So long, Spain...it was nice

Spain recedes in the rearview mirror. Just as the Southwest of the US faded in our minds as we entered the snowy Midwest or the US itself faded as we explored Barcelona, a whirl of images and memories and emotions spins as we say goodbye. What a run it´s been. For the full picture, you´ll have to come over yourself and spend some days. For me, I'll always be grateful for the time we´ve spent there.

Two months in Spain don´t distill easily into a few paragraphs. The country varies a lot from region to region. Catalonia or Basque country are as different from Andalucia as Detroit could ever be from, say, Los Angeles or Miami; probably moreso. The terrain and climates vary. The food is different. The people actually speak different languages in different areas (and proudly so). The architecture comes in different shapes and ages. Commerce has far less homogenization than in the States. There are some national chains here but it´s nothing like the US. Small businesses seem to still have a strong foothold. Many people make their livings from small bars or restaurants or shops of one sort or another. We saw no equivalents of Rite-Aid or Wallgreens or TGI-Fridays. Good coffee is available in virtually every bar, cafeteria, restaurant; take your pick of food service establishment. Starbucks or Burger King or Mc-D´s had their presence in a few high-profile locations in the larger cities but we avoided them easily.

We found some olives in Valencia that we could not get enough of. I have never tasted olives like that. Combine them with a little Manchego cheese and red wine and you were set for a meal....something we did many times. In the month after we left Valencia, did we find olives like that again? No. We never even found olives in that style let alone of that quality. If you want olives like that, you have to go to Catalonia. And you know...that isn´t such a bad thing. That diversity you find along the way is what helps to keep travel interesting. You learn new things; sometimes about your world and sometimes about yourself. At the very least, I´ve had to add an entirely new chapter to my book of recreational nightlife.

I´d always heard that the Spanish start late and go long. Dinner at midnight might sound strange from a distance but, when most everyone is doing it, you´d be surprised how effortlessly an evening can slip by as you stroll down narrow alleys from bar to tavern taking in the sights. Tami and I both still find it odd that our schedules shifted so dramatically from the first day after we arrived. Jetlag caused us to sleep in allowing us to fall right into the rhythm of very late nights. We actually had a harder time adjusting to the comparatively early evenings of Paris. I can only imagine how lively the Spanish nights are in the heat of summer. If you have any propensity for the nocturnal, Spain should be on your to-do list.

My earliest thoughts about Spain came, probably, as I read For Whom the Bell Tolls in high school. I imagined a country with cultural roots in the mountains and on farms; a people that favored bullfighting, Catholicism and sangria. As we rode the train toward Ronda in Andalucia, Tami told me she had downloaded For Whom the Bell Tolls to her I-pod and that we should start listening to it since it takes place in that area. The story is about 70 years old but, apart from being as gripping and well written a tale as you can read, it gave me lots of insight about Spain. Check it and check Spain.

Adios.......

More on Walking

Tami - at about 9000´in Andalucia´s Sierra Nevada

So...about the photo on the last post. The snowy mountains behind the Alhambra are the same peaks Tami is standing in above. After a few days of staring in awe at the range that rose up behind Granada, mountains which I had no idea were so dramatic, we decided to try to do some hiking in them.

One additional ingredient for traveling with a backpack and without your own vehicle is a decent guidebook. Tami is the mistress of planning and Lonely Planet´s Spain guide has been our book.

We figured out how to take a bus over to some villages high in the valleys on the opposite side of the range that looks down on Granada. The trip took about two and a half hours....and we only got a little queezy from motion sickness. At the end of the bus ride we stepped off in the little town of Capileira. Here...



Yep...amazing. It was as nice as it looks. For those of you who like the mountains and the occasional fantastic, romantic vacation, we stayed at the nicest little hostal, Hostal Atalaya (www.hostalatalaya.com). Check it. We had a super clean room with a balcony and a freakish mountain view for about $45 (breakfast included). From here we did two nice hikes. Actually, we did one nice hike and one mindblower of an epic day of travel by foot.

The big day, we took off after breakfast (Tami´s note about our late starts notwithstanding) walking up the one, winding road out of town. The road only went a couple miles before ending but we thought hitchiking might save us some time on the uphill. There was very little traffic but after a short while we caught a ride with two tourists in a rent a car. We road with them just long enough for the lady to ask if I worked in radio (because of my mellifluous voice, apparently....LOL) and the man to tell us he´d been born in Pune, India to a father who served in the Indian army (don´t ask me). Momentarily, they turned down a side lane for a different, and much lower, trailhead and we resumed our walk.

The road climbed the spine of a steep ridge zig-zagging back and forth in switchbacks of half a mile or so. After a couple of these, we decided to cut the distance and hike straight up between switchbacks. This way we´d save time but also ran the risk of missing a ride with any passing vehicles...a risk that seemed worth it since we had seen zero vehicles since we'd gotten dropped off far below. So.....of course...as soon as we were up into the pines, far enough from the road that we weren't sure it was possible to make it back in time to get our thumbs out for a ride....we heard a motor. We started up the mountain double-time. This wasn't easy. The trail was steep and now we were getting into thinner air. We could hear the vehicle trace the switchback to our right first getting quieter then growing louder as it approached. The sweat literally poured off of me as the edge of the road came into sight. We were both gasping but laughing, as well. Once we cleared the road edge, we high-fived each other just as the van came into sight. We put up our thumbs but the van was full of tourists that had paid to ride up then cruise mountain bikes back down the mountain. They were full and, fortunately for our morale, they went only a couple hundred more yards and pulled off to gear up for their ride back down. It wasn't a biggie, really. By our map we were now less than a mile from where the road ended and the terrain in which we walked was the kind of high country we sought anyway. It was the trail (and our legs) from this point on and quite enjoyably so.

Up we went along the ridge. Mulhacen, Spain's highest mainland mountain, periodically came into view. We walked in snow as much as not which was good as the spring sun was toasty. Up and up. The thing (or, one of the things) about hiking in alpine territory, is that the scale of things is so vast you don't have a normal frame of reference for judging things like distance. You see a point and walk toward it thinking it only a few hundred yards away. A half hour later you're still approaching it and what looked like rocks on its side are the teeth of small ridges themselves. Fortunately for us, we were in Spain, it was a beautiful day, we were healthy and really had not a thing in the world not to be totally happy about. Every step was literally a small gift and we were fully aware of it.

It's times like this when you think things can't get any better but, because you're happy and open, they often do. On the horizon of the ridge above, I saw something that looked familiar but not expected. I had to wrack my memory to place it. I'd only ever seen anything like it in natural history books or mounted on walls but sure enough, those names I memorized as a little kid came back to me: Ibex.



I really didn't even know they were still extant and I had no idea they were in Spain. They look for all the world like something you'd find only on the African Veldt. Cool, eh? If that isn't enough, toward the horizon, many miles away, we could see the Mediterranean and, above that, through some sixty miles of hazy, maritime sky, the mountainous coast of northern Morrocco. Please.....you're kidding me right? Nope.

Over the next few hours we saw three "colonias", as they call them in that area, of Ibex. At one spot we saw a little scuffle between two bucks.






To the victor go the spoils.










We hiked to just above 9,000 ft. The trail was almost all snow by then and pretty tough going. Our legs kept punching through the crust sometimes dropping us to our crotch. With just enough hours of light left to make it home, we turned and headed back toward Capileria. The trip down was about four hours, the air getting warmer and more fragrant and the light coming in more acute and golden with each step. We got into the village just in time to buy a nice bottle of rosado, head to our little balcony, liberate our aching feet and indulge in the fading hour or so of twilight. Ahhh....... And we mean it.

Nosotros caminamos - "We walk"

The Alhambra; Granada, Spain - Sierra Nevada Behind (More about this in the next post)



For any of you who haven´t traveled as we are currently, as backpackers, you should know the activity that takes up more of our time than anything else is walking. For those of you who have, you know what I´m talking about. Far from being drudgery, walking was one of the things we looked forward to most. When you sit at a desk day after day and get around town sitting behind the steering wheel, walking comes as a welcome relief. You get exercise and you get to pay attention to everything around you rather than the radio or, worse, other drivers.

Some folks like to drive or ride bikes or...whatever...but, in my opinion, walking is the best way to experience a place, at least any place worth visiting. Tami and I walk to explore. We walk to get from one place to another. If you´re patient, you can get wherever you need to by foot. As Stephen Wright says, "Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time". We´ve made the time and now we are indulging our walking desires.

Perhaps the best part about not having a vehicle in tow is the freedom we now enjoy. We can move from one city to another and never worry about traffic or parking. When we want to leave a city, we go to the train or bus station, buy a ticket which, in Spain at least, is always reasonably priced and go. When we get to the next town we walk out of the station and catch a local bus or walk to a hotel drop our bags.....and start exploring.

So, we don´t actually walk everywhere. We use mass transit when we need it and walk the rest of the time. The fact that Americans in Europe get enamored of travel using mass transit is old news. This isn´t the first time for me either, but the charm certainly hasn´t worn off. Unless you have a pretty unique situation, you can´t live without a motor vehicle in San Francisco (or just about anywhere in the US). Here, we´ve covered some 1,500(+) miles visiting 14 cities and towns and it´s cost us about $450 - $500 each. It´s efficient, it´s reasonable and best of all, it´s freaking easy and liberating. When a whim strikes us…we hit the road.