Weekend Getaway in Spain

Amsterdam is a cold, miserable place in the winter as most countries in the north are at this time of year. It just seems like it is dark all the time, and sometimes there are several days in a row when you don't see the sun. I needed to get out. One of the fabulous things about living in Europe is that you can be in a new country in just a couple short hours.  Taking advantage of this, I decided to go to Spain for the weekend.

I flew into Malaga (just a 3 hour flight from Amsterdam) by myself after work on Friday evening. I decided that I didn't really want to see sights and spend time in a city, but I did want to spend some time at the beach even if it meant being fully clothed and in a coat.

Spanish Tortilla, Pulpo, and an Icy San Miguel Beer

I used airbnb to book an affordable apartment for the weekend. I love this site because you can not only find interesting places to stay that make you feel more like a local, you meet new people too. From Malaga Airport, I took a train about 25 minutes to a small beach town called Fuengirola.  The apartment was literally around the corner from the station.  I was starving when I got there so I went across the street to a restaurant and sat down. I was surrounded by Spanish, and it was great. Actually, I was really proud of myself because I understood a lot and was able to use a little bit of it too.  This place was absolutely perfect.






The town of Fuengirola is a beach town, slow in the winter, but I could tell that it is the place to be in the summer. Many of the restaurants and shops were closed up for the winter, but there was still enough for me to do while I was there. I liked it that way actually. It wasn’t crowded, and I always got a nice sunny table wherever I wanted.

Constitution Square

I’ll start with the sun. While I had told people in Amsterdam that the weather wasn’t bothering me as much as I thought it was, it was not until I walked the couple of blocks from my apartment to the beach when I realized that yes, the weather had been bothering me. I missed the sunlight and warmth on my face. The sky was that beautiful clear blue, and while it was really, really windy while I was there, it didn’t matter because it was beautiful.

I tried to sleep in Saturday morning, but I couldn’t. I was out exploring the town by 9:30 am. I was starving, but I was even more hungry to walk around and see some things. After a little while I found a bakery down a side street and ordered a café con leche and a pain au chocolate (called something else here of course).   I found a little plaza called Constitution Square with a nice little church and fountain. Two blocks away was the beach. That’s where I spent most of my time walking along the promenade past beach cafes and British tourists sunning themselves.

I walked for what felt like hours and ran into a castle of some sort. I still have no idea what it was for, but I walked up to the top of the hill and sat on the wall for a while. I let everything and nothing swirl around in my head while the sun beat down on my pale face. I sat there for a long time looking at the ocean and realizing how happy and at peace I felt. It was a feeling that I haven’t had in a long time.

The rest of the afternoon was just like that, walking around and stumbling upon things. I found the bullring (closed), oranges growing on the trees that lined the streets, and a zoo. I didn’t go in the zoo though because there is a zoo in Amsterdam that I haven’t gone to yet, and I wanted to wander around some more. After a full morning of walking, I went to the grocery store to get some things for dinner. I dropped it all off at the apartment and went out for a late lunch. I was sort of disappointed in my dining options. I wanted some Spanish tapas, but my options were limited. Most of the restaurants catered to the Brits and the Dutch. There were plenty of pubs and UK flags hanging around. I found a place by the port. It didn’t have an ocean view, but it was run by an abuela who spoke to me in Spanish (I understood most of it), and every time she walked by my table she would squeeze my arm. I liked her very much. Her grandson was riding his bike back and forth in front of the restaurant, and every so often, I could hear a little voice yell, “abuela!” I spent the rest of the afternoon between that place and a spot on the sand.

By the time I got back to the apartment I was really tired. It was that good tired though. It was the kind where you feel like you have really done something.  The town was cheap, and I was able to eat and drink everything I wanted from the time I got to the Amsterdam airport to the time I left Malaga for under 100 euros. I think I even have about 15 euros left over.

The next day was much of the same except I hung out at the apartment until about noon. I didn’t have to leave for the airport until 5, so I still had plenty of time. I didn’t feel the need to see anything else because I had pretty much seen it all the day before. What I did want to do is find a nice café with a view of the water for a coffee. After a walk I did just that. I liked it so much that I stayed there for lunch.

After I left, I found a spot to sit on a short wall. It was facing the sun, and it was much warmer there than walking in the shade. I was just sitting there thinking when I was approached by an African man selling DVD’s. This was not a new occurrence, but all the other times as soon as I said no he would walk away. Not this time. For a while I shook my head, but then he asked if I spoke English. We got to talking, and I found out that he was from Senegal. He sat on the wall with me and we chatted for a while. His name was Mustafa, and he had been living in Spain for 8 years selling things on the street. He spoke English, Spanish, French, and I’m sure a local language of his home. He said he had to in order to do his business. His family is all still in Senegal, but he can’t go back because (from what I could gather from his story) he doesn’t have a passport. We talked about missing our families and friends from home, but I was hit by a very sharp realization about the two of us. While we were united in our experience of being away from home and learning to adapt to a new culture, we were from different worlds. I am free to travel the world, to come and go in most any country. I can work anywhere too and make quite a bit of money. I have the ability to travel on a whim, and I can visit my family tomorrow if I needed to. My life, while in my eyes is hard sometimes, it does not compare to the difficulty that Mustafa has had to endure. Our definitions of hard do not match. When he came to Spain he left his girlfriend in Senegal with the hope that they would be together again someday. She grew tired of waiting and married someone else. He told me that eventually he wants to go back to Senegal and get married because he would never get married to someone from Spain, “they are rude.” So eventually I bought one of his DVD’s, and he was on his way.

I spent some time writing after that just sitting on the wall in the sunlight burning my face. That moment was another affirmation that the place doesn’t matter; it’s the people. While my interactions here were short, I felt a connection.

Fuengirola Beach

The Essence of Travel

Why do people travel?

Since the beginning of people there has been the urge to explore, to find out what is on the other side of the mountain or beyond the horizon. Catching the "travel bug" is a common phrase among my friends, and I hope that I, in some way, inspire others to seek out the unknown. My first real trip alone was to Greece where I spent a summer living on the small island of Tinos teaching English to two young children. It was the experience that prompted me to become a traveler and not a tourist. There's a big difference (but that's another blog post).

After that trip I continued to seek out the unknown in various situations, many of which are detailed in this very blog. When I first started out I thought it was all about the location. I sought out the best beaches and some of the most exciting destinations in the world. I did volunteer work, tour leading, conference presenting, teaching, and much more. All of my travel experiences provided an opportunity to add to my growing list of "places I've been." For some that's enough, to check a box and move on with life. For me, it has never been enough. I frequently find myself planning my next trip before my current one has ended. I like finding places that are off the beaten path, and as I get more adventurous in my choices, the path continues to veer.

But these are just places. What makes one trip more memorable than another, and what makes a trip fade into just a collection of vague memories? I have recently discovered that the answer is very simple. It is the people. People make memories, places do not. The trips that were most life altering for me have resulted in life long friends. Meeting friends along the way, having challenging moments and working through them, this is the essence of travel.

So how do you get the most bang for your travel buck? Talk to the locals, travel alone and put yourself into situations that push the limits of your day to day life. Travel will then become part of life and not just something that you do to get away from the grind.

"Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience." -Paulo Coelho

A Llama Encounter on Machu Picchu

The day had finally arrived to go to Machu Picchu. This was one of the things I was most looking forward to, and I was finally going to have my moment alone to try to gain just a little bit of perspective on my quickly changing life. We all piled back on the bus and headed up the mountain to about 12,000 ft. through winding roads and snow-capped mountains in the backdrop. It was a truly beautiful drive. The houses were muddled architecturally with some having elements of a time long since passed. Others were made of nothing more than mud bricks. As we were winding through the streets, one of my fellow travelers noticed something on the roofs of the houses. It was a statue of two bulls with a cross in the middle. According to Victor, it is a Spanish tradition with one bull representing a husband and the other a wife, and the cross unites them. It is a symbol of the completion of the house and for future prosperity of the family. If one of the bulls is missing, however, it is a sign that there is trouble in the family.

There was a lot more traveling that day to get to, in my opinion, one of the wonders of the world. I won't go into all the details, but the train ride to Aguas Calientes was amazing. I highly recommend this three hour zigzag ride through the mountains. Fast forward several hours to the ultimate travel experience.

For many years, Machu Picchu was abandoned, and here I am about to spend my afternoon in this lost city. The Incas left to protect this masterpiece of nature and architecture, but it was later found by a professor who happened upon it from talking to a local farmer. While I was there I learned many facts about the Incas and their culture. I even took notes. And while they are very interesting from an anthropological perspective, those facts weren't what I deemed to be most alluring about this place.

Not the Dalai Lama, just me and some llamas.

Machu Picchu for me was not just a place, but a time for me to be still, to clear my head and allow new thoughts to enter. I had spent months making life-changing decisions, and this was my moment to take a deep breath and enjoy the view. I must have had some calming energy though because I was soon joined in my quest for balance by two llamas. We both determined the other to not be a threat, so my reflection and their munching continued. The moment drew a crowd, and I am now featured in many tourist photos and a couple videos, but I was at peace. I was completely relaxed, with no pain, listening to pan flute music on my iphone. As I watched the sun set through the clouds as tiny birds darted all around me, I felt unbelievably blessed. Had I finally found peace within my mind? Only time will tell. For now though, I have a memory that will live on for the rest of my life. 

Cuy and Coca Tea in Cuzco

There were two things that I wanted to try while traveling in Peru, and they were cuy (guinea pig) and coca tea. Before the trip I had read many accounts of trying this delectable little beast, but they were inconclusive. Most of them consisted of how terrible it was. Many of the blogs I read had scathing comments from animal rights advocates stating that is was wrong to eat a pet. Here's the thing though. In Peru, the guinea pig is raised to be eaten just like a cow or chicken in many other places, so I was willing to give it a try.  

Since I was the leader of my group, it was my duty to provide a cultural adventure for all those who dared to try it. I wasn't feeling very daring, but hey, you only live once. After talking to Victor (our fearless and fabulous guide) about the best place to eat the little creature, I was on a mission that I wasn't going to be talked out of. I rallied the troops and managed to get many people interested including people from the other groups.

In just a short while, three little "pigs" arrived at our table. They were all dressed up in a pepper hat seated on a bed of veggies. The presentation was beautiful, but let's be honest here, it was still a guinea pig. I always wanted one as a pet, and now I was going to eat one. There wasn't much meat on the little guy, but from the pieces I had (don't ask which pieces because I'm not even sure) it wasn't half bad. Sure it had a gamey flavor, but it was more like eating rabbit than anything else. I went back for seconds, and I even finished up the parts that no one wanted. What a great day for travel!


The coca tea doesn't have much of a story behind it, but it is worth mentioning. Since the altitude of Cuzco is about 11,000 ft., many people can get altitude sickness. This can present in various forms including fatigue, headaches, and an overall blah feeling (yes, blah is a medical term). One of the best things to do to combat this unpleasantness is to stay hydrated. And one of the best ways to stay hydrated in Cuzco is by drinking coca tea (made from the coca leaf). It can be found at any hotel in the area and most places you may visit. I liked it immediately, but it is an acquired taste (a pungent herbal flavor). I had a cup every time I walked through the lobby of the hotel and one before bed. It worked like a charm. I felt amazing the whole time I was there. No altitude problems for me.



Since I am on the topic of food and beverage, I must mention my favorite Peruvian cocktail the Pisco Sour. This drink is made with the Peruvian brandy called Pisco, sugar, lime juice, and egg whites. The egg whites give it the frothiness at the top. It sort of tastes like a margarita with a bit more bite. It is an amazing accompaniment to a nice bowl of ceviche.

Lima in One Day

My time in Lima was full of all sorts of interesting new facts and information. While it was just a quick stay, our guide, Omar did a great job teaching us about Peruvian culture and kept us laughing too. At one point while he was talking in the front of the bus he fell almost into the drivers lap. "Sometimes it happens," he replied and barely missed a beat in his talk about all of the varieties of potatoes found throughout Peru. Since I am on the topic of potatoes, there are over 3,000 varieties! Who knew? Also fascinating was that there are over 300 different types of corn. I was able to sample a couple while I was there including the purple kind that makes a lovely drink called chicha morada. 

Culturally, there is a quite a diverse mix of people who live in Lima. Mestizo, or mixed race people make up the majority of the population here. There is also a large population of Chinese immigrants who have had a significant influence on the cuisine. Chifa, a Chinese/Peruvian restaurant is commonplace along the city streets. The influence is so strong in fact that there is no Chinatown because there is a complete integration into the culture.

The rest of the day was full of a trip to a history museum, the St. Francis Museum/ Church, and the Convento de San Francisco. And this was all before lunch! The history museum was like most museums full of artifacts like pottery telling the stories of a civilization long extinct. Omar's stories helped paint a picture of what the Incas were like and how advanced their society was. More on all of that in the Cuzco post. The church, which didn't allow pictures, was eerily beautiful. The ceiling was a series of wood carvings that fit together like a puzzle. The center courtyard was a rose garden with tiled columns all around the outside. Frescoes lined the upper walls while white mosaic spanish-style tiles line the mid and bottom parts. As I walked through admiring the architecture, the smell of sautéing garlic filled the air. I then walked through a couple of rooms past an alley way painted red with red pots lining the walkway. I then wandered into a room lined with gilded icons of saints. Each one had a story, and it made me wish I had paid more attention in my religious eduction classes as a child. 

The most disturbing but fascinating part of the day was the walk through the catacombs. Again, no photos were allowed, so I'll do my best to illuminate the experience. Into the underground crypts I went ducking my head so as not to smack my forehead on the very low ceilings. The light was minimal, and the smell was appropriately musty with a hint of death. Around each corner was a different display of various bones. I came to find out that approximately 25,000 people had been buried here. I use the term buried very loosely though because there are just piles and piles of bones just out in the open. They are just grave-like holes full of leg bones. How this is a tourist attraction or "decoration" as it was called; I'm not sure. Walking through more creepy low tunnels past empty candelabras I came upon an image that will stay with me for a very long time. There were skulls arranged in concentric circles connected by femur bones. It looked like something out of a medieval secret society meeting. 

The rest of the day involved lunch at a seaside mall called Larcomar in Miraflores which was just a couple short minutes from our hotel. Later on we headed over to JFK park to see all of the stray cats that just hang out there. Apparently it was the place to take a cat that was no longer wanted. There were so many cats just lounging in flower beds and chasing each other around. I had never seen anything like it before. Walking around the city at night was peaceful and beautiful, but I definitely recommend walking with a group. There is so much more to see and do in Lima, but for one day I truly felt like I was beginning to understand what a special country Peru is.

Leading a Tour Through Peru with EF

My trip to Peru was a different sort of trip than I have ever been on before on many different levels. The first being that I had been planning it for almost a year. I'm not much of a long range planner when it comes to travel or anything else for that matter.  I was also in charge of a group of eight other adults, and it made me very nervous. The nerves soon subsided though because everyone showed up to the meeting location on time and ready to go. Everyone was in good spirits and got along beautifully.





After a day of travel, we met Victor, our guide for the duration of the trip. It was getting late, so instead of waiting for the other group to get to the airport, we loaded our luggage into the bus and headed to the hotel. Driving through Lima I was hit with the overwhelming feeling that I felt at home. I had never been to South America before, so it came as a surprise that nothing surprised me about the city. I suddenly had the thought: Am I growing too accustomed to the travel life? Is that even possible? 
I wasn't "wowed" like the rest of the group seeing a McDonalds or a man juggling flaming sticks of fire in the middle of the street at red lights. It all seemed quite normal, and it made me smile. While I would be spending the bulk of my time with others, this trip would be very much an introspective one.  We continued driving toward the coast up and down the winding road past the ocean. It felt peaceful and dangerous at the same time. It was perfect.

To find out more about the amazing trip to the Land of the Incas visit: EFtours.com

Marnay-sur-Seine

I was not planning on writing about my 5 short days in the small village of Marnay-sur-Seine, but it was such a lovely place I had to at least devote one post to it. Marnay is located an hour's train ride and a ten minute taxi ride (or 45 minute walk through the countryside) away from Paris. It was not a place I would have normally visited, but an opportunity arose to visit a very talented writer at a residency program called CAMAC Centre d'Arts located there. I just couldn't pass up the chance to see another side of France. Situated right along the Seine River, the castle-like structure provide a respite from the real world. You won't find much in this town except for maybe a few locals and a whole lot of farm animals. There are no hotels to stay for the night, no restaurants, and there isn't even a bakery. You have to get your baguettes from the next town, Nogent-sur-Seine.




















What I did find, however, is a place that takes you back in time to simpler days. Long walks and deep thoughts provided the backdrop of a truly lovely and relaxing week.   While I was there at the end of April, while still rainy and a little chilly, the landscape was blooming and there were giant fields full of golden flowers that seemed to go on for miles. Marnay was the perfect place to catch up on sleep and take in the scenery. The wine was flowing, the food was wonderful (cooked by one of the resident artists), and the conversation was always interesting. I met people from all over the world pursuing their art. It made me want to pursue some kind of art.


While visiting the big cities in Europe are always exciting and a guaranteed good time, the smaller towns and villages are definitely worth a look. Visiting Marnay made me realize how many off the beaten track places there are in the world and how travel for me has barely begun.







For more information about the CAMAC residency program and a full review from writer Timothy L Marsh, visit: http://timothylmarsh.com/2012/06/02/camac-in-review/