Why not start of the new year with a trip on the very first day?  And why not go to Greece?  Mom researched our destination and determined it would be sunnier and, possibly, warmer than Barcelona.  So off we flew to spend a week in the Hellenic Republic before the end of Allita’s winter break.  The flight was uneventful but our arrival in Greece was instantly fantastic.  First came the amazing views from our airplane window and then a friendly lady met us at the departure point, greeted us to Greece in multiple languages and presented us with a 2020 token attached to a small candy!  What a fantastic welcome that was!

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We reserved a driver who met us just inside the airport and introduced himself very politely and in perfect English.  Most Greeks, as it turns out, speak at least 3 if not 4, 5, or more languages.  Tourism is a major part of their economy and it’s common for a grade-school education to include instruction in at least one foreign language.  Our driver chatted incessantly, another Greek trait apparently, and took the long and winding route to our hotel so that he could show off his lovely city, Athens.  He was delightful.  Honestly, I enjoyed the ride from the airport almost as much as I have enjoyed paid city-tours and far more so than the average taxi trip.  Therefore, I was delighted to learn that he would also be our driver at the end of the week when it was time to return home.

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Hotel Attalos was our destination.  A quaint establishment with a lovely view of the Acropolis from the roof top bar and also from our wide balcony.  We were very fortunate to find such fantastic accommodation on Athena Street and only a short walk from the metro station, the outdoor market and even the Acropolis itself, as we later discovered!  We kept things low key the first night as we were a bit weary from travel and we explored the hotel and a few blocks up and down the street in the surrounding neighborhood.  Since we arrived on a national holiday, everything was closed but all the decorations from Christmas were still up and active.  We found this interesting as we had already removed ours and stored them away for next December.  Turns out, the Greeks, like the Spanish, continue to celebrate the nativity until after the arrival of the three Kings (Epiphany).  In fact, the entire first week of the new year is often considered an extension of the holiday with many stores and shops remaining closed in recognition of the celebration.  

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Although it was rainy, the next day, we decided to explore Old Town Athens.  Remember the nearby market I mentioned?  The Flea Market, as the locals call it.  It’s really just a spiderweb of tiny twisting streets filled with shops crammed full of bric-a-brac and every kitschy, touristy collectible you can possibly imagine.  You want to dress like Athena?  No problem.  They even have the olive-leaf headgear and sandals.  How about a Greek soldier?  There is a helmet, sword and chest plate to be worn over what is surely a dress.  Greek oils, spices, soaps, marble statues, beads, masks, tiles, clothing, shoes and even the unimaginable – such as Yoda-Zeus or the Greek Gods in rubber duck form.  Although it was wet and chilly most of the day, we enjoyed several hours walking around, sampling and engaging in friendly bargaining that sometimes led to actual purchasing!  Best of all, we had plenty of opportunity to practice the Greek phrases we learned on the plane.  Every single time we attempted their language, their faces would light up, they would smile and encourage us and then they would respond appropriately.  It was such a rewarding experience that we continued to speak Greek every chance we got.

Dinner was a simple take-away meal from the Just Pita across the street which we ate at the hotel rooftop bar while we watched the sun set and were absolutely amazed at the beauty and elegance of the city stretched before us.  So much history all in one place!  How incredible!  

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The next day, bright and early, (actually we woke at 10am, like good Spaniards) we left the hotel after a simple breakfast (at noon) and made our way through the winding city streets and up, up, uphill to the Acropolis (around 1pm or so).  It was an amazing day.  We explored the entire area at the base of the hill and then bought tickets to enter the actual Acropolis “city”.  We skipped the tour and guided ourselves using the abundant material kindly provided by the museum personnel.  It was slow going because the marble steps were slick and Mom was walking with sticks, not to mention the whole thing sits on a giant hill so the walk is somewhat challenging.  Allita flitted from here to there counting the many stray cats she saw as we made our way from bottom to top and back down the other side.  A friend of mine from Tucson had recommended an amazing local restaurant, Strofi Athenian Restaurant, with an excellent view of the Acropolis hill.  We took plenty of time to savor a delicious meal and enjoy the atmosphere.  Then we trudged back all around the base until we arrived at our hotel.  The entire day was an amazing adventure packed full of memories that won’t soon be forgotten.  One in particular was Allita saying that she was “sitting where ancient butts sat”.  

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4 January was another lovely, sunny day and we decided to get a slightly earlier start (9am) and explore Monastiraki past Hadrian’s library to Syntagma wandering on through the National Garden to the Zappeion Center and ultimately the Panathenaic Stadium (Kallimarmaro).  By the time we arrived at the actual stadium, Mom was exhausted from so much walking so she sat outside and waited for us to complete the tour, which included an audio guide.  Allita and I wandered all around the stadium and even went underneath to the museum area, which was at one time the locker rooms and royal entrance.  We were able to see all of the Olympic torches and flags on display as well as one of the many fire cauldrons from where the torch was lit after the sun’s rays sparked a flame through a magnifying lens operated by the female guardians of the flame.  Allita took a quick jog around the stadium pretending to be an Olympian and we both posed on the podiums for our invisible metals.  Finally, we reunited with Mom and wrapped up our 9-hour walking tour of Athens by wandering through Plaka on the way back to our lovely hotel. Then we all had a nap! 

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The plan for Sunday was made long before we arrived in Athens.  Once I discovered that this was the day of the week when the changing of the guard ceremony included a parade of soldiers and a marching band, thus a great deal of pomp and circumstance, I knew that’s where we would be at 11am.  So Allita and I trudged across town to the Hellenic Parliment building to join in the festivities.  There was quite a crowd, even early on, but we settled into a good viewing point and enthusiastically waited.  We were not disappointed! The Greek guards were dressed in their Sunday best, marching with high step in unison down the barricaded road (stopping even the street car!) and keeping time to the tune of the band leading the entire ensemble.  They settled into position in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and went through the complicated machinations of exchanging the guards.  The ceremony was well worth the long walk and the wait, even though it was over fairly quickly.  We were delighted with their fanfare.  From there, we rode the metro to the Acropolis museum where we spent most of the day exploring treasures and relics and enjoyed lunch with another view of….you guessed it…the Acropolis!!  

We flew back home on Monday, after another long and winding guided tour of the city, around Dromeas, the famous glass running man sculpture and the past Temple of Olympian Zeus, before hitting the highway.  It was a rainy morning so the view from the car wasn’t excellent but it was still a pleasure to see more of this lovely city before we departed.  What a fantastic way to start the new year.  Opa!  

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Today is Valentine’s day (El Día de San Valentín or in some places Día de los Enamorados).  Not to be confused with La Diada de Sant Jordi, the day in April when all of Catalonia celebrates their patron saint, Saint George, who supposedly vanquished a dragon in order to save his true love.  Valentine’s day is celebrated in Spain much like it is everywhere else in the world.  Lovers exchange gifts of sweets and flowers, and romantic dinners are shared in fine restaurants or dressed-up dining rooms.  Because Catalonians are so deeply connected to their families, the children often receive small toys or treats and a child might surprise his mother or grandmother with a bouquet of lovely flowers or a blooming plant.  Much like in the U.S.

However, this is only a small holiday here.  A day to recognize the Roman bishop, Valentine, who is said to have performed marriages forbidden by the Catholic church and was ultimately executed on the 14th of February in some year B.C.  One version of his story tells that he left behind a note for his own sweetheart and signed it “from your Valentine” thus starting the trend of love letters and romance on this date.   In fact, the Catholic Church gave up celebrating this holiday in 1969 but the Spanish are romantics and they cherish their legends so, even though they are mostly Catholic, this holiday is still celebrated by the masses.  

In the U.S., holiday-related decorations and goods begin appearing in the stores as early as January 1 while shelves are being cleared of Christmas and New Year paraphernalia.  Out with the old holiday and in with the new one.  Malls offer sales events around Valentine’s Day.  Jewelry stores especially broadcast advertisements telling you to show your love by way of an expensive purchase a.k.a. “timeliness gift” that someone will hopefully treasure.  Everywhere you look for nearly six weeks, there are hearts, roses, and various pink and red-colored odds and ends in shop windows, grocery stores, pharmacies, and even gas stations.  Valentine’s Day is a big deal.  It’s part of the “romance trifecta” (Christmas, New Years, Valentine’s) often referenced by Hollywood and magazines.  It’s a big part of our culture and we have lots of traditions celebrating this day.  One year, my boyfriend bought me heart-shaped earrings and a similar pendant made of “pink ice”.   I pretended they were diamonds and felt like a princess. For as long as I can remember, my father sent roses to my mother and I every Valentine’s Day. 

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In the U.S., children frequently bring cards and sometimes candies to school to give their classmates as part of this holiday celebration.  In fact, Allita has done this every year that she attended U.S. school and the pressure to “out do” the previous year’s contributions seems to escalate in the days before the actual event.  Last year, the school sent home a letter encouraging parents not to send candy or sweets but instead to consider a small gift or healthy snack alternative.  As if.  I get what they were trying to accomplish but that’s like asking your neighborhood to hand out toothbrushes on Halloween instead of candy.  It’s a nice enough idea but the practical reality is, healthy treats are more expensive and time consuming to purchase and prepare.  Also, the kids would hate it.  I mean, it takes forever to get twinkle lights off a cactus so I would not want to even consider how difficult removing rolls of toilet paper would be.  (There is little doubt my AZ house would be “tricked” if I were to suggest healthy alternatives as Halloween “treats”. There are too many teenagers in that neighborhood.)

In Barcelona, the celebration of the arrival of the Three Kings on January 5th was the conclusion of the Christmas holidays. Stores and streets began removing all remaining associated holiday items so that everything was returned to “normal” around 10 January.  Some places where a profusion of decorations were strung across several streets by the various shopkeeper’s associations took a little longer to dismantle and store. However, by mid-January the only advertisements I saw were those about winter sales events and clearances.  There was no indication that Valentine’s Day was coming.  No-one even mentioned it.  In fact, until just recently, I was beginning to get a little concerned that it might not even be celebrated here.    

One day, about a week ago, Allita and I were walking down the main street of Sarriá and she noticed a sign posted on the wall of a nearby building.  We investigated and discovered it was an advertisement for the national lottery drawing that would be held on 15 February and was thus titled “Sant Valentin”.  We were both highly amused at the blatant suggestion that this holiday is associated with windfalls of money – what a “lovely gift” indeed – and thus ensued a long discussion about holidays and commercialism. 

Almost the next day, we saw the first signs of Valentine’s day in the bazaars.  Remember, the bazaars are the outcome of a cross between “Dollar Tree” and “Family Dollar” so they frequently are the initial source for cards, wrapping paper and other seasonal supplies.  Next, one nearby grocery store erected a stand of candies and treats.  Then another grocery store introduced stuffed animal toys.  Eventually, we noticed store window displays at the paper store (cards, stationary, games) and the confectionary (specialized sweets) all advertising the upcoming holiday.  Finally, yesterday, literally one day before the holiday, the bakeries and flower stands started decorating and displaying their heart-shapes and bouquets.  Gradually, and with little fanfare, the holiday was upon us.  

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Valentine’s Day in Barcelona is celebrated between lovers and those who share a deep loving bond, like parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles.  Young children are not encouraged to give cards expressing love and affection to other children in their class. In fact, this is not a holiday that the school celebrates at all.  This actually makes sense to me.  Allita isn’t enamored of any of her classmates or teachers so a Minnie mouse card gushing “My #1 Love” would not work for her.  They don’t even sell those tiny little packages of cards and candies here.   In fact, the stationary store had only the few tiny gifts and custom cards shown in their window display!

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According to Mercedes, my local baker, the purpose of Valentine’s day is to honor a holy man who valued kindness and love so much he was willing to sacrifice his life so that others could share these feelings.  For most Catalans, this means a special sweet and a bunch of flowers for someone they love. In her shop, most of the holiday treats are made with fruits in addition to chocolate and cream so that people have less guilt in eating them.  In fact, she reminds me, Saint Jordi day in April is the biggest day to celebrate love in Catalonia and, for that reason, only a few stores offer goods to celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day.  It’s really just a small holiday.  Just another “Saint-someone” day on a Catholic calendar already dotted with such days.

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We celebrated Valentine’s Day this morning.  We enjoyed breakfast together and exchanged homemade cards.  Allita and Mom had a few sweet treats.  We talked about how much we love each other and how much we love and miss those who have helped us celebrate this holiday in the past.  We all agreed that we hope everyone enjoys a wonderful and lovely Valentine’s Day today.  No matter how you celebrate it – big or small. 

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In the summer of 1984, my parents and I moved our cat and a fair amount of our personal belongings to Germany where we lived for the next four years.  At that particular time, it was called “West Germany” because there was a massive wall dividing the country in two parts: east and west.  Some of the many mental souvenirs I treasure from my childhood in Europe involve the various festivals or, as they are known in Germany, “die feste”.  Today, I see similar events of this type all over Spain (festa major) and I am delighted to be able to share them with my daughter and create more memories we can both enjoy.  

Another traditional European experience is the market.  There are flower markets, fruit and vegetable markets, meat and cheese markets, bread markets and markets that combine various wares across a multitude of stalls.  Some markets are like the U.S. flea markets where people sell books, jewelry, handmade crafts, vintage items, clothing and a variety of knick knacks using tables or temporary stalls to display their wares in a large, open plaza at a pre-determined date and time.  The most well-known of all these markets is probably the German Christmas market (Weihnachtsmarkt or  Christkindlmarkt).  They are so popular that now, nearly 600 years after their inception, these holiday markets can be found in almost every European country offering their own local cultural influence on the experience.

In December, Allita and I had the opportunity to visit a very good friend who periodically finds herself in southern Germany near Switzerland and France.  She picked us up from the Zurich airport on a Friday evening and we drove to the small town of Neuenburg, Germany for a long weekend visit.  Although, we had recently seen her during a layover at the same airport some months prior, our giggling, girlish chatter was incessant on the drive and even well into the evening at the hotel.  We had so much fun, my face was sore the next morning from all the laughter we had shared the prior night.  Isn’t it wonderful having joyful, fun and loving people in your life?  How lucky we are.  

The plan was to spend the weekend together.  Which is exactly what we did.  However, we also took the time to visit several of the different Christmas markets in the nearby region.  Our first morning, we went to the market in Basel, Switzerland.  Crossing the border from Germany into Switzerland was easier than finding a parking spot in heart of the old city.  Although Basel is a large and busy place on a normal day, it was clear that much of this traffic was due to the popularity of the Christmas market spread across the old burgh.  In fact, we later discovered this to be true for every city and market we visited with the exception of the tiny market in Neuenberg, which we walked to from our nearby hotel.  

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In Basel, little wooden stalls were lined up on the cozy streets and filled with beautiful, yet pricey, wares.  We were already aware that our shopping experience in Switzerland would be limited primarily to “window” as the other markets in Germany and France would be much more affordable.  Still, we did plenty of looking.  It was so lovely and there was a lot to see.  Because it was Switzerland, there was a large array of the most intricately crafted chocolates.  These candies were small works of beautiful yet delicious art.  Just stepping up to a stall filled with chocolate works was enough to take your breath away.  Even Allita, who is renown for her resounding vocals, whispered reverently “wow!” as her head rotated in all directions trying to see every possible sight.  We decided that some of the candies were too pretty to even eat.  

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Next, we visited Freiburg Im Breisgau.  Back across the friendly border and back into the line for the parking garage, we drove.  This time, it was much easier to find a stall selling the delicious Glühwein I was craving.  Glühwein is a winter beverage that is very popular in this region.  As a youth, we were allowed to drink it when we went skiing in the Alps.  It’s alcoholic, so there was some pleasure taken in the perceived naughtiness of consuming such beverages as a teen.  More importantly, it is warm whereas everything else is quite cold and, in some cases, numb.  From the first sip, the warmth of the rich, tasty beverage permeates every chilly corner of your body and restores some of your vigor. Glühwein is a mulled wine served almost hot that can be purchased red or white (I prefer red) and, at these markets, is generally distributed in a collectable cup with a lovely little holiday or local, traditional decoration on the sides.  Some cups are simple plastic versions while others are glass mugs with handles.  Each vendor has a different style container for their very similar beverage.  My friend and I enjoyed a bit of it as we strolled along in the chilly weather.   Allita preferred the “cacau” or hot chocolate beverage served in a similar mug but decidedly non-alcoholic and much sweeter.   

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The following day, we were joined by another local friend and drove into France to visit the Christmas market in Colmar.  The border is a river, so crossing it was as easy as driving over a bridge. As with the markets in Freiburg Im Breisgau and Basel, this too was a sprawling affair with many tiny temporary stalls set up to sell various wares, including freshly prepared foods and beverages. Similar to Frieburg Im Breisgau, the Colmar market also housed a small festival area for children with rides and games.  The French market had some slight differences such as, some of the more expensive and precious goods were sold inside a warehouse-type building that offered more crowd control and security as well as protection from the elements.   Additionally, the market in Colmar was massive and stretched all over the entire town.  In fact, we were offered a map so that we could be sure not to miss any buildings or less conspicuous areas inside where the market was hidden.  Further, the food was typical French, with crepes instead of brötchen, many different types of cheeses and, rather than streusel, there was plenty of pâte feuilletée (puff pastry) filled with various cremes, jams and other delights.  We walked, shopped and ate until we were exhausted. It was a whole-body holiday experience for certain!

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We were sad to leave Zurich that Monday, even though Allita was arriving late for school, which is always a treat.  We had so much fun visiting the Christmas markets but enjoyed even more the time spent with our lovely friend.  All-in-all, it was the perfect experience creating the very type of memories I cherish.  Exactly what everyone should be doing during the holiday season, right?

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Attention to detail is an important skill I thought I had learned many years ago.  As a scientist working in a manufacturing environment, as a female walking alone in the late evening down familiar or even foreign streets, as a caregiver for a senior with ambulatory difficulties, as a single mother of an active, curious child, and in many of my other various roles, I know that paying careful attention to “the little things” can make a world of difference.  Mindfulness is even more important now that we are living in a country where signs and labeling are written in a non-native tongue.  

Although I will admit, the longer I am immersed in this language, the more it begins to mesh with English in my mind.  There are so many commonalities between Spanish and English that I frequently wonder if I am even still thinking in English or if I am instead using a mix of both languages to record memories on my mental blackboard.  For example, sweater is suéter, pants are pantalones and pajamas are pijamas.  

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Our favorite flavors for gelato are limón (lemon – for me), chocolate (for Allita) and vainilla (vanilla – for mom).  In fact, the similarities between English and Spanish are too numerous to list.  At times, these cognates can be a real benefit for the novice linguist.  Still, one has to be careful with assuming that something that “sounds like” a familiar word has the same meaning.  Sometimes it doesn’t.  For example, this tintoreria is a dry cleaner and not a paint store or anything remotely related to “tint”.  

Another thing to point out is that you can really dig yourself a big hole if you are relying on your “gut instinct” as your translator.  For example, I once told someone Allita was embarazada because she was too shy (or embarrassed) to speak to in Spanish.  Embarazada means pregnant in Spanish – not embarrassed.   Since at that time, Allita was only 7 years old, I’m sure you can imagine the surprised look on that poor woman’s face.  

A similar incident happened more recently at school with Allita.  As we sat together at the dinner table discussing her thoughts and impressions from her first day of Spanish school last year, Allita shared with us that her teacher, Mr. David, had described himself as “bizarro”.  She told him that was ok because she often thinks of herself as goofy and different.  He gave her a really strange look.  Later, she discovered that “bizarro” in Spanish means gallant.  Not bizarre.  

What you might consider “logical” doesn’t seem to apply globally.  Just because you think something “makes sense” or perhaps that’s what you’re familiar with from your home, doesn’t mean that’s how it works elsewhere.  Sounds straight-forward enough, but consider this:  this papelaria sells paper (as you might expect from the word papel which means paper), cards and stationary as well as school and office supplies (including ink and pens) and even some toys, however, it does not sell the paper you need for your printer.  To find printer paper, and even printer ink, you need to go to a store advertising “impresoras” (printers).  

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The Pictum in Sarria is actually a papelaria that also offers a printer, copier, fax and scanner service for a very low price.  However, they do not print any images or pictures. Only documents. Although the name of the store includes the common abbreviation “pic”. In order to have a picture printed, copied, scanned or faxed, you need to go to a fotografía store.  They will also take photographs for you in case you need them for a passport or visa.  

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Here is another tip:  just because the name of this store is Quality does not mean that everything inside is a quality item.  This is basically a Spanish Dollar Tree or discount store so you’re getting low-priced items manufactured in bulk and likely from China.  Not the hand-made, 100% inspected, detailed craftsmanship that the name implies.  Really, the store should be called “Quantity”.  

Although some places, like Re-Read (a used book store), el Periódico (sells periodicals) and Polleria (chicken store) are exactly what they claim to be.  

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Because I am gluten-sensitive, I learned long ago to completely and thoroughly read all labeling before purchasing goods to consume. This rule applies even more so now that we are living in Spain. Thankfully, most manufacturers are excellent at including “sin gluten” (Spanish) or “sense gluten” (Catalan) to indicate the product’s gluten free status. So, it’s not the trigo (wheat) that concerns me as much as it is all the other “atypical” ingredients about which I am ignorant. It can be really challenging to determine what those ingredients are because the print on the label is so small or the image doesn’t clearly show every ingredient. Unless you read the can carefully, it’s somewhat difficult to tell that these olives are “rellenas de anchoa” or stuffed with anchovies.  

In fact, this is such a popular ingredient that all but one of this entire shelf of olives is either flavored or stuffed with anchovies.  So if you’re interested in making a dirty, but not fishy, martini, you had better read the label carefully.

We discovered last summer in Casteldefels the importance of reading all labels.  Allita and I were very excited to find what appeared to be a favorite snack, only to discover that instead of cheese, we had purchased ketchup and mustard flavor.  Not what you expect when you pop “Cheetos” into your mouth.  In fact, the two words “sabor de” (flavor of) might be the most important you will need when grocery shopping in Spain.  So, if you are in a hurry and just grab a bag of chips, you might get home with Ruffles that taste like ham and cheese or bacon-flavored Bugles.  Or, you can buy something that says it is “natural” and it is so completely natural that it has no flavor at all!  Just salt.  

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Finally, it pays to be mindful of the world around you in other ways than just food and false cognates.  In the photo below, there is a building with two doors.  Over one door is the number 3.  Over the other door is the number 3.  How do you know which door leads to the correct address since they are both labeled 3 and in the same building?  You can barely see the white buzzer and speaker on the frame of the door on the right.  If you walk up to it and look closely, you can see that this door leads to the main building entrance.  If you want to go to the 1st floor (not the ground floor but the one up the first flight of stairs) or the 2nd floor apartment in building #3, you need to buzz yourself in or use your key.  If you live in the ground floor apartment of building #3, you use the door on the left.  Makes you feel sorry for the Amazon delivery guy, doesn’t it?

Taxis are not allowed to just pull over and pick up a ride off the side of the street.  In many places, you can’t even flag one down.  If you want a taxi, you need to find where they are parked.  In every few streets, there is a specific section of the sidewalk parking that is dedicated to taxis.  They will line up there, like they do at the airport, and wait for someone to walk over and climb in.  If you are walking around town, it’s a good idea to pay attention to the little blue taxi signs in case you need a cab at a future point.  

Interestingly, the yellow recycle bin for plastic also allows aluminum cans and milk/juice boxes but not CDs and DVDs or, apparently, toys (such as rubber ducks).  You have to pay close attention even when you are taking out the rubbish!

And, last but not least, be sure to read restaurant signs!  Almost all stores accept cash, but some of them do not accept credit cards unless they have the little wifi symbol indicating they are contactless.  In fact, this was an issue for an American passenger trying to purchase lunch on a recent British Airlines flight I took from London to Barcelona. Many U.S. issued credit cards don’t have a chip inside them that allows for contactless payment (not inserting or swiping the card into a machine).  Does yours?  

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Hello again! December was a full month for us – as I am sure it was for you. We started our month with the lighting of the lights in Barcelona. It all began the weekend before Thanksgiving when some trucks appeared on the street outside our building. They were hanging holiday street lights all along the sidewalk, around the corner and down the next street. In fact, we soon discovered that colonies of these little construction crews were crawling all over Barcelona dispensing holiday lighting across every area of the city but particularly those areas where commerce can easily be found. Soon, there were posted signs touting the “el bendinguadador” or the welcomer who is in charge of welcoming in all the magic, traditions and characters of Christmas. He arrives at the ceremony when all the lights in the city are first turned on to signal the arrival of the “light in the darkness” or the coming birth of Christ. Interestingly, the holiday lights are provided by the commercial district organizations (various shops and stores located across the city join together in regional groups to promote commerce). So, in a way, it’s a bit like “turn on the lights and let’s go shopping!”. Still, they were lovely to see and spread a little holiday cheer around the city.

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Above, the shopkeepers association of Sarrià, provided superb and delightful lighting that graced the main streets of the little suburb. Below, the famous Passeig de Gracià, with it’s plethora of famous designer shops and high-end boutiques, the Rodeo Drive of Barcelona, decorated this year with beautiful, graceful butterflies suspended among tiny rows of twinkling lights spread across the entire street.

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Then, we noticed more and more of our local shops in Pedrables and those in nearby Sarrià were adding their own seasonal decorations both inside and out. In fact, many of the stores were literally bursting with holiday ornamentation! There were knick-knacks and spangle scattered all around the stores in our neighborhood. Everywhere we looked it appeared as though Christmas was bursting at the seams and would explode all around us at any moment. All of these little changes made us appreciate the season so much more and we would frequently sing carols on our walk to school in the chilly, dark mornings.

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We did not purchase a tree this year. Instead, we used cardboard from our shipping boxes to manufacture our own tree. We thought we were being really creative and clever – chanting “reduce, reuse, recycle” as we painted the sides green and hot-glued green ribbon to the edges. We even made a cardboard star for the topper! Then, we spent some time exploring some of the many local shops and discovered that cardboard trees are very popular here in Spain. So, unbeknownst to us, we were just being trendy locals. Go figure.

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We also traveled a little in December. I flew back to Tucson for a fast and furious week to get some year-end business done and also to retrieve our winter apparel that we were unwilling to ship and unable to lug with us in our many suitcases. Allita and I visited a friend in Germany for a long weekend and, while we were there, the three of us explored some of the famous German Weihnachtsmarkt or Christkindlmarkt. More details on that trip will be available in a future post.

All in all, Diciembre was a busy yet productive month, as it usually is, and we concluded it with wonderful Christmas and fantastic year-end celebrations. Spending our holiday together in Spain was an unexpectedly delightful pleasure for all of us. Cheers!

So much has happened over the last two months that we need to spend some time “catching up”, as my mother likes to say.  First, I hope you all enjoyed a lovely holiday season and that your new year is off to a fantastic start!  Let’s see….where to begin….Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving was unusual for us this year.  It’s interesting to note that the Spanish, among many other Europeans apparently, also enjoy turkey this time of year.  Many local holidays, including Christmas, are celebrated with this particular fowl on the table.  I was surprised but also delighted to discover this fact as I had been somewhat concerned with the execution of our traditional Thanksgiving meal without the main dish.  Problem solved!  In fact, the biggest challenge I had for Thanksgiving was the pecan pie.  Turns out, the Spanish do not eat pecans as much as Americans do.  Nor do they use heavy syrups like we do (especially, for example, that which is a necessary ingredient in pecan pie).  It’s a little like peanut butter.  Online consumer goods data shows Americans eat over a billion pounds of peanut butter in a year.  Slightly more than 3 pounds per person per year.  But, according to NPR, the average Spaniard eats less than a tablespoon per year.  That’s a pretty big difference!  It also explains the peanut butter isle in the grocery store.  There isn’t one.  There isn’t even a peanut butter shelf.  If the store sells it, the peanut butter is usually hiding somewhere among the many shelves of jams and Nutella.  

We purchased our sweet potatoes from an older gentleman who roasts them, along with chestnuts, in a large black metal grill / smoker (ahumador) at his roadside stand that is semi-permanently located on the street corner we pass every day on the way home from school.  He is such a friendly and jaunty little man.  He folds long pieces of newspaper into neatly-shaped cones into which he pours his warm, roasted chestnuts and hands them with a flourish to his customers (often children).  When the children hand him some coins in payment, he gives them a neat little bow and then he wishes them a lovely snack and encourages them to return again tomorrow.  If, like us, you purchase his sweet potatoes, he lets you pick the potato of your choice directly from the grill and then he wraps it in newspaper secured with a thin strand of hemp rope tied in a simple bow.  He does not offer any bags or beverages.  Neither does his establishment provide an eating area.  However, he is located very close to a small playground with benches nearby and a water fountain for both people and pets.  So, if you want to savor your purchases immediately, as many of the locals do, you are able to procure the amenities you need easily.  

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What made Thanksgiving unusual wasn’t the absence of the bird, instead it was the absence of the holiday.  There were no days of school missed.  No time spent in front of a television watching football.  No parades.  No stuffing ourselves with delicious dishes until even the slightest idea of food was nauseating and we could barely keep our eyelids open.  None of those lovely traditions at all.  Instead, we spent the day cooking, as we sometimes do, and then when Allita came home from school, we all sat down to a lovely dinner together, as we usually do.  It was the most non-celebrated holiday we have ever experienced.  We did make some table decorations but they were minimal because we anticipated a minimalist celebration.  We did, however, manage to maintain almost all of our “after Thanksgiving” traditions.  We spent the weekend decorating the house for Christmas, including erecting the tree and organizing all associated lighting, which is my primary responsibility and also my most dreaded annual chore.  We also did lots of shopping – in person and online.

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I will note at this point that “Black Friday” is celebrated here in Spain although not quite as fervently as in the U.S..  I found it highly interesting.  They do not yet appear to have a Cyber Monday or any other similar sales events.  Also, “Black Friday” sales apparently extend well into the Christmas shopping season.  Go figure.  Amazon is very active here in Spain with drivers frequently lugging their deliveries up and down the sidewalks as they look diligently for recipient addresses.  The concierge in our building was extremely busy the week following Thanksgiving as he first cleaned the entire lobby – top to bottom – and then he installed all of the holiday decor for the building while at the same time receiving a variety of packages and deliveries for the residents and, at one point, babysitting a stroller-encased child while the mother dashed away on a quick errand.  He’s a lovely man – I will have to tell you more about him in a future blog.  

Well, that wraps up November and Thanksgiving. On to December and Christmas…..

As a reader, when I find a writer whom I enjoy, I am a glutton – reading every book with a voracious hunger, single-mindedly devouring every word and savoring every mental image until there is nothing unread remaining.  Then, I become impatient for the next story.  When will he release the next book in this series?  When will I have a new episode of mental-vision to enjoy while I sip my morning coffee or lay in bed at night?  What is taking her so long?!  Doesn’t she understand that I am waiting here?  How hard can it be to just write another freaking book?!  I am selfish, demanding and easily frustrated.  If the wait is too long, I will often wander away and start the search for a new “favorite” author.  A new writer whose works I have yet to sample but appears to have the same potential to entertain me in the engrossing manner I crave.  I am a picky reader and I have high expectations for the quality of the material into which I invest my precious time and energy.  Finding written works that I enjoy can be challenging, which is a major contributing factor to the frustration and impatience I experience when I realize I have completed the last book in a series so the dishes are empty and the kitchen is bare.  

As a blogger, not an actual writer but more of an essayist or, using the same descriptive thread, the garde manager or pastry chef responsible only for the small, simple dishes that are tasty morsels but not quite a meal, I have to be careful not to spend all my time with my devices in hand, taking photos, making notes, writing down snippets of thoughts and ideas to include in the next blog publication.  The blogging process can be addictive and all-consuming much like reading.  The only difference is I am recreating events in order to share them with others – I’m seeing them again in my mind and perfecting the way they are arranged, described and presented in order for the person reading my words to be able to fully appreciate and enjoy that experience as I did.  I am the chef perfecting the dish so that it is plated attractively, smells tempting, tastes exactly as anticipated and is altogether an exquisite experience.  Well, hopefully anyway.  The point is, if I am not mindful as a human who is also invested in relationships with other humans (family and friends), I can easily allow blogging and all that is associated with it, consume me and ultimately detract from the very thing about which I am blogging – my life.  

All that said, to readers who are like me and have pointedly noticed my 6-week hiatus, I apologize for my absence.  I have been enjoying the recent holidays, traveling, cooking, spending time with family and friends and, finally, accumulating material about which I may now blog.  🙂  Thank you for your patience.  

Barcelona typically enjoys a lovely Mediterranean climate, with mild winters and warm summers. Online research indicates the last time the temperature in Barcelona fell below freezing was during an rare cold wave in January 1985. In fact, although Tucson, Arizona, where we usually spend our time, is geographically 600 miles closer to the equator, Barcelona supposedly enjoys nearly identical winter weather! Likely that is because the desert has little ability to store overnight the solar heat it receives during the daytime and therefore, in the shorter days, it is overall cooler. The relative humidity and variation in altitude also make a difference in the climate, I’m sure. All that said, we have prepared ourselves for wintering in Barcelona by stocking our closets with only a few long-sleeved tops, one sweater and some light-weight jackets and warm socks. However, judging by the locals who have recently made a sudden and rather unexpected change in their dress code, I wonder if we will be asking Santa for supplemental apparel.

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Barcelonans, it appears, love their heavy cold-weather clothes. At the onset of autumn, when the first chilly breeze blew discarded leaves across the sidewalk and street, a silent notice went out across the city. The natives began pulling out articles of clothing from the back of their wardrobes or their under-bed storage containers. Puffy winter coats, thick neck scarves, ankle boots and knitted caps began appearing everywhere – in store windows and on nearly every passerby. Older men started wearing long wool peacoats or overcoats with scarves tucked in at the collar and flat caps or trilbys donned atop their heads. Younger men now wear leather coats, shearling coats with wool collars and sometimes puffer coats with or without scarves. Children (and sometimes tiny dogs) are dressed in huge, thick puffer coats that appeared to be more suitable for a ski trip than a ride in the stroller or walk to school. The ladies dressed themselves in all manner of winter wear from thick fur-lined ankle boots to knee-high leather heeled boots, long puffer overcoats with belts and hoods to waist-length, water-repellent, quilted versions also suitable for the slopes, but each with a long scarf tied in some intricate, but seemingly simple, casual manner around their necks.

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Granted, the mornings are a bit brisk, but the daytime highs are still in the mid to low 60s (upper teens in Celsius) and the direct sunlight is quite intense so the day warms quickly. The sun’s rays create a noticeable difference for the casual pedestrian ambling through streets dappled with shade. In fact, considering that most of our travels are by foot and we live in an area with sloping streets and gentle hills, it’s not uncommon for us to get somewhat toasty on less windy days. Unlike the locals, we often wear short sleeved tops with a light jacket and 3/4 pants or light-weight hiking slacks. Occasionally, I wear yoga pants and a summer top with a windbreaker. Mom wears sandals but Allita and I usually loaf along in our sneakers. Sometimes, when it is windy, we will don scarves but they are more often a nod toward fashion than a weather-driven necessity. Even at her school, Allita is one of only two kids (the other is an American from Florida) who does NOT wear her thick puffy winter uniform coat in addition to her long-sleeved school shirt and a warm wool-blend sweater! Her teachers frequently ask her if she is sufficiently warm. They seem to have some difficulty understanding her lack of interest in additional layers.

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It’s likely that when winter ultimately arrives, we will have to finally done a warmer coat and switch to our closed-toed shoes and thicker socks. Maybe I will just include a sweater in my layers? Probably, we will all add a few scarves to our collection – for fun as well as diversity because they are so plentiful here. Perhaps I might even buy a hat, but that’s highly unlikely. Instead, there is a greater chance I will gift Mom some earmuffs for the upcoming holidays as she wears her hair short leaving her ears unprotected in the chilly wind. I wonder what the locals will do? Will they at last put on some gloves? Gloves are, after all, the only winter accessory currently missing from almost every person I pass. It will be interesting to see if there is even enough of a difference between fall and winter weather to encourage a change in fall and winter fashions. Time will tell.

The IKEA store in Barcelona isn’t just a warehouse of cheap furniture with confusing pictographic assembly instructions and kitschy little knick-knacks. It’s a cross between Home Goods, Wayfair, World Market, H&M, Nordstrom Rack, Uncommon Goods, and Target with a K&W-style cafeteria (not quite Cliftons, but still delicious) located on the top floor. Even if you don’t actually purchase any of their goods, it’s still a fun place to walk around, get ideas and explore options.

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Yes, the store offers primarily low-cost home furnishings that are mainly manufactured in China and based on Scandinavian designs. Yes, the store includes a self-serve warehouse where you will find some of the items too bulky to stock in large quantity on the showroom floor. And, yes, it is similar to other IKEAs in basic organizational design – prompting unidirectional traffic flow through seemingly well-ordered areas categorized based on their main product contents (lighting, linens, kitchenware, etc). Interestingly, I find that in order to locate the one or two items on my list that remain unascertainable, I may have to wander the entire store (often more than one time) regardless of the apparent zoning. In all likelihood, there is nothing specific I can put my finger on that makes this particular IKEA different from any other I have visited in Germany, France, United States or the United Kingdom, but, for some reason, I find I like it the best. So, it is hardly a surprise that I would plan a visit to my favorite Swedish establishment on this crisp autumn afternoon.

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As usual, we arrived with a list of “necessary” items and our typical curiosity and desire, along with two large rolling bags for homeward transport of our final purchases. Each of us was sure to wear comfortable shoes for the ensuing long walk to and around the store, and we all agreed that we would end our adventure with a visit to the upstairs restaurant. I suspect we were all excited in our own way – me because I enjoy simply puttering about in this store, Mom because she may finally get the few remaining items on her wish list, and Allita because she’s missing the last hours of her school day to go shopping. The little things in life really do bring us the greatest pleasure.

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In the end, after three hours of our lives invested in leisurely meandering and perusing plus an additional hour dedicated to the enjoyment of hot, local cuisine customized to our specifications and immediately served, we were satisfied, eager to return home and ready to enjoy our new acquisitions.

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It was lovely on Saturday – a perfect fall weather day – so we decided to take a train downtown and visit Palau Güell (Güell Palace) located in the popular El Raval neighborhood off La Rambla. This is the home of the family of Eusebi Güell who partnered with Gaudi on the Güell park project we just visited. The palace is among many examples of Art Nouveau in this neighborhood but is unique because of it’s direct association with Gaudi.

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The tour started in the stables and carriage house which is located below the street-level entrance. Even here, the intricately designed ceilings with arches, multi-colored bricks and elaborate columns were obvious. Gaudi designed this space to allow for capture of rain water and created smooth drains in the floors for ease of cleaning up after the animals. The below-stairs includes sleeping quarters for the groom and stable master as well as individual stables for the family horses. Although the overall coloring is very earthen, the architectural design and construction of this area surpasses some places I have lived in my life. And this was just for the horses! From the main entrance (two huge arched doors visible in the first photos), a massive staircase with columns, arches and, of course, stained glass window at the top, takes you to the visitor and guest lobbies and the main foyer.

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Visitors were taken to the first lobby and Gaudi created an interesting feature that used lattice work on the wall to allow the family to spy unseen into the lobby below and identify who was calling before they were announced. Allita and I decided this was a very useful design feature – sort of a precursor to the modern “peep hole” in the front door. The guest lobby was far nicer but smaller with stained glass windows, an intricate gold-leaf ceiling and a more personal waiting area. From the guest lobby (once it has been decided you are allowed entrance, of course!), you enter the main foyer which is also a chapel and includes the organ pipes visible on the third floor and a massive decorous ceiling designed to allow sufficient light to enter at all times of the day and during all seasons. The ceiling appears celestial when gazing up from below – the holes create a “Starry Night” pattern in the dome.

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The remainder of the house is as you might expect it: large rooms packed with awesome architectural designs, stained glass, arches, mazing ceilings, columns, colorful tiles, gold leaf decoration and furnishing that you find difficult to believe someone actually utilized day-to-day. The effect of the softly stained glass in the windows of the hallway is soothing and creates a tranquility that feels surreal among the opulence in the rest of the house.

Every space was designed and decorated perfectly for its purpose and for the period. Gaudi created a small chamber off the lady’s bedroom that would allow her to attend mass without leaving the comfort of her personal space – kind of like a pajama-day Sunday – by giving the room private access to the chapel below. The music room appears to be a miniature concert hall – and likely was during performances by the Güell children – although neither Allita nor I could imagine banging away our practice in such a setting. Even the toilet in the family bathroom was beautiful but practical with colorful, handmade tiles covering every surface making them both attractive and easy to clean!

Allita and I decided to make use of the audio equipment included with our tickets, but Mom did not. We spent much of our time explaining the various rooms to her and she spent much of her time waiting for us to finish listening to the electronic tour guide before advancing along the route. Further, our necks got sore from constantly looking up to view the ceilings and designs above our heads that were so breath-taking we couldn’t afford to miss them.

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Finally, we ventured up the servant’s staircase to the rooftop to see Gaudi’s chimneys – a feature common among his residential designs. The sloping rooftop was not a comfortable place for secure balance, but the views of the neighborhood and city were spectacular and we enjoyed the whimsical designs of the little-seen fireplace vents. Allita opined it would have been fantastic to reside in such accommodations, surrounded by beauty and wealth, but then I reminded her about the general lack of indoor plumbing and electricity – not to mention no wifi, no television and no cell phones – plus a single, shared bathroom and toilet. In the end, she decided it was a much better place to visit than to live.