The Finca- Day Four

by annie

After breakfast, I sat down on the floor to put on my boots. I tried to touch my toes. Instead, I touched my knees, and barely. My muscles were extremely tight, but less sore than yesterday. Progress!

I felt a new peace about me today. Yesterday was hump day and three days must have been the magic I needed to overcome mental resistance to physical labor. I found a rhythm in my work today. Four hours of vigorous weeding passed by without much thought of the time. I relaxed into the work instead of focusing on the difficulty. And I very much enjoyed being outside, using my body and having this experience. We are learning so much!

This morning, I planted veggie starters in little pots, pruning them as I went. The joyful process of potting plants convinced me, after just an hour, that I shall grow my own food one day. While weeding, I unearthed a thick, stocky worm and then watched, disturbed, as ants a fraction of his size began to attack. I tried to help the worm, but the ants sneakily clung to his belly, out of my reach and making it hard for the worm to walk, poor thing. Why are ants so mean?

I'm still shaking from my afternoon of weeding, and it's a great feeling. Life is slower here, and I'm realizing how overdue it is: the time for reflection and being still and simple. I become more and more relaxed each day, as if the clean air and physical exertion is a slow detox from rhythms of cities and 9-to-5's and other worries of typical routines.

The Finca- Day Three

by annie

I bend over, and with both hands, pull out an entire fennel bush from the root. Houston's land is full of fennel bushes, so I bend over and do it again. And again. Until I have 8 overflowing wheelbarrow loads full of fennel shrubs. It sounds simple enough- it is. And also tiring. Six hours of it goes by faster than you might think. Because while pulling weeds, I can think about absolutely anything I want. Or, I can not think. I can just feel the wind on my skin, the sun on my back, the strain in my neck. And when I stop, I can feel my body shaking- a revolt of sorts from suddenly being used 6 hours a day.

Two months ago, I woke up at 7am to put on make-up and high heels and sit at a desk with a computer. Today, I wake at 10am, pull on a pair of borrowed sweat pants and my work boots, and step outside where I'll spend all day in the warm sun.

There is something uniquely satisfying about working until you shake, waking up feeling like you've slept in the Iron Maiden all night, eating two or three helpings of food because that's what it takes to be full, and smelling the dirt and the green while uncovering a surprising amount of bugs you've never seen.

It's only day three, and I'm not adjusted to manual labor. I look forward to when my body actually develops the muscles I needed three days ago. I look forward to feeling at home in myself, despite my surroundings. I look forward to finding a way to fill the void that seems to grow larger each day I spend away from my friends and family.

And then I realize, today is the day I looked forward to two months ago. And so it's time to stop looking forward and instead look around, here, on a beautiful solar/wind powered finca in Spain.

A Day in Toledo

by annie

We decided to conclude our time in Aranjuez with a day-trip to Toledo. We took the 8am bus from Aranjuez because it is the only one that runs between the two cities. Alfredo was up early too for his dialysis appointment. I found him in the kitchen dipping digestive biscuits into his milk and "cereales" (small nuggets that dissolve into liquid, I'm not sure exactly what they are). He was so focused on his breakfast that he didn't respond to my "buenos dias" for about five minutes. Cute.

The walk to the bus stop took about 40 minutes and we had tons more walking to do in the day ahead of us. Old Town Toledo rests on the top of a hill- getting to the center means climbing steep inclines and lots of cobbled stairs. Not much was happening in Toledo at 9am, so we walked through the middle of the city to the other side, stopping at the cathedral along the way. On the other side, we found a walking path along the perimeter of the city and stunning views of the surrounding landscape. Toledo has it's own built-in natural moat: the Tajo River.

It's a beautiful city, much like some of the others we've seen- there's a cathedral, a castle or two, many plazas with patio-set restaurants, and lots of little bakeries. Marzapan and turron seemed to be the local specialties.

In the afternoon, we stopped by a museum of Spanish history and a church that housed el Greco's most famous painting of the burial of a popular political figure and church benefactor. For lunch, we ate veggie paella on a sunny terrace, unfortunately situated directly behind some old, rich, southern American tourist who made no effort to speak Spanish or play nice with the waiter. They demanded salads to be returned, orders changed and the older gentleman complained that he couldn't eat his "Mac-Donald's" on the patio of this particular restaurant. Instead of a dose of southern comfort, it was an unsettling reminder of a certain type of American who happily abuse their privilege. We felt quite shocked by their behavior and were glad to immerse back into the Spanish streets. We spent our final hours soaking up sun in plazas and walking one last time through the city.

Our feet were tired when we made it back to Aranjuez, so we didn't linger too long in the Royal Gardens, although it was extremely beautiful. Set surrounding the palace, the gardens stretch beyond what I would normally consider "garden size." Apparently the king still makes it back to the palace in Aranjuez for occasional hunting.



Slide show of Toledo:

Alfredo

by annie

We learned about Alfredo from his girlfriend in Portland (Christina)- she's the receptionist for Brian's Chinese Medicine doctor, Dr. Lee. Although Alfredo isn't part of the networks we use to find work-for-trade, he needed help on some projects and was willing to host us.

Even though Alfredo and I speak different languages, I feel like I've been fortunate to get to know him pretty well- with Brian's help of course! Alfredo is a sweet and kind spirit, he exudes patience and his laugh and various sound effects are freakin' cute.

Alfredo has polio. He has three failing kidneys that require dialysis three times a week. He's waiting on the code 1 list for a fourth kidney. He had melanoma in his right eye, and now wears a prosthetic eye. If he laughs too hard, his eye pops out.

He has been taking Chinese herbs from Dr. Lee for 4 years. Before starting the herbs, he was taking 40 pills a day for his condition. Now, with herbs, he only needs 2 pills a day. Brian and Alfredo drink their herbs together, while I have mint tea.

Alfredo showed me pictures of his trips with Christina, and pictures of him as a baby. He skyped with my family and let me hold his chameleon, Esmerelda. He gobbled up my cookies (sometimes putting honey on them!), taught us how to make saffron rice, told us funny stories. He watched an American movie with us (in Spanish with English subtitles) and ate the spilled popcorn off the floor when it was over. He entered me into the popular Spanish lottery and together we caught a wild salamander running around the upstairs hall. He uses a dish detergent called "Fairy" because it's the best. He laughed when we told him that a fairy is a miniature human with butterfly wings.

The time here has been muy tranquilo. We've painted his indoor patio yellow and cleaned up his beautiful backyard. The birds are always chirping here, even at 2am. We sleep late and don't eat dinner until 11pm. Our room is super-comfy, with a memory foam mattress and matching pillows.

We are grateful to have met Alfredo and hope to see him again. What a wonderful week it was!






Seafood Paella with Alfredo's Sister and Familia:

First Impressions

by annie

We arrived in Aranjuez last Monday evening via bus, and walked to the train station to meet Alfredo and his brother Jaime. It was probably around 6pm or so when we arrived. We toured Alfredo's home and learned about our projects for the week- cleaning up the garden and painting his indoor patio bright yellow. Alfredo only speaks Spanish. I miss a lot of what he says and Brian does a great job of filling me in when he can.

On the first night, Alfredo told us that he usually eats dinner around 11pm. We were hungry, so we said that we would go to the store and cook something earlier for ourselves. He mentioned that maybe one night, he might eat early with us. Since it was just the two of us, I had a random idea to try: pasta with a sauce of tomato puree, lentils, asparagus, onion and red pepper, topped with goat cheese. Mind you, I've never made this dish before, and I'll reiterate, I thought I was just cooking for Brian and I.

We started making food and Jaime and his wife Gema reappeared. Jaime placed three hot dog buns on the counter, insinuating that he was making three sandwiches of sorts for him, Gema and Alfredo. I assumed he left them there because it was too early for them to eat. Somewhere along the way, the hot dog buns disappeared off the counter and Brian picked up some vibes from Alfredo that we were cooking for five.

We had obviously missed a cultural cue somewhere along the line, probably because we had already discussed us eating much earlier than the others. I was happy to make dinner for everyone, but I probably would have chosen to make something different... say, something I had actually made before (and maybe not so weird). These are ham-and-cheese-on-white-bread people, not vegetarian experimentalists. It was too late to change course, so Brian and I exchanged covert smiles and added more lentils and tomato puree to make the sauce go farther. Alfredo expressed surprise at using goat cheese on such a dish. It's optional, we told him.

I was glad to sit down to a meal with everyone, despite the feeling that like I had accidentally locked myself out of my comfort zone. Here's a pic before we dipped our forks in (that there is a photo at all, clearly demonstrates that Brian was eating up the experience and making the most of it. Later, behind closed doors, we laughed about it a lot):


Everyone politely ate their portion of the dish, although it wasn't until half-way through the meal that any of the Spaniards ventured to try the goat cheese on top. Brian and I liked it, I knew we would, and they were all polite enough to say so as well. I'll never know for sure what they really thought. Probably something about a crazy American taking over the kitchen, and why would you put lentils with pasta!?!

We have since learned that Alfredo himself is also an adventurist when it comes to cooking. After the first night we have always cooked collaboratively with Alfredo and eat all our meals together, often staying at the table long after eating for good conversation and laughs. One day, we had been out and came back just as Alfredo finished his lunch. We started making our own lunch, and he joined in, eating a second lunch with us. Meals are very social and community-oriented here, and we have really enjoyed that.

ETA and Spain's socio-political baggage

by Brian

Our friend Jon's comment about ETA being a group of freedom- fighters as opposed to a terrorist organization prompted me to give the topic some more context. ETA- also known as the Basque separatist movement- has a long history in Spain's politics, which I was reminded of as we walked through a special exhibit in the Reina Sofia and in discussion with Breiana.

During my first trip through Spain in the late 90's ETA was known for blowing up cars and causing general mayhem in provinces other than el pais vasco- their homeland. Most Spaniards felt that ETA had no moral compass and was killing people at random, and in fact many innocent people died through ETA's actions. At that time the country was in denial about its history. Franco died in 1975 and the new government had decided not to continue his fascist ideologies but instead to give the provinces more power through designation as autonomous regions; perhaps as a plea for people to try to forget what had happened to them and move the country forward. Most areas were fine with the new terms but the Basque region, whose people suffered horribly under Franco, was not.

It is important to make a distinction between the Basque people and ETA. The Basque people see themselves as separate from Spain. They have their own language, their own customs, food, even their own blood type. Many believe that the Basque settled the area before Spain and France had even begun to define their borders. In response to the Basque belief in their independent heritage, during the civil war Franco asked Hitler to firebomb a small town called Guernika. Pablo Picasso's rendering of the event is the most important and viewed work in the Reina Sofia- Madrid's museum of modern art.

Though the new government's tactics to keep things under control worked for a while it didn't last for long. There seems to be a feeling, at least in Madrid, that the old wounds need to be brought to light, to heal. The exhibit that surrounds the Guernika painting consists of newspaper articles, artists' renderings, newsreel projections and photographs of the emotional and physical devastation the Spanish people underwent during the civil war and Franco's rule. And the exhibit is well attended. That said, there are many young people who do not identify with that part of Spain. They look upon what happened with a detached interest.

In terms of ETA, the group's connection to Spain's dark past is again showing itself. Rather recently the Aznar government outlawed the most popular Basque political party- Batasuna- because it it was believed to have ties to ETA. As long ago the government labeled ETA a terrorist organization, anyone believed to be affiliated is seen as an enemy of the state and subject to arrest. As a result many Basques feel that they have no government representation.

Nowadays ETA seems to be staying out of the newspapers. Attacks are few and far between and those that do take place only occur after fair warning has been given for the innocent to evacuate.

The relationship between the new Zapatero government, ETA, and the Basque region is delicate at best. The region is one of the most economically important in the country, thereby making it very politically valuable. Basques seem to have an ambivalent relationship with ETA. Many feel that the lengths to which ETA has gone to gain independence is too extreme, while they also feel a great urge to have full sovereignty from Spain. As for ETA the government seems to be standing by a current theme in global politics: no negotiation with terrorists.

Madrid: A Summary

by annie

We've written a lot so far on our time in Spain, but want to dedicate a post specifically towards our favorite parts of Madrid. Apologies in advance for the length.

Museo Reina Sofia
On a rainy windy Saturday afternoon, we woke up late, ate at a vegetarian restaurant and walked briskly to the Reina Sofia where we took advantage of free admission. We perused the works of Picasso, Diego Rivera, Dalì, etc, but my favorite section was a temporary exhibit of Paul Thek, an American known as the ¨artist's artist.¨For dying young, he produced an immense collection, ranging many different mediums. He is well known for his created environments and community pieces that attempted to bridge the gap between artists and viewers, making it more accessible. I especially connected with his colorful paintings, done on newspapers from the 70´s, with headlines and yellowed edges peeking out. It was interesting to be in Spain, admiring the work of an American artist, especially since he only had one big show in the US- Chicago, 1998.

El Parque de Retiro
We anxiously awaited the day when we could hang out in el Parque de Retiro, and once it came, we couldn't stop going back. On our first visit, we entered the park off of a busy Madrid street, having walked from Ben's house. Within a few minutes, the trees surrounded us and the noisy street had faded into the distance. We made our way to the Crystal Palace to meet our friend, Brieana. The park is huge, so we had to consult the city map to find the palace within the park. The sun was beaming and we happily awaited Brieana in the grass. We spent hours in the park, discussing Spanish history, the Basque terrorist group ETA and caught up on our lives in between.

The next day, Brian and I returned for a picnic in the sun, ice cream and a lazy
boating adventure. We found the many teenagers on the lake amusing, especially when they would get into arguments and try to attack each other with their row boats- yelling angrily, paddling vigorously and still moving towards each other at a very slow pace, while guards on shore repeatedly blew their whistles for them to stop. Hilarious.

Afterward, we took a long walking tour, visiting the neighborhoods of Chueca, Malasana, Bilboa and many others. We got lost for an hour in the midst of it, ate a cheap dinner of falafel and made our way back to Lavapies on sore and tired feet. Our favorite falafel comes from a restaurant in Lavapies called Habibi- they cook it fresh to order and serve it with yummy tahini sauce, instead of a ketchup & mayonnaise-like sauce that many other places use. Plus, a wrap costs a mere 3.50 Euros.

Madrid culture
We walked everywhere in Madrid. Even though they have a fantastic public transportation system, and the cleanest Metro I've ever seen, we hardly used it at all. Madrid culture is extremely laid back. People sleep late, shops close in the middle of the day for siesta and everything happens at a slow, slow pace. The people there smoke a lot and eat lots of fried foods, ham, and bread. They are extremely friendly and talk a lot! We enjoyed taking trips to the traditional markets (trying not to gape at the pig testicles, intestines and cow brains proudly displayed in various meat markets) and found that buying food from specialized markets was not only fresher, but also cheaper. We even saw an entire baby pig face for sale.

Each Sunday, vendors set up in el Rastro for the biggest street fair I've ever seen. It's probably three or four times the size of Saturday Market in Portland. Entire streets were blocked off and completely filled with people. Making our way through the crowds was challenging, but fun. It didn't have much of a tourist vibe, and seemed to be packed with locals.

Jardines del Campo del Moro

We had walked all over Madrid by the time we made our way to the Jardines del Campo del Moro. Set at the foot of the Royal Palace, it's the home to many winding walking paths, peacocks and nice views of the palace. We didn't want to walk much because our feet needed a rest. So we searched for a spot of prime real estate- grass and sun- so that we could rest. Mostly trees and landscaped areas, the garden didn't seem to welcome nappers, which we realized later was entirely on purpose. We spotted a nice patch of sunny grass and daisies, but it happened to be just beyond a low chain. We decided to take the risk, and settled in to a light snooze.

Within 10 minutes, we heard a loud honk followed by a peacock squawk. I glanced up to see a guard yelling out the window of his car in Spanish. Another guard sat on his motorcycle motioning us down. We made our way towards them, shamefully stepping back over the chain to greet them.

They lectured us in Spanish, they wore funny hats, they took our names and our birthdays. They told us that they saw us on video surveillance stepping over the chain into the restricted area. They told us the chain was there for a reason. They displayed the sternest of faces.

It was perhaps the only time so far that I appreciated my inability to speak the language. It was easier to just stand there and look sheepish while Brian managed the situation.

We still wanted a nap, so we made our way to a non-chained patch of grass, with no signs or any other indication that we couldn't sit there... until we heard the now-familiar honk behind us and watched, exasperated, as the guard wagged his finger. He then proceeded to ride around the entire park honking at anyone and everyone that was sitting anywhere but on a bench. By that point, we felt pretty unwelcome and ready to leave, but stuck around a little longer for some peacock watching.

We've been enjoying Aranjuez since Monday and will post about it soon.

Segovia and Madrid nightlife

by annie

We knew before our trip that Walt Disney had replicated Segovia's Alcazúr palace in Disneyland. We were still somewhat surprised to find that the entire town of Segovia was a fairy tale. We spent most of Saturday there, along with many other Spanish and International tourists. It's a little more than an hour bus ride northwest of Madrid. We started the morning by sitting on the patio of a cafe in front of the famous aquaduct while enjoying churros con chocolate, a Spanish delicacy of fried dough dipped in hot drinking chocolate. The aquaduct is particularly amazing because it was built only with granite blocks, no cement was used to hold it together. Then we walked the quiet streets, gazed at the beautiful views surrounding the city and saw many of the historical sites before plopping down in a park and acquiring mild sunburns. Pictures best describe Segovia:

After arriving back in Madrid, we made dinner around 9:30-Spaniards eat dinner between 9pm and midnight- and then eventually took the metro to meet Ben at a concert in a huge squat in the party neighborhood, Malasaña. The streets reminded me somewhat of New Orleans; people were everywhere, vendors sold canned beer in the streets and the energy was palpable. We arrived too late for the show, so instead hung out in a bar, the streets and eventually a Brazilian dance club. We'd been up early that morning, so we only lasted until about 3am. Many Spaniards don't call it a night until 8 or 9am.

We arrrived in Aranjuéz on Monday to stay with Alfredo, a friend of a friend who needs help with house projects. We are a little behind on the blog and will be posting more pics and details soon. We miss you.

Chinchon

by annie

About an hour bus ride southeast of Madrid lies a quaint pueblo, Chinchon. We woke up "early" on Tuesday morning to catch the 10:30 bus. The landscape outside of Madrid reminded me of northern California, except green instead of brown. Upon our arrival, we quickly spotted a hostel and obtained a map of the village.We made our way through the narrow streets, gaping at the stunning stucco buildings, tiled rooftops and unique doorways. We toured the main church, the plaza mayor, and the center of town.

After sufficient exploring, we stopped in a courtyard to make tuna sandwiches on fresh baked bread from a local bakery. Brian cut his finger on the tuna can and so began my first solo Spanish-speaking journey, into a nearby insurance business. Brian taught me the word for napkin- servieta- and toilet paper- papel higienico- but by the time I came face to face with the stern man behind the desk, I could only remember servieta. A reenactment:

me: tienes una servieta?
him: que? que quieres...and more Spanish I didn't understand.
me: hablas ingles?
him: no.
me: uh, mi novio tienes un...(insert ridiculous theatrics and sound effects of a person stabbing his finger with a knife)
him: ah! (and more Spanish). He walked over to the bathroom and pulled on the toilet paper, looking at me for validation that this was indeed what I wanted.
me: Si! Si! Muchas gracias!!!!

Success! I walked back, beaming, and helped Brian clean up his cut. With his finger fine, we enjoyed our lunch and had a good laugh about me butchering the tense of the verb tener under pressure, and also resorting to good old-fashioned, cross-lingual charades to get what I wanted.

I have to start somewhere, right?

More pics of Chinchon: