Stories of this Canadian girl's adventures exploring Europe...join me!

Friday, March 11, 2011

spain

We are visiting great guy's father (the Father) and his partner, let's call her maid marion. They spend the winters in the souther- most part of Spain, in a spanish-style (of course) bungalow. The spacious yard contains a lemon and orange tree, about a hundred tall, shade trees, a terrace, and a few water taps with large, cement basins underneath; easy to wash off fresh-cut flowers or the dog's dirty paws.

Maid marion and the Father, are very hospitable hosts. She cooks like crazy; great guy says that it's for sure 3 star cooking (he says I might get away with a 1 star rating!). Each meal has multiple courses, served in beautiful German crockery, with every alcoholic or fruit juice wish you could have to accompany it, starting with breakfast.

This morning, after a breakfast of fresh bread and sekt (kind of like the every man's champagne) we headed out to see some sights. In Vejer, a town on a hilltop built with white houses, and at least 700 years old, we wandered the very, narrow, cobblestoned streets, admiring the tiled entry ways of each house and the plethora of blooming flower boxes on each windowsill.

It was here that maid marion insisted we all duck into a small bodega (hole-in-the-wall pub), filled with spanish men and no tourists. She ordered sherry for each of us...it being sherry-time apparently, at only 11 am. I drank mine, because big franky almost dared me to, and after that, I was a little happy.

Hooking my arm into great guy's arm, I negotiated the cobblestones perfectly (if I do say so myself) and sang little ditties which popped into my head, much to the delight of great guy (I'm sure) and the spanish men who watched us go by. I, being the friendly Canadian that I am (or just sekt and sherry induced), said 'Ola!!' to everyone I saw.

Great guy sarcastically asked if I needed another drink (he never drinks during the day) and I said, 'no, that would just make me a bit frisky'. I asked him if he knew what that meant. He repeated the word and said, 'frisky. is that whisky with fries?' oh my.

After touring a couple of other small towns, and taking a long walk on the beach, great guy and I broke free from the rest of the family and headed to a secluded, cliffside, beach where I did as the spaniards do, and swam naked in the ocean. Olé!
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