the larger area in the cove where the water is rougher and the currents pull and push on you.  The three younger girls took turns dipping their toes in.  Kirk came back and brought Arianna into the rougher part holding onto her the entire time.  The rains from last night stirred up the sea and made the water murkier, so neither Luci nor Elise swam long, but they were content to play.  There were a lot of older German tourists there.  They were friendly and greeted us in English, but I spoke a little German with them.  It is nice to hear it.  Walter came up and introduced himself.  He sounded very British at first, telling me in quite a strong accent that I was the first American that he's ever met there.  He's actually German, but has lived there in Benissa for the last 40 years.  So, while my family swam and Tiara took her dog for a walk, I talked about history, politics, travel, and education with this amazing well traveled German man who was once in a US POW camp after WW2.


Today on the way back to our hotel we found an amazing thing for Spain - a grocery store that is open on Sunday! Catering to the number of expats and tourists, it has a wonderfully eclectic assortment of foods including leberwurst.  This was lunch... a variety of odds and ends that we picked up here.


Day 3

Today, instead of fussing with a beach that would be too rough, we headed directly to Cala Advocat where I was first to don fins and hit the water.  It was the clearest that we'd seen it so far and the fish were more abundant than ever.  I could see schools from the pier before ever getting in.

It was amazing.  As soon as I got into the water and began swimming, I found myself in the midst of a school of large silver fish.  There were probably 50 of them.  I swam out past the pier towards the other side of the cove, and circled around before heading back.  There, there are wide flat platforms of rock with deep valleys between them.  In some areas it was quiet, but in others there was a flurry of life with an amazing variety of different fish all swimming around together.  I watched some nibble on the plants moving with the currents.  I found a couple more schools.

Kirk saw more yesterday than I was seeing now, I thought, though I think I rushed it.  The currents were strong and there were moments when I began to feel panicky that I wouldn't be able to get back.  I didn't stay out long and felt fine getting out of the water and allowing Kirk time to swim and explore again.

The girls and I talked to the lady fishing at the end of the dock.  She pulled the dead silver fish out of her bucket, made it talk, and pushed it towards the girls laughing.  We all laughed.  She was very friendly and let the girls each touch it.  The got cold and went inside the car to play.

Luci got her wish to order her favorite calamari before we left.  I had a tinto de verano and watched the lady make Agua de Valencia for the next table.  Cointreau, vodka, gin, orange juice, and cava.  Powerful and delicious.  She only sells it by the liter, but our kind neighbors allowed me a sip.  They've been drinking it here for years.

Must be nice, those years.  I'd like to say that too.  Or to be like Walter and know the place intimately living there for 40 years.

Here, along the coast, there is a nice blend of locals and expats.  Enough locals so that it still feels like Spain and has retained the culture, but enough expats to bring with them services and openness and some of their own culture to throw into the mix.  It's really amazing.

We all hope to come back.

The Guide:  http://www.tiffanyweber.com/2010/10/snorkling-in-benissa-spain_17.html

My plan:  Girls arrive home at 5:30.  We leave by 6.

Reality:  I have 4 girls.  What was I thinking?  I hate to propagate negative stereotypes, but I can say with near certainty that there is absolutely no way that any boy will take as long to pack as my bunch of ladies.  They took eons changing from school uniforms to something comfy for the car, another eon to decide what snack to eat and to eat it, and a couple more eons to figure out which one toy they'd take on this short 4 day excursion. 

I had packed everything for my three littles except for three things:  PJs, a toothbrush, and a second pair of shoes.  They were told to grab these three items and throw them into their bags already sitting ready by the front door.  We arrived later to find that one packed toothbrushes for all three (thank you, Elise), and only one packed a second pair of shoes and PJs.

And, not to leave out my teenage slowpoke who had been assuring me for days that she only needed a few minutes to pack, a few minutes in teen time apparently means an hour. 


So, instead of leaving at 6, we left at 7:15. 

Our 90 minute drive turned longer due to a 10 minute stretch of road near the Madrid turn-off that took us 40 minutes to get through, which didn't bother me, except that I had really hoped to see where we were going.

My GPS finally said "arriving at destination on right," yet all I saw was a Masymas grocery and I was pretty sure that they didn't have vacation apartments available.  Plus, were were up high on a hill and we were supposed to be a bit closer to the beach.  It turned out that we were very close to our "destination on right" - just nearly literally on top of it.  I turned around and looped back, following the signs to the Puerto Deportivo that took us down a very steep, narrow, windy, dark stretch of road that was a bit scary.  I felt like I was driving though a forest and Big Foot was going to jump out and crush my car.


But then, all of the sudden, there was the sea.  We rounded a tight corner to the left and the road stretched out straight towards the port in front of us with the sea to our right just meters away and our apartment to our left.


Kirk arrived before us and when I'd asked him on the phone if it was nice, he just said, "You'll see."


I hate those kind of answers.  Just tell me already and alleviate the stress that I always feel as the planner/booker who feels the weight of the entire trip on her shoulders.


We unloaded our things including the dog and took two elevators up to the eight floor because we couldn't all fit into one with our luggage.  Ours was number 40, the first apartment on the right.


There's a little gate with a tiny courtyard area, then the front door.  On the right there's a bedroom with a trundle bed and a bathroom with a fancy shower with a normal head, one overhead, and six jets that will massage your back if you're brave enough to try.  The master bedroom has a sliding glass door to the spacious balcony set with two lounge chairs, a small table and 4 chairs.  The view is stunning even at night.


Living room/dining area is clean and set up nicely with the Disney channel in Spanish, so the girls are happy.  Large sliding doors lead from this area to the patio as well... views of the sea from almost all points in our apartment.  What's not to love? 

I do love my tiny well-equipped kitchen and though I didn't need to do laundry, it's so cool to see my separate laundry area larger than the kitchen with a washer, sink, and tons of space for drying racks.


Is it nice?  YES!  Just try to get me out.  I may just stay here forever.  Really.  Do squatter's rights apply?
So this place has changed the way I travel because for the first time in forever I am so absolutely relaxed that I could happily spend the next four days napping and reading on my balcony and I'm already looking ahead for another weekend we could come here.


To book "the pad," click on the links in this LiGK post.

In Spain, apparently, long holiday weekends have names.  In Valencia, for example, we just enjoyed "El Puente," a long weekend comprised of Valencia's Independence day on the 9th, Spain's National Day on the 12th, and the "bridge" in the middle to connect the two.  It's really a beautiful thing.  In Madrid, they enjoy "el acuaducto" which is a bit longer spanning a week between two different holidays.


For our Puente weekend, we drove just 90 minutes south of Valencia to stay on the beach in Altea and enjoy a taste of paradise.  This place is absolutely amazing.  Walter, a German man who moved here forty years ago, told me that it has been proven that this area has the best weather in Europe "and perhaps even the world."  I could easily be convinced of this, but even if it's not true, the beauty has me sold enough that I even went online to look at housing prices to see how much I'd be dreaming to move here.

Normally, I plan these weekends with lists of possibilities penciled into my calendar:  a day in Benidorm, glass bottomed boats to the island, a bit of snorkeling, a trip to Guadalest.  These were filling the gaps between cultural events in Callosa where this town was celebrating the 150th year of its well-known "Moros y Cristianos" festival.

What happened was a bit different.  We enjoyed the time with friends in their village and a daily event there, but I also got sucked into the state of relax.  Odd, for me, I actually reclined in our balcony lounge chair one morning doing absolutely nothing thinking that I could easily be happy just taking a long nap for part of an afternoon.  So, instead of checking off the list of things and coming back with loads of photos of many different things, we spend each morning to early afternoon snorkling in one place and each evening in Callosa learning more about the beautiful Valencian culture.

So, that all being said... since my weekend was unconventional, my blogging will be as well.  Instead of doing a chronological run down, I'll divide it into topical blocks... the next one:  The Pad.

...from the piles on my desk and the wireless ergonomic keyboard that won't respond to my typing.  It took me 5 min. to write that last line.  Don't like this keyboard much.  Full report on my travels in 5 days or so... snorkle calls.  ;)

Shopping therapy is not a myth.  While shopping on those "pudgy days" can be depress you right into the doctor's couch, finding that right item is as good as any drug out there.  The right dress can be mood altering.  The right shoes make your step lighter.  A colorful scarf can make you smile more.  Life is more beautiful when you feel beautiful.  It's not rocket science, it's a known fact among women.

So when a new dress comes in the mail and I try it on and it fits (childish grin and little jump in the air), I am going to wear it on my very next day out.  Add to this a pair of pretty shoes instead of my usual flip flops, big earrings and a large flashy pendant that I haven't worn in years plus the amazing fact that I like my hair today, and there was nothing that was going to irk me and today Valencia was going to look more stunning than ever.

I bussed in, walked to Calle de Paz to buy two guitars for the girls, then walked leisurely back through the narrower pedestrian streets to soak up the city.  Picture this:  me in my amazing feeling great outfit and fancy not so comfortable shoes with my big camera bag purse and a colorful hobo bag that had my zither in it on one shoulder.  In the crook of my other arm were two plastic bags with a guitar each in them neatly tucked into their black cases (why I didn't ditch the bags and carry the cases?  I don't know) and around my neck hung my big black camera.  Sigh. 

The stuff probably sort of ruined my look, but I didn't care.  I found myself in the Plaza Colegio del Patriarca, a nice wide open space by the old University with stone benches and orange trees, and thought it was a good place to stop for a coffee.  I was going to try something new, but then I saw a Parisien that I hadn't known about.  This is one of my favorite coffee shops because it serves the most delicious French pastries outside of France.  It's a new location for me, so I'm counting that as the "trying something new" thing. 

So I'm feeling pretty and I'm near this beautiful square on a beautiful day and I have my photo-worthy tiny fruit tart in it's little box and a cafe con leche in my to-go mug and I'm ready to sit, relax, and just exist in this space.  It was a Hollywood moment.  I felt great and everything seemed perfect.

But then... I'm me and at the moment am a displaced pack mule.  The purse goes down.  I set the guitars carefully down.  The zither bag goes down.  Then the coffee goes down... before I even had a sip.

Moment gone.  I'm smiling as I walk away and toss my empty coffee cup into the trash.  See?  No coffee and I'm smiling.  Must be the outfit.

That's what I get for my vain moment.  The pastry will wait for home.  I'm heading to Cafe Mundo for my favorite calamari sandwich in the entire world and a cup of coffee.  There, they will smile and be extra polite and I will still feel pretty even if I'm in the back corner of a little smokey bar.  It's ok.  I have the best sandwich in the world and a coffee that won't be toppled.

Aside:  The guitars arrived to be played at the first guitar lesson which was a huge hit.  Paco de Lucia, look out.  There are two young ladies who just may give you a little competition in about 15 years.

Valencia fashion is ruled by the calendar instead of the weather. 
Today as I stepped off the train and walked behind a mass of fellow passengers out of Valencia-Nord, I noticed that while I was wearing a darling lightweight short-sleaved summer dress, the rest of the passengers (all of them) were wearing long pants, jeans, or skirts with tights, sweaters, jackets, long sleeved tops, and... SCARVES around their necks!!!  It was not cold then.  By noon, it was sticky warm and humid.


The calendar also rules the beach usage. 
Seriously, from end of June through the end of August, you can barely step foot on the beach and it's not just tourists.  From September 1st onward, the beaches are nearly completely empty except for the random tourist who will still brave the Mediterranean in the wintertime while the locals stay bundled in thick coats and hats.

Smart graffiti:  "Dream your life.  Live your dream."

Valencia has the best graffiti.
It's smart, funny, quirky, and cool.  It is done by a handful of artists who have their own special style.  This one, for example always paints in this color scheme and uses these odd little black characters.  I see his artwork all over the city and have seen him repaint the same wall with another one of his "works."  I don't always understand them... soccer ball heads?  No clue.  But it's cool.





Back to Valencia Fashion... there is no such thing as too many ruffles.

This actually applies to most of Spain where ruffles are reminiscent of the traditional Andalucian flamenco dresses.  Ruffles work themselves into local fashion in a lot of ways both good and not quite so good.



It's in the details.
Valencian women dress well.  That is an understatement of grandiose proportion.  While men also dress very well, women here seem incapable of dressing casual.  I've seen stilletos climbing old cobblestone streets up the hills of mountain ruins and full length fur coats at crowded carnivals.  This is the norm.  Jewelry is big and abundant.  Hair is perfect.  Makeup cannot be forgotten.  Every accessory is there from shoes and stockings to hair clips and jewelry to scarves and handbags.  While I find success in remembering to put on earrings, the complete look is what Spanish women strive for and find without fail.  So, it should be no surprise that an upscale women's clothing shop would also have a bit of bling this time in the form of an uber-fancy door pull not on one side, but on both.

 
Simplicity is for snack time.
Almuerzo in the rest of Spain might be lunch, but here, in Valencia, it is that late morning snack that you grab at your local bar.  It's simple, yet delicious. Before living here I wouldn't even thought of putting calamari on a sandwich, but here, it's something I think about often and this little bar on the corner makes the best calamari sandwich in town.  Bread, calamari, and a thin layer of garlic tinged aioli:  it just doesn't get much better than that.

Coffee is for after dessert.
While a foreigner may get away with ordering a cafe con leche with a sandwich, a local will not.  The waiter will look at you like you've gone completely mad and then offer you a beer or a glass of wine.  That is, after all, what you drink with savory food even at 10am.  Coffee here is offered and consumed not with dessert, but after.  These are the moments I am grateful for my "accent," so that they will just smile at me and bring me the caffeine buzz that I desperately need.  The perfect cup of coffee?  Not quite.  But today, Cafe Mundo did come awfully close.