Summer in Spain

By the end of June we were settled into a routine.  A beautiful stroll every morning through the upper Albaicin from the Sacramonte with a quick stop for coffee at Pasteles and then settle in at our outdoor table under the fig tree at school for four hours of language lessons.  Through the end of May and first few weeks of June we had several people spend a week or two with us in our class.  There was Federico, a German gentleman and then there was Maurice whose French accent was so strong that we struggled to understand his Spanish at all.  Then, we were joined by the amazing Ricardo, a young, energetic American from Miami with whom we became very good friends.

Usually, after class we would stop at Puerta de las Pesas for a drink to relieve our headaches and of course, tapas, sometimes even lunch.  Although we usually did not want to hear another word of Spanish, Jose and Fernando continued to speak with us and work with us on our homework.  We had completed the English translation of their brochure and this really helped in our learning process, especially vocabulary and also indoctrinated us into the incredible history of Granada and the Albaicin. 

Fernando was looking forward to seeing his oldest, Adrian who was returning with his young family from a couple of years in Chile.  When Adrian arrived he began waiting tables as well and one day he prepared the most fabulous seafood paella for all of us.  Did I mention that only three or four of us (generally Marilyn, Diana, Ricardo and I) would sit down and within an hour there would sometimes be as many as seven or eight?

Daniela, Adrian’s wife was pregnant and struggling through the summer heat to keep up with their beautiful and sometimes recalcitrant daughter Noella.  At three years old we were jealous of her conjugating skills if you can believe it.  Although we were concerned about our inability to speak and understand the language very well this was shaping up to be a magical summer of new friends and interesting places for us.

We sampled the nightlife around Granada on the weekends, sometimes leaving the younger students and friends around 3 or sometimes 4 in the morning to head home “early”.  By this time, the private school student deluge had ceased but the school still had 15 or 20 students, most of who socialized together at one point or another, especially during Friday afternoon/evening tapas.

By late June Ethan, a young man from Chicago with great language skills and Adam, a true polyglot whom we called “Bob” (because Antonio at the school thought he looked like Bob Marley with his wild hair), had become part of our social crowd.  The classes mixed and matched every other Monday as new students arrived and student skill levels evaluated.

Our class generally consisted of Diana, Ricardo, Paulina and ourselves with the occasional addition of another student or two.  Mabel, our friend from Singapore (and a world traveler) had finished up by the end of May and headed home.  Kelsey left for the USA and our Aussie doctors, Mike and Natalia headed home by mid-June but we had gained Lucinda “Cinders” and her husband along with a couple of beautiful girls, Tuva and Klara from Norway and Hungary respectively.  As you can see our language school was an ever expanding and contracting social net.

Meanwhile, Chessa had returned to New York in May with Renee and surprising us all, returned in time to catch the June TEFL course in Granada which she passed with flying colors.  We managed to catch up with our old TEFL teachers Dylan and Richard, although separately this time around.  Our new friend Jamie and her husband (who had told us about the house we were currently living in) were experiencing difficulty obtaining a work visa for her without returning to the USA according to some new regulations now being enforced by Spanish immigration officials and it was looking like they’d have to incur the travel expense to take care of it.

By the end of June we had our heads full of the Spanish language grammatical structure, could not understand much of what was being said around us and certainly couldn’t speak well at all.  We had made many new and fun friends however and were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our daughter Kellie and her friend Brittany in early July for their TEFL class.

 It was a perfect time to do a little more exploring, Diana was game for another drive so the last weekend in June we headed out for another Andalucian getaway.

A Bull Fight

Mike

During the first week of June there is a holiday that is specific to Granada called Corpus.  This holiday features, among other things, a series of bullfights throughout the week that generally draw the better matadors.  Culturally, we had learned how to shop at the markets, had hiked around several of the city’s important historical sites, been enjoying the Spanish custom of tapas and becoming comfortable with the use of public transportation.  Several professors at the school suggested an outing at a bullfight and we decided we’d go for the experience.

Marilyn

At the suggestion of attending a bullfight my initial reaction was, hmmmm….I don’t think I can do that.  I probably can’t sit through it and would have to leave so I should just take a pass and not include myself in this discussion.  As the professor’s talked to us about it I felt myself reconsidering.  I am in Spain, this is a cultural experience that I won’t find in many other places.  I would be attending with locals who have lot’s of knowledge and are prepared to try to explain everything to me, and sincerely want me to understand this particular custom.  More thinking required.

Mike

I felt like I was reasonably familiar with this particular extravaganza having read my Hemingway as a youngster but found there was quite a bit I didn’t know or remember.  Our professors took the time to prepare and present a little information about bullfighting in the days leading up to our outing so that we would understand what we were hearing and seeing.  The first order of business was to choose where we wished to sit.  Bullfights are held in the late afternoon so seats in the shade, logically, cost significantly more that seats in the sun.  Likewise, seats close to the ring are more expensive and we agreed with our professors that seats closer to the ring but on the sunny side would be the best value for our money because you can always wear a sombrero.  We were surprised at the prices of the tickets as we forked over the 80 euros for two mid-level priced tickets.

Marilyn

Hmmmm……we forked over the money for two tickets.  I was still having some doubts and Antonio assured me that if I did not want to stay there were several places within the Plaza de Toros where I could go have a drink and sit it out.  There would be a dozen or so of us going so it was possible I would not be the only one who was feeling a bit nervous about the whole thing.

Mike

On Friday, after school we grabbed a quick lunch with some friends, bought some bottled water and some snacks and caught the autobus for the trip across town to the Plaza de Toros.  Upon arrival we found thousands of people milling around the Plaza drinking and carrying all kinds of coolers, bota bags, hats and seat cushions and while we had all obtained sombreros we quickly decided that seat cushions were in order and stood in line to purchase some.  Our professors arrived minutes after we did carrying bota bags and bocadillos and shortly thereafter the doors opened, we found the proper entry portal “Sol” and joined the crowd streaming into the arena.

Marilyn

The atmosphere was electric around the Plaza de Toros.  The headliner matador for the bullfight was one of the top 5 in the world “El Fandi” and on top of that he is a local man from Granada so the crowd was very excited.  I learned that the bullfight would consist of 6 duels, 3 matadors fighting 2 bulls each, with a short intermission for munchies and drinks after the first 3 bulls.

Mike

It was hot and we were glad for the munchies, water, beer and wine that our group brought and, well, the bullfight went as expected with the matadors winning 6 to 1 (the first matador was gored early).  I won’t go into details here but the additional information our professors gave us regarding the sport and the traditions surrounding it helped us appreciate the skill of the matadors, the pageantry and the bravery of the bulls.  The matadors do get very close to the bulls with one matador in particular that would put his hand on the bull’s head and danced backwards until the bull stopped charging him.  This particular matador “El Fandi” thrilled the audience by kneeling in front of the door that the bulls arrive from (running, furious and crazy) with nothing but a cape.

Even though I found it to be an interesting experience I’m not in a hurry to attend another.

Marilyn

The first bull gored the matador early in the fight.  The matador “El Juli” finished the fight but killed the bull badly and it was horrible.  I decided that I should leave, Antonio and Antonio both explained that this was not normal and that I should stay for one more bull to see “El Fandi” fight at least once.  “El Juli” was taken to the hospital which meant that “El Fandi” would fight 3 bulls tonight instead of the normal 2.

I stayed and was amazed by the difference in what I saw.  El Fandi was so skilled and appeared so at ease with this huge bull in the ring, I was able to watch the artistry, skill and courage of the matador and come to grips with reasons that this sport is considered an art form in Spain.  Matadors train from the time they are small children and the years of practice certainly show.  The kill was much cleaner, faster and more humane than in the first fight thankfully.

Now, while I have an appreciation for what the Spaniards see in this experience I am satisfied that for me, experiencing it once was plenty.

Our little home in Granada.

On Monday, the day after we returned from the beach, we contacted the friends of a friend about the little house they were renting.  It turned out that they were moving out on Wednesady!  The house was in the Sacramonte, the gitano (gypsy) neighborhood just above the Albaicin known for its Flamenco schools and restaurants.  We arranged to meet with the young Australian couple who were living there later on that evening.

The Sacramonte is a family neighborhood and is known for the cave houses located there.  These cave house are really quite incredible, some have been around for a few hundred years.  There is a very specific method that has been developed to properly excavate a cave and if done correctly, the rooms created will be safe and long lasting.  Caves also have the advantage that they remain at a constant temperature (about 25 degrees Celsius) so they are cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  Today, cave houses generally have a more traditional looking house built in front of the actual cave itself so many of the houses in the Sacramonte are much larger that they initially appear.

Unfortunately, the house we went to look at did not have a cave but it was charming nonetheless.  The house was small, around 80 square meters, the plumbing was not ideal, the water heater leaked, the oven hadn’t worked in years and the small second bedroom above the garden appeared to be an addition that had been built without permits. 

The stove worked well and it and the water heater required bottles of propane gas (another learning experience).  Of course, we fell in love with it right away, primarily because of the little private garden.  Private outdoor space is at a premium in the Albaicin and this looked perfect for us.

What now ensued was the most unusual lease arrangement I had ever been a party to.  The owner was living elsewhere in Spain, the young Australian couple were leaving the following day and their deposit covered more than the utilities but there was no way for the owner to give them their remaining deposit back because they had no Spanish bank account (neither did we of course).  To further complicate matters, we did not yet speak Spanish well enough the complete a transaction like this.  The woman who owned the house had left many of her personal belongings behind in the house.  This was not a sterile apartment rental but rather we felt that we would be moving right into a completely Spanish home.

Using the Australian lady’s Spanish we negotiated a rental rate for three months, paid in advance and that we would make up the deposit difference and buy out the Australian’s unused deposit from them.  Sound complicated?  All this based on a discussion we only partly understood but confirmed in an email in a language we couldn’t, at the time, read.  We also arranged to purchase linens, towels and pillows from the Australians for a discounted price since they weren’t going to need them in Spain anymore.

On Wednesday morning we met with the Australian couple one last time.  They had loaded their belongings in a taxi and over a quick cup of coffee we gave them the money for the share of the deposit and the other items and they handed us the keys.  We had been given the landlady’s bank account number in order to pay the rent and the rest of the deposit which we did a couple of days later.  All that was left for us to do was to move; easier said than done.

An hour later a taxi dropped us off at the bottom of the long, narrow and very steep stairs leading to our new digs with our 120 kilos of luggage.  Four hot, sweaty trips later I exhaustedly collapsed into a chair in our new garden.  We had done it.  We had found our own place to live in Granada, it had everything we were looking for, the price was right and the location ideal.  Now, we just had to learn to speak the language.

Weekend Getaway

The last Saturday in May was beautiful early summer day.  It was supposed to be moving day for us and our large duffel bags were all packed and standing in the common area where the house manager had asked us to leave them.  We threw swimsuits and a change of clothes in our backpacks, made sure our trusty towels, in their net bags were attached and headed out into the early morning to walk down to the bottom of the Albaycin where we were meeting our friends Diana and the irrepressible Kelsey at the bus stop.

We caught a bus for the short ride to the train station where Diana who had been acting as our travel agent, had arranged to rent a car.  In Granada, it is far more expensive to rent a car with an automatic transmission than one with a stick shift and Diana was a little uncomfortable with the vehicle for a little while.  To be fair, none of us wanted to drive under any circumstances so Diana was the brave one and thankfully, the vast majority of the one and a half hour trip was on the autovista and not complicated.

As we neared the beachside pueblo of Nerja we were faced with a series of roundabouts which were complicated by the fact that we didn’t have an appropriate map and had to rely on Kelsey’s smart phone for navigation.  After circling a couple of these several times in first gear looking for the proper exit and with only one wrong turn we found ourselves passing through this lovely town full of tourists.

We were staying just outside of Nerja however, and we continued to the Hostal Avalon located in Punta Laura and just across the street from the beach.  We were immediately impressed by the friendly staff, incredible restaurant and rooms, each with an ocean view and after a wonderful late breakfast (complete with beers) we changed into our suits and headed for the beach.

The beach was not crowded and consisted of a grayish sand; very different from what we were used to in the US but we spread our towels, acquired beverages from one of several cafes along the beach and began doing our Spanish language homework.  About an hour of this and we needed a change of location and activity so we moved down the beach to an upscale resort where we appropriated lounge chairs without any arguments and settled in for an afternoon of reading and sipping beverages.

We soon realized that this particular section of the beach accommodated many topless sunbathers…..ooops!  Most of the sunbathers were northern Europeans in Spain for a spring vacation so there was quite of bit of pale pink flesh; quite a bit if you know what I mean.  I mean really, people of a certain age (surely older than me) should know better.  This did not ruin our afternoon however and after a couple of hours we realized we were getting a little more sun than we should and we packed up and walked further down the beach to a seaside restaurant recommended by our hotel named Pepe’s. 

Pepe’s featured close to one hundred tables and was obviously very popular although our timing was perfect and the comida crowd was just finishing up.

  We ordered  a salad and a bowl of mussels to share as an afternoon snack since we had dinner reservations for later in the evening.

They were incredible and a much larger portion than we expected, so we stuffed ourselves and left a large pile of empty shells behind . 

 We were very impressed by the quality, especially since the prices were very reasonable, much less than we expected,  The sunburn, adult beverages and food caught up with us and we decided to walk back to the hotel for a siesta.

Dinner in the hotel restaurant much later in the evening was a very pleasant experience, as was our breakfast the next morning, great food, friendly people, and reasonable prices. 

We loaded the car and headed inland on a very steep, winding road for a visit to the nearby pueblo of Frigiliana.

All of us were immediately enchanted by this lovely village and we hiked up and down the steep and narrow but clean cobblestone streets simply looking around and doing a bit of window shopping.

After climbing a series of switchbacks we found ourselves atEl Jardin, a restaurant our friend Tony had recommended to us. 

We were not very hungry having eaten a very large breakfast late that morning and we were saving our appetites for an expected Thai food extravaganza later, but we stopped for a drink and to chat with the manager before our next stop on our way home in the Valle de la Crin.  Next time we will definitely fit a meal at this restaurant into our plans.

 The view was extraordinary!  Yes, that is the Mediterranean down there.....

Diana has some close friends who run a restaurant called the Thai Elephant in Restobal,

a quiet little pueblo in the Valle de la Crin, which just happened to be on our way back to Granada.  It is a lovely place set in a huge garden,

run by a Thai woman who just happens to be married to a Spaniard.  We all loaded up on the green and red curry and we were very happy to eat some great food with a little spice and heat.  We all emptied our plates several times and left for Granada with our bellies full and our craving for spicy food satisfied for the time being.

All of us look forward to returning to the Hostal Avalon and both El Jardin and the Thai Elephant in the future.  Great food, sun, beaches, a little exploring in new places…what more can you ask of a weekend?