If Alhambra is the diamond of Andalucia then Granada is the Treasure Chest.

We were sitting on our balcony nibbling the legs off our gummy spiders. I felt like a queen presented with the greatest of gifts (not the gummy spiders)…Granada at our feet and Alhambra at our back. What a view!

Alhambra reflects the magical heart of cultures thru the ages. Paradise created by the Muslims, opulence and privilege by the Royals, blending by the religious orders, and finally stabilized by UNESCO. For most tourists; Alhambra is part of the must do pilgrimage. I loved a comment made by a new friend at breakfast “We’re going to do what we can with the Alhambra today”. Ha, well put!

Alhambra; the Palace is fantastic beyond words, the Gardens are beautiful, the Museums are fine, the Fort looks substantial, and I would like to have taken a bath in one of those great Moorish Baths listening to someone sing a few bars of a beautiful song. Speaking of historic monuments this is it.

Day 2: Granada; here is where we leave the confines of UNESCO and enter the Treasure Box. We hike down off the hill into the city center. It is buzzing with the young, the young at heart, and the happy. Another comment from a fellow at breakfast; “Im naut going too spent one more mooment in a shu shoop”. (I’m not going to spend one more moment in a shoe shop). Oh my…the shopping! Down little alleys, plazas, behind and around the cathedral. Every street highlighted by yet another historically significant plaza, statue, church, Moorish arch, and beautiful old and new tile. Good thing we got an early start this was going to take a while.

The Cathedral was large and had an excellent self-guided audio tour. The architecture being Gothic Renaissance is quite different from what we have been exploring. The place is especially rich with paintings and sculpture. My favorite; a sculpture of Adam and Eve busts facing each other across a side chapel. So fine you want to take Eve. The head of Saint John the Baptist on a silver platter. That one will stick around in my head for a while. And there is a room full of treasure. Outfits the Popes wore; Mike says they are called vestments but they have other names. Lots and lots of gold. Old beautiful gold. I loved this place.

Throughout the day we toured the sites and monuments, shopped, hung out in the café’s eating free food. In the evening we watched impromptu street theatre. Who are these people? Mike and I laughed until we were silly doing an American translation of what these actors were saying. “What’s wrong with my tent?” (she shakes out some kind of tarp, then she screams at her boyfriend, her boyfriend runs away) “and don’t come back you bum!” “Oh but you, you little bitch, you stole my boyfriend!” I think you had to be there.

Love this place.

Ronda, Spain

For Mother’s Day my son Matt sent me a UTube video of a crazy person BASE jumping off the Ronda Bridge. Naturally I was horrified. I had been standing on that exact spot the day before. It made my stomach flip, thinking of the depth and straight drop down. In a later conversation I had with Matt I assured him he was never coming to Ronda. (Like he was listening). He said “Mom, hundreds of people jump that bridge.” I said “like ####”! He says kind of quiet; “well it’s not exactly legal”. Right.
Ronda seems to be in everyone’s conversation of those who visit Spain. Are you going to Ronda? Have you been to Ronda? How far is Ronda? There is a reason for that. Ronda is small, stunning, romantic and Malaga’s most spectacular town. The name Ronda means surrounded by mountains. The town kind of hangs off a cliff which is a fissure of El Tajo gorge.

Around 37,000 people live here. They are making a good living on tourism and handle it gracefully.

We stayed a few paces from the bridge at a place called Hotel Ronda. It’s has 7 little rooms in a really old but fine building. A lovely proprietor; making for a perfect visit.
Also top of the memory chart; The Ronda Bull Ring. I judge this museum and self-guided tour to be one of the best. Not too long, not too complicated. The tour takes you in as if you were a bull. Getting dropped off in the stock yard. Entering the stalls. Explaining the nuances of breeding order, selection, and historical significance of not only the matador but also the bull. Into the ring. I know a lot more about Bull Fights.
Our visit to Ronda is as it should be, the bridge, the cliffs, the walks around town, the gardens and parks. And The Bull Ring. Have you been to Ronda?

AKA Seville, Spain, the capital of Andalucia. It’s been called a bunch of different things. In our mythology we give Hercules the founding rights, the Romans called it Hispalis the Moors called it Ixbilia. Christopher Columbus called it the honey hole (I made that up) but it is where he set sail with the backing of Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand to open up trade with the new world (us). Magellan called it home after the Portuguese wouldn’t give him any money to sail. He was pretty happy with that turn of events and sailed down the Guadalquivir River with visions of fame and fortune dancing in his head. In his quest he also wanted to prove a big monster was not going to eat them as they sailed off the ends of the world. Turns out he had much bigger problems than sea monsters.

Enough historical fiction via me. Here is what we did in Seville:

The Cathedral; is the largest church in the world by volume and defines the word Gothic. I walked in the front door and said “Wow!” (how original). The stunning columns supporting the main structure grab your visual and shoot you up to the ceiling.

The Cathedral has so many stunning features it seems silly to try and describe, but here goes. The treasure of the Cathedral is what they call the Capilla Mayor and what I call the main alter. It is all gold and divided into scenes of the life of Christ. There are over 1,000 carved figures. The alter is quite overwhelming, it is the life work of Flemish artist Pieter Dancart.  Amazingly enough they let you get pretty close up and you can feel the holiness of it. I guess that’s the point. Behind the alter is the choir loft and organs, OK I don’t know who gets to belt out a number on those pipes but I’m sure it’s astounding in all ways. As you circle round the side chapels all filled with amazing religious artifacts you finally run into the bones of Christopher

Columbus. The monumental tomb is nothing but fantastic. There are 4 larger than life Religious Centurions carrying his casket. There is a lot of controversy if he is actually in there, recent DNA tests seem to prove it’s really him. It appears he traveled a bit even after his death but ended up here.

And then there is the art. Oh my! Murillo, Goya, Zurbaran.  Come to Seville and check it out.

Yes, tiled out as in tired out.
Seville’s Alcazar is a castle, a fortress, a museum, a multitude of gardens and home to the Royals when they are in town. Us regular folk are allowed in to swoon over this property which was founded in 913 for the Córdoba governors of Seville. The rest of it was primarily built in the 1300’s which was supposedly the dark ages but these folks obviously were not partaking in the dark ages. The place is stunning. When touring the castle and a variety of small museum rooms you start your education with tile making 101 and by the time you hit the exit you’re in graduate school.

After cruising around the reception rooms, bedrooms, salons, patios and stair cases you’re ready to hit the gardens and patio’s.

The gardens have sweet names like “Jardin de la Danza” (Garden of the Dance), “Jardin de la Labyrinths” (Hedge Maze) and “Ladies Garden” they feature mature landscaping, and have hired Edward Scissors Hand to do the bushes, I think Martha Stewart was around the corner planting roses. The gardens are magnificent and you can wander around all day as long as you don’t get tiled out. House Hunters International anyone? Bring your check book.

How appropriate the name of our hotel in Lisbon was “Lisbon Short Stay” because it was indeed kind of a short stay, with a ton of adventure packed into two days.

“Short Stay” did not disappoint. A hostel – like establishment running at the top of their game. Unusual in their art, excellent in their apartments (kitchen, bedroom, private bath) and tasty in their restaurant and café.  Staff more than helpful and welcoming.

Lisbon is amazing. The city is divided into neighborhoods or Barrios. We stayed in Baixa which is known for it’s promenades, restaurants and tourism. It’s a hot spot and you can defiantly feel the heat.

The neighborhood is especially recognized for the “Elevator de Santa Justa” which is a neo-gothic (fancy) lanky wrought-iron elevator designed by Raul Mesnier who was  apprentice to Gustav Eiffel (as in the tower).  It’s an amazing structure to behold, rising straight up in a small ally close to our hotel. I got a pretty good picture from the roof top terrace of Short Stay.

On our second day we knew enough to book a private  tour.  Tuk tuk’s are a bit controversial in these parts but they are electrically powered and make the hop-on, hop-off bus look like a joke.

Our rig was driven by a local guy, Daniel and if he didn’t have a history degree, I was going to give him one.  He was a wealth of information both old and new, who drove us all around the city.

We went to the big sites as well as the smaller neighborhoods. His grasp of daily life, politics and easy going personality made the 3 hour tour fly by. We met the old, we met the new, he talked about safety and moving around the city on our own. All good to know. Here are a few of the stops:

The Cathedral – A must  stop just to soak in the Catholic majesty. The Cathedral part is free but for a small amount you can tour the Gothic Cloister which is a “still in progress” excavation of Roman times, 2000 years back. It takes a little imagination but you can see the Roman street and shop fronts, Islamic house and medieval cistern and water works. Really amazing.

Igreja de Sao Vicente de Fora – a serine and gorgeous church and monastery (1147) Suffered major damage in the 1755 earth quake and is a revered place for the loss of life of the faithful.

Panteao Nacional is kind of a museum. It used to be a church. It’s baroque beauty now pays homage to Portugal’s heroes (including Vasco da Gama) and heroines and the wealthy who built Lisbon.

Castillo de Sao Jorge- Every castle we go to is different, but with some consistent characteristics. They are usually on a hill to protect, or a shore to defend. Restoration efforts vary; some complete, some remaining in ruins. The castle often reveals  the grandeur of the people who conquered and those that remain. They leave their mark in the blood lines; the architecture, the style, the food and the customs. For Lisbon and Castillo de San Jorge it’s quite a recipe; the Visigoths in the 5th century, the Moors in the 9th century, the Christians in the 12th century and the royals form the 14th to the 16th century. The castle is amazing with a huge  snaking rampart, where you can see all of Lisbon, lots of tree shaded court yards, stunning walls and a great tower.

After several hours of touring Daniel brings us to a local neighborhood he is familiar with.  We have lunch at a mom and pop place (mom makes the ham sandwiches, dad waits on table). We finish with a sour cherry liquor. Very homey.

I’m interrupting my usual sequential travel stories to tell you about Posada de Palacios in Sanlucar de Barrameda, Spain. We arrived yesterday and it was like letting four kids loose in the Spook Fun House at the County Fair. Or even more accurate four innocents in a Sify hoar film in the making, where we go hide in the graveyard while the ax murderer runs havoc in the palace.

We enter  thru a giant wooden door, we are buzzed in by the surely Anna. She commands the front desk, and soon disappears. She asks for no payment, no credit card, no nothing, she gives us keys.  We are the only guests in a palace that must have entertained hundreds. We are placed in rooms very far apart. The night takes on a life of it’s own. We use our iphone flashlights to explore amazing hallways and tunnels, empty closets, bedroom after bedroom.  We sit on one of the many plazas in the dark sipping refreshment, we dance in a giant dark ballroom. The palace is fully furnished with period antiques. I’m not sure what period but all is authentic. What a crazy place. We sleep and wake to downpour rain. What adventure awaits us in the light?

The town of Obidos was a wedding present to Isabel of Aragón from King Denis in 1282. It was an important port and by the time they constructed the castle, the surrounding walls and ramparts, several outstanding churches, lots of white washed cottages with red tile roofs, and when they planted flowers all over the place, it was just charming. This is the kind of place Disney wants to be and surely they should send someone over asap.

Mike and I approached the city on foot. There are no cars allowed, a good rule since the streets are so skinny they provide 2 legged chairs at the cafés.

I think surely Disney has taken over when I see a handsome Portuguese fellow playing the accordion in the stunning south gate entrance. It’s decorated with traditional 18th century blue tile, it can’t get more authentic.

It was a magical day. Mike bought a bird whistle from a little lady on the Rua Direta, which is the main shopping street.

I buy a princess blouse that swishes about as I stroll up the street, quite a scene; Mike with his whistle and me in my princess blouse. We start a slow crawl thru town, stopping at lots of shops and chatting with lots of people. We try the local sour cherry liquor served in tiny little chocolate cups. We have snacks in a torture chamber

and then we hike the rampant and walls of the castle. The hike can be 6K long but believe me it looked easy but was not. The walls are very high and their are no rails.The stones are slick from thousands of feet over thousands of years. Mike says “can you imagine running up here with your bow and arrows, with those crazy outfits on, trying to shoot somebody?” We make our way poking our heads thru the crenulations here and there. When we pass folks going the opposite way, everyone backs against the wall and you pass hand to hand thru the whole family to get to the other side. Talk about not for the faint of heart. Our day in Obidos… our own kind of magic.

I woke up this morning and cranked the shade up.

Sun again, beautiful day. I can hear Michael down stairs making coffee. Today finds us on day six of our “vacation from our vacation”. That sounds funny but that’s exactly what it is. Time for Mike to slip from behind the wheel, put Betty (the GPS) in the glove compartment, scrub the bugs off the windshield, do some laundry, write a few words and go to the beach.

Baleal is a surf Mecca around 1 hour north of Lisbon. Unbeknownst to me Portugal is a famous surfing spot because it is the western most spot on continental Europe. You won’t see Baleal in a lot of guide books unless you’re interested in Supertubos beach in near by Peniche (which you may find in the guide book). The attraction is obviously the swells and different breaks, and the weather which is sunny. Beleal is known for challenging but consistent long waves, surf camps and surfers galore. Very entertaining, did I bring out the wet suit?

No, not today, so far I’m entertained by walking the long stretches of beach and watching others struggle into their wet suits and fall ass- over- tea kettle into the surf. The beaches are home to quite a few snack stands, restaurants,

beach bars, and lots of nooks and crannies to roll out your blanket and soak up the sun. I have noticed most of the sunbathers construct a little wind break, (it does get windy here) but I had to laugh, those things would take off like a sail and poke your eye out on our beach in Mexico. Anyway to say the least we are enjoying our vacation from our vacation here in Baleal.

What is the Sound of Lace?

Is it the voices of Portuguese women laughing and talking, echoing in a stone hall? Is it the sound of a pin being stuck into a straw cushion? Is it the sound of a million knots  pulled tight? Is it the clicking of the bobbins patiently feeding the masterpiece?

Yes, it’s the clicking of the bobbins.

These are the memories I took from the Bobbin Lace Museum in Vila do Condi, Portugal. I knew before I set foot in the door my Aunt Jean would have loved this place. Aunt Jean was first a weaver and second an explorer into all the fields of all fiber art. She was a creator of projects, all threads, yarn, fabric, string and accompanying  tools found their way into her life and as a result into a little bit on mine. (I ended up with some of her bobbins.) The last time I saw Aunt Jean in 2006 she was teaching my son and I a simple bobbin weave thru a wood spool. We made a really really long scarf. It was a bit like lace making.

I thought of my aunt as I strolled thru the museum.  The history of lace making in Portugal comes naturally; from the sea. The women mended the fish nets.  Obviously they got a little sick of that and kicked it up a notch. A really big notch. Today you see Portuguese lace making in many villages and towns. But the town of
Vila do Conde and this museum  hold the Guinness Book of world records  with the largest bobbin lace piece ever made. They had a grand

festival and received the coveted plaque, the giant (and I mean giant) piece of lace adorns the entry way (left side, ceiling, and right side) to the hall where the ladies sit clicking their bobbins. (Mike was afraid to go in there).

Mike and I were contemplating tapas in a place called the Matadoriora which I tried to translate and only came up with matrimony, or slaughterhouse, I was hoping it wasn’t the latter. We were slightly stunned after a day of hiking around Santiago de Compostela. The tender of the tapas asked “Have you traveled in by foot as Pilgrims?” Mike responded, “Yes, indeed we have… in an Avis rental car” The guy almost fell over laughing.

Santiago de Compostela is the final stop on the epic Camino de Santiago pilgrimage trail. It begins in San Sebastian and ends 500 miles later here in Santiago de Compostela. The trail has strained and comforted millions over the years, today more than 250,000 make the journey each year.

The cathedral is the heart of the city and it is believed that Santiago Apostol (St James the Apostle) is buried here. The word Compostela comes from the Latin word Campus Stella (constellation) and the story attached explains a religious hermit; Pelayo being guided by the stars to rediscover the tomb in AD 820. Mike and I spent a long time in the cathedral. It’s actually the 4th church to stand on this spot. The usual, mine’s bigger than yours and a lot of repair and reconstruction brings it  to where it is today. We were again surprised with the generosity and allowance of freedom to explore the cathedral.

Up and behind the alter there is a small staircase that leads to a stature of Santiago who has watched over the cathedral since 1211, people hug and kiss it. After coming down the stairs you are allowed to go under the alter to the Cripta Apostolic where Santiago’s remains lie inside a silver casket. I have to tell you, that was pretty amazing. A special pilgrim’s mass is celebrated daily, we circled the interior several time. It was an exciting and peaceful visit.

The next day we hiked all over the city.

The more than hospitable fellows at Hotel Costa Villa where we procured a delightful room, were amazingly patient with us, drawing maps, and suggesting various routes to explore.

I think we did them all, including a visit to the local market where it seems “everyone” shops for everything. The fish lanes are always my favorite and I can’t resist taking pictures of what offerings the sea has made. We also bought a boob cheese.

The boob cheese has a long and complicated story. BUT it has something to do with a bishop being in the cathedral and seeing a statue of a woman who had very nice breasts, too nice apparently because he had them shaved down to a “decent” size.

This enraged the people of Santiago de Compostela and they began making their cheese in the form of a boob. The cheese is delicious, there is a soft version and a smoky version. We have some in the frig at this very moment.

On that note I end my memories of Santiago de Campostela an amazing city with an amazing aura.