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.......
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