In which I sniff at the bus system

Spain is lovely.  So far, our experience has been full of sunshine and siestas and wine and tapas and all the things that Spain is generally known for.  Rainbows and butterflies.

Except for one thing.

*dun dun duuuuun*

The bus system.

Can we please talk about the bus system for a minute?  The bus system is from Hades.  This bus system is the stuff of nightmares, engendering the kind of confusion that makes small children cry.  It is all-powerful and goes everywhere and does everything, but it is next to impossible to figure out.

The lines are color-coordinated, which makes sense.  And they are labeled with numbers, which also makes sense.  But the thing that kills me is that there are no stops listed on any of the maps. You get to know the general route of your line, but you have no prior indication where any of the stops actually are.

As if that weren't enough, there is no one bus stop at each location.  There are bus stops. With an "s".  So if you know that you need to catch the bus by the park, the entire block of streets near the park will be lined with a dozen bus stops, on both sides of the street.  Each stop has a few lines assigned to it, and there is not a map that shows where to catch which bus at which stop.

Are you confused yet?

Me, I think it is some kind of diabolical plan.  I don't know who is responsible, but I am suspicious of everyone I see.

I could take a nap right here in this park in fact.

So you know how when people hear "Spain" they usually think of bullfights, flamenco, and siestas?

Well I'll have to report back on the others, but let me tell you, siesta is a force of nature here.  A force of nature.

Here is what I mean:  the first days we were here, we walked around calling people's numbers listed on "for rent" signs taped to apartment windows.  No one answered from 2-5. Oops. Siesta.

Next few days we were here: needed to go to the bank. In the afternoon. Nope. Siesta.

Again: Needed to stand in line at the consulate line for our resident alien papers.  Uh uh. Siesta.

Today: need another copy of the apartment gate key. I think not until later, señorita.  Es la siesta.

I've heard people scoff that the notion of the Spanish siesta, like British tea time or American Sunday brunch, is a romantic old-fashioned tradition that petered out of daily practice in the last generation.

Well, I defy those people to get their little prophesying fannies to Spain and try to run errands between 2-5.

And while they do that, I shall be taking a nap.

After all - it is siesta!

I now have Chinese takeout AND internet

    
.....I am proud to announce that I am posting this from my very own internet connection at my new Spanish apartment!  *cue orchestra crashing into celebratory tunes* *cue HUGE sigh of relief*

Looking for an apartment in Spain is, to be perfectly honest, about three levels of Spanish fluency above my own.  We are awfully lucky that we didn't end up accidentally telling someone that we would like to rent their one-bedroom spotted giraffe.

But, here we are! And I will come back tomorrow with some more stories, because boy, this has been an adventure so far.  But I know that what you really want to see right now are pictures anyway, so here are a few of the new 'hood.

All of these were taken within a five-minute walk of the new casa.

These are our new Roman ruins.  Lovely during the day - luminous and gorgeous when lit up at night.

Gardens

So dang European.

Tropical flowers left and right

First day at our beach

Heavenly

"Are you sure you want to come in? It's coooooold"

"BRRRRRR"

Back tomorrow!

It appears that we will not have to move into a cardboard box

Ole! I think - emphasis on think - that we found a place!  It's a teensy little studio, but it is inexpensive and happens to be about 50 yards away from the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.

Sí, we said, we shall take it!

Only we said that in Spanish, so the possibility for some grave misunderstanding is high.

Honestly, my Spanish is entirely inadequate for this task.  I know enough to make myself understood, but any question unleashes flowing rivers of Spanish from the other side of the phone that drown me in beautiful meaningless syllables.

But we've managed fairly well despite the odds and I think I know about twenty five more Spanish words than I did yesterday, which is certainly progress!

Next step: learning to navigate the bus system.

Still moving and shaking

Pretty much every ounce of energy (and limited internet time) is devoted right now to finding an apartment, so once we get into a place (hopefully in the next day or two?) (cross your fingers for us), then posts (and pictures!) will be back to their regularly scheduled programming.

But for now I will just say that Spain is lovely, that Spanish people are so friendly but they speak much too fast and use too many words that I don't know, and that my feet are not yet used to European-style walking.

And that the Mediterranean is sparkling and beautiful but very cold.

Aqui!

Really here!

Soon I will have to tell you about our new taxi driver BFF, why helpful ladies at the airport aren't always helpful so much as diabolical, and how it felt to lug three hundred pounds of luggage uphill, over cobblestones, in the rain.

Oh, and how we slept for 15 hours straight last night. And how I woke up this morning (househunting day) with a cold.

Soon.

Today is the day we move to Spain

And we're off!

See you on the flip side!

Simultaneously an end and a beginning

Tonight is my last night in the States for awhile.  It feels quiet, like the hush before dawn, and a little bit sad.

Sad, because of all the goodbyes recently, the tight hugs and the tears and the achy feeling when you walk in the other direction.  I'll miss my family the most because they are in my bones and a part of me in a way that calls me home.  But I'm grateful to realize just how many friends in Phoenix have wormed their way into our hearts, and from whom it's particularly grieving to part.  I'll miss them greatly.

Then there are the frivolous things that become less frivolous when you're away.  I'll miss the marriage of popcorn and movie theaters, peanut butter and jelly, sour cream and salsa, flag-shaped cakes and the 4th of July.  I'll miss the freedom of driving, and I'll miss the easy flow of English and the inside jokes of friends who have known you a while.

Tomorrow is a day for new beginnings, and the morning brings with it a trip to the airport and a flight that will carry us to a new era of life.

Tomorrow will be exciting, and there is so much to look forward to in our new Spanish life.  But tonight I get to look back.  And I have to say - United States of America and all that is within, I will miss you.

Sights of Maryland

Rows upon rows of crabcakes.

Mmmmmmmmm.

In Which I Geek Out

So yesterday was my birthday.  The Mister whisked me down to DC, in a sweet chariot called "the DC metro", and took me to lunch at an awesome little Italian place in Chinatown.  The pasta was handmade and so delicious.

Then, we went to the National Museum of American History.  I tend to really, really geek out around museums.  I love them so much that I once spent a summer interning in Death Valley because it involved working in a museum (let me repeat: summer. Death Valley.).

And the crown jewel of the entire Smithsonian is, in my humble opinion (not! If you say another museum is better I will fight you) the National Museum of American History.  Did I mention that I also interned at this particular museum for six months when I was in college? I did. I got to wander around on my lunch break and see the attics of this museum - Seinfeld's puffy shirt, the original Kermit the Frog, C3PO, the star-spangled banner.  I get tingles thinking about it.

Anyway, The Mister is a smart man and knew that this would make my day - and it did.  We took the metro through my old commute, walked along the mall and through the city, weaving our way around the monuments.  It was a beautiful fall day - and a perfect day for celebration.

My old stomping grounds - this is the view from where I used to work.

Naptown, for realsies

I almost don't want to tell you this, because you will almost certainly make fun of me, but when I was in high school in Maryland, we referred to Annapolis as "Naptown".  NAPTOWN.  As if we were gangsta or something, with our popped collars and pink and white polka dot hair ribbons.  I mean seriously, is there a preppier place on earth than Annapolis, Maryland?

But, it's where I grew up (mostly) and you just can't deny your roots.  This morning The Mister and I grabbed the mama-in-law and headed downtown to the old stomping grounds - we had been in town almost 18 hours and had yet to eat anything crab-related.  And if you're from this town, that simply won't do.  So we went to the docks, got pre-birthday cupcakes from Nostalgia Cupcakes, and ate crab dip and crab soup at Chick 'N' Ruth's Delly, which also holds the distinction as being the first date site of The Mister and I.  Magic happens in there, obviously.

The day was beautiful - 70ish degrees and sunny (don't hate me, Arizona peeps - I love you!) - and I also got to meet up with some college besties for an outdoor lunch.  Overall, a lovely day.

I may or may not have maaaany memories of eating ice cream cones from this very shop, back when The Mister was, like, soooo cool because he had his driver's license and could take us down there HIMSELF.

Donut Love and Airplanes

One of the best parts of staying at my mom's house?

Fresh homemade donuts for breakfast.



Traveling to Maryland today for Part I of our eastward journey - crab cakes or bust!

Countdown to Spain: 6 days!

A Thanksgiving Birthday

Last night was my early birthday dinner with my family.  My birthday isn't until next weekend, but I'll be gone from the desert at that time.  Since I will be missing Thanksgiving and Christmas this year in addition to my birthday, I requested that my birthday dinner be a holiday feast!  I love holiday food and always think it's a shame that it's all lumped up on one side of the year. I think we should have at least one holiday a month that necessitates a whole turkey.

We had turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, and Mom's famous pumpkin cheesecake (only she couldn't find pumpkin in September after visiting three separate stores, so it became sweet potato cheesecake, which was surprisingly completely awesome).

Sweet potato casserole, I will miss you

Can you make green bean casserole in Spain?

Jellied cranberry sauce with the can lines still in it - an ironic Thanksgiving classic at our house.  We always have the fancy kind of cranberries on standby, but everyone just eats this instead

The dog thinks it's HER birthday feast

Turning in the keys

Today is official move-out day!  From here we will spend a few days at my parents, a few days out east with family, and then - España one week from today!

All said and done,  we got our whole life down to three big suitcases, two small ones, and a few boxes.  That may sound like fun, but I assure you it was not. (Kidding. It doesn't even sound fun, does it?)

But - almost there!

Yard Sale

This weekend our friends Fred and Andrea were having a yard sale.  We had heaps of things intended for the donation pile, so the timing worked out perfectly for us to stop by for a few hours and try one last time to see if anyone else actually wanted to give us money for any of our stuff.

As always with yard sales, it somehow worked!

Favorite item that someone actually bought: A five-gallon bottle of Windex (thanks Costco) that was only about a quarter depleted after I've owned it for three years. (I hope for their sake that they have an entire house of glass.)

Favorite item that nobody bought:  Andrea's  yellow bowl that looked just like sunshine.  I loved it, and would have taken it home in a heartbeat if I had a functioning kitchen, apartment or pantry. Which I don't.

Best dressed:  Andrea, who wore her signature heels...at 7 in the morning...at a yard sale.  We've been friends for three years and I have never, ever, even once, seen her without heels.  She's classy, folks.

Best thing about yard sales: getting to eat an unhealthy breakfast as congratulations to yourself for waking up well before 7 on a Saturday.


Worst thing about yard sales: Mentally comparing how much you are selling your stuff for with how much you originally paid for it. Wondering how much money you have spent wasted in your life on material objects dumb crap that you didn't really need.

Oh, and I got to see this sky.




Also - this weekend a photograph of my trip to the Middle East was featured at the Matador Network, a website for travelers.  I'm still blushing a little bit.  Check it out.

Why Creativity is Like a Bowling Ball

Someone else asked me to write on their blog today!  Check out my guest post on creativity and inspiration at Inspired to Write.  It's called Why Creativity is Like a Bowling Ball and there are all sorts of state secrets in there, so shhh.

*picture taken on 7:30 a.m. on Saturday - proof that, very occasionally, there are worse things than waking up early on a weekend.

Packing removes all the personality from a space - or does it?

  

Before

Packing things in preparation for a long-term move is a strange thing. While theoretically I know that my car, my apartment, my desk at work are all identical twins of a thousand other copies, sentimentally they feel unique and MINE.

You know that old musing "If only these walls could talk..."?  I've been wondering lately what mine would say.  Even if the furniture was cleared out (it is) and the pictures and curtains unhung from the walls (they are), I wonder how much of a person's intangibles remain.

I'm not getting all new-agey on you here, it isn't that I think that something actually happens, but sometimes you walk into a house and you just know that the people there are unhappy or depressed or lonely or joyful or happy.

You just know it.

I think my apartment walls would say "Sarah you really need to work on your laundry skills, because we notice that you never seem to take that last load of laundry out of the washer and you are always having to re-run the cycle because it gets mildewy.  Seriously, all the time.  Set a text message reminder or something, okay?"

I think my car walls would say "Stop being a cheapskate and get me in a GARAGE, for heaven's sake. STAT!"

And my cube walls: "Let's drink coffee."

What would yours say?

After

Oh come on, it was on a double-word score.

"Caption that picture" contest?  Anyone? My submission: "Sometimes you have to work with what you're given."

Also, my blog and I got a grown-up URL today! Although the old link of course still works, you can now find us at loveandpaella.com

Send your friends, we aren't bashful about visitors.

In Which I Impress You With My Suave Transitions

Excuse the out-of-focusness please.  My camera La Rebel was on an Alaskan cruise, the diva.  The iPhone had to pinch hit.

My friend Leanne is a total Francophile.  She speaks fluent French, goes to France all the time - she even married a French man, which, let's be honest, is a pretty big statement.

Anyway, she went to Paris recently and I had been pleading with her to bring me back a croissant.  She brought me back the above.  A ring.  So I can wear it on my  finger. Sadly, it isn't edible.  I've tried.

Anyway, in a roundabout way this is leading me up to Spanish food.  I can't really think of a good transition here so I am just going to go for it. (Gosh I am so SMOOTH, baby!)

Spanish food I can't wait to eat:

• Paella (duh).  Name of this blog.  Pictured above right on header. Pronounced pie- AY-yuh.  Is pure deliciousness.

• Gazpacho. Chilled vegetable soup with some sort of magical creaminess.  Faint.
• Sangria (it's the Mediterranean, I can include wine as a food group if I want to)

Spanish food of the "whaaat?" variety that I am determined to try:

• Pulpo:  Octopus.
• Any of the jazillion varieties of fish.  Not a fish lover, I'll admit.  I saw the Little Mermaid, I know they're really all jolly, reggae-singing cuties who it's a crime to eat. 

Don't worry, I will report back.  And there will be (non-fuzzy) pictures.

15 days until launch

Things of sentimental value

My dad gave me these pearls when I graduated college, and if someone ever stole them I would probably cry.

We are moving to Spain in 20ish days. The home stretch, which, in our case (leaving home) is aptly worded.

Our to-do list is as long as my arm and got longer this week when The Mister has his bag stolen while he was playing basketball.

Keys gone.
Wallet gone.
iPhone (brand new! argh) gone.

and, the kicker:

Wedding ring. Gone.

He always takes it off to play basketball because it's just a tad too big.  We are very lucky in that we have renter's insurance that is replacing everything for us (after a slightly painful deductible, but still).  But the wedding ring rankles.

Neither of us are hugely attached to material items in general, which is good considering The Mister's propensity for moving and the fact that we seem to get rid of all of our earthly belongings about every three years.  But still, there is something a bit sentimental about it being the ring I put on his finger on our wedding day. 

It doesn't matter, and it will get replaced, but it sorta still matters anyway.

Thieving little punk kid.

My Mom reads my blog

  
My mom isn't really a blog reader. She paints masterpieces and coaches figure skating and mentors younger women and mothers her three grown girls and generally has other pressing matters to attend to than the pithy ramblings of her middle child.

So she doesn't stop in too much. Which is okay in my book. Like I said, she's savin' the world, man.

But the other day, I stopped by her house, and she took my hand and gently led me to the refrigerator.

"I have something for you" she beamed, opening the door to reveal a lovely ice-cold bottle of raspberry lemonade, waiting for me.

"I know it's your favorite" she confessed, "because I read it on your blog!"

And it was the best raspberry lemonade in the world.

It tasted like a mother's love.

So, in short, I welcome my new reader and I add the age-old greeting:
"Hi Mom!"

   

You do me and I'll do you, only not in a dirty way

My friend Tara is a pretty sweet photographer. She and her Adam hadn't had pictures taken sans children in a few years.  The Mister and I hadn't had photos since my friend Christie took some in January 2008.  So a little while ago, we made a deal that went like this: YOU take pictures of US and WE will take pictures of YOU. 

We went under the lens first and Tara gave us this:


and this




and a lot more right here.

So, obviously she brought her A-game, and needless to say the bar was set a little high.  Here's what we were up against:

 1. I don't have my camera right now - I lent it to my parents to take on their 20th anniversary cruise that they are on right now. Hi Mom!  So, used Tara's camera instead.  Canon, Nikon, Schmikon.  Right? Right. Sort of.

2. When did the days start getting shorter?  We were doing double-time trying to beat the sunset.  A few of our last pics from the shoot were taken at downright twilight.

3. That was pretty much it but I feel like a proper list should have at least three entries?

Anyway, with the combined shooting skills of The Mister and I and the editing skills of Tara, this is what we collectively came up with. (Adam just sat there and looked pretty):









and more here.

I love swapping.