porto

Quaint town situated on a river, the town itself keeps growing upward, from below the city looms above, old painted tiles, churches from gothic times to more flowery blue and white tiled baroqe. The feeling that you have been plunged back in time, where old women wear aprons and men wear hats, everyone walks and smiles and says "obrigada" (thank you). The distinction between Spain and Portugal is surprising, the people so kind, they say excuse me if they bump into you, the hospitality of the people are amazing, and the warm smiles are unexpected.

We stayed in a very cute little apartment near the river, the town was a little humid, moss growing on many surfaces, wood so old and dark jets out and amazing hand paitnted tiles pop up in the most delightful places. The goal was to spend as little money as possible, and with a kitchen and a city with the cheapest wine and groceries, it sure wasn't hard. Even going out to dinner, with dessert, wine, and two entrees didn't break the bank.

It was an exercise in relaxation. Isa was my teacher, and I as her pupil was not doing a great job. I did hwoever finish a 500 page book, took a nap, sat at a cafe for hours in the sun, and walked around at a leasurly pace. We spent a lot of time cooking and finding the perfect Vino Verde (yum!). We even painted easter eggs.

Our last day, we got up at 4:00 to get to the airport for our 6am flight, we got there on time, and the woman told us, we were 24 hours late for our flight. . . no recourse, we tried to get another flight, but the price was steep, 500 euro. So we went to the bus station at 6 in the morning, bus stations are never someplace you want to be in the wee hours. It wasn't going to open until 8, freezing and upset at the prospect of not getting home, I threw on as many layers as possible, a little annoyed at Isa for making a 24 hour huge mistake (as she is the one in charge of the flights), then, she says, "at least it isn't rainning," and I burst into laughter, yes we are stranded in cold portugal at 7 in the morning and probably are going to be on a bus for the next 12 hours, but at least it isn't rainning, thanks Isa.

We did end up getting a bus, it was a long trip, but my relaxation classes helped and I read another book and looked through my pictures on my computer and exausted my podcast downloads.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe

The start of my spring break trips, it was an utterly spontaneous one. Unsure about going with Anna and Olga to Brussels, I finally decided when a friend told me about a Frida Kahlo exhibition she saw there. I decided I had to go, having never seen a Frida in real life. So I went, and found out that the city was so much more than expected.There has never been a city that has felt so gray. The buildings, the sky, the bikes to rent, everything with this sad gray. It didn't help that it was stormy and everything had a feeling of being on the cusp of bursting into tears. Despite the gray, the city itself is full of good things, good art, good fries, good chocolate, good beer, good people, the Belgians don't do anything half heartily. It is a small city, easily seen and devoured in a two day trip.Day one: 2 bars of chocolate, 2 coffees, 1 tin tin store, 3 great friends chanting about mussels in Brussels, 1 man with a velour suit claiming to be Mr. Satisfaction, Zero toone bars, 5 deliriums.Day two: more chocolate. . . I lost count, 1 small fries with curry sauce, 1 Magritte museum, 50 paintings that got the best of me, 4 sketches that I am glad not to have missed, a pipe that was not a pipe, a peak of sunshine, dolmas, a little fountain of a boy who pees, Frida!
The Magritte museum was perfect, working in chronological order with Olga to translate his french scrawling, it was fully of whimsy of little spots of beauty that I had missed, of videos and music. They did an incredible job of pairing everything. Some of my favorites were the head, torso and legs sketches done with friends, where you fold the paper as not to see what the person has drawn before you, the result and utterly surreal person of sorts. The plants that turn into owls and a pipe that is still not a pipe were some of the highlights.The Frida exhibition was magical. Again, chronological she works on a much smaller scale that I would have thought. Her details perfection, and her need to expel her thoughts and feelings onto the canvas, utterly emotional. The exhibition was accompanied by a booklet that discussed each painting and gave background to each, something I wish every exhibit would have. It was a really beautiful show, and I was sad when it was over.

madreleños y madriz

The home base.

I have yet to actually discuss the place I live, This place of such contradictory feelings. We have the love and the hate and the everything in between. Spanish people are a mystery. Cold, stuck in their ways, have no concept of a line until it comes to bus stops. The consider themselves very modern but are only 40 years out from a dictator. My Spanish bank card is more likely not to work than to work. They haven't figured out how to make Internet websites that function well or are helpful. They go out until 7 in the morning on a weekly basis. It is a culture of people who love to promenade. The streets are constantly a frenzy of people, everyone walks. The fashion can go from incredibly chic to the worst I have seen. On an average day I see shorts with tights under, poop pants (pictures to come) and they have a fascination with boots, even in the summer. It is the hottest place on earth during August. Old woman wear heals on the cobblestones. Spaniards yell rather than talk. There are museums dedicated to ham. The most beautiful place in the city during all seasons is the retiro. In the summer it is the perfect picnic spot with a boat ride. During the spring, the leaves burst with color, in the fall a crisp walk makes for rosy cheeks. The winter it is a little isolated, perfect for a Sunday run. If you say you are vegetarian, they assume you eat ham. Wine is abundant, good and cheap. The food is terrible, but the groceries are cheap and delicious. There is a serious lack of water, lakes, rivers, ocean or sea. Corte Ingles is the bees knees. They lisp. The buildings are beautiful. The city feels so small, I run into people I know all the time. It is always a party.

wellies and brolly

Having lived in London for 6 months, there are parts still wholly unexplored of this city, museums un-touched and entire neighborhoods un-tapped. Staying with our friend Matt in the East End gave me an entirely new and re-found love for London. A part of the city known for Brick Lane, near the river, but far enough away that the tourist culture does not pervade.
We made dark and stormy's to keep with the London theme, took the tube to Camden and saw a great Jazz band, danced the night away and came home to chocolate and Punjabi mix. The days were unseasonably, and unbelievably nice.

Vintage shopping at the Brick Lane market, a food frenzy at the Borough market. Veggie burgers, warm apple cider, a killer brownie. The food alone, the friendly people and the polite responses were enough to drive a woman living in Madrid giddy.

The Tate ModernTower Bridge. . . a moment of sun captured in an utterly gray citytoken London. Shakespeare played here. St. Paulsthe sign speaks for itselfBeauty at the Natural History Museum red phone

Fez in fourty eight

To celebrate Isabella' birthday, aka her turning an odd year that she doesn't want to celebrate, we booked a spontaneous and brief trip to Fez, 22 euro round trip. Morocco is so close to Spain, but when you are there is feels like another planet.

Last time in Morocco we took a taxi from the airport, that was not a taxi, and he drove us about 10 minutes away and made us change into a friends car. . . terrifying, but we were fine, doing things under the table seems to be a common theme. So this time we swore we were going to only take the red petit taxi suggested by the book, but ended up getting another random car. . . this man however, was amazingly helpful, giving us tips of things to do while we were here, calling our accommodations to have someone come and pick us up from outside the Medina. A far cry from the Casablanca experience, this boded well for Fez.

We met out "little man," as Isa like to call him, outside of the Medina. The Medina is a pedestrian and donkey only labyrinth of narrow streets. It is the largest Medina in the world, and the most terrifying place at night, small passageways, darkly lit, sneaky little doorways. The Medina is a place where anyone can get lost. . . even a little GPS like me.
Our accommodations were anything but modest. We oped for a newly renovated palace, the Dar Bensuela. We were giddy by the site of it, a middle courtyard that looks up to the sky, flower pedal laden beds, fancy modern shower, beautiful mosaic and giant old wooden doors. It can only be described as incredible perfection. We had dinner downstairs by the fireplace, more than we could eat, each bite better than the one before.

Since we had only 48 hours, we knew that we had to see as much as we could on Saturday, we hired a guide for a half day (we are sure now, the only way to get around the maze that is the Medina), he showed up an hour late, but was great and friendly from there. He took us to see fountains, mosaics, the oldest university in the Medina, a tannery, to see the kings palace. . . such wonders around every corner. The donkeys were the most terrifying part, the streets are so narrow two people can hardly walk side by side, and then out of nowhere, a Donkey comes barreling down the street. I was hit more than once. None of the aggression of Marrakesh, and a lot more charm. The guide was great for most of the day, until he decided he liked me. . . at which time he asked such questions as "Have you ever tried love?" and said "The man that gets to massage you is lucky." He invited me to get henna the next day, but I politely declined.

Our last day in Fez, Said, the Palace's go-to man, arranged for us to go out shopping with "the little man." The prices in Fez were much higher than in Marrakesh, we think they are not used to tourists so they price everything so high to start, the only good deal we found, was on these decorated pair of ballet flats. Then we went to a Hamam, or bath house, the floor was so hot we couldn't sit down or stand up. . . the steam was suffocating and the scrub harsh. . . tortuous spa day. Back at the palace, Said arranged for us to have Henna, we went to the roof that overlooked the Medina and with a tray of rose petals, had our hands decorated in delicate patterns. I am already trying to figure out when I can go back.

(coco)nutshells of Riley

elephant skin rocks

chinese brush painting islands

monkeys on the lamb

phallic pagoda

a Williem shaped hole in the universe

swiss family robinson cabanas

Rousseau landscapes come to life

low tide passages

trials of a boat only location

candle wax caves

henna stone stained hands

shrovestide tide pools

sea cucumbers, not to eat

crab balls

lime, chili, coconut green mango salad

live in the moment

Our New Years Eve day a bit hectic. Noogs, The Ranger and I leaving Bangkok for Krabbi with no hotel, and surprise, they were hard to come by . . . on the way to the airport we take a chance at stopping by a travel agent recommended by our cabbie, and miracle, bungalow! Back to basics bungalow, dinner on the house with karaoke, gifts and birthday celebrations. We decide to head into town since the free dinner was a variety of unknown meats, smiled and choked down. We end up at small shack, great Pad Thai, curry and pancakes. A show put on by two fire twirling men, captured light trails. With 15 minutes to midnight, and no place to go, we decide to head to the beach. Without our knowing, so had hundreds of locals and tourists. As we walk, we notice these little red and white lights moving in the sky, UFO's? Moving stars? radio towers? Lanterns!!! Giant small people sized lanterns, little tissue paper hot air balloons. We get down the beach where hundreds of people are lighting off these magical capsules. Giddy with laughter, watching all the lanterns rise and the people smiling in the warm glow. We get our own lantern, hotter than I thought, giant fire ball, scribbling my thoughts and wishes for the new year, we let ours go; up up up we watch it become a little star, just a dot in the milky way.

New Years Resolution: live in the moment.

listening to: Jesca Hoop