Costa del Sol - Benalmádena and tranquility

 

Once I boarded the train in Madrid, I felt relaxed and ready for the next adventure.  Pushing my bags toward Coach 3 and lifting them onto the train was a formidable experience, but I found men everywhere willing to help this silver-haired lady lift, push and stack my maletas into place. The trains in Spain are magnificent, efficient and smooth.  They are also on the dot with departing and arrivals. My day was just right as the high-speed train (AVE) headed south through Córdoba and then Antequera before sliding into Málaga.  Over 175 mph!  And then I was walking out the station’s doors.  Relief washed over me when I saw my brother waving at me within minutes.  Bags stashed, we headed toward Benalmádena, a glorious town sitting on the Mediterranean.  

Leaving the frenetic pace of Madrid behind, I realized I exhaled into peace.  My brother looks tanned and relaxed and we were both full of smiles. It is always lovely to spend time with my siblings and this was an added bonus as the sea stretched out beside us with the sounds of the seashore playing its music for us.  We found a beachside restaurant on the boardwalk, ordered sangría and ate boquerones and a caprese salad with lots of oil and herbs. Delicious.  Steven treated me to a gelato cone afterward before driving me to my friend, Lyn’s for the week.  It was a special start to my time on the southern coast of Spain. 

When I was reunited with Lyn and our friend, Saidie, who is visiting from the UK, we reminisced about our past times together.  Always fun, always sweet. The next day (Sunday) we drove north toward Benalmádena Pueblo.  I didn’t know the original town existed from my past visit and I was enthralled with its ambiance and delighted to look at the old places and enjoy the view of the city below from the Buddhist site above the sea.  In the top photo below you can just see the moon shining into the Mediterranean.  Mesmerizing.

The day passed into more hours of fun. At 4:30, Lyn led me and Saidie to the tennis court (no, not for tennis…). They call it skittles… a group of the residents here in the Sensara Benalmádena residential community arrived with tapas and drinks, prepared to play a game called Möllky.  There were couples from Finland, Holland, America, the UK and Australia waiting for us and it was a fun get together.  You toss a piece of wood toward other pieces of wood covered in numbers and try to get the most knocked down. Oh boy. No matter how many times I threw that wicked piece of wood, I played abysmally, but everyone laughed a lot and so did I. The view of the sea from the condo is breathtaking and I feel myself relax totally.  And sharing it all with my sweet lady friends added to my enjoyment.

Tomorrow we have a lunch date down at the sea and I can hardly wait to hear the seawaters flowing toward us and smell the aroma of seafood. Life can be sweet. 

 

The bird is missing!

Tomorrow, the AVE train will take me south to Malaga in three swift hours...330 miles. the high speed trains are efficient, quiet and pretty amazing.  And usually exactly on time.  Tomorrow will tell the tale.  For today, though, I decided to walk the streets and just meander through the barrios.  Two of my favorites pulled me back, Plaza de Santa Ana and the statue of Federico Garcia Lorca.  As a follow up to my posted photo from yesterday, I admit to using photos that another photographer shared online because mine turned out bad and I wanted to take some more.  So, I retraced my steps, rode the Metro and walked a lot.  The sunshine was wonderful and I enjoyed a meal at the little cafe, croquetas de jamon (ham croquettes).  There were men and women gazing into each others eyes, older people intent on their food, waiters running back and forth with plates of wonderful-smelling dishes.  And wine.  Every table seemed to have a glass, so I had one too.  Vino Tinto -- red wine.  Delicious.

Afterward, I strolled through the plaza to Lorca's statue and I was stunned.   Something was missing!  The bird was no longer in his hands! Lorca’s cupped hands had held a dove as if he was releasing it into the Spanish sky as a visible symbol of hope. I quickly went online and found the reason why; sadly, in April of 2011, vandals tore it from the sculpture and the bird has not been seen since. Birds are often used in his writings and it was perfect there. His empty hands really touched me.  When I came upon this blog trying to find the dove, I was moved again. It is worth reading. https://kevinmcevoy.com/el-duende/

When I walked past Casa Alberto with the red door again, I saw that the building is where Cervantes lived, so I took a closer photo of the plaque. I wonder if it was there that he was mulling over Don Quixote? Miguel de  Cervantes is the most celebrated Spanish figure in literature.  His expression “tilting at windmills” has become widely known as attacking imaginary enemies.  One would think that after 400 years, some literature would be forgotten, but not yet. 

I pulled out my trusty Madrid street map and started walking again.  I had to leave the bird behind and get moving.  There were photos just waiting for me to take of doors, bars, streets and a little excitement surrounded me with so many others out there doing exactly the same thing.  Each of us found a shady spot away from the crowd to study our maps or our phone's GPS and off we went again.  One particularly odd sight was on Calle de Preciados.  The area is spacious, with a marble-like walking area between the buildings.  At first, I couldn't believe what I was seeing -- it was a man about sixty years old on his hands and knees on top of a piece of thick cardboard.  His butt was in the air and his head was facing down with a cup in his hand.  I realized he was a panhandler, but as I got closer I knew his plan.  He was playing music on his SMART phone, begging for money.  I kept thinking, "the man can afford a smart phone and...?"  His cup was empty and I didn't know whether to be sad or anxious about the whole thing.  

Instead of thinking about the incongruity of the scene, I headed toward the Plaza Mayor, the large plaza in the center of the city.  It was there that I found a crowd standing around something embedded in the stones, so I headed over. I have nose trouble,  (I don't use the word, nosy).  Interested? Curious? There was a little marker on the ground to show it is the exact point from which all distances are measured.  This is known as Madrid point zero.  You can find it in the upper photo, right bottom corner. 

The middle photo in the upper collage photo is the train station called the Madrid Puerta de Atocha.  It has a huge botanical garden inside under a glass ceiling. I walked over there a few days ago and made some notes.  Front door. Left to elevators and ride down to floor one. Put all bags on security mover. Walk through large glass door and stare at the monitor hanging from the ceiling. When train number on your ticket lights up, that means run like a maniac to the gate along with the crowd.  Then, hope you find room in the luggage areas to push yours in…and then find your seat, also listed on your ticket.  You can see that I’ve done this before… Now, I just hope that the taxi I ordered and paid for online…arrives at 11:00.  

Culture, Art, Food and more…

Spain  is not all free tapas, sangria, bulls, flamenco and “olé.”  I wanted to look past the stereotypes. I wanted to dig deep and embrace the beautiful culture of Spain. Spain Less Traveled is a FB group where many people share insights about their visits in Spain. And from many of the posts, I brought a load of notes with me to begin the journey.  I learned about the people here is that they are called Madrileños.  Their architecture and many city plazas confirmed my memories of the aged building and charm amid the fast-moving crowds; I’ve never seen so many taxicabs.

Barrio de Las Letras/Huertas is Madrid’s old literary district. Many of Spain’s great writers lived here, such as Cervantes.  The Main Street, Calle de las Huertas, has famous Spanish literary quotes engraved in it. 

And then there is one of my favorites, Federico García Lorca, which leads me back to the Plaza del Santa Ana where Consuelo walked me over to eat breakfast on Monday.  The arts building beside the long plaza’s side intrigued me when I read the names of so many literary masters along the top.  Consuelo explained each artist, whether an author, poet, playwright or music master. And there, I found a monument to Lorca, who was introduced to me by my friend, Rina Rein.  She lived in Spain for a few years and she is half Spanish like I am, so we shared a lot of duende with one another. His poetry resonates with me and his horrible, untimely death makes me sad. 

When I saw Casa González near my little abode here in Madrid,  I grinned like a loon, since many of my Silván cousins stem from Felix Gonzales and my great aunt Crescéncia Silván.  So I stopped, of course.  And then I saw the red door of Casa Alberto. Stopped there too. 

Despite getting on Bus 18 going the wrong way and losing an hour of my day retracing my route, I found the Metadero Madrid Cultural Center where I headed to see the digital KLIMT Exhibition. He is one of my favorite artists since I first saw his “The Kiss” and then  I found “Golden Tears” that many women call “Widow’s Tears” and a replica is in my home.  His first portrait of Adele was sold to the Neue Galerie New York in 2006 for $135,000,000. No typo. I was pumped, hence, I didn’t pay attention and rode a bus nearly out of Madrid before it dawned on me. But, it was worth it. My only disappointment was the exhibit did not include the Golden Tears painting, but I loved it. When I left the beautiful room, I followed the salida (exit) signs only to find myself in another dark room. It was eerily quiet. People were sitting in rows of chairs with huge goggles and earphones.  And the woman near the door led me over and put them on me.  Oh my gosh! I was thrown into a 3-D world of Klimt’s art but more. There were flowers falling toward me, huge eels slithering across the room amid gold pieces moving like puzzles to meld into a frame for his paintings. And birds. Lots of birds. When one grew larger as it came toward me, it’s wings flapped toward my face. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person who flinched. It was gut-wrenching wonderful. 

On my way home again, I found a bakery/bar and bought two empanadas, bacon/cheese and spinach/ham/cheese plus a chocolate croissant for morning coffee. 4.50 euros and with a 2 euro large bottle of Limón soda, I headed home with my cache.  Oh, and I found a pair of shoes for 5 euros that called out to me as I walked by…

Who says ambiance doesn’t matter?

 Chocolatería San Gines in Madrid is a place out of a fairy story.

 In 2019, my friend Caroline and I followed the crowd, walked down the narrow (estrecha) passageway, marveled at the old building and walked in the open doors.  Founded in 1894, the café is best known for its churros and thick, chocolate…thick like the pudding my mother has made many years.  Only THIS thick, delicious chocolate is best known for dipping hot, tasty churros into the creamy depths. The inside of the café was devine, with lots of marble and old wood. We felt like high society vamps as we sat, dipped churros and enjoyed it all as one big lovely memory package. 

But, alas! When I walked down that same passageway, past the little bookstore and saw the café doors, I was dismayed to read it is only para llevar, to take away. What? That smooth lovely chocolate in a paper cup to go along with churros in a bag with their oils seeping through it? And all the little tables that were strewn inside the passageway were full. Should I scrap the idea? No. I wanted my chocolate and churros.  I gave her my 5 euros, gripped my paper cup and bag and started walking to find a place to sit down and enjoy it.  I walked all the way to my little abode and started laughing when I placed everything on my little table.  It looked distinctly unappetizing. Ambiance trashed, but recreated!  Now, I’ve been told that I went in the wrong door. They still offer “dine in” after all. Hmmm, well I created my own little spot. Maybe I’ll try again when I return with my brother Steven in three weeks…

As I walked the mile and a half to the Plaza Mayor, I noticed how much I liked those beautiful ceramic tiles on the corners of all the buildings. I’ve always called them azulejos, but maybe that is just a Portugal name.  I am constantly looking at them because, as I mentioned previously, some street names change at the end of each street.  Today, I was dumbfounded to see four different tile names at one intersection (thank goodness for GPS and my Madrid map.)  Each tile has a small painting to depict the street name or plaza to correspond with its history. I love the culture of it all.

Today was a day I spent studying my speech for the genealogy conference and practicing using the little remote button to move my PowerPoint pages.  I’m shaking my head with the enormity of it all as I overthink it.  But, Iberia Airlines came through with my replacement bag, my maleta. It just made my life much easier. I now have four wheels instead of none and a half.  Tomorrow, I hit the ground running because my Madrid bucket list increased during my quiet time while I waited for the DHL delivery. 

Walking Madrid with Consuelo

A VERY LONG WALK (or two) in MADRID

Consuelo Mellado lives near Madrid and we have been friends since she translated my book, The Girl Immigrant, into Spanish with the title, Historia de una niña emigrante.  My first full day (Monday) started with M&Ms and a convoluted walk along many, cobblestoned alleys that Madrid labels as streets. On the street corners, each street name is beautifully emblazoned with colorful tiles.  Thank goodness I have my new glasses to see all of them. 

After a traditional Spanish breakfast of tomato and toast with cafe con leche, she led me into a maze of those Spanish streets.  She was born and raised here, so she took off at a trot. Her English was a bit rusty, but compared to my rusty Spanish, we did very well and thankfully, she spoke a lot of English.  

Our first stop was a sweet shop called La Mallorquina.   Her great grandfather was born in Mallorca and moved to Madrid when he was about 23.  In 1894, he started a small sweet shop (pastelería) in Puerta del Sol and from there, it has grown over the many years into several shops.  The shop is named for his birthplace; I loved watching the pride on Consuelo’s face with the telling. 

My Monday continued through streets, traffic, people and cafes as we stopped along the way for drinks and later for lunch. Calamari and salad with wine. My feet and legs ached at the end of our day. I walked my feet flat… and arrived back in time to freshen up and meet my second date, a young cousin named Faith, who is studying in Madrid.  She walked me (some more) to the Parque del Retiro, a huge park in the center of Madrid.  She wanted to show me her pensive spots among the peacocks.  Long day, but lovely.  

TUESDAY (today) I let jet lag knock me out and then I was off and running again. The google maps have saved me several times since I arrived on my walking map.  So, I felt very confident and I walked to the train station Atocha (20 minutes) I recognized the area near Reina Sofia Museum and knew I was close! After I made notes on where to catch my Saturday train to Malaga, I purchased a Spanish SIM card for my phone. That $10 a day international charge was not going to work for me.  100 GB for 20 euros a month. Yes!  It was a constructive day after all…as I waited for my replacement luggage all day.  Tomorrow…

Hola from Spain

 More often than not, journeys begin with a few bumps in the road and this time, I have had my share. O’Hare airport nearly sent me to my knees, but I persevered with the help of two very friendly airport employees. Without them, I might still be stalking their long corridors and riding the shuttle between terminals.  It was a breeze getting to Madrid and I enjoyed the friendly man beside me as he lives in Madrid and, although I felt like his grandmother, he helped me with my map, very impressed with all my research of metro and their map system.  He was delighted to hear about the Spanish immigration to Hawaii between 1907 and 1911, and he immediately went online and read the summary for The Girl Immigrant in Spanish!

Madrid’s skies were blue like the sky I love in Arizona. Passport inspection was painless and it was lovely to arrive at 8 am, sans crowds.  The only bump (a large one) happened when I lifted my heaviest red bag crammed with my books and it wouldn’t stand up! I was horrified to see one wheel missing and the other wheel resembling that of a six year old’s tooth when it’s hanging by a thread… 38 pounds and I knew I was in trouble.  But, luck was on my side because I saw a luggage trolley sitting alone in the nearly-empty baggage area.  So, a taxi ride (30 euros) with 2 bags, a carryon and my backpack and I was on my way to the storage locker I had reserved for the day (12 euros). That was the second and third bump in the journey because I arrived in the center of Madrid at 9:30 am and could not check in until 3 pm to my AirBnB.  When I figured out all the codes and the storage door popped open perfectly, I started laughing. The box was big enough for all my bags so I could tootle around Madrid without them for five hours, but it was shoulder high. I managed to lift the bags above my head, but not sure how I did it.  

From previous visits to Madrid, I was familiar with a few large avenues, so I was on my own and the weather was perfect. When I decided to scope out the AirBnB I had rented for the week, I got turned around and was completely lost for about 90 minutes. I had time to waste…but my feet and legs were not happy after pushing them for six miles. And I had been awake for too many hours to calculate with my math abilities. But I found more energy and a roadside table near the Plaza Mayor where I spent the rest of the afternoon with a café con leche, caliente, en la taza.  And later, I pulled all that luggage out of the storage box without knocking myself out when it came toward me and I HAILED DOWN A TAXI.  

The AirBnB is clean and restful, although there is graffiti everywhere. For now, I have a place to land and went straight to bed, truly exhausted. Tomorrow, I more exploring and I have two meetup dates…

Oh, Iberia Airlines tells me they will replace my bag this week. Fingers crossed. 

Spain Calling

 

 

Spain called me in 2017 again and I listened.  These travel adventures are filled with music, wine, and so much more.  That's why I stuffed it all into the pages of these books.  Spain Called is book two of my Spanish Trilogy that continues my first visit to Spain in 2012, titled Touching Spanish Soil.  Both books are available through my website for signed copies in the United States at https://patriciabbsteele.com/my-books and also at  https://www.amazon.com/Spain-Calling-Flamenco-Touching-Spanish/dp/B0BCD8B8C7/ref=kwrp_li_std_nodl

Now -- it is 2022 and the adventure continues.  Spain continues to call me and my bags are packed.  Euro coins are in my purse, passport up to date and homework is done.  For me, it will be a holiday mixed within a genealogy conference where I will be a speaker in Cáceres, Spain at the end of October to talk about my research journey to write the book about my grandmother's immigration in 1911, titled The Girl Immigrant.  Until then, I wanted to post the beginnings of more adventures and hope you will follow along with me.

If you are interested in hearing about this incredible journey, please click the following link.  http://onspanishsoil.blogspot.com/

NOTE: When I figure out how to create a "click here to receive emails for my blog" during my travels, I will post it here.  Until then, hasta luego. Until later.