Christmas with the family....

December 31, 2010  Rota, Spain

I'll interrupt my discourse on Spanish living for a visit to North Carolina to see my son, Tony and his wife, Annette, and the special star, Akilah - celebrity granddaughter.  Christmas for me is the most fun seen through the eyes of a small child.  Akilah is almost 3 and now old enough to be dazzled by the Christmas pageant.  But she is still young enough to be completely un-material.  When asked what she wanted for Xmas, she didn't know.  I'd be surprised if that were the case next year....

I had two weeks in North Carolina and the kids fixed me up with a bedroom down in Tony's music studio.  Great!

While I was there, I was Tony's roadie for a few gigs that he had.  One of them was with Woody Wood and Artimus Pyle (formerly of Lynryd Skynryd).  They took their last names and called themselves Black Wood Pyle.

Here we all were after the gig, L to R, Woody, Artimus, me, and Tony.  Turns out that I am Artimus' landlord as well.  Great getting to meet him.

But the real fun was just the daily living and playing with Akilah.  She is at the age where she is the center of her universe, which is a good thing when you can get her to perform.  Here we were having some breakfast...and being silly.

Christmas morning rolled around and when we came out to the tree, it was snowing outside.  How perfect.  Akilah was a little new to the Christmas thing so she opened her presents v-e-r-y carefully, trying not to rip the paper and when she did finally rip it, she took each handful to the trash before making the next rip.

This was the fun part for me.  I wasn't feeling very much Christmas spirit - didn't do presents and cards this year - not even a newsletter.  The news wasn't cheerful enough to send out.  But this turned out to be theraputic for me.  I ended up enjoying the holidays completely.

Here is the front yard after a few hours of snow.  It eventually reached about 8 inches. If you click on these pictures, they get bigger.

Here are Nettie, Akilah, Tony and dog Annabelle romping in the snow.

This was a really good picture of Tony and I eating the worlds biggest breakfast burritos

And I thought Nettie deserved her own picture, no?

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All too soon it was time to fly home again.  Here you can see the snowy fields in the East.  I had some airplane adventures.  As normal, I always ask for seats in the exit aisle to get room for my long legs.  The agent in Asheville mananged to get me good seats for the first two flights, but there was nothing available for the long transatlantic flight.  That is the critical one, so I figured that I would stand on my tip-toes and look pitiful at the boarding gate while begging for a seat change.  So I was the first one in line at the gate.  But I began to get worried when the staff arrived.  There was a little wizened black man who didn't look like the kind of person who could work a computer (I know - stereotyping - but we DO think that way).  His companion was a Latina who walked in like she was carrying the troubles of the world on her shoulders.  Not a happy appearing person.  She took her post directly in front of me and shuffled papers for a about 10 minutes in a desultory way.  Finally she looked up and asked what I wanted.  I explained about the "tall-man seats".  She checked the computer and gave me the answer that I was expecting - that the flight was full and there were no other options.  I asked if she could give me a window seat so that I could try to sleep leaning against the wall since my head is too high for the cushions.  Then she suddenly had a change of mood and broke out in a big smile.  She went to the computer and printed out a new boarding pass.  She passed it to me with a smile, saying "try this one".
She had put me in seat 1-H.  Hmm, that sounds like the very front of the plane.  When I got back to my luggage, I noticed that the pass had the word "Envoy".  Isn't that what they call First Class?  Yup!  When they called boarding, I got in line with the Envoy crowd and in we went.  As I passed the agent, I had a chance to thank her again.  I'd like to send her a card!  That was a $500 upgrade!!!
When I got to my seat, the stu took my coat and gave me a glass of champagne.  I was in the best seat in the plane.  A front row window seat with as much room as 6 seats in coach.  There was nobody next to me.  Lots of vacancies in First Class.  I've never flown 1st class before so I was dazzled.  Instead of eating the sushi and vegetable wrap that I had put in my luggage, I chowed down on some decent food.  It was so artfully presented that I should have taken pictures.  A linen tablecloth, no less!
After dinner, I put the electric seat into sleep mode and it got completely horizontal at which point I slept my way all the way across the Atlantic.  What a treat.
On arriving in Madrid, I got my car and drove back to Rota.  I'm making lentil soup today for our old family tradition on New Years.  But I also bought some grapes to celebrate the Spanish way, too. And I bought myself a good ham to get the year off to a good start.  On the first, I'll go up to Sevilla and have dinner with the assembled Hernandez family - well, almost all of them.

I'm sure there are parties tonight, but nobody knows I'm here.  I'm going to stay home and enjoy just being home again.  Feel free to write......

So what's so different about Spain? Part 1

December 2, 2010 Rota, Spain
I've been living here for a few years now and visiting for 25 more.  So I decided to contribute some thoughts about the differences between Spain and the United States.  I am writing primarily about Andalucia, the southern-most province.  Northern Spain can be quite different although there are many similarities.  I'll start with the physical differences first....

The Countryside:  Spaniards tend to live in cities; even farmers live in little villages and go out to their fields during the day, but return to the village at night.  Living in a house all alone out in the country is just starting to become fashionable now that so many foreigners are building villas in the "campo".  But for most Spaniards, town is where they live.  Well, that means that the countryside is generally pretty empty - miles and miles of rolling fields, or olive groves, or oak trees with pigs grazing under them.  And the government doesn't really allow billboards, so there is nothing to mar the beauty other than electrical wires.  So driving through the Spanish countryside is very pleasing to the eye generally.  Close to big cities, you run into industrial buildings as you approach and those are as ugly as they are anywhere else.

Because people don't live out in the country all that much, driving in the country is pretty relaxed with very little traffic.  Generally Spain has a good highway system with large freeways and lots of little rural roads.  While it is easy and pleasant to drive in the country, it is harder to say that about the cities.  In the old parts of the cities, the streets were laid out in the time of horses and pedestrians - my street is probably 1000 years old - so they are very narrow.  That means only one lane per street.  So one way streets are very common.  I've found my GPS indispensable for getting around in the older neighborhoods.  Another big difference is the use of "glorietas" or what the English call roundabouts and we call traffic circles.  But I have come to appreciate those - you get around a lot quicker because intersections are a monentary delay at worst instead of a 2 minute wait.  Usually you just blaze on through.

Spanish drivers are generally very good.  Rules for getting a license are very strict and too many tickets will get the license taken for a while.  That said, there are very few traffic cops around.  They use radar-cameras on the highways and if you are speeding, a ticket will arrive in your mailbox.  But the Spanish tend to follow the rules that make sense without big brother watching over their shoulders.  For a tourist, it is easy to rent a car and use your foreign drivers license.  The traffic rules aren't that different although you will probably want to drive in cities during the siesta hours or late at night.  Driving in the country is a delight.

There is a big difference in the kind of cars that you find here.  With the prices of fuel in the $5/gallon range, you don't find very many SUVs.  The average car is very small, light, and often with a small diesel engine.  My car, which is a small van, has a 1.3 liter turbocharged diesel engine that is very zippy while getting 40 -50 MPG.  It does that without any visible exhaust smoke or odor!

One thing that you can't miss here is the incredible sense of history.  Rota was an old city when Christ was born.  For a very long time, folks didn't have much respect for their own history.  The Moors tore down Roman buildings and used the columns and stonework to make new Moorish buildings.  And the Christians reconquered and tore down the Moorish buildings to make new Christian ones.  Finally they are starting to preserve things a bit more.  Spain has some fabulously well preserved Roman ruins.  Here you see a Temple of Diana in Mérida - just a small sample of the Roman sites in this town.

And of course, Spain is famous for it's castles.  I was surprised to discover that Spanish castles were rarely homes of the powerful like they were in England or Germany.  They were walled enclosures built on hilltops and were intended to allow all the residents of a town to camp out in the castle while fighting off some invading group.  So the castles were walls with ports for archers and ramps for soldiers, but most of the center was open space for people and animals.

So, I'll leave room for another chapter or two in which I can discuss the food, the bureaucracy, and the people and their culture.

But I should probably update the news.  Life has been about creating a new webpage and flamenco adventures.  My son-in-law Isaac very wisely grabbed the domain name http://www.cantejondo.com/ many years ago, thinking of me I suspect.  Well, now it is a site in development and I've actually made good progress with many pages in 2 languages.  And this weekend, the flamenco just overflowed.  Friday, I was typing away on a webpage when the phone rang and it was the local gypsies, wanting me to come to a party nearby.  It was in the dance studio of Manuela Lopez (who also sings very well).  There was food and drink aplenty and in short order I was accompanying all comers por buleria (the fast, bouncy rhythm).  Miguel and his brother Eduardo started a mano-a-mano singdown that got things really cooking.  There was plenty of whiskey.  Now normally, I don't get drunk - because I have to drive and because I am too busy playing the guitar - but this time I must have had one or two too many because I literally staggered home.  But what fun!!!
And then the next day, Manuel Agujetas invited me to a matanza - that is where a pig goes to meet his maker and a lot of humans eat pork.  It was held at a small private bodega where some wealthy folks made wine for themselves and their friends - nice wine, too.  I already knew some of the folks and so was very comfortable.  Little by little the music started and they got me singing.  We all took turns.  Many of the people had done the pilgrimage to Rocio and liked to sing sevillanas about that.  They sang as a group and lots of folks danced.  Now that is not really what the gypsies like all that well, so they went outside and drank.  After lots of food, we got down to the flamenco.  Manuel Agujetas doesn't much sing in public unless he is getting paid and this night was no exception, but Eduardo did his share.  But most of it was me.  I had ladies dancing buleria and the group was doing palmas and screaming.  A big burly drunk guy kept hugging and kissing me after each song.  All in all, I couldn't have felt more accepted, personally and artistically.  It was just plain wonderful.  But the best part came today - Agujetas came over for lunch and we were listening to some of my private music collection.  He commented on one very well-known singer, "well, his cante no llega (it doesn't arrive - meaning that it doesn't move you - you don't feel anything) unlike the little things that YOU sing which do arrive" (!)  Agujetas is moved by MY singing.  Now that has got to be the best compliment, ever!

Well, you've been so good to wade through all this text so I have a reward for you:

The One Tomato Meal
Take a nice tomato and slice it into thin rings and then cut those into quarters so you have bite-size bits.  Put your tomato pieces on a large plate in such a way that no piece is on top of another. Mince one tooth of garlic and sprinkle over your tomato pieces, trying to get a little garlic on each piece.  Then sprinkle a generous pinch of coarse salt over the whole plate (regular salt OK) and then pour a little premium olive oil over the whole thing.  No need to cover the tomatos, but they need to all be swimming in the oil.  An optional extra is to sprinkle a little basil or oregano over everything.  Let it sit for an hour and then eat with slices from a good baguette or some other kind of real bread. In the US, french or italian bread is best.   Dip the bread in the oil.  A meal for one or a side dish for many.  Spaniards would just put the plate in the middle and everyone would spear pieces of tomato with their fork.