¡Viva España!

If truth be told, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a holiday in Spain. Although I had been here before, one three fleeting occasions, I really didn’t know what to expect.

My first visit to Spain was as part of a package holiday in 1989 to Salou, celebrating the end of our A-Levels. The big debate at that time was whether to pay extra for a flight or just stick with the basic package and take a coach all the way to the southern coast of Spain. What a choice. On one hand a more expensive but much quicker travel option, and on the other a gruelling two day road trip and ferry crossing.

Thankfully, common sense prevailed and we took the coach option. Why waste valuable beer money on a flight when you could drink all the way on the coach? Obviously really when you think about it. Two weeks in the resort of Salou, or more accurately ten days by the time the travel is deducted, wasn’t exactly the best introduction to Spanish culture one could’ve hoped for. It’s no exaggeration to say they there were more English in the town than locals. Bar a change in currency and improved weather there was little difference to being in England.

The second visit was a few years later as part of a month travelling around Europe by train. This time we headed to Pamplona from southern France to participate in the running of the bulls festival. A great plan, except we were a day late. I can’t recall if our journey took longer than planned or whether we just had the wrong date. I suspect the latter. Disheartened, we spent the day at the station chugging back Rioja, eventually catching a evening train to Barcelona, where we immediately changed trains and headed back into France. Actually it was probably for the best. I’d hate to think what might have happened if we had arrived on the day of the festival. Getting chased down streets by ill tempered animals would’ve ended badly for us I suspect. In actuality the worst that happened to us was a sore head from too much vino and a slight embarrassment from decorating the outside of the train carriage. Let’s move on…..

I did get another chance to visit Barcelona in 2003 when we visited for the weekend to celebrate a family birthday. It was a fleeting visit and not really enough time to do the city or country justice. Oh, and it rained almost the entire weekend with the sun coming out just as we headed back to the airport.

So this time we were going to do it properly and spend nearly two weeks travelling around and meeting up with friends (and local guides!)

And what a time we’ve had. From the moment we arrived into San Sebastián, to the final few hours in Madrid, Spain has put on a show; the glorious weather, (arguably too good) beautiful cities and delicious food, wine and beer. The fact that I speak virtually no Spanish didn’t seem to matter, not like in a neighbouring country I won’t name. Everyone seemed pleased to meet us and wanted to help us enjoy our visit.

It has certainly whet our appetite for the country and I am absolutely sure that we’ll be back - but maybe when the weather is not quite so hot! 40 degrees is a novelty at first but it soon becomes a challenge. Thank goodness for the slight coolness of the coastal resort of Cádiz.

But a return is for the future. For now we bid adiós to the Iberian peninsula and head for the cooler mountain air of Switzerland.….

Zen and the art of backpacking bag-packing

I used to have a t-shirt with the words “He who travels light travels happy” emblazoned on the front. I loved that t-shirt, not necessarily for the wise words but for the comfortable fit. Oh and the cheery image of a suitcase being carried aloft as if it were a balloon. Nevertheless, it offered advice that any traveller should embrace. 

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have seen someone trying to heft a suitcase that is clearly too heavy onto a train. I could of course help but but I’d much rather tut under my breath and think to myself “they’ve over packed”. Maybe that t-shirt should’ve had the words “Smug Git” instead.

Actually the problem isn’t with the individuals but instead with the manufacturers of modern suitcases. I suppose it’s a natural progression from the invention of the wheel. Applied to travelling, first to the cart, then the bicycle, the car and finally the roll-along suitcase. Honestly these things are so huge I don’t know why they didn’t just fit wheels to their wardrobes and take those on holiday. Foreign cities are now chock-a-block with mobile accompaniments, click-clacking their way between hotels and methods of transportation.

Anyway I have digressed. One of the advantages of travelling with a rucksack is that you can’t overpack. The space you have is the space you have. It is quite limiting at first - and seemingly an impossible task to fit all of the clothes and personal items you need for a month away into a very limited space. No matter how hard you try, that third pair of footwear just won’t fit. There is always the option of hanging things to the outside of the bag but that could end in disaster. Think I’m overstating it? Well how would you feel if one shoe went missing? Spending the month hopping doesn’t seem like a whole lot of fun. No, much better to keep everything on the inside. Safely tucked away.

Of course the disadvantage of a rucksack is that everything has to be unpacked and repacked at each destination. Sure it is tempting, after struggling to get everything into the bag, to leave it be and just keep wearing the same set of clothes. But there is your travelling companions to consider. Not sure they would appreciate your lack of enthusiasm for changing your clothing. Especially after a few sweaty days in southern Spanish cities. Besides, with each emptying and repacking it does get easier. A system develops and with it an understanding of the optimum method for making use of all of the available space. A zen like state in the mastering of space and time. Well space mainly. Socks and undies are stuffed into hiking boots, each small space is filled with an appropriate item of clothing. Imagine a game of Tetris but with shoes and clothes instead of colourful blocks. And without the catchy music. 

When done correctly, the tidy ensemble makes a 12kg mobile home possible. And nothing is fastened to the outside….yet.

I’ve just completed my eighth packing, achieved in the semi-darkness of a hotel room and completed in under ten minutes. Not bad. Admittedly it’s not quite as lump free as I would like, but that’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have bought that souvenir t-shirt in Seville - it’s upset the proverbial apple cart and unbalanced my zen like state. 

Never mind, I’ve got a few more attempts to make to get it right. And if I can’t? Well there’s always the option of jettisoning some unwanted items. The US power adapter for example, or one of the three jumpers I brought. Well it was cold when I left New Zealand.

 

Siesta?….Si por favor!

I am beginning to wonder if you were to look deep into my family background, far beyond the Yorkshire clan and deep into the past, that there might be a trace of Spanish in my genetic make-up. Is it possible?

I left New Zealand a few weeks ago for a trip around Europe and after a quick call into Canada and the UK headed to Spain - a country that I have only fleetingly visited in the past. I’ve been here for almost a week and I have well and truly settled into the rhythm of life here. The food, the wine and most of all the Siesta. Oh what a wonderful thing that is. No doubt helped by the heat and the lunchtime drinks, but how great it is to switch off for a few hours and grab some regenerative sleep. 

Admittedly, I have always tended to have an afternoon kip, especially on a weekend when it wouldn’t interfere with work, but I can take it to a whole new level here. Olympic standard even. 

Firstly, it is encouraged and by being so, the guilt of sloping off for an hour or two when there are other things that need doing is gone. Doze away.

Then there are the wonderful wooden shutters on the windows. Who needs curtains when you can cover the windows with what are essentially planks of wood? Plunging the room into near total darkness literally invites sleep.

Oh and of course there is the air conditioning. Blissful cool air to chill the room and keep away the outside heat. It might be nearly 40 degrees outside, but it’s a soothing and sleep inducing 22 degrees in the room. Sure it might not be that environmentally friendly but so are a lot of other things. And besides it’s probably a price worth paying to avoid a sleep deprived grumpy Graeme being loose on the streets.

Yes I have truly embraced this particular part of Spanish life. I’m even considering make a suggestion to my company when I return to New Zealand to allow staff some time in the afternoon for a sneaky doze. I’m sure it will enhance productivity and make for a happier workplace environment. I could even build in the coats into my project budgets. Task code zzz. Everyone is a winner. Surely it’s worth a go?

There is an art to a successful Siesta and that is timing. It could be very easy to overdo it - with the room being so dark it’s easy to forget that there is still a part of the day to complete. And what a waste that would be - there are beautiful streets outside to wander through, and that vino won’t drink itself!