Winter Break

I am in a bit of shock. Stuart left this morning at 6 am to begin his month long journey on El Camino de Santiago, 720 km walk from Jean Pied de Port in France to Galicia Spain. I missed him the second he walked out the door. Now I am sitting at my desk slowly sipping a class of his dry vermouth, twirling my ice wondering how I am going to manage the next month and sequential 6 months without him. I’d go as far to say that I am forgivingly upset with him. He had the nerve to come all the way to Europe, stay a whole month and spoil me rotten. Now I am expected to go back to reality, work hard and finish my degree.

No more gallivanting through wine country or visiting the coast. No more romantic dinners or scenic views… just books! He’s lucky I like my studies, or else he would have a lot of explaining to do. His family is even to blame! We spent an unbelievable holiday with Chip, Nancy and Alex in which I saw more of Madrid than I had in the entire first semester.

Bottom line: I had too much fun this winter break and now I am worried about starting my second semester of Graduate school. Lucky for me all the diversion was also cultural and highly relevant to my work. I am so glad I stayed in Spain, saw Spain, and shared a Spanish vacation with my boyfriend and his wonderful family.  

 

Stu arrived shortly after finals on December 19^th. I opened my door to a scraggly version of my boyfriend covered in hives. Even after washing all of his belongings it took us three days to identify the culprit: a pair of Chinese cashmere lined gloves gifted to him from a friend in California. Once he was rested I dragged him all over Madrid showing him my favorite sites, including the view from the top to Ciculo de Bellas Artes and the lobster in Retiro Park where Lobster Cat lives. We ate tapas, indian food and explored the eccentric neighborhoods of Chueca and Malasaña. For the holidays we dined with my friends Paige, Kata and Jackson. On Christmas Eve we cooked together, an activity I missed sharing. Even when our mushrooms proved to be nurturing maggots, I pushed through and reminded myself how much I love cooking with Stu, even when things go horribly wrong, it is always fun.

For Christmas he gave me a beautiful necklace in the style of Art Nouveau. I was very impressed with his choice and will cherish it for many years to come. Rather than brag about the slide in writing, here is a photo of it:

My presents would come later, in Granada.

On the 27^th Nancy, Chip and Alex arrived. Originally we intended to start them off with a mild walk and a stunning panoramic before allowing them to nap off the jet lag. Instead, our excitement got the best of us and we dragged them 5 or 6 miles around Madrid and to a fancy cheese shop. To our credit there were many treats and stops along the way,( outrageous pastries from the shop in Puerta del Sol on the Corner of Av. Mayor) and the promised siesta was eventually granted.

Everyone awoke refreshed and we resumed the full force introduction to Madrid with tapas at Mercado San Miguel and a Flamenco show at Casa Patas. Cooincidently, Casa Patas was the same place where Chip and Nancy had gone on their last visit to Madrid. The show was light hearted and entertaining.

Over the next few days we visited the must see spots including the always fascinating museos de Reina Sofia and the Prado. No one starved, there was plenty of gelatos, tapas, wine and large lunches. For Stuarts birthday we had a once in a lifetime experience at the Terrace restaurant of el Casino on called Alcala. The menu was designed by famous chef Ferran Adria with a fantastic molecular approach to cooking; the “liquid ham croquet” sticks out in my mind. We got dressed up all fancy like and had the best time.

 On the 30^th the Chescheirs rented a car and we took a day trip to nearby Segovia. With the liquid ham still in my stomach I had a little difficulty with the windy scenic route, but enjoyed the views none the less. In Segovia we marveled at the aqueducts and visited the Cathedral and Alcazar. For lunch we had two traditional dishes, suckling baby piglet and suckling baby lamb, both were crispy with a strong taste of innocence.

We returned to Madrid to discover a very festive scene. Between Christmas and New Years no one works, instead they wear colorful wigs and dance through the streets. A faculty member at NYU had described the phenomenon earlier in the semester, but couldn’t explain the “why” half of the tradition. We stopped to listen to some very talented musicians playing to the happy crowds passing by. I was overcome with a strong desire to join them, but never went through with acquiring a wig. I would have chosen long purple and straight, maybe next year.  None of us were in shape to make it until midnight or eat the 12 mandatory grapes with each stroke of the bell.

Instead we decided to ring in the New Year smart. We spent 2 lovely hours at the Arab baths soaking in pools and relaxing our muscles in the Turkish steam room. For dinner we avoided the crowds and the 100 euros dinner menus; we ate Indian food in Lavapies, a popular watering hole for hungry and poor NYU scholars.  Over one meal Nancy observed that this holiday was our 3^rd New Year in a row in a different location, Africa, The West Coast and Spain. Hopefully it will be a tradition to continue.

The morning of the second the alarm sounded and Stuart and I rushed out the door toward the bus station. We planned to travel for 10 days, starting with the first two day in Granada and with the last 8 up in the air. We arrived in Granada and visited the Alhambra, the palaces in its interior. I had been before, but somehow the snow on the Sierra Nevada made the place much more breathe taking.

For Stuart’s birthday I treated him to a wine tasting dinner at La Oliva, recommended by Nina, and another visit to the Arab baths. The meal was spectacular and the baths melted away all our cares.  Our host for dinner, Francisco is a charming elderly chef from Cordoba who runs tasting dinners out of his gourmet shop. He uses all local incredible ingredients. I peeked into kitech to discover he had been preforming magic making exquisite plates using only a camping style gas tank!

Madrid is wonderful and has so much to offer, but I am always presently happy to spend time in a medium size city, especially one as stunning as Granada. Language is a big factor in this, in Madrid people tend to be slightly impatient, or assume that their horrible English is better than my Spanish, without giving me the opportunity to try. Outside of Madrid I felt much more confident. For example the negative experience in the Sherry bar with Stuarts family would be far less likely outside the cluster of Madrid. Who knows, in the case of Granada it may have been the cats: sooooo many cats sunbathing without a care in the world.

With the remainder of our adventure unconfirmed we turned to our trusty Rick Steves guidebook. The logical option would be to stay in the South. But, I was without the proper paperwork to go to Morocco (thank you Spanish bureaucracy), and would prefer to return in the summer when nothing is off limits. Also, we read about Jerez: Rick highlighted two elements: sherry, which in general I find pretty gross and horses (Stu does not care for them… they kick!)

Flipping a few chapters ahead we came to Cataluña. Before I knew it we were on a night train to Barcelona, hopping in a rental car and building a fire in the woodstove of a tiny cottage in the middle of an organic olive farm. A lovely British couple, Alice and Simon rent out their property through my favorite lodgin site, Air B&B. Their 3 dogs Jack, Bobby and Boots greeted us every day at the gate, wagging their tails and chomping on olives. We went out exploring nearby towns everyday and came home at night to cook dinner and drink delicious! delicious! delicious! Cava.  Our hosts supplied us with olive oil, almonds and homemade jam. I could have stayed much longer.

On the first day driving out of Barcelona we drove to Pendes region, home of Cava. We stopped in the small town of Sant Sadurni d Anoia where the wonderful people at the tourist information center helped us plan our day. With the continuation of Spanish Christmasing not many wineries were open, but we were able to confirm a visit with Rovelletas.

We walked around the town stopping at a wine making store and a local bar which served delicious! Delicious! Delicious! Cava by the glass. Stuart picked up a bookon viticulture and I bought a few bottles to have during the week at the cottage. Catalunya is separate from Spain, they have their own history, identity, language and independent style. During the 20^th century the Modernistas constructed many incredible buildings, some of my favorite architecture comes from this time period. I marveled at the stain glass and stopped to wish I had a better camera to capture all the wonderful forms.

At the winery, which turned out to be a giant estate with 11 century ruins, 15^th century structures a chapel from the 1900s and an enormous 1km underground cellar with 6 wings of sparkling wine. The area is hurting economically, everything seems to be in disrepair. Our host drove all the way from Barcelona to open the winery and give Stuart and I a private tour. In the basement we noted the disturbing effects of the moisture and questionable housekeeping decisions of the estate. At the end we sampled two cavas, a grand reserve and a sparking dry rose.

The second day we headed to Priorat, famous for hearty red wines. Nestled between two rivers we wound our way up a mountain stopping at about 6 different medieval towns. Each were very quiet on account of the holidays, but we managed to find one wine shop open in Torroja de Porrera. The portly shop owner with bushy tufts sprouting from his ears told us all about his wines and the history of the village. According to him Toroja was unique in that the Moors built it above the level of the river, using wells to supply water for their mountainous fortress. We purchased two bottles of wine, which were excellent

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Over the next few days we hopped around to more medieval towns and coastal villages.  My favorite, Tortosta, was a surprise. We had stopped only to find an internet café and wound up spending the whole day walking around and staring at beautiful and empty buildings. At one point we had an entire castle to ourselves. I kept asking “how?” it all seemed impossible and too good to be true. The market, the bridge with large fish sunning themselves, the shell of a gothic church, a stain glass tour: all beautiful and all slightly in decay.

On the last day Simon recommended the town and castle of Miravet. We entered the name into our GPS and drove for 10 minutes before we were abruptly instructed to turn left and “board ferry”. To get to the town we had to take a rickety ferry across a stream, no motor, driven only by ropes the current and a ruder. Only in Spain!

 For dinner we tested out Simon and Alison’s paella pan. Stuart butchered and rabbit capturing the attention of the dog. We ushered them out of the house until we were finished cooking.

The dish turned out amazing, but in my engagement with the television watching Bollywood music videos I accidently swallowed a sizeable rabbit bone… At 10pm we heard a faint “woof” outside the door, the dogs reminded us of our promise and we gave them their rabbit treats.

Leaving was sad, but we were ready to get back to my apartment and wash our clothes. We drove back to Madrid passing through Turell. The rental was returned unscathed. At home we relaxed and had a curious dinner of Kraft Mac and Cheese paired with gin and tonics.

Our last week together went by way to fast. Stuart and finished the tv series of Game of Thrones and spent time enjoying Madrid. On Friday I introduced him to a few of my friends from NYU, and had him lead us in a very educational wine tasting with all the wines we had collected on our journeys. Like every time we travel, Stu and I have a great time. We were lucky to have such a great month together. Tomorrow morning will be a shock for both of us; I dive back into a full course load and Stuart completes the most difficult leg of his trek, equivalent to a Marathon!