Day 7: Sevilla & Algeciras

Our excursion in Sevilla began at La Plaza Nueva, where we joined a dozen others for a Rick Steves-recommended walking tour with Señora Concepción Delgado. The wry-humored teacher took us on a fascinating jaunt through hidden alleys; a small ornately Baroque church; courtyards harboring clues to the town's Phoenician, Roman, and Moorish past; and the walled barrio of Santa Cruz, where trendy cafés now line the streets of the former Jewish ghetto.

We continued our own tour after the group dispersed, randomly following paths shaded by leafy orange trees and savoring a tapas lunch at Cerveceria Giralda (3 Mateos Gago) that I can only describe as... magnificent -- all under the watchful eye of La Giralda, whose bell tower is visible from almost every vantage point in the city center.

We caught a late-afternoon train out of Sevilla, mentally prepared for the 15-minute window and potential Amazing Race dash to our connection in Córdoba. While I was eagerly anticipating the sprint, my traveling companion was far less enthusiastic. Lucky for him, we arrived in Córdoba a few minutes early and caught our connecting train on an adjacent platform. Destination: the port city of Algeciras.*

The second leg of our ride was uneventful until the last hour when the scenery changed dramatically. Olive tree farms and fields of goats gave way to lush green mountains and a more winding route that caused the cars to creak and moan at each curve. Then as we neared Algeciras, I gasped at the silhouettes of gigantic storks (2-3 feet tall) standing in equally wide nests perched atop telephone poles -- like sentinels welcoming us to port.

Upon arriving in Algeciras, my naïve craving for "adventure" got us lost en route from the station to the hotel. But thanks to a lovely trio of chatty ladies, plus some broken Spanish and lots of animated gesticulating, we were escorted to the closest intersection to our destination. After an apprehensive hike through an eerily dark and silent patch of road, possibly the longest 10 minutes of my life, we cried "Hallelujah!" when the hotel loomed ahead.

Our gratefulness towards the kind strangers and for our safe arrival overshadowed the fact that the hotel had transitioned to "winter mode" that same day, meaning they had shut down its air conditioning for the rest of the year,...despite the 90 degree temps outside. In the hot breeze of the oscillating fan that we borrowed from the front desk, I drifted off to sleep with a wry smile on my face.

_______

*Algeciras = pronounced "al-hay-ci-rah"

Day 6: Barcelona & Sevilla

10 a.m.

"Si se puede!" - overheard on our steep hike up to Parc Güell in Barcelona.

Gaudí, what have you got in store for us up there...?

1:30 p.m.

Licking my fingers at Cervecería Catalana (236 Calle Mallorca), where we're savoring a tapas sampler of fried anchovies, boiled prawns, clams with pesto, fried potato tubes stuffed with cod, and salted fried hot peppers; plus a "mallorca sausage spreadt with cheese" flauta and, as a reminder of home, a mini hot dog and mini hamburger. Muy delicioso!

3:50 p.m.

RENFE AVE train 3942, bound for Sevilla, pulls out of Barcelona Sants station exactly on time, a good start to the 5.5-hour trip. We're once again sitting across from a pair of others, like on our ride from Montpellier. Are these dudes going to be chatting so animatedly the entire way...? As long as our legs don't get entangled, it's all good.

4:30 p.m.

The digital display at the front of the train says we've hit 298 km/hr (or 185 mi/hr). Whoa.

7:50 p.m.

Now the display says it's 34 degrees Celcius (or 93 deg. F). We must be pretty far inland by now. Hey, is that Dave Matthews sitting diagonally across from us? I start humming the opening tune to "Ants Come Marching In." No reaction from the guy. Could be that (1) he really isn't Dave Matthews or (2) my humming skills suck, considering my travel companion just muttered, "Are you humming 'Eye of the Tiger'?" No, sir, I am not.

10 p.m.

In Sevilla! We're at Restaurante Cervecería Mara (7 Calle Céfiro) for a late dinner, around the corner from our hotel and across from Santa Justa station. The concierge recommended this place for seafood (pescados y mariscos) and "barrio food". Unlike in Barcelona, we've encountered fewer people here who speak English, including at Mara, adding to our excitement as we anticipate each course of our meal. We just finished sharing an exquisite bowl of gazpacho with tomatoes, seasoned croutons, green peppers, and eggs as fixins'. A deep sigh accompanied each deliberate spoonful. Now we're watching our waiter expertly plate a grilled fish (half for each of us) with sides of potatoes au gratin, and sauteed squash and red peppers. My heartbeat quickens...

Day 5: Barcelona

Our daybreak Talgo train from Montpellier to Barcelona raced us past groves of olive trees and vineyards as we gazed out at the sunrise over the Mediterranean Sea. At the France-Spanish border towns of Cerbère and Portbou, whose train stations are merely separated by a short dimly-lit tunnel, smartly-uniformed police cruised through to check our passports and wish us au revoir...and bienvenidos.

We arrived at the clean and bustling Barcelona Sants station at around noon, and wasted no time in dumping our packs at our hotel and metro-ing to Plaça de Catalunya at the heart of the city.

As residents lowered their shutters to block the afternoon sun during their siesta, we embarked on a 2-bus, 6-hour whirlwind tour of the town on the top deck of the hop-on/hop-off Bus Turistic. We soaked in an uneven tan while gawking at the narrated sights, including Antoni Gaudí's La Pedrera, with its wavy facade; the towering sandcastle-like Sagrada Familia (which Gaudí started before his unfortunate tram-related death); the sleek Montjuic telecom needle at the main site of the 1992 Olympics; the Futbol Club Barcelona stadium, with its souvenir stands featuring colorful team accessories and all-things-Messi; among dozens of other landmarks.

As we traversed the city, we caught frequent glimpses of folks -- dressed casually as well as professionally -- riding around on Bicing bicycles. Apparently over 30% of Barcelonans regularly use the bike sharing program, which costs only 1.50 € to rent a communal bike for 2 hours.

We ended the full day with a paella dinner and exciting flamenco show at Palacio del Flamenco, where the fiercely intense female lead and mesmerizing palmas (hand clapping) sets made me want to jump out of my seat and stomp my feet, too.

Most useful phrase of the day: On és el lavabo, sisplau?

("Where is the toilet, please?" in Catalan.)

Days 3-4: Montpellier

"I think we're going into bullet mode."

And he was right. After what seemed like a brief intake of breath, TGV 6205 shifted gears, causing my window view of grafitti'ed walls on the gritty outskirts of Paris to suddenly switch to scenes of a lush green countryside. (Look, sheep!) My heart leapt at the sight of wind farms, sweeping the hills with their enormous white blades; and solar panels adorning roofs in otherwise rustic villages. Although the rolling landscape became familiar after a couple of hours, I felt like I could have watched this fleeting filmstrip all day long.

We reached Montpellier (in the Languedoc-Roussillon region of the south of France) -- and were warmly welcomed into the home of my other soeur francaise -- by lunchtime. Her villa, with its sun-heated pool and fragrant fruit trees, was a welcome resort after our 3.5-hr train ride. We ate, swam, frolicked with her rambunctious 2-year old at the neighborhood playground, wandered around a nearby 12th century château, ate again (ratatouille!), and sipped Muscat wine over photo albums until it was time to toddle off to bed.

Day 4 highlights: Blended in with the locals at a downtown fair, apparently "the place to be" for clubs and associations (e.g., for art, music, social services, pet rescue, civil rights advocates, religious groups, etc.); visited Musée Fabre, which featured a special exposition of local-born Alexandre Cabanel; rode around in the cheesy but fun le Petit Train; and, got a taste of amazingly friendly Montpellier hospitality when looking for directions.

Our stay culminated with a memorable family dinner, featuring an intriguing blue apéritif from Marseille; grilled merguez (spicy sausage) and brochettes (skewers); and gâteau aux pommes avec du fromage frais (apple pie with soft cheese), made from scratch. As I gazed across the shimmering moonlit pool, satisfied and calm, I recall thinking, "This is certainly the life." "C'est la vie."

Days 1-2: SFO to CDG

And so it begins...! With one backpack each, we stepped off our plane in Paris, after a 15-hour journey across the lower 48 and then the Atlantic, feeling surprisingly refreshed, with synapses flaring, adrenaline pulsing,... and my inner Geico pig going "wee, wee, wee!!".

My first meal on Euro soil was a prix fixe breakfast of chocolat (hot chocolate), croissant (croissant), pain (slice of bread), beurre (butter), confiture (jam), and jus d'orange (orange juice) at Gare de Lyon. He savored a baguette graines de pavot (poppy seed baguette) with jambon cru (cured ham) and tomates confites (slow-roasted tomatoes). Possibly the simplest meal of our entire trip.

We then ventured downtown for a self-guided walking tour suggested by Rick Steves, which included a stroll through the majestic Notre Dame Cathedral; the Mémorial des Martyrs la Déportation, a somber monument commemorating the 200,000 French victims of the Nazi concentration camps; and the eclectic Quartier Latin. En route, we crossed a Seine River bridge with railings laden with padlocks of all shapes and sizes, scratched with names of couples professing their love for each other. (We resisted the urge to add one of our own!)

We spent the rest of our evening dining, sharing laughs, and trying to amuse the children with a Folkmanis bunny hand puppet at the home of an old friend, one of my two soeurs francaises (French sisters) whose gracious family had hosted me as a High School Junior in St. Brieuc. Over 2 decades later, the braces-wearing pre-teen is now all grown up, with a handsome guy and two infants of her own. *sigh* A heartwarming start to our vacay.

Déjà Vu Preview

I'd characterize our transition back to a daily routine as, in a word, "distracted." While we've embraced our familiar surroundings, work commitments, and favorite couch activities* with open arms, my mind still wanders back to the incredible events of the past 2 weeks.

So over the next week, in this venue, I'm going to review and "re-live" those 17 days that took my hoya** and me into the welcoming homes of old and new friends, and to distant lands that opened our eyes and hearts to tremendously rich cultures and refreshingly different perspectives.

A special "thanks" to AT, whose thoughtful gifts were well-used during my travels. (Those pages didn't stay blank for long.)

A toute a l'heure. More to come soon.

________

*Such as catching up on the AGT finale (yes, Michael Grimm!) and new seasons of Fringe and Glee on HULU; weekly Skype calls with the coolest octo- and septa-genarian aunts in Singapore; etc.

**"Dude" in Arabic.

2010 Surrender Mix (so far)*

I'm dubbing 2010 my "Surrender" year. Not to say that I'm giving up or throwing in the towel, but rather that I'm yielding, submitting myself to whatever God wants to do with me and my life.

A few things that I had hoped for did not come to fruition, a few extra burdens climbed onto my back. While the ensuing period of disappointment sucked, it eventually led me to an upward climb towards realization that I was trying to make everything fit into a nice perfect landscape that I had imagined my life to be.

So that's the backstory for my 2010 Surrender Mix. 'Tho I'm not a musician - (whatever happened to those 8 years of piano lessons?) - music has always had an immense influence on me. It's been awhile since I posted my last annual playlist. Here's what I've got so far for 2010, songs that have made me pause or given me a boost when needed.

• Slow Your Breath Down (Future of Forestry)
• Waiting (Norah Jones)
• 32 Flavors (Ani Difranco)
• Fireflies (Owl City)
• God of this City (Chris Tomlin)
• Mad World (Gary Jules)
• Did You Lose Yourself (FOF)

Let's see how the rest of this year goes.

____

*Note: Title inspired by NPR's Listeners Pick list, which has several good ones, too.

Photo credit: Google image

A Personal Touch

We had a blackout this morning that prompted an “uh…hello??” call to PG&E. Although the entity on the other end of the Power Outage Reporting Line was a computer with an automated woman’s voice, I was impressed by the personal touch that she tried to convey.

Those people impersonators always make me chuckle when their programmed vocal inflexions over-emphasize inserted words, like, “Your power will be restored at…ELEVEN!...O’CLOCK!!” She then offered to notify me by phone if there was a change in status, or when power was restored, or both. “BOTH!” I bellowed into the receiver, imitating her earlier dramatic voice.

Then she proceeded to tell me that notifications would not be provided between 9 p.m. and 8 a.m., so as not to disturb sleeping customers; and that if I was concerned about oversleeping, she could give me a wake-up call. Pleasantly unexpected. I was intrigued about this extra personal touch – from my gas and electric company? – but since it was the middle of the day, I declined the offer. Maybe next time.

Photo credit: Google image

Light & Heavy Thoughts of the Day - #1

This is an experimental first installment of a pair of my random "thoughts of the day", one on the light, trivial side; another a little heavier, deeper.

The Light

I used up the last strand of dental floss today. Maybe I'll take a detour on my morning walk to pick up a replacement box. Did you know that Dr. Levi Parmly of New Orleans first introduced the benefits of flossing in 1819? And that that Johnson & Johnson Corporation was the first to patent the stuff in 1898? And that flossing could decrease the risk of heart disease?

The Heavy

South Korea, Japan, U.S... One by one, countries are imposing tighter sanctions against North Korea, following confirmation that "The Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK)" torpedoed a South Korean warship on March 26, killing 46 sailors. Hasn't it been proven, though, that sanctions alone do not work, especially when dealing with a crazy dictator? My guess is that Premier Kim and his soldiers won't feel the pinch. Only the already-impoverished people of North Korea will suffer.

Dude! Gaseous.

On the itinerary for my guy's next business trip:

Distance: 11,300 miles roundtrip.

Emissions: 4,400 lbs (or 2 metric tons) CO2.

According to groups like Greatest Planet and Sustainable Travel, his carbon footprint from this particular trip can be offset for (only?) about $100, which would help fund a reforestation, renewable energy, or energy efficient project somewhere in the world.

While my "hooray!" for the mileage points is still echoing down the halls -- since that's how we afford our vacays -- I can't help but consider the environmental impact of our Matthew McGrory-sized footprints on those upcoming trips.

I guess we'll just have to walk everywhere for the rest of the year. And go vegan.

Flat Stanley

I only recently met Stanley Lambchop, thanks to to my D.C. buddies who introduced us via Webcam on a Skype call. He heralded from Cleveland, Ohio, and - showing no signs of fatigue when he nimbly slid out of his envelope and unfolded -- he seemed eager to visit the national monuments.

I have since learned a bit more about Flat Stanley's adventurous spirit and his role in promoting literacy and other school subjects. While I find the story of his "flattening" rather disturbing - having survived a falling bulletin board - I'm truly inspired by his determination to dust himself off (or, in his case, straighten his creases) and make the most of his 2-dimensional state.

Through his many doppelgangers, he may be the most well-traveled flat boy I know. Perhaps we'll have a chance to host Flat Stanley ourselves some day. In the meantime, I wonder where in the world he's trekking at this very moment...!

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It's All About Country

I love Tuesdays. Tuesdays are when iTunes releases its Free Single of the Week. I like free things. And I like the suspense of not knowing... Will this week's single "hit it big" and go the way of Colbie Caillat's Bubbly or MGMT's Time to Pretend; or should it be vaulted, never to be played again, like Black Heart Queen (link to disturbing lyrics only) by Gallows? Ah yes, life's little intrigues.

Today's pick seems promising: If I Die Young by The Band Perry, a sibling trio that features an accordion; now you can't go wrong with that. A country music selection seems appropriate, following the Country Music Awards over the weekend. Our Pastor's blog on the CMAs and his love for country music -- plus the fact that the awards show postponed our Sunday night pastime, Amazing Race, by a week (go, cowboys!) -- reminded me that country music has peppered various parts of my life. My father used to play 8-tracks of Johnny Cash and Alabama when I was a kid in Singapore; and growing up in Indiana, well... Fond memories and good times.

Go, Band Perry!

Countdown to Morocco

"Hello. We're interested in a week-long tour, leaving from Fes and ending in Marrakech; including a short camel ride, overnight stay in the Sahara, and visits to cultural sites. If possible, we'd also like to see goats in trees! What are our options, please?"

Planning for our Sep '10 Morocco trip began with this message, sent to several local tour groups recommended by friends who will be hosting part of our stay. Since then, we've convinced ourselves to make this a real adventure... With a backpack each, a camera, Arabic and French phrasebooks, and various maps (including the all-important one for l'Office National des Chemins de Fer du Maroc [Morocco's national railway]), we plan to explore the North African country on our own, sans guide. So psyched!

Squeaky Musings from Africa: Coming Soon...

(Photo credit: 7 Incredible Natural Phenomena...)

Aged Like Fine Wine

The title may make my guy blush, but he said so himself, "I look better than when we got married!" And indeed he does, in his new suit, recently acquired from a place that we're giving high praise, for both quality (apparently) and customer service. Since most (including myself) wouldn't trust my opinion on clothing quality, especially in terms of men's suits, I'll focus on the customer service. In a phrase, "It's a trip."

Harry O runs a local menswear store on 2nd Street in San Francisco, less than two blocks from a Men's Wearhouse. He holds his own next to the national competitor, though, offering classic and modern suits and accessories that he promises will make you look like, well ...a pimp. And that's a good thing. Apparently.

Harry O is a slender, handsome, mustachioed man. He says free love brought him out here from the Bronx in the 60s. On our first visit, he offered us an espresso - excused himself to greet two stylish, sultry-voiced lady visitors in their 20s - then got busy fitting my guy in a dashing dark and subtly-checked suit that he fished off the rack after giving him a quick once-over. It was perfect. His expertise showed as he stepped nimbly from one side to another, folding cuffs, pinching fabric, measuring with a metal ruler, and scratching marks for alterations with chalk shaped like a guitar pick. Every few moments, he stepped back to admire his handiwork with a "yeah, dawg" and a "I tell ya, pimpin' ain't easy!"

We dropped a little over "2 bills", including alterations, for an almost custom-tailored suit that makes my guy look good. And Harry O is just plain cool - and good at what he does. There's little doubt that we'll return the next time my "fine wine" needs another suit. Maybe after aging another 10 years.

A Neighborhood Jaunt: Bernal Heights

I can’t help but p-a-u-s-e a moment to deliberately breathe in the fresh coffee aroma that fills this small but inviting space. “Now this is a good cup of hot chocolate,” I muse, savoring another gulp of the calibration drink that I order at every café. Whole milk, no whip, please.

Nervous Dog Coffee in the Bernal Heights neighborhood of San Francisco exudes a welcoming vibe, with its beckoning overstuffed couches (“get’cha butt over here!”), marigold walls featuring works of local artists, and a friendly barista whose upbeat “hey there!” would prompt any introverted visitor to beam in response. I’m glad we came here, randomly picked from a growing list of joints in the City that offer free wi-fi. With a playlist that includes acoustic recordings by Eddie Vedder, Curt Cobain, O.A.R., and Garbage (the band; not a commentary); and a colorful clientele of tattooed skaters our age and focused telecommuters, this place exudes energy that is anything but nervous.

Three hours earlier… Our lunch at Angkor Borei across the street is also worth a note. They offer a tasty Cambodian lunch special of a curry-based soup, rice, and two-item combo from a selection of nine entrées. At $15 for two, we were very satisfied with the chili pork, ginger beef, napa cabbage with shrimp, and crispy spring rolls; though my carnivorous companion has his usual complaint - not enough meat.

Four hours earlier… Under self-imposed exile, we took our telecommute on the road today, mainly to give realtors free reign of the house (yes, we’re selling), but also to get some fresh air. So glad we did.

Why Bother?

It seems like eons since I last wrote, at least in this venue. I continue to write (for fun) occasionally, in my diary, for Toastmasters speeches,... So why bother with this? A "why blog?" Google search generated many interesting hits, like this quote and other compilations of reasons.

"When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it." - A.A. Milne

My own top 5 reasons? Blogging allows me to...

1. Practice "getting it together". Given the remote possibility that others may actually be reading this, I strive to express myself more succinctly and clearly. It helps bring together scattered thoughts and make them a little less muddled, a little more concise.
2. Learn new things. Before publishing each blog post, I've usually looked up a dozen bits of information and links that opened my eyes to new perspectives and ideas. Each entry is like a mini-research project. Says the nerd in a high-pitched voice, "Love it!"
3. Muse, ruminate, and reflect on random things that come to mind. It gives my guy a break from having to listen, as he always so patiently does; and I think I have some original and amusing thoughts every once in awhile.
4. Reach out and touch someone. Anyone out there? We're social beings. And on top of that, I'm an extrovert. I want and need to connect with people. This is just another way of doing that.
5. Write creatively, my favorite solo activity and the way I express myself best.

So,... I'm back!