Aug 2016…
We’re baaaack! After a series of extremely fortunate events, we have bought the house we fantasized about in Santa Fe and are happily nesting.
The most valuable lesson I learned from this move is that I am too old to be moving entire houses full of junk across the country. So no more. I expect to be buried somewhere here in this picture.
May 2016…
So we put the Caminito Borde condo on the market May 1, and got a cash offer that night, full price. What a fucking relief, after the chaos and disappointment of two years ago when the sale fell through. We are eager to get back to Santa Fe and restart our plans there, but there is a slight twinge of melancholy at saying goodbye to our home of 18 years. Not so sad to leave San Diego itself, we were ready for that a long time ago.
March 2016…
We spent a whirlwind weekend in Puerto Vallarta to celebrate Franck’s 50th birthday. As usual, he and Paco tore it up with the entertaining. Saturday night there was a White Party at Casa Faro, on Sunday a party boat to Quimixto beach with lobster and alcohol. We met some very fun French friends of theirs, along with the local crowd of Frenchies who live year round in PV. Just like their wedding in Paris three years ago, they spared no expense or detail to make everything fantastic. I wish I gave enough of a shit to entertain that way.
Feb 2016…
Madre mia! It’s Presidents Day Weekend and also Valentines Day Weekend so all the LA cholos will be heading down to Ensenada and Rosarito, and we + Tere & Martin will be right there with them.
Hector and I used to come to Ensenada all the time when his Mom was still alive and living here. Now we aren’t even going to tell his father we’re here. Tere and Martin have picked out an Airbnb for us all. We are actually more the hotel types than the Airbnb types but hey we’re easy. The place is new and cleanish, and cheap.
Saturday we drove out to the Bufadora, the local blow hole, which always had little shops and bodegas clustered around it for the tourists. It was fun and local. Well, that was fifteen years ago and now it’s grown to huge proportions, with a mile of shops and bars before you get near the blow hole, so there was a lot of humanity to get through. Even though it was jammed with tourists hardly any of them were vomiting.
La Bufadora
Next day we ate breakfast at Hotel Coral, where naturally we ran into Hector’s Dad. Hi, what a surprise. After that we drove out to the Guadalupe Valley to see the wineries.
The wineries were impressive. We hit about 4 or 5 of them and had lunch at Laja. The region has really developed since we visited the only winery there 15 years ago. It’s worth getting a map and devoting a whole weekend to it.
Laja
Jan 2016…
Back home, ho hum. But it’s the start of a new year and.. oh fuck it. Wish I was still in Spain.
Things have slowed down at my school so they have no classes for me, the low man on the seniority pole. Apparently the Saudis are no longer getting a free ride from the King, they have to actually achieve something to continue their scholarships; ergo, most of them are on the way back to Riyadh or Jeddah. I loved my students but they couldn’t really be thought of as over-achievers.
Dec 2015…
Came back to Málaga after Marrakesh and checked in to our old flat, Ático Pastor, which was unavailable before we went to Carligto. It’s my favorite apartment, partly because of its central location and partly because it’s an interior flat, so street sounds don’t make it into the bedroom. Correction. Only the crying baby on the ground floor who hasn’t seemed to age in the past three years.
We took the train to Madrid and collected Carlos at the airport, did a whirlwind Madrid tour and back on the train to Málaga. Over the course of five days, we took him to the Balneario, Picasso Museum, Pompidou, the Hammam, all our favorite restaurants, and finally on a drive to Frigiliana, our local white village, followed by a visit to Carligto, which he loved.
It was a great getaway from the rigors of college life for him and a wonderful treat for us.
Nov 2015…
While Marc and Al went off to New York City for a well-earned vacation, they let us dog and house sit for them for two weeks. Now, we’ve visited them here many times over the years but being up here alone is a different experience. It’s so quiet and removed, goat herds jangling in the distance, and at night so dark it’s best not to wander too close to the edge of their mountain.
The Labs, Trufa and Reina, are a delight and love all the attention we give them. Trufa is getting a bit long in the tooth so we kept a special eye on her for the boys. Now completely deaf, every night at 10 pm she made her way to the edge of the hill to bark a few times, then slowly came back in to her bed.
Got nothing accomplished, except wandering around the place, pretending I own it.
We made it back to Málaga without killing any dogs. Good weather, lots of sun.
Oct 2015…
The unthinkable has happened! Actually, not only was it thinkable, we could feel it coming like a bad head cold. After 19 long and profitable years, Hector was laid off from his publishing company job, effective immediately… hints: unsympathetic boss, unusual slowdown in travel approvals, suspicious request from his manager to meet personally, oh, and don’t forget to bring in your computer and mobile phone.
First order of business, sign up for unemployment. Second, buy plane tickets to Málaga and rent a flat. Done. Bye-bye to my students and we’re off. The plan is to stay in one place in Málaga, then dog-sit for Al and Marc up at Cortijo el Carligto, take a trip to Morocco and end up back in Málaga for Christmas to host Carlos Ramirez for his first trip to Europe! Lucky bastard! And us too! We’re off.
I can’t say I remember what this is, exactly, but I can say in all honesty it was delicious. Lunch in Nerja, Spain with Al and Marc. Not shown: 4+ bottles of wine. A fitting welcome back.
Can I just say that train travel in Europe, at least my parts of Europe, is such a pleasure? Even at the busy Madrid Atocha station, at 30 minutes before departure one can meander in with one’s bags, pass through their quaint gesture toward security, and still have time to pose thoughtfully in front of the departures board, waiting for one’s platform to be announced. It is the scientific antidote to air travel.
We arrived in Málaga in 2:20 hours, having whisked at 125 mph past old castles, goats, and olive groves, and were greeted at Mario Zambrano Station by young Spaniards in shorts and tight t-shirts. What better welcome? Did they know we were coming? The temp was about 15 degrees warmer than Madrid. We checked in into our teeny little flat, Malagueta 1, oohed and aahed over the view (below), then hit the pavement for our triumphal return to the city. Flags raised in honor of our return.
Well it seemed like a very long time to get here, but… at last. I met Hector in Madrid, where we re-enacted many of our favorite eating and drinking scenarios from the past. We stayed at the AC Atocha Hotel, tucked into a little neighborhood south of the Atocha Train Station. It was very comfortable, quiet, and convenient to nothing except the train station. But at less than €100 per night, I’m happy to walk that extra mile.
Plaza Mayor was all a-jumble with construction so we moved our loitering to Plaza Santa Ana, along with the beggars and buskers. It was a pleasant few days, a bit chilly, but really we couldn’t wait to get on the train to Málaga, where sunny weather and cheaper cañas awaited.
Saw Chef Paul Hollywood, standing around Plaza Santa Ana hoping to be recognized. Naturally, we ignored him. A few years ago we saw Daniel Craig and Javier Bardem there in the exact spot, signing autographs for a James Bond movie. So, Paul Hollywood? Please.
travel eat repeat 