Montrose, Colorado is a pretty good location to get to the other places you always wanted to visit. We went south to Ridgway, Ouray, and Telluride. Heading out of Ridgway is the Mount Sneffels viewpoint, actually a spot that is used by the highway department for gravel. But, it has a picturesque fence from which to take picturesque pictures of loved ones in front of Mount Sneffels. So we did.
Okay, Fans, all four of you. I realize that I've been remiss over the last few weeks. Lots of stuff has happened, and you don't know jack. If I were you, I'd go somewhere else to read the news!
Not that I'm mocking you, or anything like that, like you don't have lives or are a bunch of losers, no, no, Happy would never do that, unless he thought he could get away with it, and make you believe that he actually cared about somebody, other than himself, which is kind of an interesting concept, anyway, because why would anyone except an egocentric person with an outsized concept of self keep a blog anyway?
None of this has anything to do with why I'm writing this entry, or why I entitled it, Short and Sweet. With a title like that, you might think I was going to write about waffles or cookies, both of which can be short and sweet, and in fact, I have some great cookie recipes on my recipe blog. That's probably too literal a reading of the title of this entry. In fact, I was going to make this entry a short summary of my activities in the last two weeks, but that's probably boring. But I'll do it anyway.
High on the list, while I was at the IAGSDC Square Dance Convention, Chi-Town Shakedown last week, Brian sent me one of those email questionnaires that you complete and send out to 147 of your closest friends. Brian in his own responses indicated that I was slow, perhaps a little sarcastic, and (if you really read between the lines) somewhat unhinged. To my credit, I completed Brian's questionnaire, and I'm quite pleased with the results. I'm grateful to Brian for providing the opportunity, even though it was an immense distraction (me thinking about it while on the dance floor trying to do-si-do). It consumed me. I spent hours awake at night thinking about an appropriate response. So I'm glad that that's been dispensed with.
The square dance convention was fabulous. I helped lay the flooring on the Wednesday before the convention, and met Norman during the work. Norman is this nice optometrist from New York City. I could just fall into the pools of his eyes. Dreamy in a mature male, who hasn't gone to seed, bearish sort of way. We hung out together on the Advanced floor for a couple of days. He's trying to nail down his Advanced calls. I was slumming because I just couldn't face the Challenge 1 floor. I danced several tips there on Friday, and decided that my head hurt too much to continue. I was nursing a sinus infection, and just couldn't do Challenge. Norman and I took a very satisfying nap Saturday afternoon, that left me refreshed and ready for more dancing.
It's great fun to have enough confidence in a dance program to go on auto-pilot and just move about the floor. I can do that at Advanced, and it's my own little heaven. Dancing is a lot like organized religion. The caller calls, and the dancers obey. Sound familiar? It's very hierarchical, a real S&M relationship. I had a great time dancing with Norman.
So on Sunday afternoon, the very last session of dancing, I went back to the Challenge 1 floor. I had a fabulous time on it. I was in a square with three (straight) couples from England who were square dancing across the United States. They dance C1 flawlessly, and helped me through it. What a dream square. I moved on to another square, and this guy bops up, takes my hand and we dance together. I get into another square, and there he is again, smiling at me, and hugging me 47 nanoseconds too long at the end of the tip. I ask him, your room or mine. He says yours, and asks me if his partner can come along. Whoa!
So that's how I met Michael and Steve. Michael is a hot little cub, and Steve is a big and very friendly bear. So we snuffled off to room 1530, and I discovered my inner bear. It turns out that Michael had been stalking me since Silicon Galaxy, which was was five conventions ago. He saw me in the Moonshine Tip, and had to have me. Such are the siren ways of square dance conventions.
The other wonderful experience at the convention was the piano bar. Chip Prince played all the show tunes, and several of us belted them out. I haven't done that in twenty years, and I only know three musicals, but it was so much fun, and hilarious, too. Thanks, Chip!
Joe Branch and I went on the Fun Badge Tour together, seeing the nether regions of Chicago, then I trekked with Grace to Calumet Park, and spent the night at her place. She turned me on to Ancestry.com. Very Interesting.
Now I'm back home. I've been out on my bike. I'm getting ready for the IMEN Gathering. This is our week in the sun. I should be packing, but I'm not. Actually, I should be writing out Condo checks, but I'm not. That will get done before we leave, or the world as we know it will be fundamentally changed. I'm really in a mood to do nothing, so I'm writing this interminable blog entry, instead.
Last night, Leo came over after work. Work drag is a big turn on for me. So I drag him inside by his tie. Leo is an overachiever. Really. So he wants me to be the cowboy and ride, ride, ride. I agree that that would be a good idea. I put some lubrication on my fingers, and prepare my delicate regions, only to discover that I haven't completely washed my hands of the chili peppers that I was roasting and skinning for dinner. Oops. Later on, Leo tells me, "Your ass is on fire." Boy, was that an understatement. Toward the end of the performance, he needed me to help him reach satisfaction. I was hesitant to do it, because of the perhaps residual damage I might cause to his member. But he urged me on. He reached Nirvana. I hope it was not a lot hotter than he expected.
Today, a couple of Ron's friends came over, Chris and Peter who were later joined by Jay. We went out to lunch, then came home for a wonderful conversation about life as gay men. I do not believe that straight men sit around the living room (or a campfire) and talk about being straight. Believe me, gay men talk a lot about being gay. I think it goes with the territory. So I told them my Leo story. They laughed their asses off. So did I. In fact today, it's only a warm memory, rather than hot sex. Leo, it really was on fire.
Check out the Swartzentruber sisters. They make quilts, beautiful quilts in Holmes County, Ohio. Ron and I spent a day in Amish country, and had the privilege to visit their home and see the quilts. You should see them, too. Mrs. Swartzentruber asked us, "Where are your wives?" I told her that we weren't married, but I'm not sure if the situation sunk in.
The family reunion was nice. It was a pleasure meeting Davita. I hope that we didn't all scare her off. Joe and Karen's condo renovation project turned out fabulous. The view of downtown Chicago and the lake is unbeatable. Gracie and CJ love the unimpeded living room, and use it as an exercise room.
Coming over the Alleghenies, we saw some pretty colors. While we were in Holmes County, it was pretty rainy. Crossing the rest of Ohio and Indiana was anticlimactic, much like the leaden sky, overhead. In Chicago, Ron and I stayed at the Inn at Lincoln Park. Joe told me later that the hotel was slated for demolition so that developers could build a high rise and retail space, but when the property market crashed, the hotel gained a new lease on life. Pity.
The hotel was a little strange. Qualitywise, it's like an aging Quality Inn. You might want to stay on the lower floors, because the water on the upper floors wasn't always hot. The elevator is very European, as was the help, and the service. Very strange, indeed, in the heart of Chicagoland. The big plus was the bed. It was comfy.
Friday, we did some sightseeing with the family. Friday night ate at Bubba Gump's on Navy Pier. Saturday was at Karen and Joe's so that we could all see the new place. Sunday, Grace hosted a cookout. I made my famous Norwegian Potato Salad. Darryl is turning into quite a griller. We met his girlfriend. Karen, Joshua, and kids also came to the cookout. It was very nice seeing them.
This morning, Ron and I went to Millennium Park to see the shiny peanut. That place is classy. The fountain wasn't working, but the weather was beautiful, and we took a nice walk throughout the park and environs. From there it was out of Chicago, and on the road to Cincinnati, and we're holed up here in the Fairfield Inn.
I haven't written in here in a while. I'm still hanging around, just not always in Wheaton, Maryland. I've spent the last week in Idaho and Washington State. I'm sitting on the deck behind my friend Bob's house, thinking about life, and hanging out.
Bob and I go way back. We met in the Tri-Cities (Washington State) about 28 years ago. The intervening quarter of a century have taken us to very different places, but in the midst of a lot of change in both our lives, we've maintained a friendship. I think that both of us were afraid to lose the friendship, because it was rooted in some unique experiences in 1982 and 1983. Those years were full of new beginnings for both of us, and because we shared many of those experiences, we've felt connected over time and place.
I came back to the Northwest this past week for a family reunion and for a 40th year high-school class reunion. I had a wonderful time catching up with my brothers and sisters, and with classmates that I hadn't seen for forty years or so. I'm grateful for these opportunities, because I miss my roots, not only the mountains and the country, but I miss the people with whom I grew up. So it was very important to me to be here this last week.
The family reunion was a minor miracle, of sorts. My brother, Steve, called me last Monday and told me that he'd be here. I was so grateful that he could be with the rest of us. Lesley and he drove up here in their RV from Colorado Springs, and camped out north of Harvard. I picked Steve up on Thursday, and he stayed with my brother, Frank, and me at a guest house (the Peterson Barn) in Moscow. Wendy and Lesley were not able to be here, but I'm thankful that they graciously lent us their husbands for a few days. It was the first time since Dad died that all four of the Burlison kids were in the same place, and Michael and Katherine, Mom's kids were also with us, so it was a nice clan indeed. My sister, Grace, brought her daughter Lyn and her grandson Keshawn with her. It was the first time that Mom had seen her great-grandchild, and the first time Keshawn had met many of his great-aunts and -uncles.
We had a bench dedication in the arboretum. Frank had suggested late last year that the family place a bench in the arboretum to remember Dad. The bench is in a truly beautiful corner of the arboretum on the university campus, and is the first bench placed in the "old" arboretum. I hope that it gives a place for reflection for a tired faculty member or a confused student. It's facing a Giant Sequoia near the west end of the trees. While we were having the dedication, construction of a water line was going on. It was very loud and busy. We moved the gathering to the other end of the trees, which was much less noisy. Steve began with a prayer. Karen (Frank's former wife), Michael, and Frank spoke for the family. Keshawn read a letter from his Uncle Joe telling about his feeling for his grandpa. Aunt Virgie Lee, Uncle Harry, and Mom each said a few words, and Grace finished with a dedicatory prayer for the bench. It was very simple and very nice. Later, the family had a picnic at Mountain View Park at the edge of Moscow. Katherine did a bang-up job on the food! We all know how to eat.
Saturday, the family and some friends went out to breakfast at the Breakfast Club. Katherine has a regular breakfast group there, although we increased its size a bit. I was able to talk some with Cheryl and Bill, who are close friends of Kat. Beware, the servings at the BC are huge and good, so order wisely. After breakfast, Steve and I headed up to Potlatch for our class reunion. I enjoyed seeing many old friends (and being able to recognize most of them). I had a couple of nice conversations with old girlfriends, and meeting up with high school best friends was good. The connections are still there. The wife of the class president happens to be a teacher. She taught all of my kids. We talked about the intervening forty years, and all I can say, it's hard to believe that time has gone so quickly. Marta and her husband Mel both look good. I enjoyed the time with them.
I also had a chance to see my high school bud, Rick. He still looks and talks like Rick. He's still hunting, fishing, and ATVing, very much like we used to do. The most startling person there was Alvin. He looks exactly like he did in high school. It was pretty amazing. He's still as happily reserved as he was back then. I enjoyed talking with him.
Sunday, Grace and I went to have brunch with her childhood friend, Carolyn. Carolyn had been at the bench dedication in the arboretum, but she and Grace wanted to talk more. Carolyn's family and ours go way back together to 1946 or so. Grace and Carolyn have stayed in touch over the years, and both are at similar places in their lives. I think they are going to plan on doing some travel together. They would both enjoy that. It's funny, we all sit around and talk about getting old, never imagining that we'd make it out to here. Growing old is kind of awe-inspiring. Each succeeding day finally begins to add up. We've all mellowed.
Yesterday, Grace and family left Moscow, and so did I. I came over to Seattle to visit Bob, so here I am, typing this blog entry. I'll post it when I get back to Wheaton, because I haven't been able to find a working Internet connection on most of this trip! Oh well.
Gee, time flies when you're having a good time. This square dance convention is just about history. I am suffering from extreme sleep deprivation, but all of my friends here assure me that they can't tell any difference. The dancing has been good (what little I've done), and this event is a combination high school reunion, family picnic, cruise bar dancefest all rolled into one.
My sister, Grace, couldn't attend because she's on a cruise in the Caribbean. Several people asked me where she was. We all agreed that she should have been here. This is a SCANDAL in my OWN FAMILY! I'm working on it, and I hope to have MY reputation repaired by next year. I'm not sure how CHEEZ DOODLE is going to repair HER reputation....
The entertainment turned out wonderful. The DC Different Drummers Swing Band is fabulous. Their music, the dance class, the energy of the dancers made it a perfect foil to the Honky Tonk Queen Contest. Which has its own history, quite separate from entertainment.
Last night, we had a country-western dance and a karaoke room. BJ Brown, the CW DJ, kept the energy up and the people moving. RJ, the karaoke guy, coaxed the best out the singers. Mein and I got up and sang a happily forgotten version of Happy Talk.
And the DC Cowboys, wow. The crowd pretty much stepped on their tongues and slobbered on the floor. I actually got to touch one of the hot, sweaty bodies, afterwards. The Cowboys danced two sets during the CW dance, and the crowd pretty much had a collective orgasm. At least the guys did.
I felt good about the entertainment. I think the dancers enjoyed it. I don't know if I want to manage events like this in the future, but it was a growing experience.
2008 had so much promise a year ago. I was getting ready for a Caribbean trip, and I was planning on a family reunion in Yellowstone Park, and a trip to Portugal with my sister.
Along the way, my brother suffered a very serious illness, and my Mom a collapsed lung. My brother is making slow progress, and my Mom is on oxygen, but both of them are in good spirits and reasonably good health, considering. I talked with them on Christmas day, and they both sounded good.
Then there was the remarkable story of Barack Obama. I hardly knew anything about him last January. I'm looking forward to his Presidency, because I'm convinced we will see needed change in our society. His election was a defining achievement for our age. I never would have imagined a Black man being elected President. Maybe the promise of a color-blind society is not empty.
Oh, and the pot o' money suddenly got smaller. Where does all the money go? What a mess. When Grace and I were in Portugal, we were in the middle of Nowhere Portugal, and the Multibanco rejected our credit cards. Outa gas. Outa cash! It took a feverish visit with a bank officer to get the cash. Even though I didn't speak Portuguese, he clearly understood me. On the cruise, I heard whispers about the economy. But when we got home, the panic was on full bore, and has been ever since.
So I'm quietly hopeful, and holding onto my wallet as I head into 2010. I'm predicting:
Come back next year and see which of these predictions come true. If you are 100% correct, well, you MAY or may not win a prize!
One of the most satisfying accomplishments of the Portuguese vacation was having the confidence to talk with the people we met. My sister, Grace, and I gained that confidence because we had taken an intensive language course the first week we were in Portugal. It didn't get us even close to conversing in Portuguese, but it provided enough language for us to survive, figure out, and listen. The class was also valuable for us because it provided lots of information about Portugal's culture and history.
We also used an exceptional phrasebook, Lonely Planet's Portuguese Phrasebook. The book was extremely useful, especially for its Portuguese/English, English/Portuguese glossary. The book was well-thumbed by the end of the trip. Here are the basics: 1) learn Hello, good day, good afternoon, good evening, excuse me, and thank-you. 2) Learn the present tenses of to be, to have, to go, to see. 3) Study the menus, and order off the Portuguese part of the menu. 4) Learn directions, (right and left) prepositions (in front of, behind, next to, in, on, under, etc.). 5) Learn some help phrases: where is..., how much..., how many.... 6) Figure out bus schedules, subway maps, etc. If you can understand or hear this range of vocabulary, you'll do very well, even though you can't speak the language.
We found out very quickly that if we started conversations with "Excuse me" everyone we talked to wanted to help. The Portuguese are a very friendly people. After a "Bom dia!" it was easy to say, "Fala ingles?" (Do you speak English?) If the person didn't speak English, it didn't matter, because he or she was bound and determined to help you anyway, and if the new found friend did speak English, well, these American tourists were an excellent opportunity for language practice!
For much less than the price of the language class (it was expensive), I could have hired a tourguide, and probably gained much the same information, but this approach requires some discipline. I would have needed to have studied the phrasebook in some depth before going to Portugal. The language course was very intense, but its biggest problem was that we were in class from 8:30 a.m. until 5 p.m. so our sightseeing on class days was limited to the evening. Some days we were so exhausted (from class and jet lag), that we simply went back to the hotel and crashed. I think next time, though, I'll hire the tourguide, and study the phrasebook before travelling.
My sister and I were touched by the friendliness, and graciousness of everyone we met. We loved the food, although after having many bacalhau dishes, I decided that my taste buds needed a break from salted cod. Another travel tip: we soon discovered that sharing an entree and a salad was more than enough for both of us to eat, and we rounded out the meals with soup and dessert. Don't skip dessert!
I am already thinking about where I want to go when I go back to Portugal. We spent six days in Lisbon (at school), sightseeing in the evenings. We rented a car, and headed onto Óbidos for a few days, via Sintra. Sintra was the summer home of Portuguese royalty. The palace is quite a nice pile of bricks. High above the town is the old Moorish castle. Don't miss going to the castle. It's a romantic ruin, and be sure to hike up from the town to get the full effect.
Óbidos is a walled town set on a hill. It used to be on an estuary that opened into the Atlantic Ocean, but has silted up over the centuries. A major battle of the Peninsular War was fought on the plains outside the town. We stayed here for two full days, taking in the life of a very touristy town. Óbidos is beautiful. We wandered through most of its streets and walkways. Several kilometers from Óbidos, is the sea town of Peniche. During Salazar's regime, the town had a notorious political prison, which today is a museum. The area has some beautiful beaches, and we spent a quiet morning, walking the beach picking up pebbles.
From Óbidos, we headed up to Porto for a couple of nights. On our way, we toured the Roman ruins at Conimbriga. The site has been extensively excavated, and it has a good museum that explains the site.
We arrived in Porto at rush hour. We had no clue where our hotel was. We ended up stopping at a gas station to ask for directions, and also purchased a comprehensive city map. It was a little bizarre, we knew we were in the right neighborhood, but finding the street was difficult. Also, even though I didn't know where I was going, all the drivers behind me knew exactly where they were going. A lot of honking, gesticulating, and a couple of evil eyes ensued. It took us about two hours to find the hotel and park the car. This was after racing down narrow one way streets, and not being able to pull over to read the map, or read the street signs. I was pretty much of a wreck by the time I got the car parked.
A word about driving: nobody obeys the speed limit. Tailgating is a national activity, but you get used to it, and that's just the way it is. After a couple of days, it didn't bother me, but the first day, it raised my blood pressure considerably.
The Lonely Planet folks also have a pretty comprehensive Portuguese Guide. In the description of Porto, it had a walking tour of the city. We followed the guide, and took a wonderful walk in an old historic city, appreciating its place in Portuguese culture and history. Porto is a real working-class town. It's proud of its heritage. We had a port tasting (of course!), visited several over-the-top barouque churches, and saw the birthplace of Henry the Navigator.
I handed the guide book to Grace and told her to tell me where she wanted to go. So from Porto we headed to Vila Nova de Foz Côa. This village is near a valley that is full of paleolithic etchings - the largest collection in the world, about 17,000. The etchings are in a national park that is protected. You can only go into the park with a guide, and that is what we did. It's mind-boggling to know that this area had been inhabited 20,000 years ago. There's a lot of anthropological mystery surrounding the etchings, a lot of unanswered questions.
It was also in Vila Nova de Foz Côa that our credit cards didn't work. For some reason, our MasterCards weren't being accepted in the ATM machine at the town's bank. I was a little unnerved (maybe the financial crisis was getting personal), thinking we might be stranded in a small town in the middle of Portugal, but a couple of hours later, I was able to use the ATM. As it turned out, Grace was never able to get her MasterCard to work, and mine was not accepted everywhere, but I had no problem with my Visa card.
The next day, we drove north to Bragança. It is the seat of the dukedom from which the fourth dynasty of the royal family took its name. The town has a citadel sitting on a high hill that contains the old town, a church, a keep, and the oldest municipal building in Portugal. Climb to the top of the keep. You'll get an impressive view of Bragança and the surrounding country. Also, take a drive into the national park north of the city. You'll have the opportunity to see some ancient villages pretty much the way they've always been.
Bragança was the place of our flat tire incident. For your information, traffic circles are about the only flat places in the city, so that's where I changed the flat tire. And you don't have to speak Portuguese to negotiate the purchase of a new tire. Finally, if you stop at a patisserie while you are getting your tire changed, it puts you in a much better mood.
Our final destination was Guimarães. I wanted to go there because it is the birthplace of the Portuguese state, and it had a castle and a palace. The palace is one of the official residences of the President of Portugal. Salazar used it as one of his residences when he was Prime Minister. We took the tour of the palace, and like all the palaces we visited, made me appreciate the creature comforts of 2101 Bucknell Terrace. The palace (built in the style of a French chateau) contains some beautiful tapestries and life-size angel candleholders among other treasures. Above the palace is the local castle. Originally built to protect a monastery from Moorish depradations, it was later fortified by one of the Dukes of Bragança, so that he could prevent the King of Leon from reasserting control of the duke's fiefdom. That act of independence was the beginning of Portugal. You can also climb to the top of the keep in this castle and get quite of view of the city.
Guimarães is a city of about 50,000, but the old town is much smaller, and very walkable. It has exceedingly narrow streets, and a one-way grid that makes a compelling case for parking the car and walking. We stayed at a cozy residencia overlooking two streets, and were greeted by the recycling truck at 2 a.m., the garbage truck at 3 a.m., and a little barky dog in between.
This summary only hits a few of the highlights. We had a swell vacation!
Grace and I finally left Bragança. We had a wonderful time there, fairy castle and all that stuff, and a marvelous time in the national park. And those wonderful windy roads on top of the hills where every turn displayed a new remarkable vista of the mountain valleys. Oh, I think we both will remember it a long time. And probably tell you about it for the next decade, at least!
From Bragança, we headed off to Guimarães, which is the birthplace of the Portuguese nation. It was here that one of those dukes of Bragança told the King of Leon to take a hike. The duke was no longer going to be a vassal, but instead was going to be his own man. So he fortified the castle in Guimarães, and set about his own way. We arrived there on Sunday. Nothing is open on Sundays on the Iberian Peninsula, until late in the day. We immediately got lost BUT found a parking place, parked the car, and decided to go exploring. Within a block of where we parked, we found a Residencia, and booked a room for the night. In order to park in front of the Residencia, though, we had to drive about 2 km because of the narrow one-way streets that only lead one deeper into the maze of the old city. The woman at the desk gave us a map and some elaborate instructions, and Grace navigated while I drove. We executed the drive flawlessly.
We had a beautiful room overlooking the street, complete with a balcony. Oh, it was very dramatic! And we do have pictures to prove it, too. We went into the neighborhood, had some ice cream and coffee, then set off for our daily adventure. We first found the ducal palace. It's built in the style of a French Chateau around a central courtyard. The palace was restored by the dictator Salazar, and he used it as one of his residences. It is now a residence of the President of Portugal when he is in the city. The palace is furnished with some beautiful tapestries, and period Portuguese furniture. All of the Portuguese were out to see their castle, too, and we saw lots of happy families enjoying their national treasures. It is a big heap of stone, and has fewer creature comforts than 2101 Bucknell Ter. On the other hand, it is definitely a palace.
Behind the palace is an imposing castle (of course) that was built by a countess in the 12th century to protect a monastery that she had founded from the Moors. The duke, when he declared independence from Leon, re-fortified the castle and the reconquest of Portugal from the Moors started in Guimaraes. Of course, we clambered all over the castle walls, after all, we are tourists. Then we went into the keep, and climbed all the way to the roof of the tower for some dramatic views of the old city and the new city beyond. These castles really are remarkable fortresses complete with multiple walls and fall back defenses to make them impregnable from anything except a very prolonged siege. The keeps and the inner walls all have storerooms, and all the keeps had cisterns or springs. The walls were designed with slots in them so that arrows could be fired from the walls such that they completely covered any advancing enemy line.
After the castle we walked down the oldest street in town, and Grace discovered an artists shop. It had tiles, icons, and other kinds of art from local artists - some really beautiful stuff. We looked through all of it, I think. You know, visiting shops like this is almost as good as visiting a museum. The shopkeeper was a young woman who was very friendly, and told us about the items in the shop, and about the town. Again, this was one of those remarkable conversations where a person befriended us and revealed something of the character of the Portuguese people. We found a genuineness and a friendliness that really captured our hearts. And we're grateful the the many kindnesses that people extended to us.
We went to a wonderful restaurant, the Vira Bar, in the old town, up many stairs to a delightful dining room that was romantic - very fitting for our final dinner in Portugal. We had a grilled black pork, Minho style with a bean and greens side, a mixed salad, and bola dos bolaches (literally cake of cookies) for dessert. Ummmm. I know I sound preoccupied with food, but it's an easy thing to do in Portugal.
The next day, we got on the road pretty early, and headed out to Porto. We hit the beach for an hour or so at Vila de Conde, then we went to the airport. With that, we said goodbye to Portugal. I don't think it will be the last time we visit. I'm already planning to return.
With love,
JB
Well, I'm not Audrey Hepburn, but I did see the Trevi Fountain today. Ron and I took a sightseeing bus around Rome today, and managed to walk a few kilometers as well. I left you all in Braganca. A lot has happened since then, and I thought I'd try to recount some adventures since then.
The note I sent you from Braganca was from my Blackberry. Blackberry service in the northeastern reaches of Portugal is pretty iffy, so that message did not actually get you to guys until early this morning, after Grace had flown home to Chicago, and I'd arrived in Rome. So sit back, and here's some news....
Before we visited Braganca, we stayed the night n a small high desert town of Vila Nova Foz de Coa, which is the gateway to a national historic park. Originally the area of the park was going to be underwater in a hydroelectric project, but in the process of doing environmental assessments, paleolithic etchings were discovered in the valley, in fact, over 17,000 have been catalogued ranging from 20,000 to 5,000 years ago.
When Grace read about the site in our guidebook, she really wanted to go, so we reserved our tickets, then aimed our car in that direction, drove 150 miles through some beautifully mountainous country, and ended up in a remote Portuguese village. We went into the park in a guided tour. The guide not only told us about the etchings, but told us a lot about the theories about the earliest inhabitants of the valley, their way of life, and talked with us about why they would create these drawings, and the mysteries and questions that the drawings raise. For example, etchings are often done on top of each other, and a single rock canvas may contain sets of drawings that span thousands of years, and next to this jumble of etchings will be a clear, flast rock surface with nothing on it. Why didn't the later artists etch on the unused surfaces? It is a pretty incredible place, and you should add it to your list of places to visit.
So the next day, we finally got to Braganca. I wanted to go there, because Braganca is where the third Portuguese royal dynasty came from. It in the far northeastern part of the country. The area is very mountainous, and the climate is probably a lot like Moscow's. Almost immediately after getting to town, I hit a curb, and gashed the sidewall of one of the rear tires. Oops.
We went to a tourist office to find where we could get the tire repaired, and after that, I drove the car to a traffic circle, because it was about the only flat place in Braganca, and I changed the tire amidst the whizzing traffic of the circle. My life was never once in danger, but it really looked dramatic. Just ask Grace.
At that point, we headed off for the garage, which was closed for lunch, so we had some ourselves at a pastry shop. The owner's daughter came out to take our order, and we proceeded to have this wonderful conversation. The Portuguese are exceedingly friendly, and she was so happy that we were visiting her country. She also gave us a free dessert and coffee, so We were very happy to visit her country, too.
We were first in line when the garage opened. When the attendant saw our car, he immediately knew the problem. He put us on the lift immediatley, removed the temporary tire, and haulted the injured tire out of the trunk. He then stuck his finger through the hole in the sidewall, and gestured that we would need a new tire. He didn't speak English, but we quickly found ways to communicate that left no doubt about what needed to be done. He was a very nice fellow, and went out of his way to help Grace and I get through the whole ordeal, even granting us a lot of dignity in the process. It was almost as if everyone we ran into wanted us to think the very vest of Portugal. I was touched by the generous nature of the people we met.
Well, we got our wheels back, we went back to our hotel, and then set out for the town's museum and castle. The museum featured masks that are used in the winter festivals in this region of Portugal and Spain. Grace and I enjoyed the museum and the gift shop next door. The masks incorporate many different materials and style. I'd like to see some of the festivals in which the masks are worn. Next, we walked over to look at the castle. By this time, it was late in the day, but I told Grace that I wanted to come back the next day to go inside the castle.
And that's what we did. This was a true fairy tale castle. Prince Valiant could live here. And it comes complete with armor swords and a couple of howitzer guns downstairs, because the castle is a military museum, too. The museum is housed in the keep, which rises at least a hundred feet over the other battlements. We climbed up to the roof, and had a majestic and commanding view of Braganca. We also walked along the battlements, and pretended it was 500 years ago. This castle was was built in the 1200s to protect Portugal's northeast corner from the kingdom of Leon.
On Saturday afternoon, after the castle, Grace and I drove into the national park, north of the city, and drove through a half-dozen ancient villages. It is like nothing I've done before. We are in such a different place here. This is not Kansas anymore. The beauty, the differene of place deeply moved us both. It is difficult for me to express how special this trip was for Grace and me. I think we will remember it for many years, and you all will probably get tired of us talking about it.
So the next day, it was time for us to say goodbye to Braganca, and get on the road to Guimaraes, which is the birthplace of the Portuguese state, and believe me, the town wants you to know that! I'm going to save that description for another day, because I know you all want to get to the end of this email.
Ron and I send our love. Tomorrow, we're headed off to see the Sistine Chapel. We saw the Pope today at St. Peter's Square. So did several thousand other people. We also saw the Coloseum, but no gladiators, although lots of guys dress up as Romjan soldiers, and want to have their picture taken with you. Cheesy. Very.
Ciao!
Portuguese people are the nicest people in the world. We have had some wonderful conversations with people who come up to us on the street, and start talking to us, telling us where to go and what to see, and telling us how much they appreciate that we are in Portugal. Understand, of course, that we're decked out in cameras and travel guides, and heavily armed with maps. It's been a pleasant and wonderful surprise.
I say all that to preface what I'm about to say - these same people will get on your tail and drive right up your keester if you are behind the wheel of an automobile. Yesterday, on our drive up from Óbidos, drivers would get 10 feet on my rear end, and ride me for miles, and I was traveling at 75 miles an hour, and they weren't. Portugal has several road systems, one that's akin to our Interstates, and another that's a major secondary road, then we're talking about paved but unmarked, and finally cow trails up a hillside. Portuguese drivers drive the same speed on all of the different roads. Honest.
Well, not quite. We stopped enroute yesterday at Conimbriga, which is an old Roman town and archaeological site. It's quite an extensive excavation, and we walked around the city, then visited the museum, and then had lunch. We were on some secondary roads getting to Conimbriga, and the going was very slow, but after getting on the Autoestrada, we sailed into Porto. BUT IT TOOK US ONE HOUR TO FIND OUR HOTEL AND ANOTHER HOUR TO PARK!!!! Porto has too many cars, and way too few parking places. Plus, the streets are about half the width of American streets and people are driving twice as fast on the main drags. Needless to say, I had no clue about where I was going, but all the drivers behind me knew EXACTLY where they were going. I got fingered and the evil eye. More than once.
Our hotel, aptly named Hotel Malaposta, is on Rua Côceicão, or something like that. It's a one block street in the Cedafeita neighborhood. The hotel is also European quaint, with a sheen of modernity and hipness, overlaid the ancient roots of Porto, if you get my drift. However, the shower works, and the beds are firm. I have no complaints, and the partyers on the same floor did not keep us awake last night.
Today, we took a walking tour of Porto, and had a great time. We walked through the Ribeira neighborhood, which borders the Douro River. We are about a kilometer from where our tourbook has its walk begin. It said the walk would take approximately three hours. For the record, we easily completed it in eight hours. But in those eight hours, we walked through three churches, took pictures of the fabulous tiles in the railway stations, had a port wine tasting at the Wine Institute, and saw the birthplace of Henry the Navigator. We also walked along the Douro, and walked across one of the river bridges.
People were so kind. One woman was driving her car, beckoned us over and gave us directions. Then she parked her car, came looking for us, and gave us a detailed overview of what to see in the neighborhood. I can't imagine that happening in Washington, DC. The church of the Franciscan order is a must see. It's a truly over-the-top example of Baroque/Rococo decoration, and incredibly beautiful. Although after about a hundred sad virgins and bleeding Jesuses, it's a little depressing. Saint Sebastian is depicted everywhere. For some reason, he's a favorite saint, and he's always just about as badly mangled as Jesus. Those arrows of outrageous fortune, indeed!
At the Customs House, which is Henry the Navigator's birthplace, one of the docents took us aside, and we must have talked with him for at least a half hour. He told us about the discovery of a Roman house under the Custom House, and also about the archive that is now housed there. We talked, too, about the different perspectives that Americans and Europeans have about history. It was a very interesting conversation.
We walked along the river promenade, crossed the bridge, then came back for some ice cream, which is great for promenading. On our walk back (UPHILL) through the neighborhoods, we stopped by a pasteleria for some sweets and some coffee. Then back to our hotel, and I'm writing you all about it.
Love, Grace and JB
I apologize for the rather short earlier email today, but it was on my Blackberry, and my thumb finally gave out. As you can guess, we are having a wonderful time doing all sorts of stuff. We enjoyed the beach this morning, then spent some time this afternoon walking around the outside walls of Óbidos. It's probably a couple of kilometers, and a lot of up and down hill walking.
We left Lisbon on Saturday, rented our car, and headed out of town to Sintra, which was the summer residence of the Portuguese royal family. Sintra has a huge National Palace, all sorts of other rather fanciful architecture, and a Moorish fortress looming over the skyline of the village. It really is quite a breathtaking place. It also has a rainforest microclimate, so all sorts of interesting flora are about. We walked through one of the parks to get to the Moorish castle, and it's a very verdant area, particularly on the lower parts of the mountain.
The Moorish castle dates from the 800s or so. It's built around the crown of a group of hills overlooking Sintra. The castle and town were where the Moorish governor lived. When the Moors were driven out in the 1200s, the King of Portugal took over the Moorish palace as his own royal residence, and it remained such until the 1910 revolution. We toured the palace and the castle, and although it is full of nice furnishing and the like, I think I'd still prefer 2101 Bucknell Ter.
After leaving Sintra, we took lots of back roads (we're talking Idaho, here) to Torres Verdes, and finally got on the freeway headed toward Óbidos, although it was touch and go there for a while. Let's just say that all the maps and signs are in Portuguese.... We got totally lost in Torres Verdes, and stopped at a gas station. I spoke to the guy in halting Portuguese, and he responded in voluble Portuguese, but it was all right, because I really did understand him! He drew us a map, and got us on our way. The Portuguese have been very friendly to us, and they really do appreciate you trying to engage them in their language.
We spent all of Sunday walking around Óbidos. It's a beautiful walled town that's been around since the 800s. (Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and Christians - quite a kaleidoscope.) The town is whitewashed with lots of the traditional Portuguese blue tiles. They are very beautiful, and are still made (for the Portuguese, and for the tourists). As I mentioned in my earlier letter, Óbidos is a tourist trap, but a very friendly one, and we enjoyed going into the different shops. Later in the day, we had a nice dinner inside the village. We have eaten well ever since we arrived. The wines are fantastic, and yesterday Grace discovered a cherry-chocolate liqueur that is made locally, and can be drunk (happily) locally, too.
Today we had the adventure at the beach. Grace is bringing home some genuine Portuguese Rocks. They may actually end up in your Christmas stockings. We enjoyed the company of the two German hitchhikers. One of the them said that they had waited for the bus for 30 minutes, before we picked them up. I was so grateful that the bus didn't come! We had a snack in the town we took them to (Baleal), then headed back here so that we could circumlocute the city wall here.
And that's about it for today.
We're still in Portugal. We've been in Obidos for a couple of nights. The Internet access here isn't, so I'm sending this from my Blackberry.
Obidos is a picture-perfect turistico trap, and we have truly been enjoying that. It is a very pretty town, complete with wall and castle. We're staying in a very nice hotel with an appropriate soupcon of quaintness.
Today we went to the beach at Peniche, and checked out a couple of other tiny beach towns. We also picked up a couple of German hitchhikers and took them to the village in which they were staying. Very nice guys on holiday.
Hope you are all well. I'll write more soon. Lyn, I hope your 40th was really grand, and I really appreciate that you let me steal your Mom. I guess I owe you big time.
Love, Grace and JB
September 19, 2008 - Grace and I just finished our Berlitz class, just about 10 minutes ago. Talk about a graduation ceremony! We shall be leaving Lisbon tomorrow to go to Obidos (oo - bi - dush) and points north. You may not hear from us for a while, because we don't know what the Internet situation is there. We'll certainly contact you from Porto, unless we find something better to do.
We have had a wonderful stay in Lisbon. Last night we were in the Alfama at a Fado club (look it up...) and heard some great singing, and ate a very nice meal. Afterwards we walked through the Baixa neighborhood. We also had a chance to see the Praça Commercio, and some really outsize monuments. Portugal may be small in land area, but its statues are bigger than Texas.
We saw a six-story house on a hill whose "ground" floor was on the fourth floor, and whose basement was on the street about 50 ft below. That's how steep the hills are in the Alfama. Baixa is the neighborhood that was destroyed in the earthquake of 1755, and completely rebuilt following the quake. It is a very flat neighborhood, and is one of the few areas in town where streets are straight.
We hope you are all doing well. Boa Tarde!
Grace and John
There seems to be some confusion as to exactly what Grace and I are doing in Europe. I often ask myself that, myself. Why are Grace and I in Europe, and of all places, why in Portugal. First of all, PORTUGAL IS NOT SPAIN. Just thought I'd throw that geographic tip in. Secondly, PORTUGUESE IS NOT SPANISH. This is a very important fact that apparently most people don't know. In fact, while talking to the Portuguese, you'll be amazed at how much they seem to be Canadians, only, they are speaking Portuguese.
Grace and I are now FLUENT language speakers. We can recognize sardines and pork chops on cafe menus. I know how to order coffee with milk. Two words will be your best friends: obrigado/a and desculpe. Obrigado/a (masculine/feminine forms) means thank you, and desculpe means excuse me, or sorry. You can open just about any conversation with desculpe, and end it with obrigado or obrigada.
Occasionally, we've run into situations where the other party didn't speak any English. This is not a problem. In fact, if you can open your eyes wide enough, the Bambi in the headlight look will solve most communication problems. A large part of the Berlitz school curriculum that we are taking is to help us to get just the right look on our faces when confronted by this challenge. First, open your mouth a little wider than normal, and clench a bit. Next, make your eyes as round as possible. Finally, arch your eyebrows while wrinkling your forehead. The teachers make us stand in front of a mirror to practice. I think we both have it down pretty well.
Food - again not a problem. The Portuguese, taken together, on average weigh about 40 lbs less than Americans, taken together. This is because they only eat cake or bread and coffee for breakfast, and they smoke a lot. They never eat eggs for breakfast (and here I really am telling the truth); eggs, either fried or scambled are on lunch and dinner menus. Meats are often served with a fried egg on top, but the smoking cuts down all the cholesterol. Some interesting dishes I've eaten so far: chicken with a fried egg, boiled bacalhau (salted cod) with potatoes (cozido), grilled squid, grilled pescado (grilled catch of the day). Bacalhau is Portugal's national treasure. It's a salted, dried codfish which is now eaten on special occasions. I really enjoyed the cozido; I expect I'll be eating more of Mr. Cod. Oh, almost every meal comes with potatoes AND rice. I like that. You can never have too many carbohydrates. Olives, lots of olives. Sardine pâté is also a big hit around here.
I'm enjoying the food immensely, because it's very different than what I normally eat. More than that, it's made with many of the same ingredients with which I cook, but they are put together in ways that I never thought about before. So I'm having a lot of fun. Here in the hotel, we have a salad bar, too, that Ron would enjoy. It has a wide selection of very different salads, that, again, use many different ingredients that we just don't see in a salad bar.
So today, Grace and I came right back to the hotel after class because we were dead tired. We have been really pushing ourselves, and needed a day off to regroup, and to catch up. The Berlitz class is going well. When Ana took us out to lunch today, she let us order for ourselves. Manuel gave us a history lesson. He had prepared a lesson on body parts and clothing, but the history got in the way. I'm afraid that we derail our instructors a lot, but we are getting very useful information about the country, the culture, the people, and learning how to fend for ourselves in many different situations.
I sometimes think the instructors must wonder who are these crazy Americans, but they have been very supportive and excited about our stay in Portugal. One of the instructors, Susana, brought in several pages that she had printed off from the Internet, because she wanted to be sure that we had all the information about Sintra, and a couple of other palaces/castles that Grace is going to drag me off to.
We send our love, and we'll catch up with you later.
We're back at the hotel after a very long day. I should be upstairs studying Portuguese, but I also want to let you guys know what's going on. Class has been very intense. Ron, I don't think you'd like Portuguese food. It features a lot of meat, and not very many vegetables. Ditto for Lyn. The word for "steak" is bife, so you can have something called bife da vaca, which looks a lot like beef of cow, but really means beefsteak. That was what I learned today. Actually, we had a couple of hundred words poured into our heads in the last couple of days. It's relentless, and more nervewracking than learning the first level of Challenge square dancing in a weekend. Both our brains will need a rest by the end of the week.
A large tour group of French tourists are in the hotel with us. There's a lot of bon soiring going on. I told Grace that she had to dress better than she would while traveling in the United States, and generally, the people on the street are dressed quite well, but these French tourists, well, I guess you reach a certain age, and you just don't care what the American tourists think.... They are a very friendly lot, and wish us well on the elevator. I think Grace and I have an "A" branded on our foreheads, because people smile at us, and break into English. We've been trying what little Portuguese we know on people, and they respond with a smile. Not as many people know English, as say, in Madrid, but nobody gives any attitude - very friendly country.
After class this evening, we took the Metro (that's what Lisbon calls its subway) downtown to the Baixa district, than took an old time trolley car up the mountain in Alfama (the orginal old city) to the Castelo do S. Jorge. It is quite the castle, looking like something out of Prince Valiant. It has a lot of similarities to the construction of the Alcazar in Segovia. It is basically a fort within a fort with one set of battlements completely surround an inner set of battlements. It is a very large complex that has occupied the site since the 1100s. The site has been continously inhabited since at least 600 BC. We scrambled among the battlements and towers, and took a set of stairs down to what we thought would get us out of the castle, Well, it would have, except the last step would have been about 100 ft straight down, off the side of one of the castle towers. So we climbed a couple hundred steps back up to the top of the higher castle wall. Grace was a very good sport about it. We told two other couple heading down that it was a dead end - our mitzvah for the day.
We have several teachers each day in class. So far, we've had Ana, Manuel, Paulo, Andrea, and Susana. Paulo is the best English speaker. Manuel is the cutest. Ana is the most intense. Andrea is incredibly helpful when it comes to directions, etc. and Susana is Portugal's most enthusiastic tour guide. We had a lot of fun with her telling us everything from what palaces to visit, to how to order a pastry in Belem. There is nothing in her country about which she does not have a most enthusiastic opinion. All of the instructors have been very patient with us, but relentless, too. They really want us to do well. It's been a learning experience!
Grace and I send our love to all of you. She's upstairs studying like mad. You'd be proud of you Mom/sister/daughter/grandma. We'll see you all in a bit.
Grace and John
Today was Grace and John's Most Excellent Adventure to Avila and Segovia. (Go Google them!) We got up early this morning so that we could be ready for the bus that would pick us up at 8:15 at the hotel. It arrived shortly after 8:30 (amidst a lot of nervous tourists). We were transported a mile or so to a tour center on Gran Via. We clambered aboard a different coach, and by 9:15 were weaving through the streets of a Madrid Saturday morning.
We had a nice tour guide. She wore her clothes a little too tight, which would have been alluring ten years ago, but the shine has faded. Okay, I'll stop with the snarky comments. She wore a bright pink shawl (and carried a designer handbag) and was quite dramatic in her historical/religious/patriotic pronouncements - which is everything a tour guide should be. You knew it was important when she sat down her handbag to speak.
On the road, we climbed the mountains northwest of Madrid, and hit the road to Avila. As you come into the city, you see a spectacular walled city on the hill. The city is completely walled, and is the finest example in Spain. Most cities with walls have knocked most of them down, because they are an impediment to development, but Avila has preserved its walled old city, and it is everything a walled city in a fairy tale or a romance novel about knights, kings, and princesses should be.
Immediately outside the St. Vincent gate, the largest gate in the wall, is St. Vincent's Basilica. The church contains the remains of St. Vincent and two other saints martyred with him. He and the others were children when they were martyred, and the tale is probably worth a Google search, which I highly commend to your spiritual development. The sarcophagus containing the remains of the saints is a brightly painted coffin that's been around for about 750 years. Where they kept the saints' bones before then, I don't know.
We walked completely through the old city, ending up at St. Theresa's church. St. Theresa is very popular in these parts, and is somewhat of a cottage industry. The church is built over the home in which St. Theresa was born, and a chapel in the church was built EXACTLY ON THE SPOT WHERE ST: THERESA'S MOTHER GAVE BIRTH. The chapel is a monument to reverential excess, more gold and gold leaf than you can shake a stick at, but nevertheless, a remarkable homage to what must have been a remarkable life of a devout woman. She was not martyred and lived to ripe old age. Next to the church is a little museum of St. Theresa and a gift shop. The museum contains some of St. Theresa's manuscripts, her walking stick, her whip (or "discipline"), a sole of one of her sandals, but most intriguing, her very bony ring finger with the ring intact, presumably not removed until after her death.
From Avila, we headed for Segovia. The first view of Segovia is of its Cathedral, and it is a giddy display of stone in the Rennaisance style. We're talking about lots of towers and spires. It's very dramatic. We hopped off the bus and headed into the old town to see the aqueduct. It is quite a piece of architecture that is higher than the buildings in the old city, very dramatic skyline. Near the aqueduct were some re-enactors dressed in Roman and Barbarian garb. It looked the like the Barbarians, or Visigoths, were having more fun. I'm not sure about the realism, because one could draw the conclusion that Barbarians wore t-shirts. Cool Halloween outfits.
After viewing the aqueduct, we headed off to lunch at a cafe in the old town. We had a bean soup, a beef stew, some vegies, and ice cream. The soup and stew were really wonderful home-cooked fare. Hearty for all the walking we were doing. From the restaurant, we made our way to the Cathedral. The church is really more dramatic on the outside than on the inside. The inside is decorated in the Spanish Baroque style. The two organs in the choir loft are pump organs and date from the late 1600s. The cathedral was build between 1525 and 1768. Its predecessor was destroyed in a war in 1520. The outside architecture is spectacular, and worth a visit.
From the Cathedral, we continued through the old town to the Alcazar. The alcazar is a combination fort and palace. The old city is built on a mountain top that falls dramatically into the valley below, add to that a tall wall and a couple of towers, and you have a scene from Prince Valiant. The moat around the tower is now drained, but when full must have been 75 feet deep or so, and it is at least that far below the entrance into the alcazar, underneath a truly intimidating tower.
The alcazar is still in use today, in addition to being a tourist site. The Spanish military archives are stored here, and the alcazar is a museum for the Spanish artillery. The public rooms of the building house an artillery exhibit (we're talking 14th century armor), and the royal rooms of the Kingdom of Castile(?), including Queen Isabella's bed and bedroom, reception areas, and the king's room. The building is being restored, including the ceilings. Much of the furnishings were destroyed in fire in 1862, and the ceilings were all wood, and were lost. The restoration continues, and the ceilings are done in a Spanish-Moorish style that is geometric, and features a lot of gold leaf. We ended the alcazar tour in the royal family's chapel. The reredos behind the altar features scenes from the life of Christ that is painted on wood. It's very beautiful work. Of course, I found a painting of St. Sebastian. He's still having a bad day at the office.
We walked about a mile back to the bus, climbed aboard and headed back to Madrid. We got here about an hour and half ago. I thought you'd all want to know. I hope this note finds you well.
Love, Grace and John
We had more adventures today, and we've even prepaid on an adventure tomorrow. That's about as much forward thinking as I've done for this trip. Really!
For maybe the second time in my life, I slept through the alarm this morning. That really is alarming. Grace told me that the alarm was really loud, too. I guess a 37-hour day will do that for a fella. Grace and I are learning the art of travel. Last night, I washed out our shirts mainly because we´d been in them for 30+ hours and you could tell that at a distance. I hung them in the shower, and by lunchtime today, they were dry and ready to go. Grace brought along (what I thought was a dubious product) a bottle of stuff that you spray on wrinkled clothes, and when it dries, the clothes are wrinkle free. It really works! Wow, do I love new technology. Who needs a travel iron?
I shaved today, amid decals and signs in the bathroom decrying Madrid's water shortage. The signs worked. It sparked some efforts on my part to conserve water. I'm wearing my new travel shirt today, and it is very comfortable. It's designed with a yoke across the back that is a vent so that heat is supposed to escape blah, blah, blah. It also has some kind of fiber that wicks moisture away so that you don't get pitted out too much. It seems to work. Best of all, it's wash and wear, and cleans nicely in the sink.
We finally got down to breakfast. High carb, with augmented pork protein, con queso! How did the hotel staff know that this was part of the John Burlison diet? I did eat somewhat sparingly, but certainly had enough to fuel me most of the day. Lots of little old ladies and their gentlemen friends (or husbands) are staying in the hotel, acting a lot like tourists, except they speak Spanish. None of them had hair that had known natural color since the death of Franco. Most were a little stout, but carried it in a commanding and convincing way, accenting their curves with exotic leopard prints and loud/hot colors worn defiantly across heaving bosoms. Give these women fabric, and expect a fashion statement! The men were no match. Also in the dining room were some college age kids in at least two configurations, Russian and American. They had stayed up very late the night before, beneath our room on their balconies, drunkenly singing old American pop tunes. I guess I'm getting used to it. Madrid is a very noisy city all the time, and these kids were no match for my earplugs. They all had healthy appetites.
After breakfast, we headed out for a bus tour of Old Madrid via Madid Vision. These are double-decker buses that travel two different routes through the city. One of the routes is "Modern Madrid," the other is "Historical Madrid." Really, there isn't much difference between the two. We took the Modern Madrid tour first. We got lost (twice) trying to find the boarding stop. We noticed some other tourists having the same problem. This is a big city. Finding those bus stops can be onerous. The tour was along a couple of avenues that Brian, Ron, and I had walked extensively two years ago, so it was exciting to see those neighbhorhoods again, and to hear some of the history of those neighborhoods. The tour lasted about 70 minutes. We got off the bus near the hotel, returned to the room to freshen up, then headed to Starbucks, because I was incredibly undercaffeinated.
We split a sandwich at Starbucks, then sat and talked and drank our iced coffee and mocha lite. We dished all of you, chuckling all the while. We concluded that we have a wonderful family, but it sure is nice to get away from you once in a while. We are truly enjoying this time together, and it's fun and curiously satisfying to sit and sip and talk. We finished our lunch and headed off to a vast city park, El Parque del Retiro. We walked through the park for a couple of hours. It's full of paths, grand statuary, fountains, and palaces. At the Velazquez Palacio, a young couple were in wedding atire, having an extensive photo shoot with their photographer. I have a couple of pictures of them and the photographer. They were enjoying themselves. After the park, we jumped back on the tour bus for the Historical Madrid tour. It took us over near the Royal Palace and in to some neighborhoods that I hadn´t been to. I slept through some of this narrative, because I just couldn't keep my eyes open. I've since recovered. Don't worry, I have pictures of the tours, including the Ham Museum. I hope that I get to eat there.
After getting off the bus, we went to a neighborhood bakery for a snack and some coffee. Grace is now in the hotel room collecting her thoughts. When I get back from writing this, we'll go to dinner, then maybe a walk afterwards. We've purchased our tickets for our tour tomorrow.We're going to Segovia and Avila. It lasts most of the day. I'll let you know how that turns out. Love you all.
We are in Madrid, and I am typing on a Spanish language keyboard. It is killing me! I met Grace at Passport Control early this morning, and the rest of the day has been a blur. We took a taxi to the hotel because we had missed our driver (it took too long for us to get through baggage claim because the flight Grace was on was about a half hour late).
After checking in, we took a walk up to Plaza Mayor, then on to the Royal Palace and the Cathedral. I find I am not taking a lot of pictures that I took two years ago. You can either be happy or sad about that :-) We ended back at the Plaza Mayor for lunch, and had a large tomato olive salad and a Spanish pizza with lots of ham. I still intend to make it to the Ham Museum. We walked right past it.
We came back to the hotel to recharge a bit, then headed off for a two and a half hour walk through of the Prado Art Museum. I have never seen so many crucifixion scenes in one place. We are talking about hundreds. Lots of little angels too, and one particularly baffling picture where a baby is dancing on about eight other baby heads. Reminds me of Galaxy Quest.
By this time it occurred to both of us that we smelled bad, and we were like the walking dead. We could hardly drag ourselves anywhere. We crawled back to the hotel, then took showers, and decided to go for an early evening walk. I headed straight for Starbucks, and we had some great ice drinks, and a wonderful conversation with an exchange student from Tennessee. We then walked up into the Chueca neighborhood where Ron, Brian, and I stayed two years ago. I really am suffering from recovered memories as we walk the streets of Madrid.
Stay tuned. We are planning on more great adventures, maybe an out of town experience.
