Trisha Ray - Log of a Travel Artist: Spain

Showing posts with label Spain. Show all posts

Lanzarote Living - Winter in the Canary Islands

We're in the Canary Islands.

On the island of Lanzarote.

Out in the Atlantic Ocean.

Off the coast of Western Sahara.

Somewhere southwest of Morocco.

Grapevines are planted in those stone circles. To protect them from the winds.

Politically, the Canary Islands are part of Spain.
Geographically, they're part of Africa.

Columbus used one of these islands when he set sail for America.

Created by volcanoes.
Lots of them. Again and again.

It's pretty wild.

The beaches are black sand.

Plants resemble Dr. Seuss paintings.

And - the cactus-?

Cacti seem to thrive on the lava.

They're really surprisingly bizarre plants.

Plus, there are random volcanic islands strewn about the place.

This is the view from our rented house.

It's extreme - inspiring.

Awfully quiet, too.

Good for drawing and painting.

Meanwhile, this is the scene back in New Mexico.

Kilian and friends - skiing in Taos.
Or at least trying.

Here in the Canary Islands, no snow. A little windy.

It makes sense.

I mean - we ARE somewhere out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

The winds have a chance to gather speed - starting from about Bermuda.

-No wonder there aren't many trees.

Days are spent taking long walks along the coast.

Eating fresh seafood.

Cool white towns with a smattering of odd nationalities running good restaurants.

We talked to Italians, Brazilians (Brazil is closer than you'd think-) and Polynesian French.

It's an international community.

We rented 3 different places while there. This one was our favorite. Cheerful, easy and it overlooked the beach.

The best part: cool hiking trails.
Right along the beach, on the lava rocks.

Past tide pools - waves - and cactus plants.

Not my fault! Not my boat!

Turns out the Canary Islands were named by the ancient Romans.
Canaria - from the Latin word for dog.

Not for the cute little birds.
Oh well.

This winter, we've been in the Canary Islands (1 month),
Morocco (6 weeks) and Portugal (1 month).

While in Morocco, we spent a month in Essaouira.

Then, after almost a month, we're off again.

Binter Canarias Airways to Casablanca.

I hadn't heard of this airline before.
They weighed us each before we boarded. And our luggage.

It's a small airline. Small plane.

Life in Lavaland.

-Even without the canary birds.

Three Odd Episodes in Spain

Adventure #1:

The Case of the Unpopular Rental

My first house in Spain became a rental house, since I wasn’t there often.

I had a local rental agent. It was in the town of Nerja, on the Costa del Sol.

The house was cute—beautiful views of the ocean, and the town was growing.

But as a rental, it really didn’t seem to be doing well.

The agent said it wasn’t a popular place to rent.
Every time I told him I was coming down to visit, the place stood empty.
(This was long before the internet or AirBnb.)

One time, without mentioning I was coming, I just flew down from my home in Switzerland for a weekend. I knew it wouldn’t be a problem, since no one ever rented the place anyway. I took my key and opened the door. A shirtless man with a beer in his hand answered.

“Who are you?” he asked, somewhat annoyed.
“Who are YOU?” I asked.

Well, it turns out the place was wildly popular, always full and always rented.
And I never received any of the money.

So much for my first rental experience.

PS: Yes, I did make a fuss.

Yes, I did get some of the money back, after threatening to tell the story to the local newspaper.

But - that was the END of renting it!

Adventure #2:

José Sanchez and the Stolen Toilet

During construction of that same small villa in Andalucia, I felt that the downstairs bathroom was awfully cramped. I mentioned it to the builder, José Sanchez, who didn’t seem to pay much attention. But my Spanish wasn't very good, so I thought maybe he didn't understand me.

The next day, I went into the house - and the bathroom seemed so much roomier!
- I couldn’t figure out how he had managed it - and so quickly!

Then I looked again.

It was only bigger because the toilet had been stolen.

My Spanish motorino - it worked - sometimes.

Adventure #3:

Impromptu Concert in Granada

We found a small guitar shop in the back streets of Granada.

They made their own guitars—Spanish guitars.

Stan picked one up and played a few notes.

The woman who owned the shop stopped what she was doing and disappeared.

She brought out another guitar, and carefully handed it to Stan.

A special guitar.

Stan played.

Soon, the whole shop was filled with people—other shopkeepers, neighbors, family—and two random Japanese tourists, all listening to Stan play. Some danced, some clapped in time.

Truly appreciating the music. One of those moments in travel when you KNOW- it's magic.

- The Japanese visitors probably thought this happened every day.

The Balcón de Europa in Nerja.

I had that villa in Nerja for about 20 years. 1980 - 2000, more or less.

In the early days, it was all farmland. Tomatoes, mostly. Donkeys carried the sacks to and from the village market. Roosters woke us in the mornings. The fishermen repaired their nets by the side of their painted wooden boats. The old women dressed in black, head to toe. No one spoke English. Life was slow.

Who would have thought that everything would become so popular, so modern, so international?

Everyone keeps telling us that - things change.

But - we don't really understand it - until it happens to us.

Between the Mediterranean and the Pyrenees: Collioure & Catalonia

Where we live in France is WAY south.

In fact, it's very close to Spain.

Just a couple hours from here to Barcelona.

I never knew that the Pyrenees are SO close to the Mediterranean.

You can see both the Pyrenees AND the Mediterranean.
From a small hilltop in our French village.

We had enough winter.
So we left the boat in the rain.

Headed south.

There's a tiny corner of the world.
In France and Spain.

Between the Pyrenees and the Mediterranean.

Catalonia.

Stan on the hunt for morning coffee.

Catalunya, in Catalan.

Some say it means "Land of Castles".

I like that.

At one point in history, it was all part of France.

Now, they're seeking change.
Catalan independence?

The issue is still contentious.

But Catalonia is not only part of Spain.

There's French Catalonia, too.

It stretches across the Pyrenees.

Catalonia - in Spain or in France - is beautiful.

Look at that light - no wonder it attracts artistic types.

They speak Catalan.
Similar to the old language in our area, Occitan.

Just as unfamiliar.

In Spain, signs and menus are in often in Catalan.

In France, everything must be in French.
It helps unite the country.
France used to be a fractious assembly of diverse regions and languages.
Not all that long ago.

But - it's still snowing in the Pyrenees.
They're surprisingly serious mountains.

So we head to the coast.

To Collioure, just north of the Spanish border.