“Life isn’t fair, so buck up.”–Kathy Graumann
“What goes around, comes around.”–Wayne Graumann

The Seville strike is over and garbage is being removed quickly and life is back to its beautiful normal. How is it going in the Graumann apartment? Well, the strike is lifted here as well, and a restaurant outing is in order. Wayne says he cleaned, so Kathy has to cook. Kathy says Wayne didn’t do his fair share during his solidarity cleaning strike and he has to cook, so you know the compromise.

All kidding aside, encore living needs to have fun. We walked the ramparts of the Parasol–the umbrella-like edifice built over the old Roman ruins in central Seville. This modern edifice is the largest wooden structure in the world and was quite controversial when constructed due to its modern design amid the historic splendor of old town Seville. The upper ramparts are built to walk so that you can get scenic views the city. Seeing the churches and other buildings from the top gives a unique perspective. It’s good the strike is lifted. 🙂

Our apartment owner has apologized. Everyday folks are aghast. The local media is abuzz. The international press is taking notice.

What happens in a beautiful and historic city of 800,000 people when the sanitation workers go on strike? What happens on a busy street in that city when the street sweepers go on strike? What happens when a husband decides to join the strike and no longer does his part to clean the apartment? Well, life goes on in the city and the street stays busy, but the husband is never heard from again! That is why I, Kathy Graumann, am writing this post. After due penance, my husband may resurface!

Round One of Three–Spanish–check, Italian and French still to come. Paella and sangria were on the menu at the cooking school Kathy and I attended this afternoon. Paella originated in Valencia, Spain, but has been adapted all over Spain as an important menu attraction. Today we learned how to make it from scratch, including the broth which forms the base. We had the added bonus of learning how to make authentic sangria, both red and white. I got to be the bar tender 🙂 so I have it down pat. For those of you familiar with this blog, my sangria now ranks up there with my special cream in taste.

It was a fun experience learning to cook with the restaurant sous chef who hails from Mexico. He said, “The secret to good cooking is to buy fresh ingredients and cook with your heart.” That will take some adjustment since I previously thought the secret was to buy three of four prepared foods, throw them together and call it dinner 😉 We may have some trouble finding a few of the requisite ingredients for Paella when we get home, but Kathy and I know what to look for, such as colorant, a neutral saffron that adds the right orange gold color to the paella. I told Kathy she can make the paella and I’ll make the sangria–anyone hungry?

We walk past it every day, just a few steps from our apartment front door. By the way, when we step out of our door we step directly onto Calle San Eloy, the tiled pedestrian street, with an occasional motor scooter or rollerblader or bicyclist, but lots of people traffic, We walk past what I have labeled, “our restaurant.”

Mind you, I have never eaten there, just looked in through the doorway. It is my restaurant because it looks like the type of place I would own, if I ran an eating establishment. It is inviting–nice wooden door, spanish tiles. It is busy–lots of people and activity, The food looks good–selection, price, presentation. It looks friendly–staff happy and people involved, customers lively and contented. It looks like the kind of place you come back to often with friends and family because food and service have that special kind of mix. It seems like a popular place to be because you are welcome there.

Well, we ate there just before leaving for Marbella. Really good tapas–octopus with olives, shrimp cerviche, salmon paste and bread, creamed potatoes–you get the picture. El Patio San Eloy has an interesting tiered interior where people sit up on the brightly tiled rows with little tables.

I am finishing this pre-written post today, because while here in Marbella, Kathy brought me a Spanish travel guide for Seville and one of five recommended restaurants is our restaurant. That makes me happy. Others like our restaurant as well. WEG

Today, we did something different–we drove. Picked up a car at the train station and a handy voice GPS–after fifteen turns and four round-abouts in three miles, Kathy said, “This device single handedly saved our marriage.” She would have been navigator without it, and undoubtedly would have made a few navigation errors, much to my chagrin–but with GPS, no chagrin.

None of that means the driver did not make errors–just kidding–I don’t make errors, just ask my wife. We had an excellent day. Spanish highways are quite good–the signs are clear and consistent and the pavement wonderful. But, the scenery, ah, the scenery. First Seville city and then quickly the countryside. Rolling hills and olive orchards and then green fields. We saw a real castle, just sitting there lazily in a field. We looked at each other–a castle, really! As we gained altitude the rock outcroppings amid pastures and fields were a harbinger of the Serrania de Ronda range to come. Soon cliffs and lakes and hairpin curves and several hundred feet drop offs were our companion for several hours and it was wonderful.

Then we saw it–the Mediterranean. I did not know that the mountains came practically to the water’s edge, but in this part near Marbella they do. Our first driving adventure and it was sweet and a little daring, but a great experience. WEG

Did we walk or did we stroll? It took four and a half hours. I think I prefer strolling. It’s true that we walk everywhere–that’s why we rented a centrally located apartment in the old town; however, today we strolled. Yep, we strolled.

We strolled through neighborhoods we had never traversed before–narrow passageways where the brilliant sun on this magnificent day could not penetrate, small balconies almost touching the wall on the opposite side of the “street.” No cars here–two people can barely stand side by side. And then suddenly, an opening and a small plaza over which towers a stately church, and, opposite, a cafe with chattering people enjoying company with friends.

We strolled wide avenues with busy traffic and large round-abouts centered with great fountains, one tall and tiered, another with water jets and another with fine spray and another and another–this is a city of fountains. To one side, a city park. The flowers are beginning to bloom and we realized that, in Seville, spring had sprung. And another fountain around a dignified statue of someone historically important.

We strolled the Seville World Exposition site, from the early nineteen hundreds. It has a wow factor, stunningly beautiful, and the Spain of your imagination. Horse-drawn carriages on the grand plaza and self propelled water craft in the canals along with tandem bicyclers bring joyful activity to the scene.

We strolled to the Santa Justa Train Station. It it large, and airport like, with display screens and restaurants and rent a cars offices and shops, and it is busy. The light-filled atrium is a comfortable place to stop and sit a spell.

We strolled home to our apartment through the cathedral square–it was open and people were flowing into its cavernous depths. I entered. The great organ was playing and worship was about to begin. Winding my way through the naves I came upon the worshippers and a soloist singing a beautiful refrain. And I paused to remember friends at home who were lifting their voice to God as well.

Kathy and I loved the stroll. WEG

We need to go to the market down the street for some groceries. Because it is so close, we get food we want for the day. Or, we might just decide to eat Tapas–there are so many kinds, you would have trouble eating the same one in a month, unless you found a favorite must-have. Tapas are like big appetizers and/or hors d’oeuvres with meats or vegetables of all kinds mixed in interesting and tasty ways. You order two or three at most, and you have a big meal–most people stand at high tables to eat rather than sit–cheaper on the menu in some places, and that gives folks an opportunity to move around and visit–my kind of thing–I think I did that before tapas style became the rage.

Kathy and I made the right decision, for us anyway, to spend significant time in one place at a time, putting sight-seeing and travel secondary to experiencing life in a new place. A young woman here in Seville at the market we frequent now knows me and laughs because she has to ask for my passport when I use my credit card–policy–and we both know by now that I am who I am. It’s that knowing smile when she really doesn’t look at the passport but holds it in her hand, since it is policy, after all. I think she is a sanguine in personality like me and, for sanguines, policy really doesn’t matter that much in life. It’s more like, get the job done fast and efficiently and don’t let the rules get in the way. The chestnut-roasting guy on the corner knows I want the dos Euro amount for a snack. He is a cheerful guy, every once in a while shouting out a short sales pitch, and his roasting mechanism is cool–a home made metal cone on a small charcoal grill on which the chestnuts rest directly on the charcoal while roasting. Since chestnuts are so sweet, the smoke coming out of the cone is pleasant, like a sweet cigar. The chestnuts come out charbroiled and easy to peal. Even if you leave some shell on one, it is a pleasant added crunch. We have loved buying bread in a small, out of the way, bakery on a stroll–it’s organic and heavy and grain-filled. The owner says it’s “muy bien” and I whole-heartedly agree as I eat a piece in our apartment with European butter and blueberry spread. This will be our bakery while we are here. And all of this just steps from our apartment without ever having to get in a car. This is what I pictured this year to be. Thank you God for allowing it to be so, during this time. WEG

2/1/13

Long before there was a Paula Deen, our dear, sweet Arleah Hillegeist said something to the effect, “If all else fails, just add butter.” I’ve done that consistently over the 30 or so years since I heard her say that. Kathy and I have always bought no salt butter at the best price we could find it. At Costco, and then in grocery stores, I saw the Irish butter called Kerrygold–aptly named since it takes your gold to pay the steep price. At four times the price of common butter, my frugal German upbringing forbade me to purchase it. I must admit, however, every time I passed it by, I dreamed about it at night. At the Seville market we frequent, looking for butter, there it sat in the case, right beside a Spanish butter named Puleva. I was happy to note that the Irish brand was only about 30 cents more than the Spanish brand. I suppose with both countries being a part of the European Union, it does make a difference in cost. This my conscience could handle.

I bought both. Now the taste test. Yep, price in this case means better butter. Here’s the kicker: both are better than the butter we can get at home. Spanish wins in cost and Irish wins in smooth creamy taste. Both are more than good enough for me. Just call me the gourmet critic. WEG