Spain2.1

Writing to you from the Granada bus station

And so begins Round Two…
… with a disastrous failed attempt at a direct flight from Dallas to Madrid. We all boarded the plane with no problems. I even made friends with the older Columbian gentleman sitting next to me. We talked about his grandkids, learning new languages and the benefits of technology and just as he abruptly took the conversation on a convert-me-to-his-religion turn the pilot’s voice came on the loudspeaker. “ Hi there folks, it appears there’s a slight problem with one of the wings of the aircraft. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to land back in Dallas and figure this out, maybe even switch planes. We should be back on the ground in about 15 minutes”. Then a flight attendant gave a very rough translation in Spanish that more or less sounded like “Excuse me, the pilot thinks the wings of the plane are going to fall off. We’re going to do our best to try to land the plane. Thank you”. I looked around for very alarmed Spanish speakers (I knew there were quite a few on board who didn’t speak English) but surprisingly no one looked the least bit concerned. Especially not my Baha’i neighbor who kept right on going with describing the pleasures of his faith. (From what I’ve read before, this religion has quite a few merits. However this man described it so vaguely that it could have been any religion known today. He was less than pleased when I pointed this out.)

Fast forward two hours- I have been going a little stir-crazy watching the flight-tracker line on the screen going in hundreds of little circles around the dfw area. Mr. Baha’i next to me is on his 3000th round of AngryBirds. We have had no new information from the pilots but are pretty sure that this has been the longest ‘15 minutes’ in the history of American Airline.
Finally the stewardess (excuse me, flight attendant) comes back on: ‘Ladies and Gentleman, I apologize for the lack of information, the cockpit has been a little hectic. Right now the pilot is going to come back into the cabin to check on something. Please be prepared to give up your seat for a few minutes’ (The translated version is as proportionally terrifying as the first time). Sure enough, the pilot indeed comes back into the cabin, borrows the seats of a couple across the aisle from me and honest-to-God (Baha’i or otherwise) pulls out a miniature flashlight, points it out the window at the starboard wing, nods while ‘hmmmm’ing and heads back to the cockpit. No information for another half hour.


Finally- a new announcement: ‘Sorry about that wait folks, I think we may have burned enough fuel now and we’re beginning our descent into Dallas/Ft. Worth, please buckle up and prepare yourselves for what may be a fairly bumpy landing. Oh, and don’t worry about the firetrucks. Thank you’…..

‘(in Spanish) Ladies and Gentleman. We’re going to be arriving in Dallas shortly. There are fireman and ambulances waiting in case of an explosion. Please fasten your seatbelts and place your seat in its upright position. Thank you.’
….
Still no apparent concern at all from anyone within my vision. So I buckle down, pull out my camera (in case of an explosion) and suffer through what turns out to be a very normal, uneventful landing.
Long story short, we all were transferred to a different plane that never showed up, finally instructed to go home and try again the next day despite the on-coming snowstorm. By this point all of my Spanish co-fliers have purchased what may have been the entirety of the beer available in the airport and lots of life-stories have been exchanged.


Spain attempt 2.1:
New flight, short layovers, no problems. I sit next to the only empty middle seat. They accidentally gave me a free glass of wine. I splurge on a first class ticket for the 5 hour bus from Madrid to Granada. I arrive only a day later than originally planned, dirty and tired. It finally occurs to me that I am in Spain.
I sleep for the next 17 hours.

My first day back is beautiful and sunny so I decide to go for a walk around the city. A few subtle changes catch me off-guard and one discovery of the closing of my favorite shoe store almost brings me to tears. Besides that I am thrilled to see the snow-covered mountains in the distance, hear the sloppy Granadino accent, and meet up for coffee with two of my favorite Granadinas. Around 2pm I go up to Huetor Vega to eat lunch at Angel’s parents’ house. They really are like my Spanish family and we pick right back up making fun of each-others’ accents. The food was delicious and like always Mila made me eat way too much of it.

That night I had been instructed to dress fancy and show up to Bea’s house around 9pm so that she could take me to my surprise welcome-back party. We ended up meeting up with my favorite group of Granadinas- in addition to Bea: Aurora, Alejandra, Isa and M. Isa (pronounced ‘Marisa’). 

We had a FANTASTIC 3 course dinner of something resembling quesadillas, steak, pumpkins, duck, and a variety of desserts. After we finished eating came the real surprise: a drag show! 

This drag queen was phenomenal: beautiful, a fun performer and hilarious. She performed 4 songs throughout 2 hours and spent the rest of the time doing stand-up comedy. I was a little nervous that she would say something to me that I wouldn’t understand but I actually kept up and even got in a funny of my own when she turned her attention my way. Around 2am the show finished and we all went next door for some drinks and dancing. A very very fun evening!


(Since starting this entry I have boarded my bus, which is running 20 minutes late. I am racing to the airport in Malaga to catch a plane to Belgium. Not sure if I will make it or not. I am currently seated next to a very stinky, uncovered-mouth-coughing elderly lady, Baha’i God bless her. Our bus just backed into another bus in the rush to leave. No one acknowledged this besides the driver of bus #2).

The rest of the weekend was a combination between lazy languid lounging and exciting excursions. On Saturday we drove down to the Granada coast to a pueblo called Almuñecar. Although swimsuit weather has yet to arrive, the sun was shining and conditions were perfect for a lunch at a chiringuito. (That’s a casual café/restaurant on the beach, most often with tables right on the sand). 

During the meal (which was a mouthwatering fresh vegetable paella) 4 hang gliders landed about 20 feet away. After lunch we walked along the coast and I made friends with a little girl who liked to pick up the ‘water tomatoes’ (stinging gooey bright red things that suction onto the underside of rocks) and a little boy who spoke to me in some Slavic language without even pausing for a breath.

Sunday brought more sun and a motorcycle ride through the countryside. (Pictured: These sheep are in front of the most famous peak of the Sierra Nevadas. You see that distinct shape everywhere.)I ate a very Spanish lunch consisting of a giant platter of Manchego cheese, grilled pork and patatas al pobre.


So now that I’ve just arrived and almost caught my breath I am off again for a 10 day stretch in Belgium and the Netherlands. I have no concrete plans whatsoever and a backpack containing:
• 5 shirts
• 4 sweaters
• 1 raincoat
• 15 pairs of socks and dainties (including one pair of long underwear)
• shower things and a toothbrush
• 1 Eurail pass


I don’t know about you, but this seems to me to be a flawless plan.