Home from Seville . . . but what memories.

I shouldn't complain about jet lag or coming home to 2 feet of snow. I still remember the sweet smell of bitter orange trees (perfect for making marmelade) that we found everywhere in Seville. We walked along the streets of Seville, enchanted by the sight and smell of these oranges everywhere.

Oranges in Courtyard, Cathedral of Seville

Today, I'm remembering our visit to the incredibly large Cathedral of Seville, about 250,000 square feet and completed sometime early in the 16th Century, building on the bones of a mosque from the 12th Century. This massive Gothic church is divided into sections, each with its own altar. Worshipers mingle with tourists, all awed by the scope and majesty of the art and architecture here.

Cathedral of Seville, with bell tower on the right

Main Altar, Seville Cathedral

This Cathedral is large and complicated, with over 80 altars, each with its own saint and personality.

The main altar is stunning. A Flemish artist, Pierre Dancart, began working on the gilded gold reliefs in 1482, and it took him about 44 years to finish these reliefs that show scenes from the Old Testament and the lives of the saints.

Luckily for us, the large grill gates that separated the altar from the people were open, allowing me to take this picture.

One of my favorite parts of the Cathedral was the massive organ. Here is the view from the choir looking up to the ceiling and the organ itself. 

Detail of Cathedral Organ

We actually walked 315 feet up a sloping brick tunnel to the top of the Giralda (bell tower).  Yes, the bell rang while we were up there! The view was stunning, as was the sense that this bell tower was once a minaret calling people to worship during the time of the Moors.

View from Giralda (Bell Tower)

What I remember most about the Cathedral of Seville is that each generation built upon the bones of the previous generation over a period of nearly 1,000 years. Several guides talked to us about how Christians, Moors, and the Jews lived in harmony -- at least until 1492. Religious leaders used their power and lavish wealth to repair the damages of earthquakes and to build anew altars and burial tombs, almost a living history.

As we rested by the fountain in the Orange Courtyard, we were more than ready to sit in one of the many sidewalk cafes to enjoy a small cup of cafe con leche (espresso coffee with milk).

Perhaps you will enjoy a few more highlights of our trip to Seville. Check back in a few days! Thank you for visiting.

Seville: What were we expecting?

We hoped for warmer weather, and we came prepared for rain. But this last month, we've seen no rain at all, and the temperatures have hovered around 70F, a sharp contrast to those snowy days back home.

Once we adjusted to that 9 hour time change that flipped morning to night, we discovered so many small differences in everyday life.

Our apartment is situated just two blocks away from the monumental Plaza of Seville, so well decorated with traditional tiles (azuelos), though we haven't found a factory to visit -- yet.

Anytime we like, we stroll over to the Plaza through an expansive park. True, this particular park is one where many were put to death during the Spanish Inquisition, but today, fountains and greenery mask the past.

Just across the street from our apartment, we drop by Mas y Go, a convenience store with its own bakery (pastelria). Think fresh bread, crusted rolls, croissants, and bite-sized flaky pasteries for breakfast -- along with other convenience foods.

People eat at different hours here -- breakfast somewhere around 10 am, lunch at between 3-4 pm, and then dinner at 9-ish. But, the streets are lined with sidewalk cafes for those who wish for a coffee or snack in the meantime. We stroll along leisurely. No one is in a hurry. In the afternoon, we stop for cafe con leche in small espresso cups with enough coffee to fuel us to another museum.

A word about tapas, those 'little plates' with a variety of  'little bites.' We've already tried four meatballs in a tasty sauce and fried squid, crisp and delicately flavored. Two such tapas make a meal for us, along with a nice glass of sangria.




Everywhere we've had our supper, the sangria has tasted different. I think I know why. At a late dinner stop at a nearby tapa bar, we watched in amazement as the bartender filled this massive glass jar with sangria.

First, he took a small glass, sniffed the sangria, and then tasted it. He must have been cleaning out the bar as he poured from every known bottle of alcohol and several large fruit juice bottles -- right into the sangria!

Just a final word about drivers here in the city. They go at speed, motorbikes zipping along. Very, very few pedestrians cross against the light, but drivers politely wait, even as the crossing light chirps to let us know when only 3 seconds remain. No one turns right against the light. And the cars, some of them, actually turn off when they stop -- No nasty exhaust! But . . . everyone smokes. Young, old, and in between.

Yesterday, we sat on a bench, watching the passersby while eating fresh gelato. Earlier, somewhere near, teams had played rugby. So we listened and wondered where this shouting of team songs came from. Turned out there was a bar on the corner we passed on the way home. The team members enthusiastically celebrated their win!

I hope this gives you a little flavor of life here in Seville. Most days are calm, filled with excursions and amazingly delicious food. I hold my glass of sangria up to you, in celebration of another beautiful day!

Another Museum, Another Day in Paradise

This week, we visited the Casa de Pilatos, so named to honor the house of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem. Apparently, the first Marquis of Tarifa visited Jerusalem in 1520-ish, and came home impressed by both Moorish and Renaissance ideas. The result is this palace, built upon by successive generations, a fascinating blend of Islamic and Christian design elements, still owned by the Medinacila family, with most sections open to the public.

We started downstairs with the main courtyard, a central fountain surrounded by four larger-than-life statues, one of Minerva. The fountain itself balanced atop two mysterious creatures, dolphins with teeth.

Since the 1500's, many generations have lived in this sumptuous palace, adding new wings and gardens. Most of the top floor is closed to the public, but we were taken on a tour of a few of these furnished rooms.

What wealth! Tables for 20 in a formal dining room, a smoking room for the men, a resting room for the women after dinner. Each room featured fascinating tiles, artworks, and Baroque furniture.

Even the ceilings were carved intricately, with the very large dining room featuring a wonderful painted tableaux of the sins and virtues of Hercules. Apparently diners were to be inspired by his virtues, and not his sins.

As we wandered through the palace, I began to feel as if each generation competed with the previous one to embellish their home, to make it larger and more beautiful, yet keeping a sense of reflection throughout. The downstairs, with courtyards open to the sky and extensive tiled walls were cooler and used in the summer, while the family retired upstairs in the winter, warmed by portable braziers.

The "new" garden at La Casa de Pilatos

Allen downstairs, admiring the azuelos (intricate tiles)

Minerva (detail) on guard at the central courtyard

Today, we return to the Archaeology Museum to see prehistoric figurines (we ran out of time last visit), and tomorrow we wake at 4 am for our day-long tour to Granada, where I last encountered gypsies so many years ago!

So much to explore and only two weeks remain.

Ooo La La: Tapas at La Portola

Every trip we take, Allen assembles a list of the very best restaurants. He is very methodical, listing the best restaurants in the city and the best restaurants within walking distance. So we set off to find La Bortola, rated 4th highest rating on YELP out of all the restaurants in Seville.

Of course, to find this charming tapa bar, we took a winding path through older parts of the city, admiring tiny, plant-filled courtyards and massive churches along the way.  Every apartment seemed to have a variety of blooming flowers on their patios.

We walked past La Bortola the first time, this tiny bar with maybe seating for maybe 30 friendly people and found a table for our party of six. Allen and I opted for tapas -- our first experience with this national dish. We ordered prawns with garlic to share and coos coos with lamb. Ah, the amazing flavors.

The prawns were fresh; the sauce of olive oil and garlic provided a rich gravy to dip our bread. Each bite brought new appreciation. And then the lamb tapa arrived, each bite of tender lamb in its unique sauce more delicious than the last. And perfectly accompanied by a glass of sangria with its smoky mix of fruit and brandy. Can you tell we love food?

Of course, the tapas were small, the little iron pot with prawns about the size of my hand, with the same for the lamb, but the small size was just right for our supper.

We will be returning to La Bertola again and again in the next few weeks. And when we go back, we will taste those prawns again -- and something new! 

So, can you remember a time when food added something unexpected to your travels?

Seville: Christopher Columbus at the Library

Earlier this week, as we walked through the streets of Seville on our way to the impressive Cathedral of Seville, we came upon a library, the Archivo de Indias (Archive of the Indies).

Always easily drawn astray by libraries, we admired the fountain in front of the massive building, authorized in the mid 18th Century to find a treasure for scholars.

Notice the globe under the Spanish royal lion's paw
that symbolizes the world!

Up the massive staircase, an intricate design of varied marble, we found the archives. Some 86 million handwritten pages are stored here from the time of Columbus forward through Spain's Golden Age that attest to the remarkable discovery and development of the New World. Originals from Christopher Colombus, Cortez, Cervantes, and even George Washington!

Locked case after case held hundreds of binders of these rare papers, the library itself authorized by Carlos III in 1785. A true bookworm's delight -- if only one could read in Spanish!

My favorite, a drawing of a volcano exploding in Ecuador from 1773, brought back memories of living in Antigua, Guatemala, under the shadow of Fuego (fire), a volcano, which luckily did not erupt while we were there.

Yesterday, we left our apartment here in Seville at 7 am for a day trip to Cordoba to visit the Cathedral and Mosque there with a charming and informative guide. We came home exhausted, but we're recovering today, I resolve to keep this blog updated, even with only one picture a day!

Isn't it interesting how one trip can bring so many new impressions and yet remind us of other trips taken? 

Jan 30, 2019: Last Night in Miami

Just back in our little apartment high above Miami after a shirtsleeves' walk along the waterway and a dog park where we discovered a lovely ceramic chair about 20 feet high:

Spanish is spoken everywhere here, making us feel right at home. Most amazing, though, is the weather change -- no coats, no snow, no cold noses. Instead, flowers, palm trees, and little cafes with fresh croissants and very strong coffee.

As we walked back through the park, a flock of about 20 brilliantly green parrots flew at speed along the tops of the palm trees, dive-bombing and circling and then gone. What a surprise!

Tomorrow, we leave for Spain, so today is our final repacking day. What good memories we'll take with us!

I'm still uncertain about access to internet, but I will try to update our adventures here and hope you enjoy. I'm also uncertain how to avoid those nasty roaming charges as I take pictures with the camera.

Haven't written much of anything since we left home, but the netbook is ready (as is the story). May the rest of your winter be mild!

How Wearing Glasses Can Save You from Being Burned at the Stake

Tomorrow morning, January 28th, at 4:30 am, we leave for a nice six-week trip on the road. First Miami Beach, where 60F is far more welcoming than 20F, and then, off to Seville, Spain, for a month with four dear friends.

So, I'm reactivating our travel blog, for in our Seville apartment, we'll have reasonable access to internet, Moorish culture, museums, little cafes, and perhaps a side trip to Cordoba and another to Grenada.

Seville's Museum of Popular Arts and Customs (Wikipedia)

Speaking of Grenada, that impossibly beautiful city surrounded by mountains and home of the Alhambra, I remembered my trip there so long ago, perhaps in 1973 or 1974. My ten-day circle tour of Spain with a small group of retired school teachers stopped in Grenada to visit the Alhambra.

That night our group was taken to the hills for a dinner hosted by gypsies who sang and danced for our entertainment. I was young enough then to be vain and often did not wear my prescription glasses. When I was tired, my left eye would turn inward.

Wikipedia

As we were leaving the cave of the gypsies, several made a strange sign with their hands, specifically against me. They would not look me in the eyes. I was confused until someone explained the signs were wards, protecting them from me. They believed I was a witch.

If it had been in the middle ages, I might have been banned or burned at the stake for that turned eye.  So, as we prepare for this month-long adventure, I’m wondering if this has changed much in the last 50 years. Of course, I do wear my glasses now -- all the time!

But I wonder if those gypsies are still living in those caves in the mountains above Grenada -- and if we will visit to hear them singing and see them dance.

May your own travels go well. Stop back by to see what we're up to next!

Week 3: From rainy Eureka to Mojave

I'd like to say we left winter behind as we drove south from Eureka. But we didn't. Intense rain storms with lots of wind led to some adventuresome driving along the Oregon and California coast. We stopped in Sebastapol to visit dear cousins and enjoy an Italian feast at the Union Hotel in Occidental -- Imagine ravioli that melt in your mouth!

Just a few hops ahead of more rain, we drove south to Fresno, stopped in Tulare for groceries, and continued further south to Mojave, where we stop for a day of rest and Sunday football in this tiny town.

Flowers at Ovallartas Grocery Store

We felt as if our vacation truly began when we went grocery shopping at Ovallarta Groceries in Tulare. 

We walked in the door and were assailed by a melange of smells, all of home and Mexico. We started with pan dulces, exquisite, delicate pasteries (including my favorite, bread pudding), and moved right along to admire the fresh fish, cheeses, and a variety of salsas. I bought just a little crema (cream cheese) for the road.

Pan Ducles at Ovallartas Grocery Store

As we left Tulare, we saw the most amazing blue skies banded with strings of clouds. 

Skies near Tulare, California

The temperature hit a trip high of 56 F, and we cut through the snow-topped Tehachapi Mountains, a winding adventurous four-lane road where cars competed with trucks at 70 mph and more, to finally drop down into Mojave where we saw our first Joshua trees. 

Tehachapi Mountains (wikipedia)

These are moments to cherish. 
Happy travels to all.

Week 2: Hello Ocean, Hello Redwoods

Sometimes I forget when winter drags on another month that the snow will melt and that in other places there may be no snow at all. 

We're still traveling south, finally past Portland with its unexpected foot of snow dumped overnight, making our way down the Willamette Valley and to the coast, dodging the snow of the Siskiyou Pass. 

North of Orick, Oregon

We stopped in Coos Bay and Brookings, Oregon, for clam chowder and grilled salmon sandwiches, eaten dockside, no coats. Found a lovely quilt shop (Forget Me Knots) in Bandon, and today drove to Eureka, passing the border into California, along winding coastal roads, lots of repair work to fix slipouts, and into the redwoods.

As we walked along the well-marked trails in Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, we passed ferns shoulder-high, crunched along trails heavy with pine needles, shadowed by redwoods, with the chip, chip, chip of winter wrens surrounding us. 

After a long winter, it felt remarkable to simply walk in these woods. 

The quiet was punctuated now and then by others hiking along these trails. We admired the tall redwoods, stretching to look up and up.

As we crossed small, sturdy bridges, below us, the clear water burbled over rocks, the banks thick with ferns, and all around us, the play of light.  

Stuck in Portland

Driving toward Portland
along the Columbia Gorge

Day 3-4: Made it from Kennewick to Hood River just barely. Three people pushed our travel-weary Toyota up a mini-hill so we could check-in at Comfort Suites, where we had "the last of two" rooms. Actually, the hotel was nearly empty, but we awoke to news of another storm coming up the Columbia Gorge.

After a harrowing slide down that mini-hill and a short (thank goodness) drive to Les Schwab, we were equipped with chains and ready to tackle I-84. The nice man at Les Schwab told us not to drive over 25 mph, though. That seemed fast enough to keep us going on the single lane west, well populated by trucks with flashing red lights.

We pulled off at Multnomah Falls to remove the chains (no idea how to proceed). A massive truck barreled by, sloshing both Allen and I from head to foot. A few kindly folks stopped by to give us a hand. Twenty minutes later, chains were off, and we were happily back on the road, dry pavement, and about 60 miles from Portland.

Day 5: That was yesterday. This morning we awoke to 10" of fresh snow, with another 4-6" predicted for Portland later tonight. Portland doesn't do well with snow. Chains are required for any driving (ours are conveniently in our trunk, ready to go, but we have no clue how to put them on).

That's our car, parked right in the driveway of Dan and Myrna's house.

Our snow-clad Toyota

Not sure when we can drive south -- or fly to Philadelphia. Right now, we're warm, comfy, quiet, waiting for the snow to stop, and feeling very grateful for the kindness of passing strangers -- and friends.

On the road again . . . 2017

We woke up at a cozy Super8 in Kennewick, Washington, this Sunday morning with a nasty winter storm ahead and behind. I-84 along the Columbia Gorge has been closed off and on both east and west., and the earliest the sun shines again is Thursday.

Driving conditions yesterday down from Spokane were challenging as it began to snow at Ritzville. Thank goodness, Allen used his Philadelphia-honed driving skills to bring us here. We saw two roadside accidents, three flipped cars, and several spinouts -- one right in front of us.

So, a winter storm warning along the Columbia Gorge will keep us here until Monday, and the adventure of our travel south to warmer climes will keep us right here, admiring the pileup of snow out our hotel window. Some 3-6" of snow expected today by Hood River.

Whose idea was it to go on this open-ended, 2.5 month-long trip south -- far from family and friends? We were planning to go to Florida in February, but somehow, jumping in the car and driving south at least as far as Tucson, sounded just right. 

Luckily, little Leda spent yesterday morning with us, exploring Gramie's jewelry box, which includes beads from New Orleans. Doesn't she look like a young lady from the 1970's?

Geezer Travel Tip #1: Bring along 1 or 2 night lights to plug in. This little luxury will keep you from stumbling around in the middle of the night. I found a digital one that automatically turns off when any other light turns on or the sun comes up, so I make a sticky note to remember to take it onto the next stop.

Hiking the Maligne Canyon

The  hike along famous Maligne Canyon in Jasper National Park begins innocuously enough from a parking lot surrounded by tall pines. 

Very quickly as we intrepid hikers follow the path closer to the Maligne River, still cutting down hundreds of feet through limestone, we see stunning views. 

The one-way trail crosses 4 bridges, each affording glimpses of the white water at some points about 150 feet below.  

Wire fences protect us from the rushing water and chasms below, though some climb over the barriers to pose at the brink.  Several miles further down the road we find the source of the water, Medicine Lake. And our first mountain goats.

What did I take away from this several hour ramble along the cliffs above Maligne Canyon? 

A little history: The river was apparently named by a priest who had trouble crossing the river in 1846, dubbing it maligne (evil). 

An appreciation for the sheer wilderness of Jasper. 

And very sore feet.

Edmonton Birthday . . .

Just a few blocks from our hotel is the delightful Chinese restaurant, Beijing Beijing, here in Edmonton. To celebrate Allen's birthday, we strolled over to take advantage of their delicious dim sum, a treat we haven't had for many, many years.

Imagine a crowded restaurant filled with eager eaters as friendly waitpersons push carts loaded with Chinese delicacies through, we estimated, some 140 tables seating 2 to families of 8-10 each. Allen requested a fork; I continue to learn chopstick skills. 

Delicious dim sum ensued: pork buns, sticky rice in banana leaf, rice roll with shrimp, steamed shrimp dumplings, and the most adventurous -- steamed chicken feet in special sauce. With hot tea and sesame roll for dessert, and the birthday feast was complete.

Yesterday, we also visited Muttart Conservatory after a hair-raising drive through Edmonton's twisting freeways. One wrong turn and we found ourselves downtown! 

We then wandered through Muttart's very unique pyramids which are organized around four arid, temperate, tropical, and featured gardens. My favorite: the Bat Flower from Asia, delicate, fragile, beautiful.

What's next? Three days of camping in Jasper and no internet.

Fort Edmonton Redux . . .

When we last visited Edmonton in 1996, the U.S.A. women's soccer team won the World Cup, the sun shone brightly, and we visited Fort Edmonton for the first time, not realizing we would return one day. We're back. The population has doubled from about 800,000 to 1.5 million. Modern freeways mimic what I remember of driving in L.A., and yesterday, we revisited Fort Edmonton.

Rowand's Folly, Fort Edmonton

Chief Trader, Company Store

We spent about four hours in the oldest part of the park, a recreation of Fort Edmonton in 1846, exactly the period of my current book. Staffed with very well-informed and helpful costumed volunteers, this living history section of the park was fascinating, positioned as it once was right along the North Saskatchewan River.

At that time, John Rowand was a demanding Chief Factor at Fort Edmonton, enforcing a strict sense of duty with a volatile temper. When told a man was too sick to work, he said something like: "If he is not dead after three days, he is not too sick to work."

In 1842, Rowand built a very unique house to conduct business, entertain, and to serve as his family's private quarters, the largest at any of the Hudson Bay Company forts. Dubbed Rowand's Folly, the three-storied house was about 2,100 square feet with the third floor reserved for family and guests.

Kane's study at Fort Edmonton

But my primary interest is with Paul Kane who stayed at Fort Edmonton for a month during the holidays on his journey west in 1847 and again on his return east in 1848.

Rowand gave Kane quite a luxurious though small two rooms near his own bedroom. Decorated as it once must have looked, the outer room features Kane's sketches pinned on the wall, while the tiny bedroom is fitted up with a twin bed and Hudson's Bay Company blanket.

Kane's sleeping quarters,
Fort Edmonton

Class consciousness can be seen in the bed coverings throughout the Fort.

The Chief Factor, officers of the Company, and wealthier workers used furs atop those Hudson Bay Company blankets, while the poorer workers simply rolled in blankets and slept on the floor, space available.

Volunteer in full Metis dress,
Fort Edmonton

A kind volunteer dressed as a Métis donned his full regalia, explaining that the Assumption sash, which he wore, was also used to calculate how many bales of furs each man carried to ensure fair pay was received. This reminded me of Incan quippus, knotted in somewhat the same style as a kind of record. Notice the lovely beaver-skin top hat worn -- and the coat over a vest, formal dress for the wilderness.

Later today, we're visiting the Royal Albert Museum -- if our feet hold up.

A stop at Rocky Mountain House

Tromped around just half of Rocky Mountain House Provincial Park yesterday, with its tiny but very helpful museum and archaeological digs, right along the North Saskatchwan River. Serious flooding in 2012 took away the banks on the west side of the river, now fortified with rip rap.

View of the North Saskatchewan

Rocky Mountain House was never quite as successful as a trading post, especially as the fur trade wound down in the 1840s, but it was very useful for provisions at a time when starvation was all too risky. Here European goods were traded for pemmican, supplying groups traveling east to York Factory or west to Fort Vancouver. 

Paul Kane stopped here in April, 1848, for a month's stay before returning east with the York Factory brigade. About a decade before Kane's arrival, a major smallpox epidemic decimated the local Blackfeet people.

Front of capote, showing sash
and snowshoe

Here too, Allen bought me a reproduction Assumption sash, commercially made (not traditionally finger woven), but I am thrilled to have this tangible momento. The sash is considered a key part of the Métis costume and can cost hundreds of dollars if made in the traditional way. 

The sashes, practical slashes of bright red or blue, were worn to hold heavy coats closed. Sometimes the men tucked a knife or firebag into its folds.

The capotes (coats) were typically made of Hudson's Bay Company blankets -- Note the snug hood in the back. 

Back of capote, showing hood

The sashes also served to support the voyageurs' backs as they carried heavy loads (often 150 pounds or more) or pulled York boats along shallow streams or portages when rapids were too rough.

I had thought from staring at the map and thinking about the name of Rocky Mountain House that the geography would be rugged, with views of the peaks ahead, to the west. Instead, we are in rolling plains. Here bison once roamed. In August, it's hot here, the air humid, and as we walked along the North Saskatchewan, we heard the familiar call of the chickadee.

Tomorrow we leave for Fort Edmonton, a relatively short drive of 130 miles, only two-and-a-half hours by car. Such luxury.