Where in the world would you go?

Our family dinner conversation tonight was super insightful and validated all the reasons we undertook this grand journey. The girls were recalling joyously how much fun Morocco was (while getting their hands messy rolling cous-cous balls).  Then Emma asked all of us, “if you could go anywhere in the world for 3 weeks, where would you go?”

Emma:
1) Greece
2) Norway
3) Switzerland

Daddy:
1) Turkey (sailing)
2) Tanzania & Zanzibar (safari)
3) Thailand

Grace:
1) Greece
2) Antarctica
3) Space

Mommy:
1) Turkey
2) Tanzania + Rwanda (to see the gorillas)
3) Thailand

I found this conversation deeply rewarding and satisfying. To think our children have already learned to explore, travel and see the world with such delight and curiosity. I want to go on every one of these trips with my family! Especially Gracie’s list, which is the most creative & adventurous in my opinion!

Where would you go???

Javier Goes to the Bullfight

Somehow I’ve been given a new nickname, Javier de Jávea. Es un nombre muy fuerte y muy auténtico de España. Me gusta mi nombre nuevo. ¡Soy Javier!

At Plaza de Toros in Valencia

Dee and I had the extreme fortune to leave behind our two beautiful children (thanks Caroline!) for 3 days and 2 nights of sheer madness in Valencia during Las Fallas. We headed out, for what has been billed as the grandest fiesta in all of Spain, with our friends Vince, Nancy & Chally (who flew in from Boulder especially for the craziness) and our local buddies Steve & Suzanne.

We departed in Xeraco as the anticipation and energy were already building. Cars were parked for blocks around the tiny village train station as masses of people were flocking into Valencia. After a quick 45 minute train ride, we arrived mid-day, just in time to experience our first mascletá (daytime fireworks designed to rip out your bleeding ear drums). We were 2 blocks away as it was physically impossible to move any further due to the enormous throng of people. Cheap canned beer secured from the entrepreneurial young man carting a stocked cooler kept the hot sun at bay. Afterwards we checked into our hotel (well we didn’t; Steve did; the rest of us hid in the lobby like college kids getting ready to crash a room on Spring Break).

I grabbed a handful of puros Habanos (definiton: yummy!), and we headed to the Plaza de Toros, to see our first Corrida de Toros (bullfight). I was geuinely excited as it was my first chance as an adult to see this “artistic display of man’s dominance over beast” (or animal torture, depending on your perspective). I don’t have strong feelings about it either way, but I do eat meat, wear leather (chaps even!), and can appreciate cultural traditions, plus I love Hemingway. So I went with an open-mind.

Men in Pink Tights

With great fanfare los matadores confidently strode (please note it is particularly important to strut whilst donning pink tights) into the bullring to confront the 675kg beasts bred purely for fighting. El toro (bull) was tested first using the larger, dress capes to see how it behaves. 

The Loathed Ones

Then the trumpets summoned 2 picadores (wimpy men with funny hats on armored horses) who lanced the bull – once if the matador was feeling confident, or twice, if he felt a bit outmatched. The crowd whistled in disgust as they clearly do not approve of the bull being “harmed” too much at this point. Next 3 banderilleros (flag guys, kinda like the flag girls in a marching band, but with razor sharp sticks) confronted the bull on foot and stabbed their instruments into the shoulder blades. At this point, I guess, the bull is weakened enough to be worked by the matador. It’s clearly not a fair match, but nonetheless this is the tradition, and many matadors have died and countless others gored. Some of us were secretly rooting for the bulls.

A Close Pass

We watched 3 matadors work 2 bulls each that afternoon. They used their small, red capes to skillfully draw the bull into a series of daringly, close passes.

Cojones

 And finally, when the bull was exhausted, the matador attempted to “cleanly” kill the animal with a single thrust of his sword thru the shoulder blades and piercing the aorta.

El Loco

The exceptional performances were mind-numbing in their display of danger, and the poor ones were a complete farce.

Off to be stuffed

Immediately afterwards the bloody bull is dragged out by a horse team and led to the slaughter house adjacent to the ring. The meat is butchered quickly and donated to local hospitals.

At varying times it was courageous, artistic, shameful, dramatic, disgusting, riveting, impressive, saddening, joyous, fascinating, and heart-wrenching. Complete stimulation overload. Judge for yourself, but I appreciated this vivid cultural experience to understand better the psyche of my adopted country.

Pyromania at Las Fallas!

I stood in complete childlike awe staring dumbfounded at la cremá (the burning), a massive bonfire, set intentionally, that rises 100+ feet in the air, in the middle of an intersection on Carrer de Sueca in Valencia, Spain (and there were hundreds more just like it burning throughout the city).  My senses could not have been more completely overwhelmed.  Plus, it felt like my nose hair was on fire!

Why so red Steve?

Last week for 36 hours we experienced the richness, chaos and intensity of Spain in what has to be the planet’s second largest party behind Carneval in Rio.  I was told by the man next to me on the train riding into town that Valencia swells from a normal population of 750,000 people to 3 million during Las Fallas.  And every single one of them are hurling 1/4 sticks of dynamite and other large fireworks (the kind used for the “big” shows put on for 4th of July back home) at each other, everyday, every hour, everywhere, for a week.  My ear drums hurt.  My heart is still fluttering off-beat from the danger and anxiety caused by the sheer randomness of it all.  The adrenaline.  The shock-waves from the la mascletá in the Plaza Ayuntamiento (fireworks set off at 2pm in the afternoon for the sole purpose of creating the most spectacular noise on the planet) actually reverberated through my body.  And this doesn’t happen once…but everyday.  And then the “official” fireworks display goes off at 2am in the morning.  Can you imagine so many fireworks, for such an intense period of time, that the sky (at night) is completely and utterly filled with smoke above the city that you can’t actually see the fireworks anymore?!??!  It happened.  And not just once.  Wow.

 

Las Fallas is an annual fiesta celebrated in Valencia, and the surrounding communities, that dates back to the second half of the 18th century, when it was a simple festival during St. Joseph’s Day celebrations.  Now it is an orgy of fire as massive fallas (cartoonish sculptures which portray political satire – try to imagine Disneyland on crack cocaine) are set ablaze after a week of hard core partying in the streets.

Maestro Juan Jo & the crew (sin Steve)

We had the incredible fortune to spend time “backstage” with one of the artists, Juan Jo Garcia, who is a cousin of Vince (our 1/2 Spanish and 1/2 Italian friend from Boulder) who was also in town for the party.  Got it?  Well, Juan Jo’s year-round job is to imagine & build the fallas.  He led the teams which created 9 of the 700 fallas this year (big ones cost as much at $300,000).  He invited us behind the scenes for a personal tour.  Then the following evening, Juan Jo generously welcomed us again to stand next to him and watch la cremá inside the safety fences right behind los bomberos (firefighters).  Hot, hot, hot!

 My body and mind seek stimulation and novelty.  It is what I live for.  This experience capped anything else for sheer intensity that I have ever done in my travels.

Oz

I’m a bit weirded out.  Just got back last night from Emma’s choir performance at the Lady Elizabeth variety show for Comic Relief 2009.  There we were in Lliber Spain, at a British international school event, with families literally from all over the world, speaking Spanish during intermission, raising money for poverty in Africa and what does the primary school drama club put on…The Wizard of Oz!  I’m not in Kansas anymore, or am I?!?!?

What I learned in Morocco

Near M'hamid

I just returned from an absolutely amazing week in Morocco with my family. It was one of those experiences that just blew me away! So, to get the blog posts going again, here is a very short list of the many, many things I came away with from this eye-opening journey to Marrakesh and the western edges of the Sahara…

• First, please go, don’t be scared by the complete garbage the media feeds you
• Moroccans are kind, generous, friendly, thoughtful and welcoming
• When to hand an 83 year old Nomad your meat
• Poverty and happiness can, and often do, occur together
• Stereotypes are wrong – aren’t they always!
• Blond kids with blue eyes will be safe, will learn and have tremendous fun!
• Why real men walk with, and not ride on, their camels
• The food is world-class, even in the humblest of homes (or bedouin tents)
• The desert is dramatically beautiful, strikingly colorful & deeply textured
• The difference between a kasbah and a riad
• Nomads get lost in the sand dunes, just like the rest of us
• How to eat couscous and tajine properly with my fingers (right hand only!)
• The differences between Berber, Arab and African peoples in Morocco
• Behind the adobe walls in a dark, dirty alley might be a luxurious, rich oasis
• Don’t be afraid of getting lost in the souks (hard to rid the Boy Scout in me)
• Where to buy alcohol in an Islamic country (that produces wine by the way)
• How to wrap my authentic blue turban properly
• The meaning of hadj
• The Casablanca airport handles baggage more efficiently than any U.S. airport
• Traditional customs and modernity can peacefully coexist
• My name really means “shut up,” now that fits!

More to come from our family adventure to the gateway of Africa…

¡Estoy muy contento!

Tenemos amigos nuevos. Son una familia de españoles. Están de Valladolid. Está una ciudad aproximadamente una y media horas norte de Madríd. Pero viven en Jávea ahora cerca de l’Arenal. Está una familia de 4 personas, con una niña tiene 10 años y un niño tiene 6 años. Están amigos agradables, divertidos, y muy simpaticos. Hablamos mucho español que mi cabeza duele. ¡Pero es bueno! Uso todo de mis palabras de español. Trabajo muy duro. ¡Practico, practico, y más practico! Espero les conocer muy bien.

Happy Turkey Day!

Gobble, gobble, gobble!

Just a few of the things I am thankful for: my 3 beautiful girls, my dear family, good health, close friends, the opportunity to live life and not just watch it pass by, Spain, spicy Riojas, warm sun, new friendships, jalapeno stuffed olives, Hemingway, learning some new Spanish verbs (they are quite useful for constructing actual sentences!), good running shoes, and yes, my laptop.

Obviously, Thanksgiving is not celebrated here in Spain. Emma came home from school today and told us she had to teach all her new friends about the pilgrims and native Americans, as most kids have never even heard of the holiday.

We are planning to celebrate on Sunday with 2 other families. I’m busy trying to figure out how to get some real football on the TV. Dee is busy trying to sorting out how to prepare a traditional dinner, with a Spanish flair. She had to order the turkey 2 weeks ago from the local butcher.

Oh, there is one more thing to be thankful for…they don’t have pumkin pie here! Yuk.

We miss everyone! XOXOXO

Update to post “Day 1 Again in Spain”

This is an update to my blog posted on 9 November 2008.

I just found the parking ticket!

I had put it in the car’s ashtray for some unknown reason. There it was, all along. Life is funny isn’t it!?!?!

Update to my post, “The Tipping Point of American Ideology”

This is an update to my blog entry posted 23 October 2008. It seems the U.S. National Intelligence Council agrees with my assessment of the decline in U.S. power and dominance. A new report, entitled “Global Trends 2025: A Transformed World,” may be found on the NIC website. An excerpt from a recent article on this subject in the Los Angeles Times follows…

U.S. influence on the decline, report says
By Greg Miller, 21 November 2008

A new assessment by U.S. intelligence agencies predicts that American influence in the world will decline over the next two decades as surging powers such as China and India, as well as independent entities including tribes and criminal networks, gain international clout.

The report meant to serve as a guidepost for President-elect Barack Obama’s administration, offers a vision of a future in which the U.S., while the most powerful, is but “one of a number” of important players in the world.

Describing the findings, Tom Fingar, deputy director of National Intelligence for analysis, said there would be a “diminished gap between the United States and everybody else. . . . The unipolar moment is over.”

The report, titled “Global Trends 2025: A Transformed World,” represents the U.S. intelligence community’s most comprehensive examination to date of long-term security issues. It sees a possible increase in terrorist violence even as support for extremism starts to wane.

Its central finding is that the U.S. will remain the world’s foremost economic and military force, but its standing as an unrivaled superpower will probably diminish as a “global multipolar system” emerges.

Day 1 again in Spain

As many of you know our family went to Italy and Croatia over the girls’ mid-term break. It was a marvelous trip, but I’m not the best travel writer. I’m sure Dee will chronicle the adventure in more depth and richer detail on her travel blog (Dee, where’s the post with all the great pics?!?). What I want to talk about is our challenge as we returned to Spain.

Our initial entry into Spain this past June was a bit of an adventure, to say the least. If you haven’t read the Day 1 blog post, I encourage you to click thru. It’s a funny story now in hindsight! That was our first “test” as a family. Well, upon our 2nd entry in Spain this week, it seems we were to be presented with another little pop quiz…

We were all waiting patiently in line to check-in at the Ryan Air desk in the Ciampino airport in Rome Italy. I was rifling through my messenger bag for our travel documents, when a pit in my stomach hit. Where is the parking ticket for our car that’s in the remote, long-term parking lot at the Valencia, Spain airport? I’m sure I brought it with me, but it’s nowhere to be found. Uh oh! Now the worry sets in.

We arrived in Valencia about 9pm. The whole family is tired, because we had travelled all day and night (we left Split, Croatia the previous evening on an overnight ferry, caught a taxi to the rental car agency in Ancona, Italy, rented a car, drove to Rome with a stop off in Tivoli for lunch, and then flew to Valencia…all in 24 hours).  Whew. Needless to say we were all worn out and ready to get “home” to Javea.

At this point I know I don’t have the parking ticket. But just in case I figure we should check the car. On our way to find the car, dragging our luggage and the tired girls, we couldn’t locate anything that looked like an information desk, or an office for the parking lot. It’s late. It’s a small regional airport, and things are shutting down. The parking lot is a good hike, and it’s completely deserted. Walking quickly we are accosted by a man claiming to have been robbed. Alarm bells are ringing in my head! Dark, isolated parking lot with no one around. We brush him off and tell him to find the police. It’s nerve racking. The adrenaline is now flowing in my veins.

We find the car, and of course there is no ticket in it, just as I had expected. How do we get the hell out of here? The girls are wired at this point, Grace is really scared, and the guy that was “robbed” is coming back at us again. Everyone get in the car, now!

We drove around the lot looking for help. I found someone repairing a gate. He spoke no English, so I was forced to use all of my rudamentary Spanish. No tengo mi tarjeta de parking. No temgo mi ticket para mi coche. Donde esta la officina? And a lot of other butchered phrases (mostly nouns with no verbs) trying to sort out my dillemma. He told me, I think, to drive to the gate and push the informacion button. Onward we go to have a completely useless “conversation” in Spanish over the speaker with some jokester sitting in an office who was clearly amused by our situation. Ha, ha, this is very funny bonehead! Back to the man repairing the gate, and I’ve got directions to go to the bottom of (debajo de, a word I just learned that day!) the short-term parking where there might be someone who can help. Hiking back, getting further assistance in Spanish from the taxi dispatcher in a small shed, we finally find an office with someone official. Further butchered Spanish to communicate our issue, and we pay our bill of 83 Euros, get a new ticket and head back to the car as fast as we can. Yes!

We are all safe and sound back in Javea now, having passed another test. Completely in Spanish nonetheless. We are all learning how to deal with new, complex, scary situations. And each of us is gaining confidence and street smarts as we do it. I’m very proud of my family!