A Little Something About Dog Doo...

I think one of the ¨rights of passage¨ for traveling in Europe must be stepping on dog shit. You are happily walking along some street in London, Paris, Rome or... Malaga, and suddenly your feet slides and you realize some dog out there has left you a present. You instinctively try to wipe it back on the pavement or break out in some dance moves on the grass, but it´s sort of like Christmas fruit cake, and won´t really go away. Some of that ¨present¨ just lingers on your shoes (or in this case, mine).

By the way, skip Malaga if you can, there are better beaches and Moorish monuments elsewhere, and the accommodations are ridiclously expensive. Off to Cordoba...

Ole Familia y Amigos

How can I leave Spain without at least mentioning bullfighting and the Plaza de Toros (bullfighting arenas) found throughout the country. To the exasperation of some Spanards who see plenty of tourists trotting around in ¨Toro¨ T-shirts, modern bullfighting originated as a military means to train for the calvary and was picked up by the nobility. Initially, modern bullfighting was done on horseback and then later on foot as we see now. Bullfighting on foot earlier was dicpicted as men wrestling with bulls by the horn. Ronda is credited with developing the cape and short sword style in the 17th century. Its´ beautiful plaza de toro was built in 1785 which incorporated both Muslim and Spanish styles. I´ve seen bullfighting once in Mexico and it´s not my favorite sport. Be prepared to see blood. Bullfighting´s popularity in Spain has waned over the years, especially with the younger generation (the Ronda arena is only used once a year) but the ¨Toro¨ T-shirt remains strong. I bought one myself.

Taking the train from Algeciras to Ronda, you pass small villages, golden fields, horsemen and semi-arid landscape, and prepares you for the beautiful hilly scenery that surrounds the town. Ronda is also known for the 100 meter El Tajo gorge that separates the old and new town which is connected by an impressive 18th century bridge.

Anyone who has backpacked becomes obsessed with weight. More specifically, the weight you are hauling on your back, arm, and neck. Chances are whatever you buy, you´re going to feel it as you lug it around. I constantly think about what I can get rid of. Who needs toothpaste anyways, I´ve got soap. I´ve been surprised by the number of travellers in Europe carrying laptops and hairdryers !!!! I´ve seen some travellers with a rolling luggage in tow, a pack on their back and another bag on the other hand. That´s a lot of fridge magnets.

Off to Malaga by bus later...

A Knap Sack On My Back.....

I´ve returned to Spain and plan to make a small loop around the southern area of Andalucia. Having finished a cup of coffee and a plate of freshly fried and greasy churros this morning, I took a bus to the most Southern tip of Europe in the great little town of Tarifa. There are lots of kite surfing here as the winds are strong, the beach also forms a lagoon and the waves make it ideal to learn or go airborne when the wind really picks up.The beach is long and extends to the east for at least 5 km, past the new part of the city while the old walls contain the compact old city with a view across the Mediterranean Sea.

Tarifa is at the most narrow part between the two continents and you can get a good view of Africa from here. It´s amazing how close they are, yet how different. The fast ferry in Tarifa advertises it can cross over to Tangier in 35 minutes flat. As an added bonus, you can swim in the Atlantic Ocean and two minutes later, take a dip in the Mediterranean Sea. Just because you can.

Before leaving Portugal, I visited Tavira and getting off the bus, I immediately liked the town with its´ small castle ruins, seven arched bridge and pleasant walk-way center. There´s a nearby island to visit with a long stretch of beach to the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the fresh water river on other side. There`s plenty of fishing at the mouth of the river. There was also some nude sun bathing further down the beach, mostly of old men which in my opinion, did not add to the scenery. The monk fish stew in Tavira was excellent. A circus was in town but I passed it down, even if it was the famous Victor Hugo show.

After three local buses and one ferry (as the express bus was sold out), I crossed over to Spain and stayed a couple of nights in Seville. I had forgotten how beautiful this city is. Reminiscences of the Moor with its´ Arabic influences can most visibly be seen in the Andalucia, in particular the cities of Granada, Cordoba and Seville. The tangle of small streets and lanes in Seville remind me of the souqs of Morooco except without the hassles of touts and the chaotic energy of the market. The 70 meter tower (La Giralda) at the Seville Catherdral with it´s Islamic designs which was previously the site of a mosque is the same minaret you see in Marrakesh and Rabat. I can still remember walking at sunset and hearing the call to prayers from these minarets. The Alcazar Palace in Seville is also exceptional beautiful with the interior court yards, Isalamic architecture, underground water tanks, lavish gardens and fountains. One of the great Moorish designs is the typical court yard of lined orange trees contrasted with the surrounding white washed walls.

I´ve been spoiled with the pristine beaches I`ve been visiting as I found the beach in the old town of Cadiz to be small, crowded and filled with litter. Essentially, the beach was one big ash tray for cigarette butts. Still, the center is easy to get around, the catherdral impressive, the two small castles close to visit at the tip of peninsula and the people extremely helpful. Just looking at the map would solicit offers of help from the locals.

I´m back to England in six days for some rest, and fresh scones and clotted cream. Hope you`re all doing well.

In the Algarve...

I´m in Lagos in the Algarve and I have mix feelings about this town. On the one hand, Lagos has great long stretch of sandy beaches close-by when the wind is not blowing hard) and the old city center is mostly a pedestrian walkway, so you can wander around without being worried about being hit by a car. But at times, it doesn´t really feel like Portugal, and more like a Mexican resort town for Germans and English. There are plenty of bars and clubs blaring only English music and catering to the 98% tourist crowd packed in there. I was in a bit of a shock when I first came into Lagos with all the English, Spanish, & German menus and complimentary jacked-up prices (one Euro for bread, c´mon), real estate offices and little stands offering whale watching and grotto tours, para-sailing, and kyaking, having gone through the beach village of Almograve (after Evora) with only one main road and two restaurants, and Odemira, where the tourist information didn´t speak English.

There´s something very likeable about the walled city of Evora. Maybe it has to do with the relaxed pace of life, the surrounding sun-drenched golden fields, the good natured people or the friendly haggling of a comfortable pensao room.A roman aqueduct runs right into the old city where the temple of Dianna rests up from the pleasant square and the short white washed buildings.

In Almograve, I met an Italian doctor and his friend from Milano, and learned how to make simple and tasty pasta sauce the Mama Mia way. Garlic, onions, tomatoes, pepper, salt and plenty of basilico and olive oil (but no oregano). More importantly, they also explained the meaning of some those Italian hand gestures. Hey, what´s the matter you?

I went to the wonderful town of Sagres on the most south-western part of the European mainland. With a small port filled with fishing boats and fishes swimming off the docks on one side of town, while on the other side a fort perched dramatically above a steep cliff. All along the coast the cliffs jut out to the Atlantic ocean, dotted with beaches. One calm, the next pounded by surf. Naturally, Sagres is popular for surfing but there are also these crazy fishermen casting lines off the sheer cliffs. It´s also a good place to waste time watching a local game of bocci.

I don´t think I will truly ever understand the Portuguese love of the bacalhau. I´ve never been to a place where salted cod fish is so adored. Even the Norwegeans (where the fish is mostly coming from) don´t eat it as much. Imagine... a national obsession for salted fish in a land where fresh fish is so easily accessible. The mighty bacalhau has even surpassed the turkey as the traditional Christmas dish. But then again, the Portuguese claim there are 305 ways to cook the bacalhau. Hmmm...

Off to Tavira tomorrow. Adeus.

Leaving Lis Boa

I´m about to take a bus out of Lisbon to the walled and white washed city of Evora in the Alentejo Region of Portugal. There's something about light and the city of Lisbon. The way the sun hits the tiled sidewalks and buildings and the light just shimers away. As the sun sets, the shadows comes out in this city of seven hills and the lit areas slowly shrink away. Even late at night walking around, these tiles make the city glow as it reflects the night street lamps on the streets, plazas, and walkways.

Touring around Lisbon, I recommend skipping the tourist trolley and take the much cheaper public No. 28 trolley that makes it´s way through the city center and up the Alfama barrio, slowly winding pass the Se (Cathedral), Porte de Sol and Castelo de Sao Jorge. Sometimes the trolley barely has enough room to go through the streets and almost touches the buildings, sign posts and parked cars. It cracks me up, but occasionally kids still jump on and hang off the back of trolleys to avoid paying the fares.

There´s also a little pastry in the Belem barrio worth mentioning. It´s called "pasteis de nata" from the shop, Pasreis de Belem which has been making these egg custard pies since 1837. Warm, smooth and sweet custard filling inside and a crunchy, philo-like crust. It´s so similar to Chinese egg custard which I have an obsession for but I´m not sure if it was the Portuguese who thankfully introduced it the Chinese in Macau or the other round. Supposedly, a monk invented the Belem recipe and passed it onto a pastry chef in the 1800´s. It´s still made by hand, and only one pastry chef and two assistants (sworn to secrecy of´course) knows the exact recipe. Absolutely delicious straight from the oven with a strong cup of coffee!

I can´t believe tomorrow will be five years since 9-11. The Portuguese television have been running documentaries all week about that day involving the hijacking on the planes, the jumpers from the world trade center, and other events of that sad day. Watching the plane crash into the building and the two towers collapsing still seem surreal. Those poor people in the buildings and planes.

Lost in Lisboa

I think one of the things you get use to when you travel is getting lost. I arrived in Lisbon yesterday and yes, got lost trying to find this hostel. You misread a map, misunderstand directions or swear you are going the right way, only to realize all the streets seem to look the same. Suck in the pride and ask for directions with broken English, French, Spanish, Hindi, etc, hand gestures and map pointing. Don´t always assume people are literate because they simply nod at a place on a map and you walk off only to get lost again. Some cultures don´t say ¨no¨ like Indonesia where I remember asking if this a way to some site and they would respond ¨It could be!¨

As for Lisbon, it´s a pleasant city that is small enough to walk around on the tiled sidewalks and plenty of tiled buildings and plazas to admire with the Castelo de Sao Jorge sitting above on a hill . Walking around the downtown core can be a bit of a workout for calfs as this city built around several hills and ends on the river front. Lisbon has plenty of these funky trolley cars and trams you can ride on.

Prior to Lisbon, I went to Viseu and got picked up at the bus station by a doctor I had met earlier at a hostel.We drove to his parents´ summer country home in the tiny village of Calvos, thirty kilometers outside of Viseu. A village where you are likely to bump into a relative offering sweet grapes or a seventy-five year old guy riding a fifty year old motorcycle. Their home was surrounded by a garden full of tomatoes, potatoes, watermelons, cucumbers, onions, herbs, and of´course grapes to make wine. Although the parents didn´t speak any English (and it was back to the international language of hand gestures), they were extremely cheerfull and hospitable. My clothes got washed !!!!!

We ate meals in the wine cellar surrounded by the wooden barrels. I loved the traditional grilled bacalhau in garlic olive oil. It´s particularly tasty with crumbled white cornbread which generiously soaks up the wonderful oil. Sitting in the wine cellar while the parents and relatives argued over old family politics, the grandchildren rode a tricycle around the table and the food got slowly eaten is another pleasant side of Portugal I´ve experienced. The two small grandchildren were typically shy at first but they loved to sing, especially soap opera theme songs. That´s the thing about the Portuguese, they love soap operas!!!! It doesn´t matter what time of day, there´s almost always one on.

I visited Fatima after, where it is believed an angel and the Virgin Mary made several appearances to three children who shepherds, and later to crowds in 1916 and 1917. Although Famitma is a modern town and does not have the medieval atmosphere and history of Santiago, the nightly candle light service was really nice and the chapel of apparitions and catherdral late at night is a good place for pray and reflection. The resturants in town were way over-priced. I also visited the great little town of Tomar with cheap eats and a complact old town, and the impressive castle/ convent of Cristo. It was also the head quarters of the Knights Templar and the church and chapel were wide enough for the horses to go through. It figures the movie theater was playing what else.... The Da Vinci Code. Time to get lost in Lisbon and then a day trip to Sintra.

Some Thoughts About Portugal

There are some differences between Portugal and Spain. Yes, Portugal had it´s very own dictator, Antonio Salazar but there was no civil war here and after his death the transition to democracy was bloodless in the April 25, 1974 military coup. Some of the locals I talked to admit the Portuguese are not as positive as the Spanish. When you ask how they are, they tend to respond with just ´O.K.´ or make some compliant. An ache in the back or foot, there´s too much sun, there´s too much rain, and of course, it´s too hot or it´s not hot enough. A local speculated that people complained because they were afraid of losing what they have. Still, the locals are very friendly and helpful. Just yesterday I got into town and was asking for directions at a cafe. Ten minutes later, I was in a workman´s van getting driven to the hostel.

Portugal is about 20 to 30 percent cheaper than Spain and definitely not as prosperous. Some of the locals explained that it wasn´t because the government is corrupt, it´s simply incompetent to manage a small country with a small population. Some of the older people reminisce about the old days, even in a dictatorship when the country was bigger and had control of Angola and Mozambique. Portugal does not have the illegal immigration issues that Spain is undergoing. I was surprised that Spain is actually the number two consumer of cocaine in the world after the United States. I guess with its prosperty, easy access to Latin America, number of Latinos and foreigners visiting and living there, and the party scene in places like Ibiza, there´s a lot of cokeheads there.

As for food, no tapas in Portugal and Lord help you if you are a vegetarian. This is the land of meat and bacalhau eaters (interestingly, they´re not crazy about jamon here). Usually salads are limited to green salad and Ruso salad (why Russian if there´s tomatoes and cumcumbers with the lettuce, I don´t know) and even with mains, there is no vegetables usually as it´s served in a soup earlier. You are almost guaranteed to have bacalhau in every restaurant menu. Bacalhau is essentially dried cod usually from Norway which they put in water to get rid of the salt, and then cooked in stew, grilled, etc.

I´m in Aveiro now and plan to head to Viseu this afternoon. There´s really not much to see in Aveiro except walk along the canals, which probably explains why it´s not mentioned in the guidebook. Before I left Porto, I found out that a small percentage of the port wine is still made the old fashion way, by stepping on the grapes. Admittedly, when I saw a video of a bunch of sweaty, smiling Portugese men knee-deep in wine, stepping on the grapes with their hairy legs, I wasn´t exactly rushing for a sample tasting. The locals swear the port taste better but I laughed it off as another myth to tell a tourist (like every Portuguese home has a colourful clay rooster). But the locals explained that when the machine crushes the grapes, the seeds gets crushes as well and then makes the liquor more acid. If you crushed the grapes with your feet, the seeds would float to the top and could be skimmed away the next day, and not affect the wine. Sounds good, but I still wasn´t thirsty.