San Sebastian - Adventures in a small town

About ten of us decided to venture out into the small town of Errenteria just outside San Sebastian. The walk was a great lesson for trusting strangers and relaxing a bit, not too much, just a tiny bit.


We head out of our hotel just before ten o´clock. There was still a little light out. We stopped at a gas station and asked for directions. The clerk behind the counter pointed us in the right direction. " Across the bridge, under the tunnel and to the right" he said. Everything is always to the right. We waited hesistantly in front of the tunnel wondering if it was too long. The headlights for a car lit up the short distance. I kept thinking ´all this for a just a drink. I have four boys. I don´t need to be out here.´ Obviously I was a bit terrified.


We enterred a residential area. I heard one of the locals say "They are not from here." One of the girls with us asked a man for directions. "Down alongside the river until you get to the main plaza." Being overly cautious, I was looking at everyone we passed by. I relaxed a bit when we walked by an elderly woman. It had to be safe. It was late at night and she was out alone. We came to fork in the road and did not know which way to take. The sweet older woman stopped and asked "Do you need help getting somewhere." I felt guilty telling her I wanted a beer. She reminded me of my mother and out of respect I do not like to drink in front of my mom. "We´re looking for a bar" I heard someone say. " Ah yes this way" she said.


"This is a small town. If you want a bigger party take a bus into San Sebastian. You´ll think of me when you get there because you will have a great time." She walked us just a block short of the main plaza. "Muchas gracias" we all chimed together.


We sat and enjoyed a couple of drinks. Heading back to the hotel was really dark. We crossed the tunnel using our digitial camera LED screens to light the way. We laughed and giggled all the way both caused by the drinks and the nerves of walking in an unknown neighborhood.

When we finally made it back to the gas station we had originally stopped in I popped my head in and thanked the clerk for the directions. He seemed pleased. This was an adventure we were all proud we had taken. Thanks to Richard none of us chickened out!

Valencia- The Gypsies

Valencia is a small quiet town with a big city problem. Our stop here was a delight with only a small smudge of crudeness.

It was a warm sunny day in Valencia. A nice change from the cold wet weather we had days before. There was not a cloud in the sky, only the celestial deep blue that can bring comfort and peace. This town is known for its paella, a rice and seafood dish prepared by simmering together chicken, seafood, rice, vegetables, saffron and other seasonings. It was delicous. Kim, my roommate, Richard, my travel partner, and Gary,our tour guide, sat on the terrace enjoying a tasty serving of paella followed by a second course of fish served in an orange-flavored sauce. After lunch we headed to the cathedral where the Holy Grail is said to be displayed.

On our walk to the church, Gary cautioned us about the gypsies walking on the opposite side of the street. I saw three teenaged girls walking upstream into the crowds of people. The young girls were dressed in t-shirt and blue jeans. The gypsies had dark skin and long dark black hair. They laughed and mocked people as they passed by. When we arrived at the church, their demeanor changed. The girls shrugged their shoulders, curled up and stuck their hands out asking for money. "I need money to buy food for my child" I heard one say. I found it interesting that they did not subtly change their behavior. It was as if they had clocked in to get to work.

Needless to say, we avoided them and walked in a different direction.

Barcelona - Conversations

Striking up a conversation with a stranger is like getting into a swimming pool.

For some, it customary to walk right up to the edge, dip one or two toes, check the water and slowly immerse their foot. Others would rather stay away from water and avoid it at all costs for fear of the unknown. I, however, am comfortable running to the water and jumping right in.

In the last few days, I met people from many countries: Germany, France, Portugal and Brazil, to name a few. Initially I hesitated for fear of incorrectly pronouncing a word or phrase. I find Europe to be a place where a smile and an "Hola" are all you need to engage in a conversation.

I met a nice man named Alfonz. "Are you from Indonesia," he asked? "No" I answered. "I´m from the USA." "Yes, but where are you from?" Did he not hear me, I thought. " I am from the United States," I said. "Yes, but where is your family from?" Alfonz asked. "Oh, Mexico," I responded. "Both my parents are from Mexico." "Very nice to meet you," he said. The conversation continued for a while. I shared how I was in love with Europe. As we ended our conversation, he instructed "Beso de dos lados" a kiss on both cheeks.

At dinner the following day, I overheard a conversation that helped me analyze the one with my French friend. "I had not tried macaroni and cheese until a year ago," said a teen aged girl. "There are American foods my mom rejects. She is Asian and not willing to embrace the American cuisine." Did I hear correctly? `She is Asian.´ The girl had not said "WE are Asian." My French friend assumed most people migrate to the United States as did my parents. Overhearing this young girl reminded me, yes I was born in America, but I don´t want to forget my Hispanic culture.

San Sebastian- The View From The Top

Oh! How I would like to bring my kids for a beach outing to San Sebastian and show them what I’ve seen. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder ,today my eyes overflowed from the scenery. The panoramic view of the bay was breathtaking.

Our guided tour given by Eduardo was educational and hilarious. He kept my interest by cracking a joke in every other sentence. “Shall I conduct this tour in Italian, French or German? Better yet, why don´t I just do it in Basque?” Basque is a language used by some inhabitants of Northern Spain.

San Sebastian has three beaches and the island of Santa Clara in the bay. Several people in our group braved the small ferry to explore the island. We found a flight of stairways that seemed to stretch all the way to heaven. Without hesitation, I took the first step. “I am not going up all those steps” I heard someone say. “I´ll wait for you all down here.” I continued up the stairs. About half way up I thought, “How much more do we have to go?” I was gasping for air. I took in such a deep breath. At that moment, the fragrance of the yellow mimosas filled my lungs. I knew the walk would be well worth it.

When we finally reached the top, my suspicions were confirmed. The view was incredible. Ironically enough, we found a ramp leading to the top.

As I stood admiring the scenery, I was reminded that the climb to the top is never easy. If it was, everyone would do it. Everyone can, but only those who choose to take the first step and complete the journey delight in the view.

Burgos - La Catedral Y La Españiola

Living so close to the Rio Grande has caused a division in my culture. Soy Americana. Both my parents are Mexican. I have never felt fully Mexican nor have I wanted to embrace the over indulging American way.


Traveling through Spain and learning about their traditions, history and culture has allowed me to learn about my roots. The magnificence of the Burgos cathedral is indescribable. Our travel guide, Carlotta was wonderful. She possessed an energetic personality and lead our our group through the grounds.



She communicated with us using not only her words but also her facial expressions and hand movements. "The construction of this cathedral spanned over five centuries" she said with a smile on her face. "There are several different types of architectural styles found here."She went on to explain the history both good and bad of her country. Carlotta directed our attention to the beautiful sculptures made of gold. "Much of the gold used to mold these figures came from the Americas. The Spaniards took from the land and brought it here. " With an apologetic look on her face she regretfully said, "I´m sorry for that."



Part of our sightseeing tour in Burgos included visiting the Cartuja de Miraflores. In this church lay the remains of Juan Carlos II and Queen Isabel de Portugal. They were the parents of Isabel I. Also is a shrine dedicated to Prince Alfonso, brother of Isabel I. He died when he was fourteen.

I asked our lovely tour guide if Alfonso had lived would he have been in line for the throne? I knew I had asked an interesting question when she dashed across the room, grabbed my forearm and said "NO! The king and queen had an older son named Juan. He had a daughter who would have been next in line to the throne. However, Prince Juan died but ruled his daughter an illegitimate child. He claimed she was not his own daughter but that of a noble man."



I loved the way she told the story. "It sounds like a family soap opera. Tell me more. I want to know all about it," I said. "I am very interested." "Well of course you are, " she said. "you are a descendant of Spaniards."

With that, I began embracing the culture, the Spanish culture. It is my culture.

Madrid: Plazas and Castles

If you ever have trouble sleeping, take a 15 hour connecting flight to another country, spend an hour at the airport waiting to claim your luggage, drive through a city taking snapshots at ten or so monuments and plazas and take a tour of a 2,800-room castle. By the time you get done, you will not have a difficult time sleeping.

On the first day we arrived, we hit the ground running. Well, it was more like plowing through a field churning up a huge load of information. Visiting plaza after plaza, the names were too many to remember. I am glad I snapped a picture of each plaque to keep track of what monument was dedicated to which honorees. The quick (well about one hour) sightseeing tour helped me get my bearings. I was able to recall the plazas we returned to later the next day.

After the plaza speed run, we stopped at the Palacio Real. The main staircase is a long flight of very wide low ascending steps. The purpose of the slow incline is to create a graceful ascension for the king and queen. Sixteen of the rooms are available for public view. The first few rooms were fascinating but towards the end the combination of jet lag and so many decorations began to seem gaudy. However my spirits were re energized when I walked into the throne room. The gold garnishing, beautiful crimson velvet wall coverings and rock crystal chandeliers left me in awe of the position of king and queen. The canopy above their seats is a symbol of authority. My spirit stirred with admiration.

Madrid: Bienveñido a España.

The combination of excitement and uncertainty overwhelm me when I arrive in a new country. The words “Toto, I have a feeling we are not in Kansas anymore” always come to mind.

Arriving at the airport in Madrid extremely increased those emotions. As I heard the landing gear come down, I bit my bottom lip. We had arrived in Europe. Peeking out the window, I read the names on the side of airplanes I had not seen before: Spainair, Icelandair, Saudi Arabian Airlines.

I wanted to run off the airplane and begin exploring this new land. With camera in hand I was ready to capture every bit of my trip. I asked my travel partner to snap a shot of me waiting in line by the Aduana sign. I still had a smile on my face, so I was ready. As soon as the flash went off a woman security official approached me. “Photos are not allowed at security points,” she said. “Please delete the picture.” Oops! I thought I must have missed that sign. I purchased a new camera for this trip, so it was taking me a while to find the delete function. The line was forming long behind me. The clerks at the desk directed travelers to proceed around me to the left. Finally, I found the delete button admired the photo for one second and said goodbye to my first picture in Madrid. “Please show me the rest of your photos,” the security official said. I only had a few pictures from the airplane ride. “Vale” (which I understood to mean OK) she said and walked away. I stepped up to the counter, where a handsome European man was smiling. I recognized his cologne. It was Curve by Liz Clairborne. His scent was familiar and comforting. “Was it a good picture?” he asked. “Yes,” I said “too bad I couldn’t keep it. I’ll be careful to obey the laws.” He chuckled and said “Bienvenido a España.”

The event was much more memorable than the picture would have been.