Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 30, 2008

Spanish Dinners

Emma and Grace cooked dinner for us tonight. They planned a menu yesterday, we shopped today and they cooked while Scott and I sipped wine on the porch and talked about where we want to live. They had written out the special requests we each had: macaroni and cheese for Grace, bread and tomatoes for Emma, fish and hot peppers for Dad, and peaches and avocado for Mom. I cheated a little, throwing out a salsa I like to go with the fish. They were in the kitchen for some time, chopping and creating, with Scott jumping in to help boil water for the pasta and sauté the halibut. Grace pretended to be the waitress, refilling our wine glasses, pouring pretend coffee and speaking with a formal British accent.

The food choices and grocery shopping here in Spain have not been exactly as I imagined. I was envisioning a morning walk to the butcher, baker, farmer’s market. All fresh produce that smelled of the sun and the bread just baked. Well, in Colorado I shop at Safeway; here in Nerja, I shop at Super Sol! Super Sol compared to American grocery stores is small but has most of the same categories of food. The produce is seasonal and does smell and taste like the sun, at least the tomatoes and peaches! The girls have gotten used to the shelf-stable milk after trying three or four different brands. The fish has been fresh and good; the meat selection is lacking, though the chicken breasts have been great. No Kraft macaroni and cheese or Annie’s organic for that matter, but we didn’t count on finding Annie in Spain! There is macaroni and cheese in a can, kind of like Spaghetti Os, which we have not been desperate enough to try. (I have offered to make Georgina’s homemade recipe, which is being considered by Grace, who is quite a mac and cheese connoisseur.) The cereal selection is very limited and what they have is all of the fruit loops, choco-crisp variety. We have found frosted shredded wheats which have become a staple in less than two weeks. Wine, olive oil, dark chocolate and cheese are all in abundance and at much lower prices than in the US. Oh, and ham…..ham is everywhere!

I was quite impressed with what the girls cooked up, and, like all good mothers, I ran in to grab my camera. (You know you’ve become your mom when you start taking pictures of the table set with food!) Their presentation was quite colorful and most everything was delicious, the tomatoes and Gruyere cheese, marinating in fizzy water, excepting.

Here’s a picture of their handiwork!

You can decide for yourself at their efforts and share your comments here with the girls!

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Posted in Children, Foreign Food, Spain | Tags: , ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 28, 2008

Casares, Spain

Casares is beautiful, everything you imagine when you dream about living in a small Spanish village. While only 20 km from Estepona, on the Mediterranean coast, it is worlds away through twisty roads and mountain forests. Pine trees and cacti grow side by side as we progressed up the canyons.

My enthusiasm mounted as we turned along. Every crest brought more anticipation for the town itself to appear. We researched a lot of villages before our move, and Casares was at the top of our lists of places to consider living. From the little we could find, it supposedly still had the feel of a Spanish village with access to the coast and schools within a 30 minute drive. I realized though that it wasn’t a drive I would want to do twice a day commuting to school. Perhaps we would have to home school while waiting on our visas? I was excited enough with what I was seeing that I was willing to make all kinds of trade-offs! Suddenly we reached the town, the remains of the castle on a crag opposite us, and I realized the town was built in the hollow in between the two tops. The streets dizzyingly narrow plunged down.

We piled out of the car, eager to explore Spain after our lunch in Marbella, also known as “little England,” of eggs on toast and beers. Grace, proving to be most like the Spanish women, chose to brave the streets in her fancy high heel espadrilles. Scott and Emma whipped out their Keens; me somewhere in-between with my cushier than normal, flat sandals. Our descent into the village was breathtakingly beautiful. The narrow street switch backed down, with doorsteps at each turn. Pots of geraniums flanked the doors, ivy and bougainvillea flowing down the walls. An old man with a cane approached from the bottom. We paused to let him pass, each offering a tentative “Hola, buenos dias.” He responded back, “Buenos dias,” though he pronounceed it as if he had a mouth full of marbles.

At the bottom of the street, the town square opened up to us. There was a fountain in the middle, an old woman wearing a blue apron filling her mop pail and then shuffling on to her front door to clean her part of the street. There were several bars and restaurants around the square with tables and umbrellas out. It was hot enough that the old men found the shade along the benches on one side of the square. Of course, it’s siesta time and the shops were all closed and most people in their homes, escaping the heat of the day. We have yet to time our arrival and departures from these towns correctly. We followed the signs to the castle, figuring the ruins would be open since everything else was not. So back up we went, winding again through Casares’ streets. There was not much left to the fortress at the top other than some beautiful vantage points to view the village and sea in the far off distance. Thankfully, there was a “Castillo Bar” off to the side, full of tables set in the shade of trees. Here is where the two tables of tourists were, having beer or wine and resting their tired legs. We happily joined them!

We discovered later, after more wandering, that was Casares. Not much to it besides its spectacular views of the countryside. We decided to stay for the night and enjoyed a nice meal at the one restaurant with a TV, most of the town’s men there to watch the futbol game between Spain and Russia. Spain won 3-0 so we enjoyed cheering for Espana along with the boisterous crowd. The Spanish women apparently don’t watch soccer or either don’t watch it with their husbands at the bar. There were a few out in the square, pushing strollers or enjoying ice creams, but most were not to be seen.

Casares’ only hotel, the Hotel Casares, was a nice rural hotel. Very clean, the smell of bleach throughout the hallways, and simple but a pleasant experience. Over breakfast of café con leche and toast, we discussed that Casares might be a bit too small for us to live day to day. We decided to head for the next beautiful town on our list, Gaucin, up the mountain another 15 minutes.

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Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 25, 2008

Girls at La Herradura Beach

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Posted in Beach, Children, Spain | Tags: , ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 25, 2008

La Herradura

The morning is a cacophony of sounds. Two roosters crow “wake up,” the birds chirp incessantly in the background, the neighboring dogs compete with barks, and some sort of whipper whorl of a bird jumps in with its long drawn out call. The rest of the morning is peaceful enough that these sounds assault me; it’s like an orchestra that’s a little off key.

It’s 8:30am and Scott and the girls are still sleeping. I’ve been up a half hour and had a cup of coffee on the porch in the morning sun, savoring the memory of our evening last night. We discovered La Herradura, a beautiful beach about 15 minutes up the highway toward Almuñécar. I read it means “horseshoe,” and it is indeed a perfect horseshoe of a bay with cliffs and the town and urbanizations rising up around. After the hustle and bustle of Nerja, with its tourists and traffic, La Herradura is a refreshing sleepy little town. Hardly any cars, no one in line at the tourist office, and only a handful of late afternoon sun bathers dot the rocky beach or nap in the lounge chairs. We park and start along the boardwalk. It’s about 6:30pm, the sun still up and casting intense sparkles across the water. There is one yacht anchored off shore, a pair of divers near it exploring the sites under water. Several shore fishermen have planted their poles and relax on blankets with their families, waiting to see if dinner emerges.

The restaurants and shops and apartments along the boardwalk are mostly empty, the apartments that outline the bay all have their garage door like louvers pulled down. While Nerja is full of early June tourists, beating the rush of summer visitors, it could be mid-winter in La Herradura. We wonder what mid-winter is really like if this is June. The boardwalk ends at a sizeable beach restaurant, with a large fire pit area and what looks like a small stage. Flamenco dancing is advertised on a flyer “every Monday night.” Weekends bring the “largest outdoor paella” made and pictures show a man stirring a dining room sized table of the regional rice and fish dish. We find a table to sit for a cold beer and juices. A plate of chips arrives as well, the girls greedily grabbing them up. Half of the plate is full of crunchy looking thick circles, kind of an onion ring looking chip, though they look like sea shells with their texture and divots. Grace promptly says they are dried-up octopus legs. She could be right.

The girls down their juices and head for the beach to explore. Scott and I sit and watch the beachgoers, the waves, and the boats and wonder what the town in actually like. It is nearer the one international school in the area. We have realized that Frigiliana is just too far away from that school to consider it a living option, and there is nothing about Nerja that we like. As we discovered yesterday with mobile phone companies and trying to get internet service, without a residency card, many things are not allowed, such as registering at the local schools. A “stamp of approval” from the Department of Education of the girls Colorado school records is also needed; apparently a six-month process that begins once you have…you got it…your residency card! I suppose for people moving abroad with a company and HR department, visas and residency cards are expedited through a HR manager. For the likes of us, who came on our own, a year lead time is only enough if you apply for your visa immediately, which in our case, we spent the first six months just figuring out what country to move to. So, long story short, we are most likely looking at international schools for the girls and are now exploring towns closer to the school in Almuñécar.

The girls are ready to collect their swimsuits from the car and take a dip in the sea. We lounge on the pebbly beach to cat nap and they decide to bury my legs in stones. I imagine it’s a hot stone massage at the Scottsdale Fairmont Princess spa and resort! We decide to try dinner at the beach restaurant behind us. It’s about 9:00pm by now and two other tables have diners beginning their wine and “primo platos.” I have been encouraging the girls to share meals since the portions are large and kids’ menus are an American thing. Grace and I actually decide to share the octopus in garlic sauce. Pulpo, we learn, is how to say it in Spanish. Emma chooses chicken soup and Scott the durado fish. It’s an excellent meal but more savory was the long-drawn out evening, hanging out together, watching the sunset. I’m sure we’ll be back to La Herradura for more.

emma-herradura

grace-herradura

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Posted in Beach, Foreign Food, Immigration, Sabbatical, Schools, Spain | Tags: , ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 23, 2008

Day One in Spain, from Scott

This is the first time I’ve written a blog, or a journal entry for that matter. I don’t think of myself as a writer (they are so educated, elite, and “high-brow” with their extensive vocabularies and unfettered imaginations!). I’m not that talented, I lack linguistic creativity, and my grammar sucks. But here goes, because Dee hasn’t got the nerve to share the real start to our adventure yet…

Day 1:

It’s 3:00am on Wednesday morning (I think), and we are all wide-awake in our hotel room near London Heathrow airport. I keep trying to sleep until our wakeup call at 4:45am, but it’s hopeless. The girls start giggling. I decide I’m up too and crawl in bed with Emma and Grace to get some Dad cuddle time. Shortly thereafter with our 6 suitcases (2 of them approaching 70 lbs apiece), 4 backpacks, 3 laptops and other assorted travel “necessities,” we catch the shuttle bus to Heathrow to check-in for our 7:00am flight to Barcelona. Hungry…our stomachs are all growling, but nothing is open at Terminal 1 yet. Dee, being Super-Mom and having planned for just this exact contingency, has a couple energy bars in her “purse.” It seems more like a fancy, large duffle bag to me. But, then what do I know about women’s fashion and travel accessories. The kids and I ravenously consume them.

The plane leaves on time, or thereabouts. 10:30am, we land in Barcelona. We are actually in Spain after talking about it, and planning, and preparing, and packing and coordinating, and packing some more. We’re here!

On to pick up the brand new leased car from Renault. No problems. Contract, registration, keys and car in hand. And, to make things even better, all the luggage actually fit in the thing. I’d been stressing out about this issue more than anything else. Actually had a zit forming because of it! But here we are, and the luggage fit. Whew, what a major relief.

2 liters of fuel in the car. So, first priority is to find some diesel ASAP. Drive to the nearest petrol station. Can’t read or understand a darn thing on the pumps. Each fuel type is “branded” and we don’t know which is which. To make matters more difficult, we’d been warned that most stations were out of diesel due to the truck drivers being on strike. Dee steps up and goes inside to ask for help. She returns. The clerk spoke some English and she’s got it…”it’s the green 98” she says. “Are you sure?” I ask not being convinced. “I think so,” she replies. I’m still not convinced, so I ask, “Are you really sure?” “I think so,” she says again. In goes the green 98.

So far so good. We manage to get out of town without making a wrong turn or getting lost. On our way. All the luggage and family in the car for a 4-hour drive to Javea, which is just south of Valencia. We’ve got plans to be in Javea for 3 days before we continue our journey further south and west to Frigiliana where we’ve rented our first summer villa.

Chug, chug, chug. Uh oh. Something’s going on with the car. I down shift thinking I haven’t driven a stick in so long that maybe it’s me that’s the problem. Warning light comes on, in French nonetheless. Something about the fuel injection system, I think. Then it happens. The car completely dies, and we stall out in a very long tunnel. There’s no shoulder and busy traffic is doing 120 kph. I get the car over to the side and fear sets in. “I’m really scared,” I say to Dee. Frantically, we call the Renault 24/7 roadside service, but get a phone agent who only speaks French from some main office, presumably in France. We don’t know exactly where we are, and I can’t speak French. The car is totally incapacitated and I’m really afraid we are going to get rear-ended by someone who doesn’t see us. Game over.

Then it happens. Magically a tow truck shows up! The Spanish travel god, or goddess, or whatever or whoever is watching. Or maybe some friendly motorist that passed by called for help. We weren’t in the tunnel more than 5 minutes, and someone is here to save us. Something in Spanish, “What’s wrong with the car?”

I help the tow guy rig our vehicle, and then we all climb into the cab of the tow truck. Now what? Where to? How do we talk with the guy? Out of the tunnel. But, there’s another problem. The amiable tow guy is worried about the number of passengers in his cab. After much broken Spanish and more hand gesturing, Emma and I get in the seized-up Renault and lay down in the back seat (so the policia won’t see us). Emma falls asleep. My heart’s still racing and the adrenaline is pumping, so I lay there trying to figure out our plan of attack. About 30 minutes later we arrive at a mechanic back in Barcelona to fix the vehicle. 2 hours to fix it…my Spanish is getting better by the minute.

Off we go to get cash, because the mechanic doesn’t accept credit cards. And, also to get something to eat. We find an ATM and a couple local cafes, but the girls are not comfortable eating at any of them (too near the “slums” they say). So we end up running for cover to the 5-star hotel across the street (Hotel Hesperia Tower) where the entire staff speaks English. Wine, beer and orange Fantas to calm our frazzled nerves.

The final tally for our first fill up was over $2,000:
• 67 Euros for gasoline
• 673 Euros for the tow
• 213 Euros to fix the car (drained the gas lines)
• 134 Euros for a fancy lunch of octopus and fish wrapped in ham
• 70 Euros for diesel (Black 95 of course you gringos!)

Back on the road again and we finally arrive at our hotel in Javea about 10:00pm. Feeling better about our prospects and a newfound level of confidence, we go out to eat dinner with the rest of the local Spaniards at a restaurant on the beach. Have a fabulous meal and lots of red wine. In bed sometime around 1:00am.

It seems like that first day lasted a whole year. London is some faint experience or memory from the past. Dee and I did an incredible amount of research before this journey. Most other families, that have undertaken a similar adventure, have faced many challenges and obstacles. So, Dee and I were both mentally prepared. At least we thought we were. Looking back on our first day now, just a week and a half later, it feels like we passed the test. It was a difficult exam at that. The next one surely will be easier!

Gotta go, the girls are skinny-dipping in the pool.

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Posted in Sabbatical, Spain, Spanish Language | Tags: , , ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 21, 2008

Pictures from Javea

Some pictures from our first days in Javea.

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Posted in Javea, Spain | Tags: ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 19, 2008

No Internet?!

We have been here in the countryside of Nerja and Frigiliana for four days now. We have a three bedroom house, which delighted the girls since they can finally have their own rooms, a pool and view of the sea, and a washing machine in the kitchen. Pretty much all one could ask for!
We are past our jet lag and settling into Spanish time with siestas in the afternoon, a late dinner around 9 or 10pm and bed near midnight. The girls think it’s pretty cool to get to stay up so late. Our first days have been full of time in the pool, trips to the beach once or twice, and trying to find an internet connection! Scott and I had no idea that it would be so difficult to get connected. We’ve been to all three major cell phone companies to inquire about dongles (even learned what those are, basically a little USB modem that gives you wireless on the go.) Two of the three require a residence card and local bank account before you can sign up for a plan, so that counts us out. (We’re still waiting on our visas which will then allow us to apply for a residency card.) The third does have a “pay-as-you-go” option which is not ideal but may get us through the first months. However, they are “out” of it this week and might get some in next week or perhaps the following. It was rather unclear, especially since I don’t speak Spanish and they didn’t speak much English. I was just impressed I got as much information as I did! So, I suppose it’s our first encounter with the Spanish concept of “manana” or tomorrow or tomorrow or tomorrow!
In the meantime, I found three cafes that provide free Wi-Fi service so we’ve upgraded to those over the internet café that charges 2 Euros/per hour. (About $3.50/hour and going up as we speak since the dollar is so weak!) I also managed to find the post office this morning, (.78 Euros for a stamp to the States or about $1.30 to send a postcard. Makes that recent USPS penny increase to $.42 not seem too bad all of a sudden!) We have found the grocery stores but they are rather bare these days. The truck drivers here in Spain are on strike due to the high costs of fuel so grocery stores are starting to feel the pinch. After three tries with the local milk, we have found one that the girls say tastes most like our Royal Crest Dairy in Boulder and will eat on their frosted shredded wheats. Yogurt, prosciutto, salami, eggs, cheese, tomatoes and olives are rounding out our meals. And, of course, Fanta orange soda! The girls loved it two years ago when we were here and assume it is just part of living here in Spain. They’ve been rationed to once a day though this time!
We are all reading a lot. Grace “More Spaghetti, I Say,” Scott “The Shock Doctrine,” Dee “Without Reservations”, and Emma’s been through at least three books in our week here, including book five of “Warriors,” “The Boy Trap,” and “Ruby Lu, Empress of Everything,” who sounds and looks a lot like Romona but has to deal with her cousin from China moving in with her instead of a pesky little brother.
Both girls are writing lots of letters and postcards and missing their friends. They will be in a summer camp in the mornings when we reach our next town, outside of Javea, where they will take Spanish, art, and swimming.
We are going to Frigiliana after siesta today to explore the town and find dinner. It’s a small white village perched on a steep hillside that looks quintessential Spanish. We shall see!

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Posted in Foreign Food, Household Stuff, Sabbatical, Spain | Tags: , , , ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 19, 2008

Moors and Christians Festival

cigar-man-moors-and-christians We drove over to Moraira last night, about 10-15 minutes from where are staying in Javea. It was quite a bit bigger than we expected, with a beautiful old town on the water and near a large marina. People were all along the boardwalk enjoying the cool evening.

We discovered soon upon walking around a festival atmosphere and, sure enough, it was the first night of four of some commemoration of a battle between the Christians and Moors. (Some 600 years ago and it’s still being celebrated!) Many in the town were dressed up and walking about in various costumes, adults and children and the teenagers with their Fanta bottles full of something other than Fanta I suspect. A sort of play was happening near a battlement upon the rocks overlooking the sea.

When the shouting in Spanish and sound of canons finished, we went to find dinner at one of the many restaurants with umbrellas and tables lining the street. We started with calamari, which is on every menu here we discovered two years ago, and a salad of tomato, mozzarella and avocado. Emma, who normally doesn’t like avocado, tentatively had some with her tomato and cheese as well as tried pouring the Spanish olive oil over the whole salad. She is really making a great effort to try new foods! Grace preferred a hotdog or mac and cheese, though she has yet to find either! We all shared paella, the girls wondering what animal was in it with the eyes and tails still attached. This adventure may turn them into vegetarians!

The waiters were all very friendly and fun and especially delighted with our attempts at Spanish. They are used to speaking English with the Brits and dealing with tourists, the menus were even in five languages, but once we falteringly began in Spanish, they continued to speak to us in Spanish and help us along.

We enjoyed watching a group of local kids spontaneously dance with a street musician and the whole late evening was festive and full of families. Our walk back into the old town took us through the narrow, winding streets and squares with tables lined up for community dining at the various restaurants.

We discovered several marching bands winding back and around through the streets and upon following one, found the gelato! While eating our ice cream around the table in the middle of the street, the band appeared again, this time with costumed characters seemingly depicting various tribes in the procession. A third time later they passed by with the addition of a king, several sultan looking characters, a crusader, pirates, warriors—all in these elaborate costumes that I wondered where they stored. I envisioned the closets in the church basement full of these costumes to bring out from year to year. You could tell this wasn’t just a one-time thing but an annual event with people vying for the key parts. Groups of mothers my age were all clustered together in one tribe, the teenagers in another and the men another. Young children matched their moms and walked along. The old men, not in costume, grouped together on the benches to watch the procession, probably trading stories about when they played the part of the conquering king many years ago.

While I laughed that the whole thing reminded me of Eudora, Kansas and our annual CPA picnic and parade, Scott thought this was a bit more serious of a production with their crusader costumes, gold crowns, fancy bells and tassels.

We finished our gelato and made one last pass in front of the battlement before hiking up the steep hill to our car. It was a fun night full of different sights, sounds, smells and traditions. Just what we were hoping for.

moors-christians-women

moors-christians-king-queen

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Posted in Festivals, Foreign Food, Spain | Tags: , , ,

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 19, 2008

English Muffins

We are on our flight to Barcelona from London, one of the last legs of our journey.  While our flight departed at 7:30am, it’s already been a long morning.  At 3:00am London time, we were all four awake in our blackened hotel room, waiting for our 4:20am departure for Heathrow.  We must have all had food on the brain as Emma whispered out, “I’m dreaming of English muffins!”  Yum, I thought, lightly toasted with strawberry jam all over.  I had just been remembering a yummy salad of tomatoes, cheese and olives that we had had in Ronda when we were in Spain two years ago.

We all arrived in London yesterday.  Emma and Scott at about 6:00am; Grace and I around 5:00pm after a long delay in Edmonton, Canada.  (Denver to Calgary to Edmonton to London.)  We pick up our car here in Barcelona this morning and will drive to Javea, just south of Valencia.  We stay in Javea (one of our four towns to explore) for three nights before driving on to our first house just outside of Frigiliana where we stay for three weeks.

Ah, the flight attendant arrives with brioche and tea and coffee.  Breakfast is served.

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Posted in Foreign Food, Moving

Posted by: Dee Andrews | June 13, 2008

First Days

We’re here!  Our first days have been like a vacation — well, except for the putting gas into a diesel car, but that’s another dramatic story for a day when I’m a little braver — okay, back to the vacation — long, relaxing days of beach and pool, eating out, exploring new towns.  Our jet lag has been minimized thanks to an overnight in London and the Spanish custom of seistas and late-night dinners.  The girls were opposed to the idea of a late afternoon nap until they realized they then get to have dinner at 10:00pm and stay up past midnight! 

So much to write, but a painfully slow internet connection will force me to end for now.  We head to Frigiliana tomorrow and will settle into our first rental house.  Hopefully they have wireless!

Adios!

Dee

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Posted in Expats, Life, Moving, Sabbatical | Tags: ,

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