Outside This Box

Post vacation funk.

I am officially in my post vacation funk.  It hit later this time than it has years prior.  All I want to do is go back.  I daydream of where I've been, who I've seen and what I've touched.  I know...it sounds silly and sentimental.  But that is the kind of person I am.

One of the reasons I hit this post vacation funk (especially after I've visited Europe) is that I miss the walking and eating of non-processed foods.  We never rent cars when we are on vacation.  We use public transportation.  I am a metro and train junkie.  I love the navigation process.  Figuring out which line to take to get where I am going.  I like to watch the people standing next to me on the subway.  Barcelona's Metro was great to ride on.  Clean and efficient it was also fun to stand on.  The newer cars didn't have partitions between the cabs.  We could watch the cabs move and sway to the turns the train was making.  Unless I am really beat I stand on subways.  When standing you can get a much better feel of the power under the train and its inevitable navigation.

While in the city we walked.  And walked.  Combine all that walking with eating olives (at least for me), fresh bread, jamon, fabulous fruit, paellas, and an occasional pan au raison roll, and the whole body feels really good.  We didn't have any formal set down dinners while there.  We ate on the go or did some light cooking in the flat we rented.

We went to two different markets in Barcelona that offered the freshest fare in any combination you might like.  The La Bouqueria Market (St. Josef) is right off of La Rambla and the Santa Catalina Market is across the street from the Cathedral in the Born District.   Each had its own character and flavors but they both shared one delicious trait.  Fresh and unprocessed food.  The colors and smells were eye candy and nose sensory overloads!  Coming home I now am relentlessly searching for olives that are similar to what I ate in Barcelona.  As I realize it isn't going to happen I become bugged.  I crave the fresh bread I bought at the patisserie near our flat.

I guess the only solution is to go back. 

The naked guy.

Before we left for Barcelona I read as much as I could about the city.  I had been to Madrid years ago but didn't remember that much about what Spain was like.  And, since then Franco is gone and the entire country is going through a quasi-cultural revolution.  I didn't know what to expect.

I found some really nice blogs that I perused daily to satisfy my insatiable need for "all things Spanish."  I quizzed my friend about her recent lenghthy stay in a flat there.  I bought the appropriate pocket sized travel guides that I lugged around with me in my "pick pocket proof" messenger bag.

One of the first places we went was to La Rambla. 

La Rambla is a street that runs north and south between Plaza Catalunya and the port.  It reminded me of what San Francisco used to be like with its street performers and artists.  It was lovely.  But you never know what you'll see on or around La Rambla.  I had read about a naked guy who wanders this area with only a tattooed bathing suit bottom on.  What are the chances that you can read about a naked guy walking around a tourist area and actually seeing him?  Very good.

My daughters spotted him first.  He had only running shoes on.  Nothing else.  He just walked around.  Who knows why he is naked or why he does this.  Any number of reasons to be an exhibitionist.  What surprised me is that nobody cared.  No police were called.  Nobody had hysterical fits about seeing a male human body in, er, the flesh.  They didn't cry and scream because a nipple was showing.  They have their priorities straight. 

Americans are extremely uptight about sex, the human form, art and expressing ourselves.  If a naked man was walking around Atlanta it would make CNN's Headline News.

Obviously this guy wasn't hurting anyone.  The authorities recognized that and left him alone.  Live and let live I suppose!

Topless Beaches: The great equalizers.

We recently traveled to Spain.  I loved it.  I actually teared up in the taxi when we were driving to the airport to return to the U.S.  I became instantly attached to the culture, their attitudes toward life, and, of course, their olives.  I have much to say about the week we spent there.

I took away a lot from Spain but there was one thing that really stood out.

We stayed in Barcelona, a coastal Mediterranean city.  Old and new, Barcelona has the best of both worlds. From incredible things to explore in the city proper, it also has some incredible beaches nearby.  As almost everything closes down on Sundays in Spain we decided we would take the train to a beach west of Barcelona.  This would be our first, and only, adventure out of the city.

We had been told that all of the beaches are topless.  I wasn't sure what to expect but was looking forward to learning about myself in a situation like that.  Husband.  Topless women.  Self doubt.  American Puritan prudence at its best.  I wondered how both of my daughters would react at the beach.  In some ways, they are more shy than I am.

After we stepped off the train we walked about 2 blocks to the sandy shore.  We tried not to stare or let our gazes wander.  I was shocked.  But I wasn't shocked because the beach was topless; I was shocked because none of it bothered me.  It wasn't bad at all.  It was instantly clear to me that all of the hype about topless beaches was just that...hype.  Yes, there were boobs all over the place.  Big boobs, flat boobs, sagging boobs, boobs that really should have been covered up and fabulous perky boobs.  There were even boobs that looked just like mine!  I fit right in.  I didn't go topless but felt great about myself.  It was such a reassuring feeling to know that had I gone topless nobody would have pointed at me.  Nobody would have snickered behind my back.  It was nice to know that I would have fit right in.  They would have walked right by noticing only the fabulous aquamarine colored water and the waves crashing the shore.  This beach was the greatest equalizer of all.  Nothing left to the imagination.  And that was good.

Who knows?  Maybe next time....

Small Towns

I love to travel. Always have and always will.  The idea of going somewhere new is thrilling to me.  Maybe it is because we moved every three years growing up.  Maybe it is because I like to see new architecture.  Who knows.  I just love to do it. 

I have travelled extensively over the last five years during the Summers.  I didn't go to exotic places but went to small towns.  My daughter plays softball so we did quite a bit of travel for her passion.  Mine too.  Not only did I like going places but I loved watching her play.  Last Summer I spent a week in Owensboro, Kentucky.  Owensboro is situated on the Ohio River.  The river is such an integral part of that community.  It runs right by downtown.  It was a beautiful small town.  The homes had big green lawns (something we don't have much of here in the desert).  The rolling hills into and out of Owensboro were fun to drive through.  The vegetation was so thick I couldn't see past the next mile marker on the freeways. 

This last weekend I spent a few days in Clovis, New Mexico.  Clovis is much smaller than Owensboro.  But it had its charm and uniqueness.  Situated in Eastern New Mexico, Clovis is probably more Texan than it is New Mexican.  The food is different and they talk with a twang that is unfamiliar to us Albuquerqueans.

I don't think I would be a good small town dweller.  I like my anonymity and small towns certainly do not give you that.  Aside from that though, I was saddened to see that in both of these small towns, located in different parts of the country, the independent business spirit is dying.  Walmart, McDonalds, Burger King and Walgreens have taken over what used to be thriving small town businesses.  When I go to small towns I support the local businesses.  I look for Mom and Pop coffee shops.  I search out hole in the wall restaurants.  I love to browse through the local boutiques.

I didn't see these things in Owensboro or in Clovis.  We found one barbeque place in Owensboro that was locally owned.  We found a taqueria in Clovis that was family owned.  What is happening to our small towns?  Are the corporate interests squashing local businesses?  Is the innovative American spirit taking a back seat to Reality TV?  Is the economy in such bad shape that our small towns are drying up?  I am thinking it is a combo of all of these things.

My uncle grew his business in a small New Mexican town.  He is a pharmacist and owns an indie drug store.  I remember how concerned he was when Walmart came to town.  Walmart is notorious for their buying power (really...do you ever wonder how they can sell a hoodie for $5.99?)  Walmart buys from China in HUGE quantities.  The local businesses in small towns can't compete with this type of purchasing power.  Once they move in, Walmart hires the locals but only schedules them for 38 hours a week, two huge hours short of full time employment.  Why is this a cricital issue?  Because to qualify for benefits at Walmart, the employee has to work full time.  The locals are employed but they don't qualify for health insurance.  They have to depend on the local human service departments for aid and health insurance.  It is a vicious circle.

My Uncle's competitor closed his business shortly after Walmart came in.  My Uncle joined a consortium of pharmacists in a larger town to survive.  They used their collective powers to buy and market against a retailer that has no moral compass.

Small towns.