Sunday Excursion

Last year when I lived here, almost every Saturday morning, we would get together, our group, Sally y los intocables (Sally and the untouchables), to go for a hike and then have lunch. The schedule was, meet up somewhere, or rather, they pick me up in my apartment in the city and we drive somewhere on the outskirts of town, in the mountains, to Portugal, we would have a coffee at a café and maybe a cookie or something, we would find a restaurant and tell them that we would be back for lunch, sort of making a reservation and then hike for some hours and come back to said restaurant, have a huge meal, and then maybe walk some more in the afternoon, go to some monumental site in Galicia, have another coffee or soda or tea and then come back home.

Now that I´m back for a visit, the group got back together. They picked me up at the hot springs that are along the river Minño, I was there having a dip with my Spanish mom and her friend. We went to a different river, and now to be totally honest, I don´t remember exactly which. It was SUPER hot, unbelievable. And dry. This is very unusual for Galicia. We walked along the river and went for a little swim, it was very very cold but very very worth it. It made my heart skip a beat...or two, but how amazing, to feel so alive, to feel, period.

Typical bridge in Galicia

We saw some people fishing and bees were buzzing everywhere, it was beautiful.

We made our way back to the car and drove to a restaurant nearby at which had made reservations. On the way we stopped in search of a bar to have an apperative, we didn´t find anything open but we did find a beautiful church from 15th-18th century.

Statue in front of the church, also typical style of Galicia

We waited for some friends who were meeting up with us. We sat on the patio, in the sun and had a beer. A San Miguel Especial, which was delicious. It was darker than the normal San Miguel, and awesome. We had lunch. A mussle filled empanada made with a corn flour, rather than the typical wheat flour, red bell peppers filled with scallops and cod croquetas, croquetas are balls of any type of meat or fish, breaded and fried. For my entreé I had grilled hake with boiled potatoes and a little salad. The others had various cuts of pork or different fish. The bread was wonderful, like always, soft and hearty. Of course we had wine, a red Ribeira, Ribeira is a region of Spain known for its wine. After lunch, I was so full I couldn´t even have dessert...I know, I know, me, no dessert!

View from the restaurant

Afterwards, we went for another little walk along a different river. We took another swim in the water. Again, freezing but worth it. There was a lookout to a waterfall, on a big old rock, which was quite comfortable for my nap.

We finished our walk in the little village where we had parked the car, see photos below for images from the village, a church and the alleys. In the village there was one café. We stopped in to have a soda. There were old men playing cards at a table in the shade outside. Inside there were more old men playing a different game of cards. The café sold all types of things, toothbrushes, oranges, milk, and drinks, food, etc. We sat on the stairs of the neighboring house and watched three little boys jump on a mattress that had been left out as garbage. It was an 8 year old boys dream come true.

We then went to Castro de San Cibran de Las. A castro is the ruins of an old settlement. These castros were strategically made on the top of a mountain for defensive purposes. It was incredible, it is said to be from the 5th and 6th centuries B.C. See images below.

Lastly, I leave you with art. Below is an image of a rock along the river that was carved by someone. I can´t quite tell what it is of though....

;-)

Supper in Doniz

I came to my Spanish mom´s house today from Santiago via train. The Galician countryside is absolutely gorgeous. Although they are in a drought and it hasn´t rained practically all winter, the landscape is green and lush. Not as lush as it should be or normally is, but still, resilient and full of life, just like the Gallegos.

We had vermouth and mussles, olives and bread before lunch. For lunch we had caldo a caldeiro (boiled meat) with potatoes, and fresh olive oil drizzled on top and seasoned with coarse salt and paprika. With white albariño wine. It was wonderful. It was the flavors I had missed. The kick of real olive oil, the tenderness of meat, raised well and humanely. Afterwards I took a siesta. It was glorious.

In the evening, we drove to Doniz where my Spanish mom´s mother-in-law lives. She is an older woman who lives by herself in a wooden/stone house in a teeny weeny village.

The deck of the house, the ivy has become part of the structure of the house, how cool!

She is strong and beautiful. Her hands are tough and she is tougher. We ate empanada (not to be confused with Argentinian empanadas, the Galician empanada is like a flat, savory, pie, filled with cooked onions, bell peppers and meat (it could be fish, chicken, whatever)). Accompanying supper, we had red wine.

Empanada, cake, empty cup of wine and empty shot glass of liquor café

After supper, we had home made cake. Super simple, I asked Maruja for the recipe and she gave it to me :) describing the process in great detail. With the cake we had liquor cafe, which is sort of like Bailey´s but one hundred thousand times better. It is also homemade, basically the distilled alcohol from the remains of grapes (after you take the pressed grape to make wine) with sugar and coffee beans. It definitely has a kick to it.

The house was warm, heated by the cast iron stove/oven in the kitchen, the door was wide open so that the kitty could come and go as she pleased. We sat around the kitchen table for hours, talking and laughing and eating, if you didn´t catch on to that already.

Cast iron oven/stove for cooking/heating the house

Life is good...

Displaced luggage

Yesterday, I spent the morning waiting for my suitcase. It had not made the last leg of my journey with me and remained in Madrid. The aiport offers a service to deliver the delayed luggage to you to your residence. I left the address of my friend´s apartment in Santiago de Compostela. I received a message around 10 am saying that my suitcase was on its way and I could expect it between 10:30 and 23:59. Nice little window of time for me to hang around the apartment waiting. I maintained a hopeful attitude that it would arrive at 10:30.

Right.

I got to know my friend´s girlfriend, which was actually wonderful. We spent the morning drinking coffee, we made brunch with home grown eggs, watched some cartoons on TV, I was able to write on my blog. In other words, it forced me to do nothing, which for me, is very difficult. Eventually, my friend came home from work and we had lunch. My suitcase came! It was around 4 but it came nevertheless, I had resolved to leaving the house in the afternoon if my suitcase didn´t come and if they came to deliver it, well oh well, I wasn´t going to spend an entire day waiting for a silly suitcase.

Woo hoo! And none of the 5 glass bottles (wine, beer, etc) were broken!

I napped, and then got up and went out on the town. I walked around the old city and went in various hole in the wall shops. To be completely honest, everything in the old city is hole in the wall. The buildings are stone and stuck together, so, inherently they are hole in the wall. I was looking for a purse. I wanted something made here and handmade. I went into many shops to no avail. Finally, I stumbled upon a leather shop. The owner was inside working and all of the things she sold were made by her or her team of 2 other artists. Jackpot. I looked around and she explained to me how leather is made, cleaned, prepared, dyed, etc. I tried on several purses and finally bought one I was happy with. She told me to take good care of it so that it would last me a long time. I plan on it lasting 20 years. I´ll get back to you on that. She said to put hand lotion on it. Just a hydrating lotion keeps the leather soft and hydrated. Makes sense. I made my purchase and was out the door with little skip of glee.

I went into a bakery and bought a slice of tarta de almendras (almond cake) and continued along my way to Hotel Costa Vella. This place is beautiful. My friends brought me here about a year ago. It´s definitely a hidden gem tucked in the corner of Santiago de Compostela, it´s a typical hotel but it has this amazing, enchanted garden with a view of the steeple of an old church as the backdrop.

I ordered a cafe con leche (coffee with milk) and had my slice of cake as I wrote in my journal. It was 8 pm and I had a coffee. For those of you who don´t know me very well, that is huge. Spain is really getting to me!

I went back home and we ordered a tortilla. Not to be confused with a Mexican tortilla, the tortilla española is a round omelette, so to speak, made with potatoes and eggs. I think it´d be safe to say it´s the token Spanish dish. It´s like take out pizza, you order your tortilla online, choosing what fillings you like (for example, we got cheese, lomo (pork tenderloin), bell peppers, and of course potatoes and eggs) and then they deliver it to your house. It was actually really good but my friend´s mom later made fun of us for ordering it and not making it at home. It´s like ordering scrambled eggs...why wouldn´t you just make it? Because you can order it...we are so spoiled these days.

Our friend came to pick us up and we went back to the old city for a concert. It was pretty cool. We bar hopped for a while, which is very Spanish and finally went home...

xoxo

Streets of Santiago

I arrived yesterday afternoon in Santiago de Compostela. It was a long journey: car, bus, airport, airplane, airport, airplane, airport + airport shuttle, airplane, bus, walk. But nothing like the pilgrims that make their way to Santiago de Compostela, nestled in the heart of Galicia, the northwest autonomous community of Spain, these pilgrims travel by foot from as far as Germany but most typically from the Pyrenes in France slowly treking the 780 km (485 mi) to the Cathedral.

I made it to my friend´s apartment and relaxed a bit. I don´t know what I needed to relax from I had been sitting for nearly 24 hours but everybody tells travelers to relax and so I did. Soon enough, I began to feel the itch, that burning sensation inside of me, those of you who can´t bear to be indoors too long, you know what I´m talking about.

I laced up my shoes and headed out. I went to the market and then walked around the old city, I am drawn to the alleys of old cities, it´s like magnetic or something. I like the fact that millions, literally, millions of people for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of years have walked these streets before me. If you just want to think about chance, how many people in x alley in Santiago de Compostela have sneezed, coughed, given birth, laughed, cried, simply were? It´s amazing! I found myself speed walking until I stood across the plaza, facing the Cathedral, and took the picture below, for all of you:

There weren´t as many people at the cathedral at night but it was equally breathtaking, and somewhat enchanting. I marveled at it for a while and walked around the alleys, passing bars and restaurants and fondly recalling the company I was with at each, with Julio/Anton/Inma here, with my brother there, when I was here with my parents we ate there, Laura/her brother and I had drinks there, I smiled to myself and moved on. The bars and restaurants were sprinkled with people and from outside I could hear the muffled sound of laughter and stories being told among friends, my only company outside being the smokers, shunned outdoors as of 1 Jan 2011.

I walked by a tasca (tavern) with a wide open door. Something about it caught my eye. Maybe the menu. Maybe the blue and white tiled floor or the low ceiling. Maybe it was the owner hunched over the bar watching the evening news. I think it was the fact that it was empty and I was alone. I don´t mind dining by myself, I usually talk to people but this seemed like a good fit for tonight. I went in ordered mussles and red wine. I have missed the availability of seafood. I live in a coastal town but the seafood in Galicia is in your face, hard to miss. The food culture is different too, the restaurants, taverns, bars, cafes, etc. are so abundant and affordable that it makes sense to eat there regularly. Plus, everybody else is doing it!


Between bites of mussle atop bread soaked in olive oil, vinegar and mussle juice, I chatted with Luis, the owner. We discussed the near drought Galicia is having, he said this winter is the least rain they´ve seen in 40 years. We shared disgusted looks and comments regarding a Spanish reality show that was playing on the TV. I asked him how to make mejillas a la marinera (mussles a la fishwerwoman), he willingly shared the recipe with me. I´m used to this type of recipe giving, it goes something like this: you put water and mussles in a pot until the mussles open. Then you just add olive oil and vinegar with the mussles until they´re done. Oh and paprika. And garlic. Oh you can´t forget onions. Duly noted.

I slowly finished my meal, savoring every last mussle. I went up to the bar to pay and told Luis I would be back. He gave me his card, the writing was printed off center and crooked, this was for real. I repeated how great the mussles were and that I would try to make them upon my return home. He reminded me of the recipe. This time it was: you just put the mussles in a pot with water until the mussles pop open (I have been taught before tha the ones that do not open are bad and mustn´t be consumed, don´t try to open them, throw them out, they´re not opening for a reason), then you take them out and let them cool a bit. In a frying pan, put olive oil, vinegar, salt and paprika and mix it around with a (wooden) spoon, don´t shake it, you can´t shake it, just stir. Then you add the mussles and chopped onion and garlic. I asked for a clarification on the vinegar and he pulled out the bottle of the vinegar he uses, white wine vinegar.

I thanked him, assuring him I´d be back, and was on my way.

I continued on through the alleys, on my way home. I passed a tavern with a menu outside that was written in chalk, it looked warm and the wooden walls were glowing with life. My gaze was drawn up by the scorching sound of liquid hitting a hot pot in the upstairs kitchen. I could just imagine whoever was cooking, skillfully dumping the contents of a vat into this hot pot to make stew, careful not to spill a single drop.

I´ll leave you with this last photo of the tulips and narcissus, so beautifully budding in the gardens of the old city.

Pay it Forward

I had a sort of crummy day today. I let silly things get to me and technology frustrate me. It happens.

I got off work and was irritated and flustered. I went to the post office and went to find some shipping supplies. A sweet gentleman saw me looking around and asked if he could help me. He was not an employee of the US postal service, he was just a good person. He suggested a box that was appropriate for what I was shipping and then went and dug through the recycle bin to find bubble wrap for me, so I wouldn't have to buy it. He then proceeded to help me pack the box. I told him he was an angel and asked if I could buy him coffee. He said "no," with a smile, "pay it forward."

I left and thought about how beautiful life is and how we often take it for granted. If you're reading this, chances are, you've always lived with running water and a constant electricity source. You've never truly gone hungry and you've always had a roof over your head.

I then went to UPS, because as it turns out, I needed to send the package from there. The guy who worked there was awfully sweet. I told him about my day and my experience at the post office. He said, "ya every once in a while you find a nice person." I told him I disagreed.

It's not every once in a while that you find a good person. It's that every once in a while you find a bad person, they just stick out because bad sells, bad gossips and bad talks. You tell your friends about the jerk that cut you off while driving but you don't tell your friends about the sweet person that let you go ahead of them in line at the grocery store. Or the person behind you in line that pays for what you're buying. ;-)

A wise, dear friend once said "If there was more bad than good, we would have all killed each other already." I buy that philosophy whole-heartedly. There is more good in the world and you are that good.

Be kind :)

Pi Day and St. Patrick's Day!

So I'm a few days late on Pi Day. That was 3.14 (March 14th). Pi, for those of you who don't remember from algebra, is an irrational number. An irrational number is not a number you give an annoying guy at a bar (that's a fake number). An irrational number is a number that cannot be expressed as a fraction that has integers in the numerator and denominator. For example, .75 is a rational number, it can be expressed as 3/4. Most people round pi to 3.14 and know it as the area of a circle = pi*r^2 (which is pi x the radius of the circle, squared).

If you care to see one million digits of pi, click here.

Pi Day is a day when math geeks worldwide celebrate the beauty of irrational numbers and indulge in pie. (I guess there are many days a year that math geeks do that, so maybe pi day is March 14 in countries that write dates as month/day/year, so, in the US). Regardless of what Pi means to you, I think it's a great day to reflect on math and the amazingness of numbers.

I will refrain from my narrative on the beauty of numbers, patterns and how math is an integral part of EVERYTHING WE KNOW.

St. Patrick's Day. March 17th. Two awesome holidays within 3 days of one another. Man, I planned poorly this year, from next year forward, I will be making green pies throughout the whole month of March in honor of St. Pi-trick's days!

I guess I did participate today. My dad and I went to my favorite patisserie and had a pistachio, apricot tart. The pistachio cream was green! I really must carry a camera with me from now on so I can show you my indulgences.

The affair would have been complete if I had measured the length of a slice of tart, squared that number and multiplied it by pi. I would have then had the area of the tart. Next time!

xoxo

Who teaches the children, and what do we teach them?

I was reading this article, and I came across a quote by Plato, "Who teaches the children, and what do we teach them?"

I thought about how important that is. Do you ever think about your behavior? Your standards for the way you live your life?

Traditionally speaking, it's our parents who instill in us our values, morals and teach us most everything that we know. But then your parents are not the only people who have access to you as a child. I still remember things various people said or did around me when I was a kid and picking up on my liking their behavior or not, and then trying to emulate the behavior that I liked and avoiding behaving in the way that made me uncomfortable when I saw it.

Just like it is said that it takes a village to raise a child, I'm going to extend that philosophy to more broad terms, applicable to the society in which we live today. Children are sponges, so they pick on up on everything, so anything that influences them, "raises" them. We live in a virtual world that if one plops their child in front of the TV, the people acting on the TV are "raising" the child. Other children at school greatly influence a child. The teachers. This is a powerful one. I remember thinking, or being conditioned to think, that the teacher knew everything and we were to respect him or her accordingly. Similarly, coaches, music instructors, etc.

But then what worries me is, do people care? I mean, do people care who raises their child. I think it would be cruel to think that there exist people who don't care about the well being of their child, but maybe it's not that, maybe it's that people are unaware of the importance of the early years of a child's development and just how detrimental they are to the final product, that is, an adult. And I guess it doesn't matter how you behave if you live in a society of one, but by definition, a society is social; a group of people coexisting together, and I think it'd be safe to say for people to do that successfully, there needs to be certain behavior that is conducive to a functional society. Well what's a functional society? I'll leave that for another day, I have a final exam in less than an hour.

lots of love.

How I Deal

Today is one of those bar-and-a-half-of-chocolate days. I love those days! Sometimes it's just so right...

So anyways, I'm in my office, studying. I have an exam coming up and I find that I actually enjoy doing the homework. Oops? No, I'm not ashamed. Well, I guess I enjoy checking my answer and seeing that I did it correctly. Is that self-absorbed? Please don't answer that.

I have decorated my corner of our office with a huge, beautiful, vibrantly colored painting, the adjacent wall has 2 smaller paintings, one is a tiny canvas that my brother brought me back from Puerto Rico (maybe?), and the other is a watercolor my aunt painted for me on our trip to Hawai'i a couple of years back. That was a fun trip! She painted and I read. My definition of read is contextual. In this context, read means nap on the beach with a book open on my chest (causing a rectangular tan line!) while my aunt paints. There are other definitions of read, sometimes the book serves as a rather stiff pillow for my head (that's when I am napping on my stomach, rather than my back). There's read, where I'm sitting in a chair, feet up, the book sits in my lap and my head is flung back, mouth open and I am snoring, in the sun. There is a common theme we see here, the sun and my sleeping. Shoot. There's read on the couch, under a blanket with a cup of tea, and actually have my eyes on the page and I am taking in what is wonderfully written. Yes, I mean to say wonderfully written, because I don't waste my time reading things I don't like. And I suggest you don't either. That's like eating food you don't like, who does that?

Where was I?

There's read in bed and read in the car, there's read on the bus (one of my favorites!), and read in a hammock, read in front of the fireplace, read on the grass, read in a tree, read in a library, read in a cafe....

Just wanted to share my thoughts, back to studying....much love, hope you're reading a good book! If you need a suggestion, I have plenty!

Sipping Chocolate

It's safe to say that all of my good friends are those with whom I can enjoy a good meal. I don't mean good as in the size of the meal. I mean good as in the quality of the food, the time savored in appreciating it, the location of the meal, the conversation we share, you surely see where I'm going with this.

I just returned from my auntie's house. It was a really windy afternoon and I was irritated because I was cold and because I have done something to my ankle, and I cannot run or walk in high heels properly. You understand my frustration. I went over to her house because she called me saying she had something for me, not that I need an excuse to visit her. She was telling me a story and I interrupted her to request her famous sipping chocolate. Hopefully if you're reading this, you have experienced this drink or can interrupt me at some point and request that I make it for you. We bundled up, hopped in the car and ran to the local market to purchase half and half. We came back home and sat in the kitchen, chatting away as she whisked up one of her many specialties. It's half and half, solid chocolate (56%), coarse salt and a dash of vanilla. Served in thin, porcelain demitasse cups makes for an elegant affair. We curled up on the couch and sipped our food of the Goddesses accompanied by Spanish polverones (fine, Spanish, cinnamon, almond cookies). We talked and talked. Ranted and raved. The usual.

I remember the first thing I said when I took a sip, as I held the delicate cup about an inch away from my face so that I could still enjoy the olfactory part of the experience, was "I feel bad for people who don't ever do this."

I don't feel bad for them that they can't do it, but rather that they don't take the time to. I guess some people don't prioritize this kind of stuff and that's okay. I don't prioritize having fancy cars very high on my list of life ambitions, well I don't think having a fancy car is even on my list of ambitions. I don't prioritize having tons of money either, but I digress. I enjoy drinking extremely rich chocolate and talking with a person I love. And I hope you have something simple that you can do in your regular life that gives you great pleasure, that you don't feel guilty about, that is uninterrupted and enjoyed with every part of your being. I wish that for you, and for everybody.