Oliver Orion

Glutonería Sevillana, Arcos de Lujo (cojeando), y los mosquitos de Cádiz.

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 05:15:13 -0800

I imagine that at the moment I completed the last post from a cafe in the alameda de Hércules, the guy in the music shop down the street, where I'd hoped to complete my mission with the purchase of a new Roland Micro Cube RX stereo portable guitar amplifier in color Red, had probably just pulled down the metal cage and wandered off to his favorite Saturday afternoon caña spot. Horarios españoles. I realized that nothing would be open Sunday and that I would have to buy the amp of dreams on Monday in Cádiz or elsewhere and spend another day in Spain. Good news, mostly, though not completely because my mound of euros was slowly being dwindled away by a bocadillo here, a caña de chocolate there, a café con leche and/or cervecita in every barrio. But I didn't worry too much because according to Tangier buddies, I could stay in "Camas," a nasty little bare bones hostal, where I expected to pay not more than 15 euros a night. Well, I spent the remainder of my afternoon in Sevilla doing more wandering. In a little alley near el Corte Inglés, I found a Galician restaurant and dug in deep. Un tapita buena de Oreja de cerdo, no joda. I have a photo of that one. A very high quality ensalada rusa (in yer face, alex). Una caña, una copita de Jerez, y un plato típico de Galicia lacón con grelos (some part of a pig with chorizo, potatoes and spinach). Así es la glutonería.

Definitely needed a walk after that meal, so I walked to Plaza Nueva and followed the trolley line past a photo exhibition about the CERN collider (can't get enough of those photos), and found my way to the bus station where the Amarillos-Comes depart. Next bus to Cádiz was still an hour an a half away, so instead I got on the bus to Arcos that departed in fifteen. We left just at dusk so by the time we got past the endless shopping centers of Dos Hermanas and out to the farmlands it was dark. Even at night, the landscapes were incredible and reminded me a lot of the Palouse landscape outside Walla Walla. We passed through a Espera, one of the pueblos blancos that still has a moorish castle on top of the hill. Completely amazing. Architectural lighting will do that. Very sleepy looking place, but very nice. Then Burgos, a bit rougher round the edges, not really that interesting from the windows of the bus. Then Arcos. As I walked from the bus station up to main drag to find a hotel, a few guys speaking in that lovely unintelligible andalucian grumble remarked that I looked like a Moor headed for the mezquita (I was wearing my wool scullcap from Chaouen, so warm but so coarse). They got a kick out of it, but then I wondered what how crummy it must be to actually be Moroccan out in these pueblos. "Yeah, I can kick your ass fer ya."

The old hotels were expensive in Arcos, but I kept walking around until I found a great spot called Los Olivos where the clerk cut me an off-season deal on a little bitty single room with a tiny little terrace where I could look out to the dark wheat fields outside of town and watch the flickering lights of windmills over the hills but still in front of even darker mountains in the distance. I took a nice nighttime walk through the part of the old town around the cathedral, which has these gothic buttresses connected it to the houses around it (maybe the arches the town is named for?) that by night are stunning. Nothing much was going on Saturday night in Arcos (at least in the old town) so I went back to the hotel and look photos from the rooftop of the hotel and enjoyed the view of the town. The room had wifi and tv so I totally junked out! I watched most of Kill Bill dubbed into Spanish and checked on hotels and shops in Cádiz. I was excited to see the town in morning light so I only slept five hours, but I woke up to a full-on downpour that inspired me to keep that Wifi free-flowing. When the rain died down, I went downstairs to get a coffee, pay the bill, and vamoooose, feeling like I had somehow gotten away with something, after thoroughly enjoying the creature comforts of that hotel. As I walked up to the cathedral again, I realized that my right knee was doing the sharp meniscus pain thing again, so I didn't push it too far, but I saw the other side of the old town, the other two churches, a few of the miradores, and sunday morning lull. Saw a car advertising a real estate enterprise "movetothesun.org.uk". Arcos is pretty amazing, you'll have to check the photos I'll post when I get home.

Anyway, the rain pick up again just before I got on the afternoon bus to Cádiz. I hadn't really written down any directions from the bus station to the hostals and the bus arrived at the Renfe station instead of the bus station down by the cruise ship dock, and it was still raining, so I ducked from palm tree to portico till I got into the narrow streets. Although, I hadn't been able to find any information for a hostal called "Camas" I randomly walked straight to it. It's actually called Pensión Comercio but the sign out front does plainly read "camas" and, after a gruff little man gave me the tour, I can say with confidence that it is as humble and crummy as I had imagined, only more expensive (20 euros for a single). I did a little tour of the other hotels in the neighborhood but they were all over 30/night, so I came back. Someone else checked me in and asked if the price had already been established. I grumbled "well, he told me 20" but didn't have the guts to push for a better deal. Given the conditions, I certainly should have. It had the look of a tuberculosis sanitarium with tiny windowless rooms fronted by fragile white doors, each with a dirty little sink inside, bare light bulbs, and mysterious earth-tone smears on the whitewashed walls. The available room was Number 11, of course, which opened with a funny old fashioned brass key. I set down my stuff and took a siesta, then I got up for walk that was even more painful than the morning stroll, so I didn't stay out long. Plus, I had found some information about a sunday flamenco concert but when I checked it had ended as dusk and I had no idea where it was anyway. I was going to head out again just to not be a wimp on my last night in Spain but I decided against it and got some reading done. I bought a first edition of Crónica de una Muerte Anuniciada from a street book fair in Sevilla on Friday night, but I hadn't really dug into it. I still have to read with the dictionary close by but I was able to plow through the first 50 pages before turning out the light. As soon as the room got dark, the mosquitoes descended. At first I though it was going to be one pesky mosquito and when I finally got one after an hour of rolling around and batting at my ears, I thought that would be the end of it, but he had friends and family up there on the ceiling and they just kept coming. I think I got three, but the onslaught never ended. I don't really mind getting bit, but it's infuriating to have them buzz into your ears or nose just at the cusp of sleep. Oh, given the conditions of the place, I felt justified in the use of little down summer sleeping bag, so I spent much of the night huddled inside trying to find a mix of fresh, mosquito free air. I was thinking of how long those mosquitoes must have been in there waiting for their next meal. I was wondering what the lifespan of a mosquito was as I tossed and turned last night, so I looked it up. Females live from 3 to 100 days (what a crazy range, right?) and males from 10 to 20. There you go. Resilient little monsters.

Anyway, must have slept a bit, because I don't feel too horrible today. Woke up at 8 and took a walk around the point to the Faro, out halfway to the end, through the neighborhoods around there (where I saw a few more anuncios for flamenco events that I might have seen had I been in Cádiz on friday or saturday, but that were completing unknown to the internet. Walked till 10 and then circled back to the music shop where they had no Roland Micro Cube RX's! They did however have the less-expensive older version with only one speaker. So I got that instead. "Mission accomplished." That's probably good because after buying one I would have probably had to panhandle (or busk a capella?) a few euros to make the bus fare to Tarifa. I'd been avoiding buying a coffee or a bottle of water or eating today just in case I was short. Now I'm good to go. Jamón for the road? Yes, please. I wonder if any Spaniard has tried to huck an entire leg across on the ferry. "Que? Está es mi zona!"

OK. Must find the fried fish, the bus, the ferry, and the balls to the pull off the best Moroccan Christmas pageant ever in 12 school days.

Seville 1st Round

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 05:23:13 -0800

Arrived at the bus station an hour or so before dusk and walked till I found a little pensión in a side-street a bit north of the center called Torregrosa, i think. Single bed in a closet with a balcony that overlooks an alley with nothing and a cute little terraza with no view, either. I dropped off my stuff and hit the streets until midnight (I know that's when the night begins in Spain, but I couldn't go on after all the walking I did. Made it over to Triana and walked all over the place. I found a freiduría(sp?) de pescado and bought a 1/4 each of gambas and huevas. The gambas had just come out and were spectacular. The huevas were kind of weird and not as fresh, but definitely interesting. The looked pretty much exactly like this: large photo of fried fish eggs . My body is rebelling against me: back, knees, and hips totally sore. I realize that long walks are my favorite pastime still, so I must figure out how to prevent this crap from happening. Old man. The pensión was pretty vacant but the latinos who were there in the room adjacent to mine were hilariously loud and typical. It's been so long since I heard a tone deaf person try to belt out Selena lyrics over a distorting computer speaker. There is something kind of awesome about someone with almost no capacity for pitch giving it their all. After a nice rest, I felt good enough to do another long walk through the macarena where I found some discount hilarious disfraces del pastor that I can convert into sheep costumes for the Christmas show. No luck so far on camel costumes. After that I walked over to the isla de la Cartuja across an amazing bridge. Flickr will assist me later in communicating just how awesome was this bridge. Now I just need to find the amp and a bus to Cádiz (or maybe Arcos???) for tonight. Sevilla is really nice and perhaps I should spend another day here, but I feel like more movement is what I want right now and since my body isn't cooperating with my desire to get lost in every street in Sevilla, I guess I'll let the bus do the work. Lisboa, still so far? Meh.

Estoy de vacaciones, homies.

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 05:38:40 -0800

Dude. The boat trip across the Strait was even more transformational than I expected. The view of Tangier from the water is spectacular and completely distinct from the reality of being inside that web of structures and people. "You are a house of many rooms," Tanja. Yesterday was cold with the consistent light rain of winter and today is gorgeous, which made the passage even better. Saw a nice looking 30'-40' sailboat beating along the northern edge of the strait, out to sea and who knows where. Made me really want a boat. I really wonder how long the trip to Tarifa would be and how fast of a boat I would need to make it practical. I don't think I'd want to be drifting out there after dark playing in that current. Anyway, a potential. One of my 1st grade students was on the boat, too, and we waved at each other as we went through customs. They stopped me and a soldier took my passport and walked off somewhere for a few minutes. I suppose solo travelers are suspect or who knows. Anyway, no worries. Got out and made my way through the medina of old town tarifa along the old walls of the city, up to the avenida where the bus stop is. One hour behind, the Cádiz bus left as soon as I'd arrived at port. No worries. Going to take the next Sevilla bus and check out that town. Alex and I passed through on the bus to Granada, but we didn't get off. So I'll explore a bit and then decide to stay or either head down to Cádiz or Jerez. Again, I'm too late to get to the equestrian or flamenco museos in Jerez, since they're only open weekdays during the day. Insane los horarios españoles son. Other than relaxation (now in full progress after inhaling my first bocadillo de jamón serrano y tomate raillado) my mission is to buy a small guitar amp, the Roland Micro Cube RX in anticipation of the Xmas show and (hopefully) the UK tour in April. I would really love to find places to play in Spain. It would be amazing to come up and do gigs here sometimes. Just get paid enough to pay for the ferry and I'd be happy. At first, I didn't really get Alex's Spain obsession. I mean the food seemed plain (when we could find anything at all), everything was closed all the time, and we ambled through countless streets trying to find the scene. Anyway, I'm a believer. Although it completes exposes my inner bourgeois nature, Spain is awesome. What a satisfying, complimentary balancing act one can do between here and Marruecos. So similar, so different.

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Larache

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Alan puckers, Jason poses

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