When I was younger and visited someplace compelling, I would mentally make a note to return one day for more exploring. But I am at a point in my life now where it’s more likely this will be my last trip to Southern Spain. Perhaps one more trip to Barcelona.
The guest lounge at Madrid Airport is full of all nationalities. Chinese, Spanish, Israelis, Turks, British and a few Americans. All going where we go while our governments debate the future of Europe’s security. It’s pretty rare for me to read a physical newspaper these days, but I skimmed the Financial Times this morning over coffee and pastry. There was a time, not so many years ago, when I would schlep through the airport with the International Times, The Economist and Financial Times tucked under my arm. I sorta miss the feel of the papers. The formality of the process of pen to paper to formatting to a massive press and a delivery truck and then a hand cart to the lounges and newstands.
Time moves slowly in southern Europe. And so did we. And that seems right. Each time I’m here, I’m reminded of how natural this pace feels. But back in America, I will immediately get sucked into the vortex of frenetic chaos that is common to our way of life.
We slept in most mornings until 8:00 or so. Or, in my case, getting up off the couch I shared with Bear the dog. I was meant to share a bedroom with Shane but he’s take on a habit of snoring and so I moved out to share the couch with my new best friend. It suited me fine.
We lounged in the early mornings — sitting in the sun on the deck with coffee until 9:30 when we would take the dog for a stroll. Around 10:30 was breakfast of bread, croissants, Spanish and Italian thinly sliced jamon and salami, avocado, yogurt, and cheese. Sometimes Onah fried a few eggs with tomatoes and peppers. We had more coffee. The sun was delicious. Warming, but still soft in this winter month.
By noon we headed out for an adventure. One day a long hike over the mountains to a small village further up the coast. Friday we hiked the hill up to an old church and beautiful courtyard in Altea. We stopped for coffee at whatever sidewalk cafe looked appealing. Later, after more walking, we stopped again. This time for beer. Sometimes a cigar if we felt like it. Onah stayed behind on the beach with a book — letting us men get on with our own bad selves and our foolishness.
We only took lunch, which then served as our only after noon meal, around 4:00 or so. In Altea, we sat in a lovely seaside cafe and had tapas, croquettes, mussels, and seafood paella.
The weather was perfect. Mid 60’s during the day and cooling to high 40’s at night. The sun shined on us all day every day.
Also in Altea, in the beautiful courtyard there, we met an old Norwegian painter. He has a lovely basement studio but it’s cold so he was up in the courtyard for a cigarette and to warm in the sun like a grizzled old iguana. I wandered down to his studio and bought a couple of his pieces. They are quaint. Not great but nice. Only 65 Euros for two custom canvases. It’s the place and setting that makes it special. The experience of meeting someone new and interesting. He seemed like a man with some good stories to tell. Times before he said he was a ski instructor in the Alps. Who knows what other gems he has hidden in his past that would be fun to hear over a beer or two.
Friday night, when we returned from Altea, we slipped around the corner to a beachfront bar called New York Tres where I was able to coach the waiter on how to make a martini. They dusted off the one martini glass they had and I kept my streak alive. Shane and Sjoerd each had a whiskey. So FNMs continue.
Saturday we drove to Finestrat, another local mountain town for yet another long lazy stroll followed by beers in the sunshine. This village was my favorite. Beautiful little place, quaint with outside staircases going up and down and around and every which way. Narrow cobblestone streets and very old stone homes remodeled many times over now but still retaining the essence of their origins. There is a curious statue at the top of the hill that looks very much like a large hand rolling a joint. As they say, art is in the eye of the beholder.
After exploring the town, we had beers at a sunlit cafe and chit-chatted and people-watched. We find ourselves hilarious but it seems likely no one else would. There were a lot of bikers who had stopped for a bite and a beer after their rides. We admired the expensive bikes, and as always, the parade of dogs going by. Since it was our last full day, we lounged a bit longer than usual — unwilling to accept that our trip was nearly over.
Before we left on Saturday, when everyone else went to the market, I escaped for a stroll and another coffee and a quiet place to read and think a bit. Time alone is not just nice — it’s necessary. Doesn’t have to be much. An hour here and there works. After a coffee downbeach, I wound up at a Ukrainian cafe called Cafe Sofi. I’ve put the password in the photos section in case anyone needs it. I visited the bakery below the apartment and bought chocolate mousse and strawberry tarts for desert.
Onah cooked about half our meals. She is a more accomplished cook than just about any restaurant one is likely to stumble into. She made noodles and chicken and monkfish and potatoes and rice and eggs and veggies stir fried in Hunan sauce with peppers and fish sauce and a little soy. Her usual way with food that seems so easy but from her hand is always marvelous.
It was good to see Sjoerd and Onah — we’ve been meeting around the world on these kinds of trips for more than 25 years now. We’ve met in Chicago, Mexico, Vegas, San Francisco, Ohio, Idaho, Utah, New Orleans, Holland, all over Germany, Italy, Spain, Paris and Cannes and I don’t even remember where else. Later this year we will go to Alaska to fish. Next year we are thinking Romania and Singapore and Oktoberfest in Munich.
In years past, Sjoerd and I argued over nuances in social and economic policy. We are generally aligned on the bigger issues, but differ on more minor points and so we normally argue to convince each other of the validity of our respective viewpoints. Like an old married couple I would say.
There is no nuance in the current political debate. It is open warfare against MAGA and we are all concerned about the damage being done to lives and families over the miscreants currently running our government. It seems almost impossible to have a conversation that doesn’t bring us back to this horrific new development of Trump, Vance, Musk and a host of other ignorant and villainous man-boys pretending to be all grown up. We wonder what the EU will do to counter the grave situation evolving in Ukraine. Trump is massively unpredictable and tends to fawn over dictators like a young wife over her handsome new husband. EU and Nato needs to react very quickly to provide balance. In the best case scenario, it seems a sort of new cold way is likely to take hold and sharpen. In the worst case, Europe goes to war with Russia to protect Ukraine and signal that dictators and land grabs cannot be tolerated in the modern era.
Meanwhile, we’ve got Trump espousing about planting a US flag in Gaza and Greenland and Canada and Panama Canal. The man is a menace. A dangerous, ridiculous, childish menace.
Will China see this new chaos as the perfect time to grab Taiwan?
It’s a heavy pendulum swinging out over very uncertain waters and we have only moronic idiots to steer our ship.
Alas, we strive to continue to delight in the world the best we can. Good meals, long strolls, cold beer, hot coffee, nice mountain and sea views and people-watching. We wait and we watch and we hope that best case scenarios emerge.
Sunday morning we ate more quickly and had only one coffee. Then we drove to Alicante and had a long lazy lunch on the plaza blvd by the harbor. We admired all the handsome dogs parading around while out for a Sunday stroll.
Shane and I took the 2:30 train to Madrid. The landscape in this part of the world goes from brownish desert-scape to green agriculture and vineyards. Wide open with only a few trees here and there. Mostly olive, orange, and almond trees. I think our train ran around 185kmh or thereabouts. Massive windmills sit atop the ridges, providing clean energy.
I finished reading Nickel Boys on the train and am now bookless for the flight home.
It was a successful trip. Only 5 days in-country but enough for a mid-winter break. Time now to get back home to Brittany and Marti and the new job. There is work to do.
The next few weeks are busy again with travel. Tampa next week for work, possibly a very short trip to Boston to welcome Andris from Oxford to the engineering conference at MIT, and then to New Orleans for a few days just for the hell of it.
No other news of note.
Humbly submitted
Rob Myres, Flanker – Portneuf Valley Rugby Football Club (ret.)
The Martini Tales 