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Schooled in Spain (Part 1)

Food, photography, Spain, Travel, writing, , , , , ,

I recently took an 8-day Road Scholar trip to Andalucía, a small slice of Spain on the Mediterranean coast. The area can be quite touristy, but in November, not so much. The trip was stimulating and relaxing … and educational, too.

For a glimpse of my activities during the trip, see my Photos page (with captions). I’ve included photos from days 1-3 today. My next post will include more.

For now, let me just say that what I saw of Spain was a feast for all the senses. From my first sight of Nerja, the beach town where I stayed, to the crowded food markets, to the whitewashed villages, tasty tapas, fiery flamenco dancers, historic buildings, and sublime sunsets, the trip was a delight–not to mention my wonderful tour guides and travel-mates,  none of whom I knew in advance.

Here’s my itinerary and highlights for the first 3 days (the other days will follow in Part 2, still to be written):

Days 1 and 2: Travel from home (Rochester, NY) to Nerja, Spain. Connecting flights: Charlotte, NC, Madrid, and Málaga, followed by an airport taxi from Málaga to Nerja. Total travel time: about 15 hours. Complications:

(1) How many people do you know who’ve checked their baggage and immediately realized they had to get it back? Well, now you know one, because, after checking my suitcase, I realized I’d left a spare camera battery in it! I immediately told someone at the desk, who called the baggage department. As I rushed to the baggage claim area to retrieve my battery, the woman smiled and commented, “A woman on a mission!” I had been slightly panicked thinking I might miss my flight because of this dumb mistake on my part, but her smile reassured me. As it turned out, retrieving the battery only took 10 minutes (possibly due to the fact that my new suitcase was easy to identify by its lovely spring green color); When I returned to my gate, I still had 30 minutes left before boarding time.

(2) We landed a full hour early in Madrid, and since Customs didn’t open until 5 am, we had to wait on the plane for almost an hour before disembarking.

(3) It then took another full hour to make my way to the next gate! It wasn’t real obvious how to get there. When I asked for directions (in Spanish) from the person at the information desk, his information wasn’t very informative: he just sort of pointed down a set of stairs. I took the stairs which ended at a train station with trains going only one way. Signs in Spanish and English were confusing. They seemed to say the trains went to several terminals, none of which were mine. However, I boarded the next train that came along, because everyone else was getting on it. Turns out it took me to the correct terminal and close to my departure gate. Whew!

After landing in Málaga, the rest was smooth sailing. My transport taxi was waiting for me with my name on a sign, just like in the movies. I felt sort of famous. (Not really. But I would have felt famous if I actually was famous for something!) One hour later, I arrived at my hotel with a serious case of jet lag. It was 10 am in Nerja, but 4 am back home, and I’d only slept an hour on the plane.

My hotel room wasn’t going to be ready until 12 noon. What was I going to do with myself for the next 2 hours? What would you do? Probably what I did …

I headed out to the pool area and ordered a bowl of olives and a Margarita. Then I settled myself down in a deck chair, sat back, and gazed out at the blue, blue Mediterranean Sea.

“It’s strong,” the bartender had warned me when she handed over my drink. After my long journey and lack of sleep, I must have looked like someone who couldn’t handle their alcohol.

And boy, was she right. It was super-strong, but I was careful to only take small sips. After drinking half of it, I chucked the other half and made my way to the lobby, where I fell into a stupor (not a drunken one! how dare you think that!). Actually, I fell asleep sitting up. Finally, at noon, my room was ready, and after freshening up, I ventured down to the buffet and then took a 2-hour nap. Feeling somewhat refreshed, I made it to my tour group orientation at 6 pm and met my wonderful tour guide and fellow travelers.

Day 3:

After an introductory lecture on the history of Andalucía (which included its Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and Romani influences), we visited a weekly market in Nerja, followed by a motorcoach trip to a winery nestled in the mountains, a tour of the winery, a gourmet lunch and wine tasting, and a walk through the cobblestone streets of Cómpeta.

And now, it’s time for me to edit more photos. See you next time for a summary of Days 4 and beyond!

Large cardboard figure reading a book to a smaller cardboard figure

So Little Cardboard

politics, writing, , , ,

Recently, I attended a protest rally and took pictures of some clever and inspiring signs. One of my favorites was:

SO MANY ISSUES

SO LITTLE CARDBOARD

The word “Cardboard” was squeezed tightly into a corner at the bottom of the sign, to emphasize the fact that there just wasn’t enough room on that small placard to list every important grievance against our government.

The sentiment struck me as true not only politically, but “writerly,” too. You see, besides feeling swamped by political issues (and I’ll get to that later), I also seem to have too many ideas for writing projects swirling around in my head. Some are already written, some are nearing completion, and one I started yesterday. This morning, I even wrote two haikus before I got out of bed. Each one of these projects is clamoring for its moment in the spotlight (or at least a “like” by an agent).

But I feel like I’m running out of cardboard.

Cardboard: That space in my brain where I churn out half-baked writing ideas that sometimes bear fruit, and other times fade into obscurity. That flimsy container that can feel sharp and in focus one day, and waterlogged or empty the next. That hourglass that seems to be flowing in a downward direction, faster and faster every day.

It would be wonderful if my cardboard would suddenly turn into a bright, flashing neon sign, like the kind on Broadway, one that speaks boldly and proudly that “we have a winner!” “a smash hit!” “a must-read!” 

It would be great if that cardboard would become a billboard that agents would notice as they speed by on the literary highway, taking note of the contact information, and later that night, sending an email asking for a full manuscript.

It would be reassuring if that cardboard were to be waved like a flag by a reader who was moved by it.

It sure would be nice to have an unlimited supply of cardboard, but my brain matter is finite. My cardboard will never stretch. In fact, it can only shrink. So now I know what I need to do:

I need to write smaller!

Yes, I need to choose just one, or possibly two, of my books, and focus on getting them published.

And also, does anyone know where I can find MORE CARDBOARD?

Note: See my PHOTOS link in the Menu for signs – cardboard and otherwise – from the 50501 (50 protests, 50 states, 1 day) rally in Rochester, NY, 4/19/25. 

P.S. Speaking of politics, I’ve found it helpful in this political climate to keep a second piece of cardboard in my brain just for politics, and to put only one issue on it for now: the environment. That way maybe I can focus my energy and hopefully be effective. The job I’ve assigned myself is to read up on the science behind climate change, and to report out to my group (a subcommittee of Indivisible) on local environmental actions. Reading and writing … I can’t seem to get away from either one.

Thanks to Rick Steves for his thoughtful and honest post about authoritarianism yesterday, which inspired me to veer into the political realm today. I urge you all to read it.

Featured image by ColiN00B at Pixabay.com

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