Buenos Diaz my Familia y Amigos (and happy Father’s Day to all the Papas):
“ Ain’t it good to be back home again”……………………………..John Denver
“Is one Nobel prize, too much to ask from a child, after all I’ve done”……..Haikus for Jews
Got back this Wednesday after ten day extravaganza in Spain and Portugal with Max…17.5 pounds of luggage to meet strict carry-on standards for overseas flights on Spanish airlines, 58 hours to get home form the southwest tip of Portugal, 253 pictures and serval dozen forms of Tapas….There are more pix than usual attached to this- could not decide on which to include. At the end of this week’s Blog there is also a summary trip report for those of you who have that kind of interest. If you wish to see the full photo journal –you can find it at: https://photos.shutterfly.com/story_invite/f4831f5e-9a22-48fd-96ae-8bf0d33e4779/100147634772
Jenn picked me up at the Amtrak station in Albany for the majestic ride up Route 7 back to the Greens…and it is GREEN…summer has hit in full force….and the sun even came out for a three days in a row…before it started raining again. sine I have only been home for three days in the last two weeks- I will make this a short Blog…if you don’t count the plethora of photos and the trip report…but then again, short is hardly my middle name..
Got back to find that while the cat was away… the Jenn did play…establishing five ongoing house projects (wallpaper gone, tchotchkes hidden, pieces of countertop and carpet tucked in corners, new bedding snuck in everywhere)…which will teach me to wander off across the pond…
Speaking of which, THE POND had regressed back to a former life, with slime and algae covering the surface. Now, this is not supposed to happen…no, no, no….so despite persistent jet lag (rising at 4:30 in a daze), the sunny day on Thursday found me returning to my very unwanted roots…back in the pond in kayak with the kitchen strainer. Fortunately, unlike previous battles, this is mostly surface stuff. Nevertheless, 3 hours of floating and skimming, bad sunburn and a pulled grain muscle later….the Pond is mostly back to its faux-pristine state. which initiated my first swim of the summer in the newly strained and blessed water. But, then again-no rest for the weary…so we went to see the Trout King for fish and advice –and came back home with 25 more crayfish and three min-solar fountains to move the water. They are pretty cute, but only work in absolute deadly full on sun ray blast, and then kind of dribble water out. So we hauled out the old pump, got a new spray attachment and, Voila, the water is flowing on timer for six hours a day…which ostensibly will keep it crystal clear (who’s kidding who?).
So- now I can fully concentrate on jet lag and fining my hidden tchotchkes (and sneaking back to Walmart to return the hidden beddings that have not been placed in rotation yet).
Back in the saddle- we made it down to Sam’s in Ludlow for the beloved early bird dinner and opt the Rutland Farmer’s Market and related all day shopping activities on Saturday. Since today is Pops Day…we are making the trek to Dartmouth this afternoon for a real movie and dinner served by people of some color.
I think that is enough…after all, what more is there really to say. Enjoy the pix and the report- if you are a glutton…and catch you after the paint dries, the countertops are up and the house resembles Jenn’s vision of pure mountain delight.
Estuardo
Europe 2017– the Berry boys eat, walk, transport and generally go around in circles for nine days through Spain and Portugal. Left the mountains via 2 hour lift from Jenn down to Albany, the Amtrak to NYC Penn station,, subway out to far side of Queens, Air-train to JFK, five hour sit after clearing security with ten thousand other immigrants (was this styled after Ellis Island?) and 6.5 hour flight on Air Europa…all making a representative sampling of transport in the modern world. After breezing through Madrid customs (they seem much more civilized about this kind of stuff) grabbed a cab to the very loosely appointed meet-up spot- rounding a corner to find the boy leaning ever so nonchalantly on the ancient walls in the flesh. A night and day in Madrid included endless walking, art (largest ever Picasso retro at the national museum (which is free from 7-9 nightly- special travel tip), olives, bread, oil, tapas and Sangria. …the jet lag led to walking around the city endlessly before 6 a.m. – which made us pretty much the only people on street, as Madridians do not appear to be early risers after late night consumptions. So-we leave town on the high speed (600 miles in 2.5 hours) train to Cordoba (can you say Ricardo Montalban) in the south and west of Spain; full of ancient history, cobbled streets, castles, lilting music and a lot more Tapas than one should consume….plus the olives, bread and oil…now adding Iberian (Sorrento) ham into the mix. Walked around streets in ferocious Mediterranean sun to search out long extinguished Jewish Quarter (they pre-dated Nazis by four hundred or so years in taking care of this business), and long dormant one room “Sinagogin”. We found the one remaining Jew, who of course, runs a fine restaurant, offering the “late bird” special of 40% off dinner-in a walled courtyard with ancient Sephardic music (something Elton John-ish)…..more Sangria, much more walking…Max hitting low point of no sleep and no BM (tired and full of shit). So-we leave the heat, take another train and head for Seville (Sa-Bee-Yah)…….where it is even hotter. Quartered ourselves in center of city in hostel type lodging- which meant a ten by ten room (Max with his own bunk beds), shared WC and a wheeled in AC unit, which took up a third of the ten-by space. More towers, art, LOTS more Tapas- best anywhere; 5 dishes – plus Sangrias plus dessert -for two=20 Euros). Hit the required Flamenco extravaganza, art museum with maximum Goya and Dali (how many Spanish men have Dali mustaches?). Had enough heat for lifetime-so much I had no usable undies or socks-so washed them out in common area kitchen sink one morning- which led Max to ruminate about whether this was actually a universally accepted custom? This seemed like a good time to head for the bus station and three hour bus ride to Portugal (bus station a microbe of Spanish culture in all forms)- heading for Faro on the southwest coast. Spent several hours negotiating the finding of the rental car (we got of bus at airport but car was left for us the train station). Once located, it was off to find the beaches. Spent first night in surreal full-hose rental in newly built suburb…..with a washer, by golly. Had dinner in hopping oceanfront resort of Ohayo (go Bucks?)- where had the feast –of- all- shellfish feast (so fresh they jumped off plate into our drooling mouths), which with local beers, local cheese, olives and breads- set us back 30 euros (Portugal more expensive than Spain). Next morning I woke to find Max gone- off to find some guy who would rent him a surfboard for a week….and so we set off in search of The Waves. Wandered sun-drenched south Portugal coast-about as different from urban Spain as you can get. Dramatic cliffs, plunging to the sea all along the coast, with private little beaches at every turn (apparently for the Amore!) and small resort beach towns filed with Ex-pat Brits (who knew). Made our way to the southwest tip of Portugal (and Europe for that matter) at Zagress an then San Clementi- which resembled the parking lot of a Dead show vibe and then headed up the west coast to national park area of Arrafina, where we stayed in mountain retreat above the majestic sea; Max getting in some surfing and discovering waves so high that they were spraying the 100 foot high cliffs along the sea (thankfully, he stayed out of those). Everywhere we stopped at, Rock of Gibraltar like formations. Aside for the very good seafood, the dining in Portugal was not quite up to Spain-Tapas standards-not the beloved five course Tapas. On our last day together, Max decided to adapt his travel plans to take in the annual Portugal Week festivities (renowned debauchery- complete with barbequed Sardines at every corner. So- instead of the original plan to drop me off the airport to catch my flight Madrid, we head into the heart of Lisbon to last minute hotel Max booked for himself in the heart of the old city-and the preparations for the extravaganza. After a dizzying about of circles both in the car and on foot, we found the hotel and then the super-secret underground parking garage (five floors under the city- who knew?) and were able to spend some time inspecting the city. Tour done- and after multiple cheek kissing (not sure how many times is correct for ach European country)- we put me in a cab to beat the oncoming hordes- and got to the airport and flight on semi-notorious TAP Portugal Air. Five hours sitting and not a single word later- we board our very late flight to Madrid-arriving there at 1 a.m.- enough time for me to take wired walk, go to bed in a very nice room, get up, take another stroll, find bread and oil….and head back to the airport for my cross pond flight. After 8.5 hours of sitting (blessed event- seat next to me empty) I arrived at JFK (already up for 24 hours) and had the good fortune of being picked up by my Cousin Sherry and her driver, Ari, for trip up to north Bronx to spend the night. End of day Two in cousin’s apartment in Riverdale; next morning a ride to subway, down to Penn Station, Amtrak to Albany and Jenn picking me up to do reverse ride home. The Greens were a sight to see. Total Return time= 58 hours and three days. 3 flights, 4 trains, 1 bus, 1 car tour, 60-70 miles walked, 650 olives, 15 glasses fresh Valencia OJ, 10 cups olive oil, 57 servings of bread, dozens of Sangrias……and nine days with The Prodigal……PRICELESS
