Al Hambra

Harry has wanted to go to Al-Hambra for ages, but never managed to make it. Why? Becuase you have to book in advance, that goes against his spontaneous nature. We did manage though to get some tickets, in the usually over full castle and grounds and had even more luck because we had good weather. Cold but clear.

The original castle was built in the 11th century by Samuel Ha-Nagid, a Jewish grand vizier of one of Granadas sultans. It was turned into a fortress in the 13th century as the Moors took over, and the castle came into the possession of the Nasrid dynasty. After the Reconquista, when the Christians basically drove the arabs out, or tried in any case, the palace that the Nasrid emirs had built was restored and partially demolised to make way for a new palace for Carlos I, and the mosque was turned into a church. In the 18th century no one was interested in Al-Hambra and it was abandonded, left to go to ruin and only thieves and beggars lived in its grand walls and palace rooms.

When Napolean invaded, he used the palace for barracks and in the ensuing battles the palace was very nearly destroyed. In 1870, the government finaly re-discovered its worth and it was declared a national monument, and the authors of the romantic period all flocked there to live in it, despite its decrepid state. Can you imagine the sort of bohemean artist colony that must have wandered around there gathering wood to burn in monunetal fireplaces??? It was basically ignored by Franco,, and after he died, the Al-hambra was declared a world heritage site and rightly so.

Is there any other place that has such a checkered history?

Al Hambra

mpm=Malaga Picasso Museum

The next stop on the daily ausflug trail was Malaga. I was pleasantly surprised. What has been missing from my Spanish life was a good shopping experience, and there is one to be found in Malaga. I didn't have high hopes for this ugly city, but discovered that it is actually not so ugly. The inner city was renovated by Fernando and Isabella in the 15th century and it still stands much as it was. They had good taste! The shopping street is something to behold. I didn't buy anything. The men were patient however while I scoured the shoe stores looking either for a black back to match my back boots or brown boots to match my bag. They royal pair, Ferdinand and Isabella, not Harry and his dad, also started a big renovation of the cathedral of Malaga, however it ran short of cash, or in any case someone decided that they didn't want to invest any more in the completion of the church and from one day to the next it seemed, stopped. The cathedral looks strange because although the work stopped after 200 years (can you imagine 200 years on the same project)there are still lose bricks sitting around, parts of the original mosque (yes I said Mosque, Malaga like most of Andalusia spent a lot of time under Arabic rule) are still clearly visible and the second bell tower consists of a few incomplete pillars, yet no one has worked there since 1782.

The cathedral and the old town were not why we were there though, we went to see Malagas newest and most expensive tourist attraction, the Picasso Museum, of course there are Picasso museums all over the place but how many are in his home town? It was good, but Harry and his father were more impressed with the Max Ernst temporary exhibition also on display. German patriotism perhaps?

All that said, I didn't take any pictures, sorry mom, maybe I was looking for an excuse to go back.

Mean Monkeys

We had to do it, everybody has to do it, at least once. Visit the mean monkeys on the rock of Gibralter. We have actually been there more than once, and will likely go again. I love the apes, they steal and bite, and are greedy and selfish and smell funny. Everything that we the more developed cousins try not to be this mean little monkeys are and people pay to see it. Sweet irony or? Last time we went we didn't have to pay, if you are willing to walk the 1000 plus stairs up the side of the mountain you are rewarded with free visits to the monkeys, if you would rather drive you pay for the luxery. Fair enough, and the price also includes entry to the seige tunnels, which I suppose too one should see once, but need not see again. We save things like that for visitors, but unfortunately that one is ticked off the list, the next visitors will have to choose another Gibralter site to see, I think there are a few more museums on the big rock, the Barbary Macaques of course are always on the list.

Seville

Yesterday we drove to Seville. It took two hours. I can not beleive that between our house and Seville there is no real road. According to our navigation system the only way to get from ours to thiers on a road with no lanes that winds through the mountains. We followed blindly the navigation system, passing by cows on the road, some really big potholes and curves that made you feel worse than being on a roller coaster. Half way in our adventure I asked Harry if he had set the navi to not use big roads because he was afraid of the toll roads, me I will pay. He said in the voice that everyone knows as not wanting to admit the truth, that he had checked and it was normal roads, although 5 minutes later when he thought I had forgotten the point, he checked the navi, only to confirm that yes it was set to normal roads, this was the normal way to Seville. I somehow doubt that, we met only 4 other cars on this trail. Gladly so, there was not room for two cars travelling in opposite directions. In any case we got there eventually and the countryside was nice. We planned to visit the Cathedral, Alcazar and Plaza de Espana. I also hoped to plunk the men somewhere and do some city girl shopping. However none of that was to be. We parked in El Centro, which is as Lonely Planet so reduntly states the centre of old Seville. It is completely made up of TINY streets, like a rats maze. We lost ourselves and the car after we left it. No matter we didn't need the car at this point, and the streets, restaurants and buildings were amazing. We eventually emerged near the cathedral, so we went there first. That was also our second last stop. This is the biggest (according to Harry's fathers travel guide) church in the world. I have been to the vatican, its not bigger. This place is huge, insanely huge. We were feelign a bit gyped about the 7.5 euro entry fee but well worth it. Its HUGE. We spent the entire afternoon in there. We saw Christopher Columbus crypt, climbed up the tower, looked at the tresury and the three giant pipe organs. Impressive.
We then went to find food, and realised that we had also managed to wander through the Alcazar gardens without realising it. We ate in a bodega, then fortified went in search of the car, each with his own plan aboout how best to find it. My strategy: keep quite and let the men duke it out. Harry was using his camera as a guide as he had taken photos along the way, where as Harrys father was using his sense of direction. There were a few disagreements, but after only 1 hour, we found it, and determined not to let navi fool us again, we set off for home.

But Harry caved to navi. We were doing so well, we were on 4 lane highways, lots of traffic, smooth whide roads but the navi kept ordering him to turn around, telling him we were going wrong. I said turn it off and drive with your head not the computer, but Harrys head told him the computer knows better and he turned. In five minutes we were back in no mans land in the dark.

Seville

The project of the day

Yesterday I decided to clean the house. Harry saw me wandering off with a tub of hotwater and a dishrag and asked me what I was up to. I said I was going to clean the downstairs, hoping with that sort of girl hope that he would take that as a hint and decide to clean the upstairs. He didn't but after about 20 minutes, when he realised I was actually serious about cleaning the house, he asked if he could help.

I said no, just because I felt like cleaning the house didn't mean he had to suffer too. Wow, was that a mature moment from me eh? No, calculated risk taking was what that was. He said, he couldn't sit around while I cleaned the house, especially the floors which we do by hand with a rag. He offered to vacume, I said that would be nice. He did that, but got a little side tracked, needed a coffee to start him off and chased the dog around for a while with the hoover. Then he said he wanted to wash the floor, because it was too much for me to do alone. That is also terribly thoughtful of him I said. I knew my luck wouldnt hold out so long, Im now in the danger zone

He started with his bucket of hot water, but noticed as he was going along that the thermometer has not been hung on the wall so he did that, spraying old concrete and white paint on the section of the floor that had been cleaned, he decided then too to fix the light in the front entry, and then to repair some other things, too numerous to mention. Leaving a trail of handworker chaos behind him. I knew this was going to happen. He forgot his bucket and his hot water and was off fixing, hanging and adjusting everything, tools everywhere, and questions about where I had put this or that other thing that he absolutely needed.

He ordered me to stop cleaning the floor because he said he was going to do it, but I know how these sort of things turn out, so I said no no,, its fine, I will clean the floor till I meet a clean spot that you have made then together we can do it OK,,, so if you want to clean the floor you need to hurry or I will have it all done.

That changed the project focus and within a few minutes there was soapy warm water everywhere, threats to burn all my pine cones in the fire becuase they make too much mess,, and eventually a meeting of rags in the kitchen.

The house clean, we both relaxed. We have very different styles and ideas about house cleaning but somehow it got done. Well sort of because we still had to put away all the tools and things, but we can do that later.

Genalguacil village

Inspired by a book I borrowed from the school library ("Holiday walks from the Costa del Sol" written by Matt Butler a fellow Canadian) we decided to take a visit to Jubrique and Genalguacil villages. Matt says that this area is one of Andalucia's greenest and most isolated areas, well hidden in the mountains, with the villages on peaks of 575m and 559m respectively. Smugglers as far back as Moorish times used to hide in the area protected by the dense forest and steep mountains and Matt has mapped out a trail between the two villages that should be a nice 13 km walk.

It would be, if one could read a map! We started out fine and dandy, but then Harry let me have the map because Matt explains everything, as all hiking books do in terms of landmarks that one should see and being that I am the native English speaker I should have the better understanding of where to go. I translated the descriptions not wanting to have full responsibility for our navigation, knowing that at best I am inclined to go in EXACTLY the wrong direction, and at worst make a series of unsystematic mistakes that will have us completely lost in no time.

Everything seemed to be going well. Matt says: travel about 1 km out of the town on the main road, then when the road takes a sharp right, you will find a path leading up the mountain to the left and after a moderate 20 minute climb you will see a white house ruin. We found the turn, we found the trail but after 10 minutes found a completely broken, no sign of white paint ruin, where the trail apparently stopped. Now we are not sporty enough to think that we made Matt's 20 minute hike in 10 minutes... where is the mistake? The trail, really doesn't seem to exsit anymore, there are some remnents of paths, goat tracks really, could this be the trail?

As we try to deconstruct the directions, Harry's dad, ever patient, who has endured the 1 hour it took for Harry to organizse himself, who has ridden 40 minutes with the dog in the car, has made conversation with us for three days, and eaten our rabbit food as well, decided this is fine enough for him, and will not walk any further. He wants to sit in the sun here and read and eat our sandwiches, I mean we do not really have to make the 13 km hike do we?

Harry had other plans, and is now scouring Matt's book, only to discover I have made the classic mistake and have taken us to the east side of the village and we are supposed to be on the west, so in order to start out hike we need to be on the other side of town.

Opps, he decided as his father had, to have a beer and eat his sandwich.

But I still wanted to go to Genalguacil, as I had read in Matt's description that this is a town filled with artisans and that sculptures can be found all over the village: After all Harry's father is here to visit and may not come back and he HAS TO SEE ALL OF THE WONDRFUL THINGS IN SPAIN, so the men decided (to appease me) they would drive me there, but not now, later, first we would sun bathe.

After a few hours, all feeling positively exothermic, happy and energized from the baking, we wandered back to the car and proceeded to drive on the windy road down the side of Jubrique mountain, and up the side of Genalguacil, with Harry exclaining every five minutes that Jörg has to come visit so they can ride these curves together on the bikes.

We found the village, and the only thing Harry's father wanted to do was have a coffee, while I was eager to show him the sculptures, he was eager for a cafe con leche. He decided to look around the village to accomdiate me, and I sat unruhig in my chair as he drank his coffee, then we packed all back into the Opel Corsa convy and went home.

What did I learn from yesterday:
1. Never never never let me have the map, regardless of what language it is printed in.

2. Being a tour guide is hard work, particularly when you do not know your touree what he would like to see before you set out

3. Polite people never tell you what they really want to do

4. Genalguacil is a pretty great little village once you eventually get there

5. Oh and the dog looks really cute in flowers.

The Work Christmas Party

There are two types of people in this world, those that look forward to the School Christmas party for 12 months, and those that dread it. I am the latter, so is Harry. When he found out that families were not invited to the schools party, he added that to his lost of reasons why we can never leave Spain, tried to look sad and said, he was very very dissapointed that he could not join me in the fun. Great, that makes an already bad scene for me even worse, now I have absolutely no one to talk to there as I try to hide in the corner. I am at my best socially (which is never that good) in groups of two or three, five works in a stretch, but a work party always involves sitting at a table with 10 plus, most of which I do not know, because again, I am not my most social at work,, I mean its WORK?!? I am of the mind that I am supposed to be working when I am there.. so you see I am not really the water cooler, coffee break sort, which I recognize is in many ways an anti-social characteristic, but I think I am too old to change.

Now, please, do not in any way get me wrong. I work with great people, on first impressions, which is all I really have because of aforementioned reasons they seem really nice. But in large groups, with an open bar and the thought of no work for 3 weeks, oh and an organized bus ride to take us all home. I will stop there, I am sure you get the picture.

It started out well enough, a nice glass of wine as we walked in the door, but then we had a random prize giving, and tequilla, vodka and whisky were among the prizes. I highly doubt any of these prizes made it home. As I sat suffering through yet another Spainish attempt at vegetarian meals, luckly this one not involving fish or chicken, but rather a big plate of raw, unspiced tofu and TRYING oh so unsuccessfully to build that little conversation corner of 3-4 people that I need to be able to feel comfortable enough to speak, the woman accross from me realised the balloons on the table were filled with helium. This started several people on our table dismantling the centerpiece in order to sing jingle bells with the voice of a mouse, amusing? It only went down hill from there, after being peer pressured into a tequilla shot, I was then asked to dance, in a brightly lit room at 3 in the afternoon, to a song I had never heard of and wasn't particularly feeling, by my boss. I can not say no can I? Again, he was trying to bring anti-social me into the meele, but I remained firmly the stick in the mud. As everyone got up on the dance floor, one of the maintence staff began to strip, with cheers all around. I took that as my oportunity to run away, without saying goodbye. So rude, I know, but I just can not deal.

But just when I thought I was free...

Did I mention where the party was? Again, it was at one of those places that you either love or hate. Luxery pure, a golf resort community. We were at the main club house of the resort, with gold greens all around, luxery homes, holiday allotments to rent in pure disney world fashion. I am one of the haters or these built communities. AND I was lost in it. As I tried to escape I drove past horse jumping arenas, men in golf carts, driving ranges, swimming pools, house after house of multimillion dollar homes, owned by the beautiful people, and all I could think, was get me out of here, what a prision. I couldn't escape, not the party, not the place, trapped.

Thirty minutes later, as the panic subsided I found the exit, by using a multitude of different strategies I found an exit, it wasn't the one that I wanted but it got me out. But more than that I had come to accept my fate. I will have to go through another Christmas party again next year, like finding the exit to golfers paradise, I definetly need a new strategy.