8/29/09 Departure For Spain

OK, so the initial point of this blog was to give me a simple way to write down a few memories of our recent trip to Spain. My problem is that for me, "a few" seems like it must be more like several thousand. As a result, to avoid writing a book about our time, it seemed easier to write a bit here and bit there to set down some of the memories. Also, I wanted to avoid the "we did this, then we did that, then we did that" approach to writing it all. The idea was to write a vignette here and there about this or that. Still, there has to be a little bit of a listing of places and sights. That's what today's post is. Here it is:

On the evening of 8/28/09 after work, we left Las Vegas for the home of Lisa's sister, Jennifer, in Albuquerque. It was a drag to have to leave at that moment, because Lisa's niece's boyfriend, Arturo "Tudy" Crespin, a local profesisonal boxer, was having a fight that very night in right here in Las Vegas. Boxing is a popular sport around here. We have fights here off and on at the fieldhouse of the local university. Also on the card that night, the main event, was Holly Holm, who I take to be the most famous female boxer out there. Not only is she a good fighter, she's also, um, a "knockout" in the other sense of the word (look here: http://www.womenboxing.com/NEWS20082/images/9999holmsanders061108pressmao33.jpg) She had a rematch grudge match against some lady she'd beaten before. Tudy was making his return after his first loss as a pro. Also, Tudy's sister, Amanda, was making her debut as a pro. The fight had some interesting angles from my point of view. I've never seen any formal boxing match. I've never seen women boxing. There was sex-appeal. There was a friend of mine boxing. It was right here in town. There was a lot to see of interest.

But we missed the fight because we had the first of three flights spanning 20+ hours departing Albuquerque early the next morning. To make matters worse, I had forced Lisa to follow my usual transatlantic travel regimen of slowly acclimating to earlier and earlier awakenings each day before we left. By the time we left, we were used to getting up at 4:00 a.m. each day. This made swimming easy in the morning, but it also required early bedtimes, which made staying up late for a fight, driving to ABQ late, getting up early, and then traveling for over 20 hours a bad idea. To me, anyway.

BTW, Tudy won. Holly won. Tudy's sister lost. Full story here: http://www.lasvegasoptic.com/cgi-bin/c2.cgi?080+article+Sports+20090830231935080080004

I should also point out that in addition to being a professional boxer, Tudy is studying engineering at New Mexico State University. I find this a very interesting juxtaposition of two life paths don't seem to intersect that often.

The picture up at the top of all this shows me and Lisa outside of Jennifer's house at 6:30 or 7:00 a.m. on 8/29/09. We're well-rested and ready to go with all our luggage. As you can see, we are Rick Steves-certified for two weeks of travel with only a pair of small knapsacks and two wheeled carry-ons. No luggage-lugging for us!

Our first flight was in a crop-duster-sized, tin-can jet to Houston. Inexplicably, they let us carry on our luggage even though there was no room to store it in the cabin. The overhead bins were of the size to hold a small purse. There was no room under the seats for our bags. It was one of the planes in which I have to pass through the cabin all hunched over on account of dimensions best designed for midgets. I suffered, we crammed out luggage under our feent, but I was still strong on account of good rest. I'd show you a cell phone picture of us crammed into our seats, but those things take such crappy pictures there is no point.

We arrived in Houston two hours later without much additional strife to begin our four-hour-seemed-like-four-day layover. There is not much to do in the Houston airport besides eat and walk around. Lucky for us, Lisa's son, Marcos, had recently flown through this same airport. He had told us of a Pappadeaux's restaurant there. We were lucky to spend an hour there eating oysters and something else that I can't remember. We got a chance to practice using one of our favorite new Spanish phrases: "la de la verguenza," which translates, more or less, as "the one of shame." This term refers to the last morsel of food on a plate of shared food. It is common in Spanish culture to go out with a group of friends to a bar or a restaurant and order several plates of food for communal enjoyment. The very last piece of food on a plate is called "la de la verguenza," implying that the person eats that last morsel has no shame and is a bit of a pig. When you get to that last bite, everyone is supposed to argue, "No, I'm not hungry. You can have it." Or, "God, I'm stuffed. It's all yours." Finally the pig of the group (usually me) reaches out and snarfs it down. I have a lovely, highly non-flattering photo of Lisa eating la de la verguenza from out plate of oysters, but again, it was a crappy cell phone photo and not fit for additional distribution. For the rest of the trip, we had great fun arguing over la de la verguenza. I think I won the argument more often than not.

After the oysters, I recall hours of wandering the airport before we finally started the jostling for position to board our Air France flight to Paris. I do recall being approached by an Air France representative who warned us that was a weight limit for carry-on luggage. At the time, we were probably on the edge of what they allow. Luckily, they didn't hassle us anymore before we boarded. However, this issue of weight limits for carry-on luggage would come back to haunt us later. Hopefully, I'll remember to write about it sometime.

The flight to Paris has already been summarized here: http://floyderdog.blogspot.com/2009/12/zolpidem-thats-ambien-to-you-non.html

We had a quick connection in Paris to Madrid the following morning. The connection was made a bit tighter on account of some airport construction combined with some confusing shuttle-buses, but we made it. We had our first taste of inflated Euro-prices when we saw airport croissants for the equivalent of $8. They looked good, but we didn't have time get money and stuff our fat little faces. Plus, I was too cheap to pay that price.

Our final flight was from Paris to Madrid. This flight was mostly agony by that point. It's a bit of a long flight--two hours, but it felt much longer in my tired/excited/sleep-deprived state. I mostly recall the excitement of passing over Bay of Biscay into northern Spain. Did I catch a glimpse of one of planned destinations, San Sebastian below? Maybe. Did I spot La Sierra de Gredos? Or La Sierra Guadarrama? Probably.

We made it.

Arroz con leche

My last few batches of arroz con leche (rice with milk, aka "sweet rice") have really been horrible. The rice never cooks. The milk curdles. By the time the rice is tender 75 minutes later, half of the starch has migrated into the milk to make sticky, gooey, pasty, inedible mess. This has left me somewhat baffled, because I have been making world-class arroz con leche now for almost 10 years, but suddenly, I lost my touch. What happened?

Nines first introduced me to arroz con leche not long after I arrived for the first time in Madrid. The most economical way to get a really great, complete meal in Spain is to order the "menu del dia." In a typical "menu" you get a choice from a list first courses plates (soup or salad), a choice from a list of main course plates (usually an assortment of meat dishes), and a choice of dessert (most commonly either flan or arroz con leche). I ate I could, of course, and before long I had tried arroz con leche. It was a hit. It is simply rice, milk, and sugar topped with cinammon. Simple, cheap, and delicious. Nines noted my infatuation. Not being a cook herself, she asked her mom for an easy recipe. It was so easy that Nines taught me herself. Before I left Spain, wrote down the recipe to make sure that I'd have it forever. I still have that 3x5 index card. All I wrote down was a follows:

125 cc rice (that's a half-cup to you and me)

250 cc sugar (one cup--I use a scant cup)

1 liter milk (one quart)

chunk of lemon (not squeezed)

Heat over low heat and stir a lot for 20 minutes

I didn't write down the rest of the prep, but it's pretty easy. Leave the lemon in for part, but not all of the cooking time. Let the mixture cool to room temp before refrigerating. Divide the mixture into small serving bowls. Top each serving bowl with a sprinkle of cinammon. Refrigerate before eating.

As you can see, this is not a difficult recipe, but clearly, I had forgotten some key detail that I failed to write down 10 years ago. I made it again last night, and it was another inedible disaster.

At dinner tonight, I was lamenting my dilemma with Lisa. Was it the rice? I've been using long grain rice, which I think is correct. Lisa uses long grain rice in her New Mexico version (see note below). I described the cooking technique, and the Lisa figured it out. She said, "when we make it, we always cook the rice in water first and then mix it in the milk." The light bulb went off. This was my mistake. I had been attempting to cook the rice in the milk, which explains why it had been taking forever for my lousy batches to cook to ruination. Problem solved. I made it again tonight, and above is a picture of my once again world-class arroz con leche. Thanks Lisa!

About now, my mother is going to chime in and say, "You know, Mom Stahl used to make sweet rice, and she always cooked her rice beforehand too!"

Note: This dish is often eaten warm in New Mexico, which I do not really care for. Around here, they bombard with cinammon and somtimes vanilla. Also, they sometimes use eggs in the prep. The final product is just too cloying and heavy for me. The Spanish version is much lighter.

Supper tonight!

Tonight we ate the last of our illegally imported pimientos verdes that we brought back from Spain (green pimentos or green chile as we call them in New Mexico). Whenever I'm in Spain seek them out. They are essentially a sweet green chile with a very tender skin. The New Mexico green chiles must be roasted to separate the tough, inedible skin from the flesh. A Spanish pimiento verde can be eaten raw or better yet, fried whole in olive oil. They are not spicy at all. Nor do they taste like a green bell pepper. They are an essential ingredient in many simple tapas. One of my long time favorites is piece of tortilla española (cold potato/egg frittata) with a piece of pimiento on a piece of a baguette. Another favorite is the same thing but with a piece of jamon in place of the tortilla. On our most recent trip, the new, life-changing eye-opener was to modify this recipe slightly and make a small sandwhich of pimiento, half-cooked uncured bacon, and a baguette. You can see a picture of one of these sandwiches which we ate at "El Brillante" a small bar on the plaza adjacent to the Reina Sofia Museum. This bar is classic Madrid. You sit on the terraza (ourdoor seating) and watch the world go by while you have a snack and refreshing drink. While I'm sure that many tourists stop by on account of its promity to the museum and nearby Atocha trainstation, it really seems super-Spanish to me. The clientele and staff seem mostly Spanish to me. The food and drinks are also very traditional.

A very peculiar local custom occurs on the plaza on weekend nights when the weather is nice: This is one of the main gathering points for the youth of Madrid as they go out with their friends for the night to learn how to get drunk. One night as we sat and enjoyed our bocadillo of pimiento and bacon, we watched in amazement as dozens of teenagers 14-18 years of age congregated on this famous plaza with sacks of booze and soft drinks. The most common concoction that they drank is a calimocho--half red wine, half Coca Cola. I've never seen an adult drink this drink(including myself), but the kids appear on the plaza with a two liter bottle of coke a bottle or two of wine, mix them up, and drink it down. I suspect it's an easy way to get a large amount of alcohol down easily. Coming from prudish America, this spectacle is even more interesting because it's just another ho-hum aspect of a pleasant summer evening in Madrid. There is nothing abnormal about this massive congolmeration of teenagers in a public place en route to serious intoxication. The adults in the plaza take no mind (and in fact some might be playing soccer with their toddlers in the midst of it all). The local bars and cafes take no notice. The police take no notice. It is all perfectly normal. In fact, even the pre-alcoholic kids themselves seem perfectly well-behaved. They're just out for the evening with amigos sharing some cheap drinks on the plaza. You can read more about calimochos here: http://thespiritworld.net/2006/09/27/title_134/

The second picture above is our replica of a pimeinto and bacon bocadillo from tonight's dinner. We took our last two smuggled pimientos from the freezer and whipped up our version. We paired it with an arugula salad with figs, balsamic vinegar, parmesan cheese, and walnuts. To drink, we had a "tinto de verano," a summer drink which is basically a poor-man's sangria--red wine on ice mixed with citrus soda (like San Pellegrino Limonata) on ice. I guess it's not that different from a calimocho, but is still very refreshing, even though the current New Mexico temperature is hardly summery--about 25 degrees with a low around 0-10 degrees tonight. It was all very tasty though our pimientos have suffered a loss of flavor after three months in the freezer. Guess we'll have to go back and smuggle some more. In the meantime, a friend of Lisa's, a local chile farmer, has agreed to try to grow our smuggled pimiento verde seeds next summer in his garden down in the Pecos River valley. Hope this works out. We cannot grow our own in Las Vegas, because it is too cold here.

Zolpidem (that's Ambien to you non-pharmacists) for jet lag

I am more than a bit of an idol of Rick Steves' travel philosophy: Travel light. No checked baggage. Get off of the beaten path. Do your own laundry in the sink of your room. Etc. Before Lisa and I left on our trip to Spain this past August, I was on his internet bulletin board 80 times daily looking for specific advice about Spain and getting certain questions answered. Very useful.

I also discovered that certain people hate Rick Steves disciples (look here and especially here). Very amusing.

Anyway, back to the point...

I found a post about using Ambien to prevent jet lag. The idea is that you get on your plane in Atlanta or NYC or Houston or wherever, settle in, eat dinner, and then take 5 mg of Ambien to help you fall asleep. Upon arrival in Europe four or five hours later, your small dose of Ambien has worn off, you feel sort of rested, and you are able to get to your touristly duties without too much trouble.

Traveling to Europe is my least favorite part of actually going to Europe. I'm always excited, which impairs sleep. On this trip, a lousy selection of connecting flights paired with flying out of a secondary western US market resulted in 20+ hours of travel time for this trip each way. Worse, I suffer from a genetic condition which prevents me from sleeping on planes. Yes, it's embarrassing, but I am tall. The airlines freely discriminate against tall people. It is nearly impossible for a tall person to sleep on an airplane. As far as I know, there is no Society To Prevent Discrimination Against Tall People that I can turn to for support. The result is that I suffer on airplanes, folded up like giraffe into a sardine can. It's horrible. I can survived when I fly to Chicago, because it's usually only a few hours, but to Europe, it is sheer torture. I need the sleep so that I can hit the ground running upon arrival in the morning in Europe, but I cannot do it.

So I was very excited this year to try out some Ambien. Being someone who dispenses drugs but who avoids taking them, I faithfully took Dr. Rick's prescribed dose of only 5 mg. I figured that I had no tolerance to hypnotic medications and would therefore likely be susceptible to their powers. Still, I had some anxiety about this, because I am aware that my larger size means that those measly 5 mg will be diluted across more body mass than that of a shorter person. On the other hand, many Americans make up for their lack of tallness by eating so much that they end up as wide as I am tall. Such people would have the same dilutional problem as I when it comes to Ambien, although they still wouldn't have the giraffe-in-a-sardine-can problem. For these reasons, I stuck with the recommended 5 mg dose.

Bottom line? It didn't work. Next time, I'll try 10 mg. I took my Ambien as directed not long after the meal. I brushed my teeth in the toxic airplane bathroom. I put on my eye shades and ear plugs. I pulled up a blanket, adjusted my pillow, and took off my shoes. I tried to get comfortable. But it was all for naught. I didn't even feel vaguely drowsy though my brain slowly got more and more fatigued. After an hour or two of trying, I gave up and blearily watched some Kate Winslet movie in which she plays a German woman during WWII who was tried and convicted as a war criminal after the war. It was a very good movie if you're the type to accept having your beliefs and stereotypes challenged. It wasn't real uplifting, though. The other interesting thing was the extensive nudity in the movie. The flight was on liberal, European carrier, Air France. Each passenger has his/her own video console to choose from various movies and TV shows. Several of the movies had mature content. On the flight home on prudish Delta Airlines (a US carrier), all content was edited to prevent some family values loudmouth from having a cow.

Hmmm...learning about blogging and writing about Spain at the same time

OK, so instead of sending out lengthy e-mails with huge photos about my comings and goings, I am experimenting instead with this. The idea was to be able to simply share pix, travelogues, etc easily with those who might be interested to take a peak. Specifically, as I thought about my most recent trip to Spain, it occurred to me that I have so many observations about the trip that are interesting (to me, anyway), that it would be hard to write a long narrative ("On Day 1, we visited blah blah blah; on Day 2 we blah blah blah). I thought with a blog, I could easily write a shorter diatribe about a single subject, maybe food, churchs, or topless beaches (all three being fairly religious subjects to me).

But now, as I write and explore this idea, I realize it's more complicated. It's bad enough that I have to get motivated to actually write. Now I realize that in addition to writing, I'll also have to learn how this blog site thingy works. How do I post a photo? How big is it? How will it display in the formatting? Are there going to be ads along the side? What's the deal with the ads along the side? Will I really get paid if only my mom and Lisa look at this? I don't really want to get paid. I just want to say what I have to say so that I have some record of my thoughts. In this way, I'll be able look back tomorrow, next year, or 10 years from now and notice that my thoughts from yesteryear were really infantile. Also, how does cutting and pasting work here?

Anyway, that's the idea. I'm going to attach a photo from Spain somewhere along here just to see what it looks like. Ah yes, I see it now. Upper left. It's a picture of me in front the Restaurante Iowa on Calle Montera near Puerta del Sol in Madrid. This pic dates back to my first visit to Madrid, but I never ate there. On my most recent trip, Lisa and I stayed in a pension right around the corner from here. We discovered that this place is actually pretty good. It's cheap and they serve you massive empanadas de atun to go (atun is tuna, of course). There also a Restaurante Nebraska nearby, but aside from the similar Midwest name, they are two completely separate establishments.