Spanish Holiday

Last Saturday morning as we drove the 82 kilometers between the villa we rented and the Alicante airport, I counted 14 double decker buses roaring down the roads heading to the area we just left.

The windows on the fronts and the sides were almost full glass.*And every seat was filled with enthusiastic visitors of the geriatric sort.

Apparently, in the non-summer months**, the Costa Blanca region of Spain, where we took a little holiday last week is the European version of Palm Springs and most of Florida all wrapped into one.

And, in this area, if you weren't a local or an imported retiree snowbirding, you were a family with small, younger than school-age children who were doing the exact same thing we were.

This is not a bad thing, if you are us. We wanted a bit of a break, in the sunshine and because we travel in a pack of three, it was important that Elliot was welcomed in places that Husband and I wanted to be, like restaurants that served tasty local food and once a pub.

And without a doubt, he was. We couldn't walk down the street without being stopped with a "Guapo bebé."*** And when he occasionally made a little noise when we were out eating, that was completely fine.***** Someone would say, "Oh oh that is what babies do. Guapo, guapo."

And it was a great week, full of good things like fish:

Two headed fish

Two fish that turned into

This:

(I promise you, one day, you should come over and eat what Husband cooks. When he has the time, he's good. And when I say time, I mean time. He is also slow. But that's okay. We like to visit.)

We had lots of good food out as well...here we will soon have paella***** on our plate for lunch. Elliot started out asleep, but when he heard the main course arrive...

He woke up.

Who could blame him really? So eventually, everyone ate.

We spent a happy afternoon at a place called Munda Mar, which is no kidding, awesome. It's a small-ish zoo with great exhibits and hilarious access to the animals. Elliot loved the fish, especially. When we go back to the US, whether it's for good or for a visit, we're going to hang out at The Georgia Aquarium.

And it was just right. There was just enough sunshine. So we'd sit out every single day.

And eat out in the sunshine.

And then visit all day.

And visit all evening.

And that was our holiday. It was just exactly right.

_____________________________________

*Once, when my brother and I were little (in the pre-dear sister days), the BigD and our dad took us to Florida to ride the glass bottomed boats. These buses were like that, but different. Not boats, not bottoms, but still noses pressed against glass, totally excited about the view.

**In the summer months, it is more akin to Panama City and Myrtle Beach, all wrapped into one.

***Also, in a pottery shop, when the owner admired Elliot, she also told me in great detail that he needed to have some time on the beach because he was too white. That it was okay to be worried about the sun in July, but not in September, that we should leave immediately and go to the water. He would be fine. I'm pretty sure that's what it all meant because I know blanco, bebe, la playa, julio, septiembre, various verbage of tengo, tiene, guapo, etc... This went on a long time, then she shooed up out, all the way to the door and pointed up to the sun. But never once stopped clucking and smiling at Elliot. The Spanish are multi-taskers.

****Not grumpy noise, he rarely makes those. The noises are squeals or laughing or just general babbling. He likes to visit. Shockingly enough, my son is social.

*****For which we were mocked when Husband pronounced it (paella) on an installment of HKS a few days ago...I cleared it up with a Spanish friend of mine who is from the Basque region and apparently there are five (maybe more??) regions of Spain, each with a slightly different accent, which in over-simplified terms translates into different stresses and uses of the "ll" and "c." Trust.

Once a Year

I don't believe in knick-knacks.

And by "believe in," I do not mean to suggest that I question that knick-knacks exist. I do not even mean to suggest that I do not support other people's right to buy them and enjoy them as they choose.

I only mean to say I just don't believe in their place in our house. I am certain that does not exist.

So when we travel, we do not buy engraved shot glasses or postcards we will not mail. Or even things that we will look at more than a few weeks every year.

We buy ornaments.

From every trip Husband and I have every been on, well before we planned to get hitched, we've gotten an ornament from every place we've visited.

Packed away in a box, in our storage room, are all of them. There is a lobster from Boston, a lovely metallic fish from the North Georgia mountains and a Celtic cross from Scotland. I'd bring out every one to show, but the placement is precarious, so you'll just have to trust me on this one.

I love that once a year, we will bring them all out. There will always be one we've forgotten and best of all, most, along with the actual story of the place, has a story from the actual purchase.

This is our ornament from Stockholm.

How to Dress in Scandinavia

In Stavanger, the average temperature is about 40 degrees the entire year. Of course it fluctuates depending on the season, but it's pretty mild and, of course, rainy.

So how does one seasonably dress and still be fashionable? The answer to that is "You don't, really."

But most of us, well at least in the cities and the people we know, try.

The key components to any woman's wardrobe are:

1) striped socks and skinny jeans (natch)



2) rain boots



3) tights, footless and footed



4) long sleeved tee shirts



Most women have these components in a variety of colors. Then, depending on the occasion, you add a jumper or a dress or a sweater in the appropriate layers. The leg attire is always tucked into the boots and there you have it.

And while Scandinavia tends to be casual on most occasions, on special days, you get fancy.

May 17 is a big deal in Norway. In some ways, it's the equivalent of the United States' 4th of July. It's called Constitution Day because on that day in 1814, Norway adopted its own.

The children have parades and many people, especially the children, wear the bunad, which is the Norwegian national dress.



Even if you don't wear a bunad, it is absolutely verboten that you dress up in fancy clothes. The men wear suits and the women wear dresses.

The Norwegian flag



which is flown all over the place, becomes even more prevalent around this time as well.

A few of our friends in Stavanger were somewhat horrified that we would be out of the country on May 17th because it's such a big deal.

And one couple was having a party because one of the parades was marching past their house.

We were disappointed to miss it, but Husband had a meeting in Stockholm on Friday, so we decided that it was a great opportunity for me to come along for a long weekend.

Even in Stockholm many of the government building were flying the Norwegian flag alongside their own.



There was a giant celebration in one of the parks and afterward we saw several people wearing the bunad as well.

Look closely at the woman whose back is to me in the photo.

She had on the full dress and her husband had on a sharp dark suit with a Norwegian flag pin.


(Yes, I was sneaky taking the photo, but we were having an post-shopping beer in a somewhat swanky place. I just couldn't ask permission. Nice lady, if you are reading this. Thanks, you looked super in your bunad.)

But on this day, because we are not Norwegian and we were in Stockholm, we did not dress up.

I wore a blue spring dress with the requisite tights and boots.



Husband: I like it. You look like a naughty candy striper. The kind who leans over the patient and hangs their boobs in the face.

Me: Thank you

Then, because it was a slightly dreary day, I added a red scarf. It was cold and this was the only one I had with me.



So unwittingly, I did, in fact, dress with Norway in mind. Perhaps it was merely unconscious. Perhaps it was just that I liked that dress. But in any case, I had on the red and blue and it just made sense to me. And, for just a second, I felt slightly assimilated.

So I wondered it it would make sense to Husband.

Me: What do you think now? What do I look like?

Husband: Ummmmm, an elf?

What I Say When I am Tired

My friends Chris and Mindy are well traveled. They've been places all over the world, particularly Mindy, and they can talk intelligently about it.

I cannot when I am tired.

To be fair, the list of where I haven't been is much much longer than where I have, but I'm working on changing that. And I do think I have the journalist's eye for detail, so usually I'm pretty good on the storytelling front.

But on this particular night, I was exhausted, but I hadn't seen them in forever and hadn't had a good visit with them in longer than that, so I was doing my best to be positive and rally for the experience.

And this is how it went...

Since I am now the worldly expat in Europe, they asked about where Husband and I have been lately. The answers are: Skiing a bit north in Norway and traveling a bit around Scotland.

Chris knew all about Scotland, the castles and history and fighting.

I desperately wanted to tell them about Edinburgh Castle


(To be fair, we didn't feel like waiting in the line to go in, but we did admire it and read all the plaques on nearby walls...)

and the train ride south through the countryside from Aberdeen to Edinburgh


(Lovely countryside and miles of almost blooming goldenrod...)

and The Hudson, our fabulous hotel


(Go to Edinburgh, if just to stay there.)

and wandering around the city


(Gorgeous architecture everywhere)

and the brown sauce that was suggested with every single thing we ate


(Think A1 with a dash of worcestershire)

and the very best job ever


(One pound, one photo. The money goes into a little bucket labeled "Children's Leukemia Fund." I took this photo and deposited my pound. It wasn't until we were a few blocks away that it dawned on me that it was likely that "Children's Leukemia Fund" was a euphemism for "How I Stay Off the Dole Fund." Husband had already figured that out. Smart Husband.)

and haggis


(Surprisingly good...)

vs.

blood pudding...

(Unsurprisingly yuck...)

But I did not tell much of that at all, if any.

I cannot quite remember because I was semi-bleary in my sleeplessness...but I do remember that this came out of my mouth....

"I have never seen so many condom machines and so much dirty hair."

In my defense, it's true, particularly the part about the condom machines.

They were EVERYWHERE.

From the minute we got off the plane.

There was one in the airport bathroom (which will from now on be referred to as the loo since I am discussing the UK.)

They were in the pub loos. In the loos in dodgy restaurants and in swanky ones. One in the loo in the art gallery and in most of the shops.

Usually they were three for a pound with a choice between all sorts of varieties.

It got to be a joke.

No matter whether I had to use the loo or not (which who are we kidding, I always have to use the loo), I'd check the facilities for the condom machine.

And with the exception of one restaurant, which had a teeny-tiny-almost-not-quite-enough-space-to-go-in-and-close-the-door-completely loo, every single place...if there was a loo, there was a condom machine.

Seriously.


(This is one with one of the more vanilla selections. I did not have my camera on the evenings I saw the ones that included the choice of a whiskey flavored one.)

A few weeks later, back home, Husband and I were having Friday evening cocktails with some of his work people. I walked outside for a minute to visit with some of the people on the front porch.

While I was chatting on the wicker couch, I heard a Scottish burr to my left.

Recognizing a reporting opportunity when I hear one, I turned, introduced myself and after a moment or two of conversation, I mentioned that Husband and I had just spent a few days in his home country.

As many Europeans do, my new friend asked how did I find it.

This time I remembered to mention the train ride and golden rod and castles in Edinburgh.

But I also added, "What's up with all the condom machines? Do Scots just have loads more sex that anyone else?"

When he and his crew were done laughing, they confirmed that they also thought there was an overabundance of condom machines as well. And that they asccribed it to drunken wishful thinking.

I didn't ask about the dirty hair. I thought that would be rude.

Happy Easter

Norway, along with many European countries, shuts down over the Easter holidays. Stores are closed. No one goes to work. I'm pretty sure that the mail doesn't come as well.

The entire country just stops, packs up and heads out of town.

So we are too.

For the first half of the week, we're going to a friend's ski cabin. The we'll be back in Stavanger for a night.

On Wednesday of that week, we're leaving for Scotland and will spend about a day or so driving around the Highlands and then to Edinburgh for four days.

Husband wants to see the Highlands for the landscape and history.

Me, I am dying to go to Loch Ness. Yep, it will be touristy and perhaps even cheesy, but I grew up on a diet of monster stories and folklore. I soaked up everything about the Yeti and the vampires and the Frankensteins. And really for all their creepiness (and occasional murders and blood-drinking), they always seemed a little bit lonely.

One of my absolute favorites was the Loch Ness monster, Nessie, for those in the know...

Who is Nessie, you wonder???

The thought of taking a boat tour of the loch with the (yes, I know it's slim to none, but humor me for a moment, please) possibility of a sighting is too scary and delicious to even fathom.

I don't care a bit if every shop for kilometers will be hawking Nessie goods or if it's like the Disneyland of mythical creatures.

I'm lobbying to stay at the B&B overlooking the lake.

Loch Ness Clansman Hotel

Then we'll head south to spend a few days sipping on whiskey and shopping in Edinburgh.

Though, I also saw a note that Scotland may shut down for Easter as well. If so, we'll just keep driving to England.