This post is going to be devoted to the fabulous spring break I had.
first of all I must give credit to my trusty guide book- Time Out Andalucia
this book (the same company that makes the magazines in new york and london) guided us every step of the way- often through strange areas or narrow unpromising streets only to find the most amazing sights! we sold our souls to time out.
5 Friends and I traveled to Malaga, the southern coast of Spain. It was nice because the group of us had never spent much time together so we enjoed getting to know eachother better. We did a lot of research and used a website called ownersdirect to find a villa to rent for 5 days. It was so economic- and we had a few porches with views of the marina, mountains, and beach! We used the kitchen A LOT- cooking lavish meals every night, trying to perfect our sangria recipie and going to bed early so we could explore during the day. A perfect vacation in my mind! Our villa was in Benalamadena- a really touristy area, so although it was off season and no one was really there, we were excited to escape that and go to some other areas. The town of Nerja to the east was beautiful- we spent time sunbathing there (and also in benalamadena) and while we were in bathing suits the locals were in coats! Nerja is known for it's natural caves, although we didn't explore them. We also visited Antequera to the North- where we arrived during siesta and got to see the whole town liven up around 4:30- a magical thing to witness. There we wondered around and discovered a castle- climbed the hill through the orange trees to the top if it and spend time in the gardens. There was a mountain that was natrually carved to look like a huge monster sleeping- kind of like the old man in the mountain that was in New Hampsire (so sad when that collapsed!) but lying down. I'll put up a picture soon!
The group of us split up after 4 nights in staying in benalamadena- one to go back to london, one to Italy, one to morocco- and three (myself included) to set out to find adventure to the west in Los Canos in the province of Cadiz. We read in the bible (time out) that there was a place there called Casas Karen, a place that used to be a hippie commune and had been converted into little straw huts that you could stay in while enjoying the area. Hippie commune in a strange land- we were sold.
One of my favorite things about the trip was getting to speak spanish constantly. Between my friend Zia and I, we got around- solamente espanol! We used buses to get everywhere, and enjoyed the exchange rate that the euro posessed. I digress
My friends R.B., Samantha, and I set off to catch a 6:45 am bus to los canos. The only problem was we didn't know if there was a bus to los canos, and now I was the only one speaking spanish because Zia had gone to morocco! So we took a bus to one stop where we got off and inquired about a bus to Los Canos. Upon learning that there wasn't one we took a bus to what we thought was the closest stop to it. We arrived in Conil- got off the bus, and looked around. It was like being dropped off at a deserted diner in the middle of upstate New York; just you, the highway, and a bad cup of coffee.
So we go into one of the two buildings in sight, a rent a car place where I effectivly communicated that I needed a bus schedule to get to Los Canos. We were going to rent a car but it turns out by "rent a car" (the sign was in english) they meant that one, they only rent trailors and two, they don't speak english. Strange.
The three of us are pointed to the other building, a bar across the sandy road. We approach the bar with our huge backpacks on- feeling less like tourists and more like adventurers at this point, a feeling I relished in. We entered the bar and it seemed like a version of a Saloon with those swinging doors that you see in western movies. There was trash all over the floor, a bar the legth of the building, and about 7 midlle aged men slouched about the bar stools and booths. "Neccesito el horario por el autobus a los canos" I mumbled uncomfortably. The man behind thye bar pointed directly behind me. I looked but thought there must have been a communication barrier- for there was no beautiful plexiglass schedule display like there had been everywhere else. No electronic board updating the schedules to the milisecond like in the other bus stations. So I asked again, and again, and again and soon all of the men in the bar were awkwardly gesturing towards this spot on the wall where there were a few pieces of what I would venture to call toilet paper pasted to the wall. I saw no schedule as I knew it- but as the three of us walked toward that spot on the wall it came apparant that in fact that "stuck on the bottom of your shoe" piece of toilet paper was the bus schedule, the piece of information that we needed most, our way out of this bar and on to Los Canos. We glanced at it, all three of us, and immediatle broke down in hysterical cries of laughter. There was one bus on the schedule- and it wen't right back the way we had come. After a having a fit and clearly disturbing the peace in the bar, we managed to fit ourselves through the doorway (this is hard with big packs) and start to turn the corner. But somehow the communication gods were with us, and the man behind the bar must have sensed our helplessness (which I was really enjoying) and told me that there was another bus station if we took a right out of the bar. Two miles, one pit stop for directions, a busy highway with no shoulder, a torrential rain storm, and fits of laughter and confusion later we reached Conil de la Frontera, an area that Time Out identified as a substantial town- with people- and buildings! From there we found out that there was a bus to los canos, but learned that a cab ride was also feasible and opted to sit down for a bite and call Casas Karen to see if there was availbility. There's something really wonderful about braving the world and not knowing where you are or what will happen next!
I can't help but think about the author Bill Bryson as I stop to ask directions (in spanish) in some abandoned trailor on the side of the road. He travels, gets lost (physically and mentally) and then writes about it with such perfect humor that you feel like you were there next to him. Read his stuff- I reccomend it.
Anyway,
So we call, and call, and call, and the message tells me there are rooms but we can't get through.
So we said fuck it- and we got in a cab Casas Karen bound.
The cab drivers, and everyone in general in Southern spain are obscenely warm, accomodating, and friendly. They enjoy communicating through gesture and the few english words they know, proudly commenting on the landscape as we drive by. They are so expressive and intuitive that Sam was able to carry out a full on conversation in mime with our favorite cab driver, Ramon, for at least 15 minutes.
Anyway- we arrive at Casas Karen, it didn't look like much but we went to find out about getting a room. The cab driver stayed with us just in case there was no room for us there. I went to talk to Juani (the lovely lady who worked there while Karen who owns it was in madrid). She told me they had a place for three but we could only have it for 2 nights- we just wanted one. However she told us we could take a look at it.
She's a smart cookie that Juani because after one look we were sold. We walked to the straw hut followed by dogs who seemed to live there and run freely on the property. There was also a friendly horse named Topaz. We peered inside the hut and saw a beautifully decorated space with a lot of moroccan influence. (we would learn on our next day's adventure that morrocco was only an hour away!)
There was a loft with a big bed and a mosquito net to sheild you from the bugs. The floors were gravel with rugs to soften the blow on your feet, and there was room for 4 more to sleep under the loft, couches, and a dinner table. The kitchen and bathroom were well equiped and there were incense burners, bongo drums, and a rainbow colored hammock in a big bin just ready for me to lounge in it. I'll post pictures soon, my words don't do it justice.
We took it, obviously, prepared to stay for one night- but ended up staying three because we didn't want to leave. The three of us went exploring- discovering the atlantic ocean to one side, with sand dunes and grasses to lounge on, and a mountain called "magic mountain" to the other. We set out to the tiny market and got some stuff to make stew (that would last us the next three dinners) and relax in our little casa.
To be continued...
actually- I wrote the rest of it up but it somehow got lost in the crazy cyber galexy that is the internet- so I'll just leave it hanging for suspense.
peace for now,
amy
Friday 16 March 2007
Thursday 15 March 2007
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