The Siesta Show

For all of you who love Spain, whether you live here or not, there is a really fun daily TV show on eyeonspain.com (you can find it at http://www.eyeonspain.com/tv). The show is based on the Costa del Sol and so far this week they've had a couple of guest appearances (one really interesting British real estate agent talking about the Spanish real estate market) and a visit to a churreria.

I've watched all four, that are up so far, this morning and found them really cute and interesting. I'm going to request to be on the show if they ever make their way to Toledo! I'll keep you posted.

Check it out!!!

The Effects of the Crisis

Take a look at the latest effect of the crisis. :o)
This new locale, Casa del Mar, was only a few weeks ago a real estate office. Granted, it never looked open and I'm not sure if they ever sold anything, but it had pictures of houses and apartments in the window. Due to the substantial drop in home sales, being reported all through Spain, it's no surprise that it would head towards closing (as many real estate offices have done in the past few months here in Toledo). But what actually happened is quite interesting.

Casa del Mar is a chocolate bar, that sells bread, with a corner that is devoted to its previous activity of selling houses, that also offers internet access. Just a bit of everything here.

**We haven't been, but might make a investigatory trip soon!

Our story of love and travel, new languages and jobs.

The story of how I met my husband and ultimately ended up living in Spain. It's a long story, with lots of twists and turns, so bear with me!

It all started in 2002, when I was a student at Agnes Scott College, a private women's college in Atlanta, Georgia. I loved studying there, but decided to see how much I would love seeing other parts of the world and made the decision to study abroad. My decision to go to Budapest, Hungary was pretty random (and probably a little irresponsible, considering what a decision it was!), but it turned out to be one of the best things I've ever done. I went from January to June, 2003, and met lots and lots of cool Europeans and saw lots and lots of Central and Eastern Europe.

And I met Jose, who was studying architecture in Budapest on a study abroad trip, too.

Although it's true we met in Budapest on our study abroad, the possible verbs end there. I had my friends and he had his and we partyed, traveled and generally lived in different circles. In fact, the only thing I can find about him in my journal of that time was a reference to him sharing my love of far left politics (he was the only one).

And so in came time for us to leave Hungary, and I did so sadly. I kept in contact with almost everyone that first year of being away, including Jose. At Christmas time I took a trip with two university friends to Paris, to have a mini Budapest reunion for New Years. Because my friends weren't that excited about meeting my study abroad people I agreed to go later with them to Spain, which I had never really considered before. Since we were going to Spain, we decided to spend weekend in Valladolid, where Jose graciously offered to show us around.

We went, Jose and I "clicked" and we started to make our correspondence more frequent. Soon we were emailing and chatting nearly everyday. I decided to return to Europe after graduating in 2004. But no, not to Spain. I went back to Hungary for a year to teach English in a little village.

During that year Jose and I visited each other twice, he came once to Hungary and I went once to Spain. I knew at this point that he was really special, but I had no idea how it was going to work out. However, in the spring of 2005 I decided to move to Spain after finishing my contract in Hungary. I did so, found a job in Madrid, through that job got my work visa and when I was allowed to, I moved to Toledo. When I moved to Toledo, Jose and I moved in together because he had just arrived to start his job as a funcionario and a year later we got married (in Georgia).

Sometimes I still can't believe it all worked out, although I guess we're just at the beginning of the journey!

Home?

Isn't it funny how, as you go through life adding stages and steps, people and places, either the first or the last is the one you refer to as "home". This has happened to me so many times, and it's a strange feeling each time.

A couple of weeks ago we were traveling in Portugal. Every time there was an occasion to communicate with a Portuguese person, I always spoke with them in Spanish. Maybe that's logical, since Portuguese and Spanish are clearly related Romance languages and only by proximity, for sure lots of Portuguese speak Spanish. I have heard that lots speak English well, however, and maybe some of them would have understood my English better than my Spanish. I also referred to Spain as my home, both outwardly and inwardly. All of this has a certain sense, after all I have lived in Spain three and a half years.

But it has happened to me before. Many years ago, in 2003, when I was studying abroad in Budapest, Hungary for a semester. As we traveled through central and eastern Europe, most of those small things you say to people you don't know (thank you, excuse me, sorry), I said in Hungarian. Even I knew to be a fact that these people would certainly understand my English better than Hungarian (regardless of the fact that I was speaking it, knowing little more than those few words). I referred to Budapest as my home, too.

The language and the home thing may seem different topics. In a way, they are. I was reluctant to speak English out of embarrassment (dumb American, only knowing English) and out of a bit of self-preservation (the truth is, you never know hates tennis shoe wearing, loud talking American tourists and who doesn't). But it's also hard to think of your "home" in lots of different places. How can it be here if it's there? How can it be there if I live here?

(How can it be here if I still can't speak Spanish? :o))

Home from Lisbon. Days 5 and 6.

After four days, we were loving the cheap coffee and lunches (not cheap, exactly, but more appropriately priced than in Spain, where one often wonders at the high proportional price of a coffee or lunch). And the Portuguese, who very kindly spoke Spanish and English, most of the time, although it left us in a moment of doubt when it came time to speak to someone.

We left Cascais, near Lisbon, and started our slow route home. Trying to avoid the toll roads, we wound round and round the countryside of Portugal: Jose, trying to navigate the tiny roads full of potholes, bicycles and the occasional animal. Me, with the normal map and the GPS on my lap, butchering village names and trying to figure out if the GPS was playing tricks on us. (Sometimes you get the feeling that electronic devices are alive and trying to drive us all insane....)

That's how we found ourselves in Obidos, Batalha, Fatima (when you're that close, how can you NOT go to the place where the virgin supposedly appeared?!?), Tomar, Constancia, Portalegre, and Castelo de Vide (over 2 days). Most of the trip the roads were cloaked in fog, revealing our destinations abruptly. It was charming and beautiful, and felt so quiet.

Portugal does not disappoint!

Lisbon

After being saved once again by our GPS, we arrived in Ouieras on the outskirts of Lisbon on Sunday nights.

After wandering around, deeply in silence, in the chestnut roasting fog that filled the streets of Lisbon, I discovered an important phenomenon in myself.

Meeting a city is a very special thing. A city must be met with an isolated opinion and experience. A city cannot be eased into, or an after thought, if it is going to be appreciated fully or understood. I have to be dropped into the middle, either by a plane or by a bus or train with fast moving scenery flying by my window all the way there.

I arrived in Lisbon in completely the wrong manner. After two days of wandering through small towns, fog filled ancient stone ritual sites and even seeing a herd of goats. The charm of small villages with open streets set my senses at ease with the slowness of far away life. Lisbon, therefore, seemed overpowering and I know I seemed simpleminded to the city.

I dutifully toured it, however, not sure what I was looking for or looking at. The most I did get was a feeling of not taking it in properly (the same thing happened to me the first time I went to Paris! I had to go back to really like it). So, I'm looking forward to the next time I go to Lisbon!

Pictures!

Portugal Days 1 and 2

We left Toledo on Saturday, barely recovered from Christmas, with a picnic packed. The weather report was not promising, but we were full of anticipation as we headed south west towards Merida, passports tucked in, just in case. In case of what?, I don't know, but it never hurts to have lots of identification.

We arrived in Merida with the rain. I had such high hopes for the city, with its crowds of Roman ruins, but it was our first disappointment. Although the ruins are well preserved and featured, the city itself seems to built with a distracted mind.

We left soon and started towards the Portuguese border, making sure to stop first and fill up the gas tank (oh, the horror stories of gas prices in Portugal!). We passed quickly by the ghost buildings of the former border crossing and found our hotel with the help of our new best traveling friend, our GPS.

Our four star rural hotel for 28 euros was a great value, although we would soon discover how cold it was. I woke up the next morning stiff, from the shivering and tensing of muscles to keep myself in the twin bed that Jose and I were stuffed into to try to generate body heat.

Day two was full of fun sight seeing: Elvas, fortress town built back when Spain was the enemy.
Vila Vicosa, Borba and Estremoz: three "marble" towns, with lemon and orange tree lined streets and everything made out of marble!
Evora and the dolmens: Evora was a wonderful little town, just the type of place I'd like to live (if I moved to Portugal). The dolmens were perfect. The road up to them was in the middle of a cork tree forest and it was covered in fog. Over 7000 years old, it was the perfect backdrop for a lovely stop.

Pictures!