Spanish Nights and Pigs Ears

September 15, 2011
We had just left the Via Grande Metro stop when the incident occurred.  It was a crowded car, and we were clutching the upright rails as the car lurched through the vast labyrinth of tunnels beneath the city. In the last car where we were a muscular young man of about two meters tall and ninety kilos pushed his way brusquely through the car, the smell of alcohol on his breath. His face was swarthy, and he was muttering something. Claudette said he was demanding money.  As he moved to the back of the car, I said to Claudette. "Let's get outta here." She gave me a quizzical look as I pried her hand from the rail and led her forward. "But..." she started to say.

"Hey," I said," nothing good ever happens when drunks start making demands."  As I looked over her shoulder the big guy was accosting a young black man demanding money in a loud voice.  I pulled Claudette forward as she said, "He has the poor guy down on the floor hitting him. "

"Better him than us," I say as the train stops. We hurriedly exit the metro and notice a security guard waiting. He is much smaller that the men that are fighting and we don't wait around to see the outcome of the confrontation  but exit to Plaza Mayor into the festivities of Madrid after dark.

Most of the day had been spent in museums and now we were ready for some relaxing "wander around" time. According to the guidebook there was a place nearby where one of the local delicacies, fried pigs ears, were available. I know, I know, this sounds a bit strange, but when in Spain... The Metro stop was directly in front of one of our favorite bakeries but at nine o'clock at night we wanted something different. The plaza was crowded with people out for the evening, not particularly going anywhere in particular, just strolling about. The street vendors had their goods spread out on bed sheets on the ground, sunglasses, leather goods and other smaller items for sale. It appears that the vendor can make a hasty escape if need be by grabbing the corners of the sheet and running. Probably some of the merchandise has changed ownership recently without exchange of currency.  There is also some sort of demonstration or rally of about a hundred people going on.  We don't get involved.  We are accustomed to this sort of thing and have seen it in other European cities. There always seems to be a group protesting or demonstrating. Street entertainers abound on the plaza as well as the side streets. There are opera singers, string quartets, guitarists, folk dancers and a man playing water filled glasses! We enjoy the festive atmosphere but can't find the restaurant which sells the fried pigs ears.  We enjoy a meal of tapas with jamon, the cured Spanish ham.  Later, we had our desert of chocolate and churros. Churros are fried extruded bread dough that you eat after dipping in small cups of extremely thick hot chocolate. This could be my desert of choice...at least in Spain.

It had been an exhausting day of museums, sightseeing and wandering around. Oh, yes, and a fight on the metro too. Time to head for our hotel, only two blocks from Plaza Mayor. Did I mention that Plaza Mayor is mile zero for all roads in Spain?

Bahamian Holiday

Wednesday, January 12, 2012--We stepped off the MV Fantasy at about 9:30 AM  for a day of discovery on New Providence Island. As we walked down the gangway there was a Norwegian cruise ship berthing across from us. The other three berths were empty.

No passport is required here.   As we strode toward morning and the colorful Festival Place Welcome Center building with  the 855 foot long white cruise ship behind us at Prince George Wharf it was a warm day with cloudless sky.  We stopped in the Welcome Center long enough to get a map of the downtown Nassau area.  Almost immediately we sensed the friendliness of the Bahamians. Every face seemed to have a smile on

it with a cherry "Hello" or "Good morning". 


Across Wooden Rogers Walk was Ransom Square.  The park had the traditional park benches and the aged  men on the benches.  Amongst the towering palms  was a bust of Sir Milo Houghton Butler, the first Governor-General of the independent Bahamas.  We crossed busy Bay Street to Parliament Square.  The building is of Greek Revival architecture and is what must be the most popular color in the Bahamas, pink. A statue of a young Queen Victoria adorns the front of the building but has little resemblance to Emily Blunt.  The two cannon with iron carriages flanking the statue  are very similar to those at Edinburgh castle in Scotland.  A pretty girl of about ten-years-old was pretending to fire one of the cannon, and I snapped her picture.  


We continued our walk up Parliament Street past the Supreme Court Building and the Garden of Remembrance.  On the corner of Parliament Street and Shirley Street stands the Nassau Public Library and Museum.  It is the oldest building  on Parliament Square, built in 1798 as a jail and later converted. It's a very interesting building of octagonal shape. We turned left on Shirley Street, facing the morning sun, as we sought the Queen's Staircase and Fort Fincastle. At the corner of Elizabeth and Shirley we turned right and began the climb up Bennet's Hill past some construction projects and the hospital. The construction workers, like everyone else, were friendly.  The street traffic was quite heavy, and pedestrians did not always have the right of way. I believe they would hit you. You drive on the left here, but there are many left-hand-drive cars.  


Near the summit, after passing the hospital, we were somewhat bewildered to find no signage to the Queen's Staircase, a noted tourist attraction.  However, a smiling Bahamian woman sensed our plight and pointed us in the right direction. She referred to it as the "66 steps" not the Queen's Staircase. These stone steps were cut from the limestone in this quarry in the late 1700's by slaves.  They were later renamed The Queen's Staircase in honor of Queen Victoria.  Like many old structures, many stories are told about their origins, and to prove their accuracy is sometimes futile.  This was a delightful place with cool temperatures from the shade of trees and the quarry walls. There are vendors here selling all sorts of souvenirs, and Claudette bargained for a straw hat.  I've been trying to teach her not to pay the asked price, and  I think my coaching is paying off. She bargained five dollars off the asked price. At the top of the stairs was a chatty man in a wheelchair.  I expected him to ask for a hand-out, but he did not.  The Bahamas are full of surprises. The top of this hill is the highest point on New Providence Island.  Is there a better place for a fort?  I don't think so. From here you get a breathtaking view of the island and the turquoise sea beyond.   By now there were four cruise ships tied up in the harbor, and about ten thousand people would be coming ashore. I suggested to Claudette that we finish our excursion soon before this island got too crowded.

On top of Bennet's Hill  is the most interesting fort I've ever seen, Fort Fincastle.  Built of stone in 1794, it is semicircular with a triangular structure on the flat side of the semicircle. The cannon are mounted on the curved walls. These cannon aren't the originals but were placed here in the 19th century. I find the cannon unique in that they are on iron carriages which sit on tracks to allow recoil.  The entire track and cannon can be pivoted. This allows for full coverage of the city of Nassau as well as Paradise Island, formally known as Hog Island. The cannon are at least six feet off the ground which makes me ponder how they were loaded and fired.  But, that pondering is food for another blog. The fort gets its name from once governor Lord Dunmore, Viscount Fincastle. The admission is only one dollar. US currency is readily accepted in the Bahamas. Inside the fort are guides who work for tips. They aren't pushy, they simply state that they earn their livelihood this way.  The fort soon fills up with tourists which signals time for us to leave.

We took a dirt foot path from the front of the fort past two sleeping dogs to the street below. There is a  fruit stand near an abandoned car with tasty appearing citrus, but we were without small domination bills, so we didn't shop.  We found ourselves on Charlotte Street and continued down the hill to Bay Street.  We were ready for some shopping and a mid-morning snack. The street seems to be all jewelry shops and souvenir shops with few restaurants. Eventually we found Skans at the corner of Bay and Market Range. It seemed to be a great time for a spot of tea. To my surprise hot tea is not readily available.  I think perhaps the tourist trade has destroyed a bit of English tradition. But what I really wanted were some conch fritters. I have memories of those in Key West some years back. According to the menu they are a lunch dish, but our waitress said the cook could probably make some for me before the lunch hour. Claudette chose the conch burger, and we shared.  They were great, especially the fritters with slightly spicy dipping sauce.  We had just finished our meal when the waitress said, "Look out into the street!"  We rushed onto the sidewalk to see what was going on.  It seems the court was going into session, and the justices walk down the street to the Supreme Court building. There must have been over a hundred of these elegant Bahamians in their black robes with their powdered wigs on their heads.

Since we were right next door to the Straw Market we went inside to see what was for sale. There were souvenirs galore: T-shirts, hats, sun visors, et cetera. There was one thing of interest though: wood carvers.  They are magicians with primitive tools. A chunk of wood complete with bark, a chisel, and a short length of tree branch to use as a hammer is all they use to produce beautiful wooden sculptures. By this time it had become extremely crowded, so we boarded our huge white ocean going steed for safe refuge.

The next day found us watching the ships enter and leave Freeport harbor while sitting at a table under a palm tree.  We were munching the ubiquitous conch fritters and discussing the merits of the various brands of native beer. While there I did have the opportunity to try my hand at the conch trumpet.  I could not find one that made a sound, but the young man with dreadlocks and a Bob Marley t-shirt could.

I should like to return to the Bahamas some time to get to know some of the islanders and perhaps spend a few days without seeing a white face. 

The Dark Continent

I had always wanted to go to Africa.  Since childhood those visions of steamy jungles or desert sands have kept my interest. When I finally got there, the Immigration Officials would not let me enter the country of Morocco. My trusted travel mate and I had not had our passports checked while on board the ferry from Tarifa, Spain.  How were we supposed to know this? Some sort of international telepathy, perhaps. We quickly scrambled back aboard the ship to find a disgruntle and rude immigration agent. He was quite rude and I had to remind Claudette that some sort of verbal rebuttal from us would be futile, if not detrimental to our cause.  I have always revered the man with the star regardless of the situation and fully realized that this sloven, rude, disgruntle little man could refuse us entry into his country.

  When we final got ashore a bearded little man in a robe and brimless hat approached us and asked if we were going on the tour and if we were English.  We answered yes to both questions.  We were used to being asked if we were English since we were frequently identified by the language we spoke.  He said. "Good! Good! and led us to a small Mercedes van obviously loaded with tourists.  We dutifully climbed aboard and a young man in a Yankee's baseball cap introduced himself as Ahmed. There were nine of us on the mini-bus plus the driver and Ahmed. He spoke to  the driver in Arabic and the mini-bus grudgingly started to move.  Arabic is the major language in Morocco followed by French, Spanish and then English.

No one spoke French on our bus but there were five English speakers: Claudette and me,  two recent college graduates, and a mechanic from Wales. The other four spoke Spanish.  As we bounced along a rather brisk clip, Ahmed told us about his country and city.  Tangier has over one million people, is the second largest city in Morocco and is building new hotels and modernizing its harbor to attract more tourists.  The driver brought the mini-van to a screeching half beside an open area between some buildings and Ahmed exclaimed , "Everybody, camel ride!"

Here we saw a bearded man in a t-shirt and baseball cap with two camels. He was offering camel rides for one euro. I thought I wanted to do this, but after I saw that there was nothing to hold onto, I reneged. A few of the people did.  One of the camels was very cantankerous.  Our next stop was the bazaar. Ahmet was dressed in western style so he was easy to follow. Some of the men were in the robes and brimless hads while others were in western dress.  We see very few women in less that ankle length skirts and usually with headwear such as a kerchief.  The typical long robe with hood and veil is common.  However, when only the face or eyes are visible, it is usually well made-up.  Some are quite beautiful particularly with "raccoon" eyes.  Also, some of the long dresses were of brilliant solid colors and are worn a few sizes too small. The streets were very narrow and crowded with people, push carts and frequent motorbikes or scooters but no donkeys or camels.  I made sure everything of value was in my money belt.  Our guide was quick to point out that although Morocco was a Muslim country we could readily see Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish houses of worship.  As we walked by the tiny stalls selling all sorts of merchandise and food stuffs, I could not help but remember some scenes from "The Raiders of the Lost Ark".  Thankfully I did not see a very large man dressed in black with a scimatar!  I had thought the streets in the medieval Europe were narrow, but they were wide compared to these.  In some places we walked single file. Vendors are constantly tugging at your elbow to buy their wares, usually jewelry of sunglasses  They love to bicker about the price. But if you complete ignore them and never make eye contact they will leave you alone. However, if you offer any kind of encouragement they will stick like glue until you buy something or leave the country. We visited one shop in which native handicrafts were sold, beautiful leather work and ceramics. In one shop I bought some spices for a barbecue rub. But the creme de la creme of things for sale were the rugs. They showed us many beautiful ones that were hand made with intricate colorful designs. If I had had the extra money I probably would have bought one. And, of course, they had no flying carpet. By the way, they accept any kind of currency in Tangier.  There is the probability that you could use Monopoly money, maybe?  We ate a meal at a local restaurant and it was good, cous-cous topped with vegetables and mystery meat.  The music was very interesting played by musicians in white robes and red fezzes. As we walked through the bazaar we could hear the call to prayer from the mosque, "Ashhadu an la ilaha ills Allah..." 

Our three hour tour was over.  Unlike Gilligan we did not have Mary Ann, Ginger and the Professor but did have two cute college girls and Welsh mechanic.  I should like to return to Tangier with more time or maybe instead to Egypt.  I understand that there aren't many tourists there now due to political unrest.

A Look Into The Past

It was Sunday, September 17, 2011, we  were

in Madrid, and I was fortunate enough to visit Naval Museo, the Spanish Naval Museum, located on a quiet street a few blocks from Spain's  famous Prado, one of the world's greatest art museums. The naval museum is operated by the Spanish Navy, and you must go through security screening before entering the upstairs exhibits. Lodged in 24 rooms, the museum traces Spanish maritime history from the fifteenth century until the present.  It houses some great "guy stuff" and my dear wife and travel mate indulged my musings.  While the exhibits are too numerous to mention, I will try to give a brief account of what we saw.  We surveyed the art and artifacts in chronological order which I believe is best.  

One of the many ship models.

There are paintings galore; some of them wall-size, about twelve feet by twenty feet and larger. They depict various ships as well as famous battles and famous events.  One wall has portraits of naval heroes exclusively.  Large maps and charts also abound.  The most famous is a map painted on leather by Jaun de la Cosa, a cartographer during the time of Columbus.  Actually de la Cosa made seven voyages to the new world, three of them with Columbus. There are also hundreds of model ships, some quite small, crafted by sailors at sea.  Others are ten feet long, and many have immaculate detail. One of my favorites is a model of the United States battleship USS Maine. You will recall it was sunk in Havana Harbor, a prelude to the Spanish-American War.  The models depict the transition from sail to steam as a means of locomotion for watercraft.   Some weapons depicted are rifles and pistols, not only of Spanish origin but other countries as well.  Some of the long guns of the north Africans were ornately decorated.  The inlaid stocks of fifteenth century pistols were quite elaborately inlaid with mother-of-pearl and semi-precious stones. Of course there are cannon, quite a few cannon.  One display depicts a cannon and the cannoneer's hammock hung within a few feet of his gun. I would be remiss if I did not mention the fine collection of figureheads mounted high on one wall overlooking one of the rooms full of models.  The carved wooden figures graced the prows of the ships of the great Spanish Armada was well as merchant ships. There is a section of a full scale model of a mast of one of the great sailing ships. It gives you an idea of the size of these great vessels.  And paintings illustrate the great ships at sea.

We found this to be a great place to visit in Madrid. You could almost feel as though you were a part of the age of discovery. Indeed, the great Spanish missions of the American southwest would not have been except for some of the men whose portraits adorn these walls.  Mel Fisher would never had found the sunken galleon, Atocha, had the Spaniards had not built those great ships to bring back the treasures  of the Americas. And the stories and myths of the pirates of the Caribbean would not exist with no treasure laden galleons to plunder. I would have never camped with the Boy Scouts in the Horspasture area of Pickens County, SC, had the Cherokee Indians not stolen Spanish horses and hidden them there.   Yes, we could feel the connection to history there and the Spanish Navy does a great job of presenting it.

Mock-up of gun port

Navigation Instrument

Mock-up of captains cabin

Around the Old English District

Do you remember “The Saint”? The British television series aired between 1962 and 1969 and starred Roger Moore prior to his run as 007. The show had an interesting title sequence in which there was and animated stick figure with a halo. Recently, I saw that figure again but not on TV, but as a tattoo. It was on the forearm of the man handing me his business card. He was about six feet tall and a two hundred pounds with a mustache and three day old beard.  The beard and mustache were flecked with gray and a battered baseball cap was pulled down low but his sparkling blue eyes were visible. I detected the sound of the British Isles in his voice as he spoke and I queried him about his homeland. “Twenty-seven years I’ve been here, off and on,” he said, “but born south of London.” 

“Doing this?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” he said, “I’ve only been doing this about four years. I was a pipeline welder in Canada as well as here”

We talked a bit about the similarities in the two occupations, welding and making pottery, such as eye-hand coordination. He showed be his pieces for sale and  I was curious about the almost exclusive use of earth tones.  He said he hadn't notice his use af earth  tones but the colors felt "right". We talked about how it could be very difficult to create the primitive look. I mentioned that Picaso had once said that it had taken him a lifetime to learn to paint as a child. We exchanged notes on our visits to the Louvre, the Prado, and the Tate. He did beautiful work and I did buy a piece, a vase with an oriental motif before saying “good-bye” to the Saintly Potter at The Rock Hill Pottery Center in the old Post Office and Courthouse building.

There was more to see in Rock Hill, this town of 71,000 plus , a short distance from the Charlotte, NC, metropolitan area. Like many small towns Rock hill has undergone a local facelift in the downtown area. There are new store fronts and interesting shops, restaurants and galleries.  There is also a telephone museum, the Comporium Museum. It's right off main street and offers an interesting look into telephone communications from the early 1900's to the present.  Many antique telephones are on display as well as a look at behind the scenes equipment usually never seen by the public. There are a lot of "hands-on" displays which are great fun as well as instructional. The technical displays were right up my ally but what really caught my attention was the truck. It was an 1927 Mack truck used for setting telephone poles and pulling wire and cable.  It had solid rubber tires and originally had gas headlights. Top speed on this truck was 11mph, so it took over twenty hours to drive it from Atlanta to Rock Hill. This truck was in service until the 1970's and was in the television mini-series, Chiefs, filmed in nearby Chester during the early 1980's. A friendly helpful guide made this visit to the Comporium Telephone very enjoyable. 

We had a bit of lunch at an"Irish" pub. The chips with my fish and chips were potato chips!  There  is a first time for everything. The fish was no north Atlantic cod either, but was good. It's funny how a Guiness can take the edge off any disappointment. 

Our next stop was a natural history museum, The Museum of York County.  I had visited the museum long ago but Claudette hadn't been there.  It's really nice with different displays of mounted specimens of animals and plants. There is also a display depicting the local area in prehistoric times as well as modern times. All displays have audio visual effects and some have interactive features. There is an extraordinary display of African animals including an elephant and cape buffalo. In fact there are over 500 mounted animals on display including African and domestic. As an avid artist, it's great to be able to draw pictures of animals without their moving. (The Phoenix Zoo presented a big problem, the animals kept moving!) I like the "hands-on" part of this museum.  As you hold a replica of a sabre-toothed tiger skull you can appreciate exactly how dangerous this animal was. Did you know that the sabre-toothed tiger wasn't really a cat? You learn the most interesting things in museums.  We enjoyed the Museum of York County and I know I will return one day to fill a sketchbook full of drawings of African wildlife.