gofarther.me

Gardens are everywhere in this part of Spain and they are known worldwide. We have seen a lot of them. The one in the Alcazar, the many acres walled compound containing the Royal Palace featuring Mudejar–Christian artisans who used Moorish themes–architecture, is as fascinating as it is beautiful. It blends harmoniously with the beautiful palace. It is many gardens in one–calming gazebo like buildings are within, inviting a cool place to sit. Sunken gardens with brick or stone or tile walls and Spanish pottery lay beside raised gardens with water features of all types. Fish swim in shallow pools lined with citrus and ornamental trees. Floral displays give way to tall trees and gravel walkways. Shaped trees invite entry to bubbling fountains or rose gardens. Tiled benches sit around parklike areas and along paths and in courtyards and beside flowing waters. The garden/s are so large we did not walk them all.

When the Moors ruled this area, they had a love of tranquil gardens with hedge rows and cooling and peaceful fountains. I have always been intrigued by mazes, and so, the maze in the Alcazar palace gardens caught my attention quickly. I quickly got lost in it and would stick up my head and call out for Kathy, patiently waiting on the outside, so that I could keep my direction bearings. It was a lot of fun and I was grateful that centuries ago, the Spanish royalty added the maze to the garden. If Kathy had not helped me, I would be wandering aimlessly in that maze for centuries more. WEG

Within 24 hours I managed to sin in numerous unusual ways. First, I took the road less traveled–except by experienced tour drivers in automatic transmission vans–and scare the living daylights out of more people than appropriate. When I wrote yesterday that I pealed out, it wasn’t a little screech–it was rubber and big screech, since I was afraid I would stall out in my manual transmission on a very steep incline. What I forgot to confess was this: later in that trip, I did not want to turn around between the mountain and the cliff dropping to the sea far below, and since the rule keeper in our family was waiting with our guest, Carolyn, way down the hill, I drove forward to the very top of the hill, only to discover that it was the site of a historic gunnery with a turnstile in the center where the cannon was placed and in the old days could be turned to shoot in different directions by turning the turnstile. There was no one there, except for a few British tourists, at least they looked British and it was a British built gunnery. So I kind of drove the car on the turnstile to turn around. After all, if it works for a cannon, why not a car? The British tourists must have liked it–they were taking lots of pictures. I was a little nervous, however, with the guy taking pictures of the license plate. That was sin one.

Sin two occurred at the entrance to a confectionarie. I did not see a small step down and fell across a stroller at the entrance. Yes, the baby was inside. I think quickly and fell to miss the baby. The baby was not hurt nor was I. Since I did not do this on purpose, it probably was not a real sin.

Sin three was making my wife and Carolyn stand in such a way that they hid a person and a trash receptacle that I did not want in the picture. Kathy said the trash receptacle behind her made her behind too big. I responded that sometimes we have to sacrifice our personal beauty for the beauty of the picture.

Is driving a Spain-only rental car into another country a sin, if you did not realize you were in another country until it was too late? Who knew that Gibraltar on the southern tip of Spain is actually Great Britain? My clue came when they asked for my passport and inquired what I was declaring. I said I wasn’t declaring anything until I confessed on Ash Wednesday. The unamused guard said next time read the signs and “carry on.” Evidently there was a car lane for folks who had goods to declare and a lane for nothing to declare and I was in the wrong lane. Those of you following the blog know I intended to stop immediately, but missed the parking spot, got lost and ended up on a harrowing journey.

Ash Wednesday is tomorrow. I’ll confess those sins and a few more in the beautiful Saint Magdalena Church which has historic ties to the New World back in the explorer days.

It was not planned and that made it all the more exciting! Take someone not used to a manual transmission car and make them drive one. Add over 1400 feet straight up on one lane roads with sheer drop offs into the sea. For fun, make the driver stop on 60 plus % grades. For dare devil madness have the driver park forward on a steep decline with no railing in front of the parking space. Mix in stiff u-turns on steep inclines with big mirrors on the side of the mountain your only way of knowing if there is oncoming traffic on one lane roads. For fun, add monkeys hitching a ride by clinging to the side mirrors. And what do you have? My day driving on the Rock of Gibraltar.

We could not find the taxi stand for the guide tour and missed a turn and found the GPS had stopped giving directions because Gibraltar is governed by England, although on the southern tip of Spain, and the GPS was only for Spain. Before we knew it, we were totally lost and were ascending to the heavens on a one lane road. When I got us to the top, I told the policeman at the entrance to the top of the Rock that I couldn’t find the tour taxi and ended up there. He just shook his head, told me I owed the government 36Euro’s and made me park literally forward into a space where you could actually see the sea about 1,400 feet below from the front seat because the space was steeply declined towards the cliff. I pulled the emergency brake so hard it almost broke off. I got back at the policeman, however, because when I tried to back out later–I kissed Kathy goodby and made her and Carolyn Elsey who was with us for the day stand outside while I attempted reverse in that precarious parking position. It did not work! The car idled and lurched forward, no kidding or exaggeration here, with one tire about 2 inches from oblivion–remember, this is a rent car. I pulled the emergency brake again, put the car in neutral and went to find the policeman. I told him he would have to back out the car–I had paid my money and now I wanted something for it. He shook his head and walked away to find someone braver or dumber than he. Thankfully, he returned and the nice man ably backed up the car. We got in and I was so frazzled on the now steep incline that I popped the clutch and pealed out. This was only the beginning of the thrill ride, and I’ll spare you the details, but it was one wild day! Kathy sat speechless most of the way and when we got home, she quickly changed clothes and washed the ones she had been wearing. Carolyn asked to go by the hospital for a quick EKG.

It will be a day we will long remember.

Do the mass and the bodega go together? In Spain the answer is, “yes.”

Mass in the massive Seville Cathedral with soaring pipe organ notes echoing through the vaulted ceilings and Spanish chant plaintively repeating the liturgical verses competed with incense wafting upwards in billowing clouds of smoke before a pure gold and silver altar to bring new sensory heights.

I’ve been to Bodega Bay of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Birds” fame in California and now I’ve been to a bodega in Jerez, Spain. Both have much to offer, but if you must choose one, go for the Jerez bodega. Jerez is the sherry wine capital of the world due to the chalky soil that feeds the local grapes and gives sherry, both dry and sweet, its distinctive taste. The Gonzalez-Byess Bodega is the largest winery and is located in the old town. Its wine barrels are signed by the famous of this world who have visited. I did not have time to stay and sign my barrel. It was a very informative tour amidst ancient casks, each barrel has 70 years of harvests within, and there are thousands of barrels in rooms kept chilled by special sand that retains cold water to cool the vast chambers.

So in one day Mass in Seville and bodega in Jerez about an hour apart in distance but worlds apart in experience.

Carolyn Lieder was with Kathy and me for a wonderful and full day–the cathedral–awesome, awesome, and we climbed the heights of the Giralda, which is the tall tower of the cathedral and the symbol of the city of Seville; the Alcazar–the Royal Palace that is Moorish in style overall, with manicured gardens and flowing fountains and peacocks; the old Jewish quarter, which is called Santa Cruz, with its pastel and white-washed buildings lining narrow lanes; the Spanish Exposition site with its striking architecture and beautiful Spanish tiles; FLAMENCO–a passionate and powerful dance; devoted Roman Catholics in a candle-filled church and then in silent procession with the Christ and Mary statutes lifted high as they moved slowly with incense through Seville streets. What a day!

“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