Shalom and Shana Tova from Israel. Exploring Jerusalem, Yad Vashem, a harrowing experience, the West Bank and Bethlehem and Shalom Jerusalem

At the Mount of Olives overlooking the holy city of Jerusalem. The view is amazing.

Shalom my friends!

Shalom is the word Israelis use to greet each other here. These days, though they are also saying Shana Tova because it is Rosh Hashanah (New Year) tomorrow. The Arabs on the other hand usually say Salam Alekam to greet each other and they are celebrating Ramadan. During the time the sun is out, practising Muslims may not eat, drink, smoke or have sex.  I have made a couple of Arab friends at a little shop selling water in Jaffa Gate and caught one of them smoking.  He shamefully admitted his Mother would not be happy.

Well this is our 4^th day in Jerusalem and time to write my blog about our time here before we move on to Nazareth in Galilee tomorrow for the second stage of our trip to Israel.  Tourism is hard work in the heat and it has been hot.  To get to know Jerusalem, frankly you have to be fit because it’s all about walking and walking and walking on old stone streets and up and down old stone steps and getting lost in the process.  We take our map with us every day but I must admit neither of us are good map readers.  So you end up asking people the way and getting lost.  Young children try to show you the way for a few coins.  Everyone in fact wants your business, just as they did in India and they do in Turkey and many other tourist spots of the world.   There are many tourists here but not as many as the local businesses would like because of fear of coming here or that’s what one shop dealer told me.  Eladio and I stick out like sore thumbs and we are approached all the time by shop dealers and taxi drivers mostly.  They all try to rip us off.  We haggle but I’m sure they still make a profit.  I was told yesterday after haggling over the price of a necklace for Olivia: “you are nice but you are hard”.  Also I seem to have made a huge hit with the local men as they are always telling Eladio what a lucky man he is.  I’m not sure if it is a compliment or a way of enticing us to buy from them.  Whatever the case I do feel flattered at my age.  Today I asked one of my admirers what the reason was and his said it was because of the way I looked and smiled and the jewellery I wore, that I looked like I was “someone”. 

The old city is divided into 4 quarters, the Armeninan, the Jewish, the Arab and the Christian.  There are some 2.000 Armenians, 4.000 Jews, 2.000 Christians and 27.000 Arabs, according to our guide on the Free Tour we took on Sunday.  I like the story of how the Armenians came to live here.  As a nation they were apparently one of the first to embrace Christianity. When the Crusaders who came here and killed off all the local women, wanted to stay, they realised they needed women and thus they imported them from Armenia or so the story goes.  I have always heard from my Father that the Armenians are the cleverest people in the world and wonder whilst I am here if that is true.  My only reference point is Calouste Gulbenkian, the famous philanthropist who is of Armenian origin and was certainly clever so maybe my Father’s theory is correct.  In the Armenian Quarter we patronised the well known Armenian Tavern for dinner last night.  The place is really quaint and beautiful but the food was not as good as we expected.

A nice little restaurant in the old city in the Armenian Quarter

Everywhere we go you see a melting pot of these people going about their business and you also see many people dressed in military clothes.  On the first day in Jaffa Gate (one of the 7 or 8 gates of the walled city) I asked a man what a big group of soldiers was doing and he answered: “This is Israel”. The Orthodox Jews stick out amongst all the rest for their way of dressing, hair style and head gear.  They are like a clan and look more different than anyone else. Also I have noticed they never look you in the eye.

Soldiers are a part of life in Israel

Everything is sold in the markets in all 4 quarters, but nothing really different from other markets I have seen in Morocco, India, Greece, Turkey or even Spain.  The only difference is in some of the local souvenirs or objects such as Fatima’s hand or the Jewish Haunnukah candlestick which you can normally only get here.  You will see amazing bread, local pastries (my favourite baklava), jewellery, pomegranate juice stalls and all this on most of the streets of the Old City including the Via Dolorosa (the 8 stations of the Cross) with people from all walks of life bustling past.  I bought a David’s Cross to wear round my neck but soon realised that it was not a good idea to wear a Jewish symbol as it would call unnecessary attention.

The pomegranates in the market stalls add so much colour.  The juice is a little acid.

You could spend weeks and still not see everything that is to be seen in the Old City and I am sure we have only seen a small part.  We were not able to visit the Muslim sites such as the most famous symbol of Jerusalem, the Omar Mosque with the golden dome, because of Ramadan.  We saw it from a distance of course from the Mount of Olives which has the best views of the city.

Eladio and I at the Mount of Olives overlooking Jerusalem.

As there was so much to see we decided to do a guided tour on the first day to get acquainted with the place.  So, after the service at the Scottish Presbyterian Church where we are staying, which I aborted because it was so dismal and empty, we walked through the Gardens of Jerusalem to Jaffa Gate and joined an international group of tourists who came from places like Peru, Colombia and Nigeria to go on the New Jerusalem Free Tour.  Regarding nationalities of tourists in Israel, my experience is that the majority come from Russia and Latin America and North America. 

The very nice but very empty Scottish church on Sunday.

The walking tour took us around the 4 quarters and through the suqs (markets), onto the rooftops of the walls, to the Western Wall (Wailing wall) where we had been already and ended, for us, at the the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where Christ was supposedly buried and resurrected.  This place is probably the holiest site for Christians in the world and it was a humbling experience to be there.  On the topic of Christianity, there is a clear domination in all the holy sites in Jerusalem and Bethlehem of the Orthodox religion. 

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

At one point I sat next to two Russian Orthodox nuns who were chanting prayers in Church Slavonic and they looked just like my Russian Orthodox aunts, Olga and Darya who I imagine would have loved to visit the site.  They never managed to come here but one person in my family did and that was my Grandfather, John Lloyd,  my Father’s Father who was an Anglican vicar who later became a canon.  He came here in the 30’s many years ago on a pilgrimage. In a way I am following in his footsteps but not for the same reasons as my objectives here are more cultural or are they?  I have mixed feelings visiting all these holy places, the Christian ones of course.  But then again I was was baptised in the Russian Orthodox church (in Paris for the records), brought up at a Catholic school, and studied Religion A level as well as doing Theology subsidiary at Nottingham University.  So there is a lot of religious heritage in me, not to mention the fact that both my grandfathers were priests and that I even married one!  Therefore I could not help but light candles at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for my darling Mother, golden brother George and my dearest Aunt Masha as well as shed a tear for them whilst doing so.  Does that mean I believe?  Well I don’t know.

Lighting candles in the Holy Sepulchre Church for my Mother, George and Aunty Masha

From the Church of the Holy Sepulchre we went in search of the famous Via Dolorosa (after some food at the Samara café in Jaffa Gate), or the Stations of the Cross as they are known in English.  The  Way of Sorrows as it is sometimes also called has 14 stations which represent  Jesus’ last moments on earth, from being condemned to death, carrying the cross and being crucified to dying and being buried.

Station number 5 of the Via Dolorosa where Simon of Cyrene carried the cross for Christ.

On Monday we took a rest from visiting the old city and went to visit the Yad Vashem (a memorial and a name from a quote from Isaiah), the official Israeli museum dedicated to the memory of the Jews who died in the Holocaust in the Second World War.  This is a subject very close to my heart mostly because of my upbringing and Yad Vashem was a must on our agenda here in Jerusalem.  I had been warned it would be harrowing and it was certainly so.  The museum is beautiful, composed of various buildings in a big park and takes you from the uprising of the Nazi party to the persecution of Jews, to their being confined in ghettos, to being taken to the death camps, how 6 million were killed and so few survived.  There are many real life testimonies of survivors on videos and their stories are incredible.

The Yad Vashem museum of the Holocaust in Jerusalem.  A harrowing place.

 I took in as much as I could but I broke down when I saw a glass case full of shoes of dead people and when I entered the Hall of Names; the name of each and every one of the six milliion people who perished at the hands of the Nazis!  All I can say after visiting Yad Vashem is that I hope the world will never forget this awful episode of our recent history.  It worries me that very soon there will be no more witnesses as this happened over 60 years ago and there are fewer and fewer of the survivors who can bear living witness to the Holocaust.  I know one survivor, Magda, my dear friend Sandra’s mother.  Magda, a Hungarian Jew, was hidden by a gentile family during the war in Budapest as a young girl.  Magda is my friend on Facebook and she wrote me a message the other day wishing me a good trip to Israel.  When I cried in the Hall of Names I cried also for the people Magda lost in the war and for how she must have suffered.

The Hall of Names at Yad Vashem, includes all the names of the 6 million Jews who perished during the Holocaust

After leaving Yad Vashem we needed to go somewhere more uplifting, so decided on visiting Bethlehem, another must on our agenda.  After all it is where everything began.  When we cannot walk to places we take taxis and you have to haggle the price.  It was difficult to get one to Bethlehem as we learned that it is in the West Bank, part of Palestine.  On the way we asked to stop at Rachel’s Tomb (the Mother of Benjamin and wife of Jacob) from advice in the guide book.  Again we did not know this was in the West Bank right by the horrific wall which divides the communities.  The tomb was nothing special but its location an eye opener for us.  Even our Jordanian taxi driver was amazed.  As we left the building where the tomb is housed with its typical separate entrances for men and for women, we stopped a Jewish man to ask him about the area.  He explained rather angrily that the area had been taken by the Arabs and we got talking.  When we left we stretched out our arms to shake his hand.  He willingly shook Eladio’s but smiled at me and made me understand he could not touch me because I was a woman.  It was not a good feeling for someone like me who is an advocate of equality between women and men.

Our encounter with a Jewish man at the wall in the West Bank, the man who wouldn't shake my hand because I am a woman.

Bethlehem was nothing like the image you conjure up in your mind when you sing Christmas carols.  It is dirty, untidy, dusty and there has probably been no street planning since Jesus was born.  But of course it is extremely interesting to visit the Church of the Nativity and see the spot where Jesus was born.  You go through the door of humility called so because it is low and you have to bend your body to go through.  I think the original enrtrance was actualy for animals, but even so. The church has 3 parts, one run by the Armenian Orthodox, one run by the Green Orthodox and one run by the Catholics.  Underneath the church is the crypt which is run by the three churches and it is here you can touch and photograph both the star that represents where Jesus was born and the manger where he laid.  The star has 14 points to symbolise the 14 Stations of the Cross.  Unfortunately Eladio was not very well and we had to come back to the Guest House in a rush, much to the disappointment of the “free” guide provided by our Jordanian taxi driver, who wanted to take us to some special souvenir shop.  We are quite seasoned travellers however and have a smell for when the guides and taxi drivers are in cahoots with local business so probably wouldn’t have gone with him anyhow.

The place where Jesus was born in Bethlehem has a symbol of a 14 pointed star, a symbol of the 14 stations of the cross.

Today, our last day in Jerusalem, we visited the Mount of Olives, so famous in the bible and where you get the best views of the city.  From here we drove down towards Gethsemane.  Here we visited the Russian Mary Magdalene Church with its beautiful golden onion domes and I once again lit candles for my Mother, my brother George and my Aunty Masha.  As we left there was a group of Russians with the Patriarche of Germany and Switzerland.

The beautiful Russian Orthodox church, St. Mary Magdalene in Gethsamene

From the Russian church we walked to the actual Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus Christ spent the last night of his life before being arrested.  It’s a moving place.  We also visited Mary’s Grotto opposite where apparently the Virgin Mary’s tomb is. Jerusalem is rife with places which have become shrines because of their association with Jesus Christ and not always for important reasons. Further up the road from the Russian Church we could have visited another shrine or church famous for Christ having cried there but the road was far too steep and the sun too strong that we decided not to go.

In the Garden of Gethsemane with Eladio (sorry the photo won't rotate here!)

From Gethsemane we returned to the Old City, this time entering at the Damascus Gate, one of the busiest.  Here we sat and drank a cup of tea and I tried the pomegranate juice which seems so popular here. It is sweet but slightly acid and I don’t think I’ll be drinking it again. From here we walked to Zion’s Gate to visit the City of David where you can visit David’s Tomb, the place where most Christians think that the Last Supper took place as well as the Dormition Abbey dedicated to the Virgin Mary’s transit into heaven.

Where the Last Super took place. In the City of David in the old city of Jerusalem

So much culture and religion made us hungry today and just as we were on our way to Jaffa Gate or somewhere we could find a bite, a taxi driver stopped and offered to take us to a nice Israeli restaurant.  Our mistake was not to agree a price.  He turned out to be a Russian Jew and told me there were a million Russians in Israel! He was not a nice character and demanded quite a lot of money.  Eladio handed him a big enough note and said he would pay no more, threatening to call the police. It was a tense and tough moment until he drove away in a rage.  We were so worried we decided not to go to the restaurant he recommended in case he came back.  Instead we found a jewel of a place called Joy in Emek Rafaim Street in the German Colony near our Guest House which served great Kosher food including gazpacho (nothing like ours of course) and something wonderful called Moroccan cigars which are a sort of mini spring roll filled with lamb.

Our time in Jerusalem ended this evening with a wonderful walk around the so-called “golden walls”.  They are actually made of white stone (lime stone) as are all the buildings in Jerusalem and surroundings.  It’s funny and rather nice not to see the proverbial red brick. It’s sad to leave somewhere so special and to think you may never come again.  On the other hand if I think positively I should realise just how lucky and privileged I have been to come to the holy city of Jerusalem, so disputed by all religions and where so many people would love to come and can’t.  Goodbye Jerusalem, Shalom. You see shalom also means goodbye.  The irony of it is that shalom actually means peace.  So yes, I wish peace to Jerusalem.

Shalom my friends from Jerusalem.

Masha

Journey to Israel, our arrival and first impressions of Jerusalem, meeting people and visiting the old town, Eladio is a very lucky man and plastic weapons will not help peace.

Me by the Wailing Wall, a magical moment on the first day in Jerusalem.

Hi everyone,

Here I am writing to you from our spartan but comfortable room at the St. Andrew’s Scottish Guesthouse in the holy city of Jerusalem, what is known here as Christian accommodation.  It has been a long day and let me tell you about it.

We were up early at 06.30 today to catch the Iberia handled El Al 10.15 flight to Tel Aviv.  We went  early because I was worried about lengthy security procedures which turned out very smoothly in the end and left us with more time on our hands than necessary.  The plane was half full and the 4.5h flight was uneventful.  We spent the time reading the papers (The Daily Mail and El País), reading our guide books and nodding off occasionally.  Of mention, the food was quite disgusting (macaroni with watery cheese and tomato sauce) and we blamed the crisis.  They called it lunch and it was served at 11.15 which as you can imagine was far too early for us.  Hopefully we will eat better food in Israel.  I’m looking forward to the humus, falafel, baklava, etc, the typical middle eastern cuisine plus getting to try Kosher and Israeli cuisine.

Boarding in Madrid

Tel Aviv airport is enormous and I expected USA type security for entering into Israel, but it was much easier and the officials more polite.  Recommended by Olivia we decided to try our luck with the Sherut shared taxi service to our hotel and it worked out fine.  The taxi is actually a minibus and seats about 10.  We sat next to a talkative Italian Franciscan monk.  So for 55 shekels (NIS = New Israel Shekel), the equivalent of just over 11 euros each, we arrived about one hour later at our destination, the St. Andrew’s Scottish Guesthouse. 

St. Andrew's Scottish Guesthouse where we are staying in Jerusalem.

You are probably wondering why we are staying here and the reason is that in Israel we decided to go for more authentic vs modern top hotels, so’s to get a flavour of the country.  Originally I had tried to get rooms in similar accommodation within the city walls but everything was booked at the time.  It’s a 15 minute walk from Jaffa Gate (the heart of the old city) and has magnificent views.  We have a balcony and a sparse but comfortable room.  I suppose this is because the place is Scottish.  I was therefore not surprised to hear that breakfast is from 07 to 09h hours only.  Tomorrow is Sunday and there will be a service at the Presbyterian church here which I have threatened to take Eladio to.  The place is something of an icon in Jerusalem, built in 1930 to commemorate the Scots who died liberating the land from Turkish rule during the First World War. The place has an air of days gone past, the only problem being it has turned rather shabby and even grimey in parts.  On the plus side it is real haven of peace after the mad and bustling old city.

The view of the walled city of Jerusalem as seen from our balcony at the Scottish Guesthouse

Now let me tell you a bit about my impressions so far.  It was 30ºc when we landed at just before 16h (one hour ahead of Spain); nice and not humid. The landscape in the one hour journey from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem reminded me very much of the arid landscapes you get in most Mediterranean countries.  The vegetation is similar and I saw lots of eucalyptus and pine trees but also a lot of semi desert.  I read in the guidebook that nearly half of Israel is a desert.  However the Israelis have made miracles out of such dry terrain and are big exporters of fruit and vegetables.  I did see some crops, notably vineyards but funnily enough no villages for miles until we reached the outskirts of Jerusalem.  The houses, as you might expect, have flat roofs and are mostly white.  I began to see housing as we approached the city and most of it was white made of limestone and perched on the hills.  Later when I saw the houses close up, many of them had water deposits on their roofs like in India which I thought very odd.

Our arrival coincided with the Jewish Sabbath (Saturday, but like our Sunday) so there was little traffic.  Our rather delapidated Sherut took an hour to drop us off as it had to drop the other passengers off before.  We spoke to various of them including an American girl from Florida who had come here to study “Disaster Management in Humanitarian Aid”.  I suppose this is the right part of the world to study something like that.

Keen to explore the town, we asked Ibrahim from the guesthouse reception for a map and instructions how to get to the old town which you can actually see from our room but is tricky to reach if you don’t know the way.  So we stepped outside, camera in hand and eager to see what we could of Jerusalem in the little time we had left  before sunset.

Eladio walking up the hill outside the city walls towards Jaffa Gate

Not only had our arrival coincided with the Jewish Sabbath, it also coincided with the Muslim Ramadan so the old city was not as vibrant and alive as I imagine it usually is.  We walked through the amazing white stone walled city of David (of David and Goliath), gazed at the Citadel and then followed signs to the Holy Sepulchre which was actually through the semi empty Arab Bazar.  We reached the area where the city divides and could not cross to the Mosque as it was closed for non Muslims by Border Police.  During our entire stay we were never able to visit the Muslim part.

We wandered through the endless streets of the Bazar until, unknowingly, we came across the Western Gate.  Here we had to go through security (it is everywhere here), walk under a tunnel full of Ultra Orthodox Jews dressed in their traditional Sabbath gear and singing and eating, until we came out into the square by the world famous Wailing Wall.  It was night time now and the stone walls were floodlit and just being there and watching the Jews semi  hitting their heads against the wall and chanting as they have done for centuries was amazing.  The tradition of the wailing is for the destroyed temple of the Jews by the Roman Emperor Titus in 70ad. 

On the topic of Ultra Orthodox Jews, you see them in groups all over the old city, with funny headgear, dark long clothing and of course the men wear their hair long in sort of plaits which I am sure are not called plaits.  The women wear long frumpy unfashionable dresses, although their heads go uncovered.  I heard later that many of them wear big wigs when they go outside.  The reason?  Fanaticisim I would say: they have shaved their heads so as not to be attractive even to their husbands!

Typical Ultra Ortodox Jews in Israel. You see them everywhere here.

From the Wailing Wall we went in search of food and that is when Ramadan and the Jewish Sabbath got in the way; nearly everywhere was closed.  In the end we found a small Arab café called “Everest Kafeteria” (!) where we had a very nice pitta bread sandwich with chicken.

Eladio showing his pitta bread chicken sandwich at the Arab Bazar tonight.

Afterwards we wandered towards Jaffa Gate half thinking of returning to our hotel at 20.30 when we heard music coming from the Tower of David (also called the Citadel) and by chance were just on time to see the Night Spectacular there which was amazing; a spectacle of music, light and photography against the ancient white walls of the Citadel.  I sat next to a Jewish family from Washington DC.  The man was old enough to have survived the 2^nd World War and I wondered if he had.  Maybe he is here to visit the Holocaust Museum.  We certainly will.

Before I finish this post I must tell you something very funny that happened today.  Just as we were debating whether to go into the Tower of David, a man in the street who I think was an Arab, said to Eladio: “Is that your lovely wife?  She’s in a very good condition.  You are a very lucky man!” 

And that’s it for one day, from this amazing holy city in the Middle East which is not desperately clean, full of police and security, where kids play with toy rifles and which is considered by the 3 biggest monotheistic religions in their world as their capital, the city that cannot live in peace: Jerusalem.

You see many children with toy weapons here; peace is all about education too I think.

That’s it for today folks.  It’s been a long day.  Tomorrow we will see Jerusalem by day and if I'm not too tired tomorrow night I might write another post.

Cheers Masha

PS You can see more photos here.

September is here, the first step of our trip to the Holy Land, Santander again, a little black dress and a disaster in a Chilean mine.

Me in my little black dress which I wore to the Yoigo party in Santander.

Hi again

Today is the first day of September and as I write we are experiencing a well needed respite in the hot weather as it is raining, or rather pouring.  It may well stop us from going on our walk but I hope not.

September is more important than usual this year as I will be taking my summer holiday this month, for the first time ever I think.  On Saturday Eladio and I will be travelling to Israel and then to Jordan and will be back on the 19^th.   You are probably wondering why I have chosen September.  The answer is Santander.  Hum? You will probably say. The reason is that every year I have to work on our activities at the big Spanish telecoms conference there at the end of August which always impedes me from fully enjoying my holidays.  Therefore this year I decided to wait till the conference was over.  I hope I made the right decision.  If not I can always go back to taking my annual summer holiday before.

I’m a bit late with my blog this week and that’s Santander’s fault again.  Before I get to that let me go back in time and tell you what we have been up to since I last wrote.

The week after our trip to Salamanca was very busy and I was frantic with preparations for the telecoms conference.  But it wasn’t all work.  On Monday the four of us watched a film together, something we should really do more often.  We watched the 3^rd episode of Millennium, the Girl who kicked the Hornets’ nest.  It was great to reencounter my beloved Liz Salander, the heroine.  The film was good, very good, but of course not as good as the book.

Dear Liz Salander, it was nice to encounter her again when we watched the 3rd episode of Millennium recently.  No way are the Americans going to find anyone as good as her for their totally unnecessary version.

Last week we also had some preparations to complete for our up and coming trip to the Holy Land and one of them was going to the Jordanian Embassy in Madrid to get our visas.  In a way it was our first haul of the trip, stepping into Jordanian territory.  There was not one woman in the consulate, many dark faced men, a gloomy atmosphere with old furniture and most of all a lot of bureaucracy.  Luckily after persuading them to process the visas that same morning, we were able to collect the stamped passports after a 2 hour wait rather than returning the next day.  The feeling was one of triumph, like passing an exam, so I just had to pose for this photo of myself with our passports and visas.

Just come out of the Jordanian Embassy in Madrid with the visas stamped in our passports; the first step of our trip.

There was also time for socialising as we had invited our friends Oscar, Juana and Julio for dinner at home last Thursday.  I spent the better part of Wednesday preparing the food with the help of Olga which made a huge difference.  I chose a cold menu so’s not to bother with last minute cooking just as my guests arrived.  The first course was salmorejo (sort of thicker gazpacho) followed by meat loaf and potato salad both made according to my own recipes.  The dessert was my pièce de résistance; a truly unique made up recipe of things I love.  In small glasses I put a layer of crushed biscuit followed by creamy Greek yoghurt mixed with fresh raspberries, strawberries and blackberries.  On the top I put home-made meringue. You can see the result here.

The meringue fruit and yoghurt dessert I made for the dinner at home with Oscar, Julio and Juana.

It was great to have them and to talk not only about old times but also to forge our friendships even further.  We have now decided on a round of dinners and the next time will be at Julio’s place when we will be joined by Fátima who couldn’t come last week as she was on holiday.

Dinner at home with Oscar, Juana and Julio.  It was lovely to be joined by the girls.

And very soon the week was up and it was time to hit the road again, this time to Santander.  Eladio came with me as he nearly always does these days and we went by car.  We took the Burgos route just so’s we could stop for a quick bite at the Landa Cafeteria which is also a hotel and restaurant and a must to stop at if you are going north in Spain.  It took just over 4 hours to reach the Sardinero beach area which is where our hotel, the Silken Río, is and within walking distance of the conference which takes place at the UIMP (Palacio de la Magdalena).

A photo of the beautiful Sardinero beach in Santander taken from our hotel bedroom window.  Now that's a sea view!

This year was to be the 9^th time I was to attend the conference and my 4^th time with Yoigo.  I have grown to love the town, or more precisely the Sardinero beach area, the Magdalena peninsula and the Puerto Chico part of the town which is a 30 minute walk along the coast with some breathtaking views of the sea and spectacular houses on the way.  The pavement is lined with lush trees and flowers and you would think you were possibly somewhere like Cornwall in England rather than in Spain.  In fact there is a definite British influence on the place, in the landscape and architecture of Santander which is probably what attracts me to it and apparently has to do with the fact that it was once patronised by British Royalty.  This style lives alongside the local architecture which is so typical of the province of Santander and I’m not sure which I like best.  Mr. Emilio Botín, the owner of the Banco Santander has made his town famous the world over with the name of the bank but I wonder how many of his clients have ever been there.  He probably has one of the most emblematic houses, or should I say palaces, in Santander.  It is one of the houses I always admire on my walk into town from the Sardinero beach area.  When you see the picture I’m sure you will agree

Emilio Botin's "house" in Santander (the owner of the Santander Bank).  Nice place eh?

Santander is pretty famous for its excellent food.  On Sunday I took my colleagues and agency people to Zacarías, one of my favourite restaurants in town and on Monday we had a team dinner at La Posada del Mar where the owner Tomás made us feel very welcome.  In the province which is called Cantabria, you don’t only get great fish but also excellent meat because cows are bred here too in a perfect climate for the dairy industry.

The beaches are beautiful too, well kept and very picturesque with the Cantabrian Mountains in the background.  They make for some superb walks and swims, weather permitting of course.  We both love this area of Spain but could never contemplate living here unfortunately because of the colder weather.  The weather was good though during our stay and there was time on Sunday to go on the Sardinero beach, possibly the best town beach I know, with the exception maybe of the Concha beach in San Sebastián in the Basque country.

I was able to rest on Sunday with all our work done both for the presentation at the conference and for the party for all the attendants to take place on Monday.  On Monday I was bag of nerves as I always am before events because they are not a science and despite all the planning in the world something can go wrong because often the implementation doesn’t depend on you.  For the presentation we had devised a really original idea based on a simulated Facebook News Feed in flash with videos.  It was a very daring idea which took us all summer to complete but the effort was well worth it.  We were applauded and once again shown to be different and fresher than our more traditional competitors.  You can see the pdf version here which should give you an idea at least.  Ah and just when the presentation had started, our 4 “muñecos” (dolls) came in to cheer Yoigo on.  We used them later in the party of course.

The Yoigo "muñecos" (dolls) at our party in Santander.

The Yoigo party was in the evening, our 4^th party in Santander where everyone attending is welcome and the only one of its kind.  Apart from the “muñecos” we must have had over 200 guests who all enjoyed the music, the activities (massages, basketball, fortune roulette, photo cabin, etc).  The theme was the number 4 and referred to our 4^th year in the market, our being the 4^th mobile phone operator and also to the new 4G technology.  I think you all know by now that my trademark is organising parties but that I don’t really like my own however good they are.  So as soon as I could I made my escape and went back to our hotel room to find poor Eladio with a very upset stomach.  The guests I am sure hardly noticed I wasn’t there.  I should mention that that night I wore, possibly for the first time in my life, what could be deemed as a “little black dress”.  Since I have lost my famous 10 kilos I have taken to wearing dresses this summer rather than trousers.  Recently I bought the little black dress at Cortefiel and I wore it for the first time at the Yoigo party in Santander.  Eladio was very impressed which I suppose was the intention.  So much so that he took a whole load of shots before I left and one of them illustrates this blog. I will be certainly taking it on our trip and imagine wearing it for dinner maybe in Petra.  Look out for that photo!

We delayed our return a bit on Tuesday for Eladio to recover which thankfully he did and soon hit the road again, destination the best place in the world: our home.  Nobody seemed to have missed us very much and we were soon back to our routines.  I have had to go into the office a couple of times and am spending this week tying up my affairs before we leave for Israel on Saturday.

Meanwhile Suzy is looking for a job in London in the food industry.  I can’t quite believe the time for her to leave home is getting nearer.  Oli’s contract with RTVE.es finishes in October so she too is looking for a job.  She is also considering going with Suzy to London to seek her fortune with her beloved sister.  I would love them to live and work in London as it would mean lots of trips there to see them and of course enjoy one of the greatest cities in the world.

Not everyone is as privileged as them.  There are always people suffering in this world but my heart goes out most to the 33 Chilean miners who have been trapped for 28 days now 700m below ground.  The authorities are doing their best to help them but they may well have to stay there until Christmas.  I imagine their plight and realise just how lucky we all our.

Two of the poor Chilean miners trapped 700 metres underground.  When will they see the light of day?

On that note I end this week’s blog post.  I’m not sure whether I will have time to write from Israel and Jordan but will try. 

Cheers for the moment

Masha

Picking your own fruit, visitors from Yorkshire, a trip to Salamanca, our 27th wedding anniversary and all together again.

Eladio and I on our 27th wedding anniversary in Peñacaballera

Hi again this last week in August,

I hope you are all fine. This week has been hectic but thoroughly enjoyable and I have lots to tell you.

Oli was back from Aranda de Duero on Monday where she had been sent to cover a music festival by www.rtve.es. You can see some of her videos here. I think she did a great job but you must judge for yourselves.

The highlight of the beginning of the week was the picking of a basket full of delicious greengages from a tree in the back garden. It was the biggest crop in all our time at this house and I enjoyed the activity immensely.

This year's greengage crop. Not many but they were delicious.

There is something enriching, romantic and bucolic about picking your own fruit. Just because you know it is yours enhances the taste.

Eladio picking the greengages.  A lovely moment.

On Tuesday we were expecting visitors from Yorkshire. Kathryn Lindley (now Cobrey) from my Kappa class at St. Joseph’s school in Bradford had found me some time ago on Facebook and we have been corresponding. She is a teacher, lives in Keighley, has 4 grown up boys and is now married to Phil, a teacher of Spanish we were to discover. So when she told me she and Phil were travelling in France and Spain this month, I immediately invited them to come and stay. They said they would arrive on Tuesday at “five-ish”. Most people get totally lost when they come to our house even with a sat nav. However Phil and Kathryn who are seasoned travellers but use a map instead were here on the dot and did not have to ring us to find out how to get here. I still don’t know how they did it.

Kathryn and I had probably last seen each other in the mid 70’s, nearly 40 years ago. She is looking good and we had lots to talk about to catch up on so much time, which meant we nattered for the 3 day duration of their stay which we thoroughly enjoyed. My father was “tickled pink” to have visitors from Yorkshire where he lived from the mid sixties until 5 years ago. He of course was a teacher as was Eladio so we all had a lot in common.

We had endless cups of tea together, went on walks, had lovely meals (thanks Olga), swam and sunbathed, read and drank pacharán in the evenings accompanied always by dear Norah who was a complete hit with our guests, especially Phil. We also laughed nonstop together especially when Norah was playing with her new noisy toy; a boxing kangaroo!

Norah and the noisy boxing kangaroo which she loves so much.

One of the meals was fish and chips, very fitting for the occasion you would probably say but actually they were made by Olga who is Argentinian so there is some extra merit there. The household for those 3 days was a little like the United Nations. We were joined at times by Oli and her friend Juli, or should I say our friend Juli, who is Colombian. This delighted Phil who had learned his Spanish there when he taught at the Anglo Colombian school in Bogotá some years ago.

Oli and our Colombian friend Juli.

On the Wednesday Phil and Kathryn went into town to discover the delights of Madrid and that same evening we took them out to dinner to a Basque place which is very popular with our foreign guests; La Txitxarrería. There was also time for some girly shopping and I took Kathy to a little boutique I frequent nearby and we both came home armed with bags of summer fashion garments and big smiles on our faces.

Dinner with Phil and Kathryn at La Txitxarrería in Pozuelo.

Their visit was short but intense and unfortunately soon over. On Friday they were moving on to La Rioja at our suggestion and we said our goodbyes that morning now firm friends. You can see the full album of photos of their visit here. Eladio and I were going to visit friends at a village in Salamanca called Peñacaballera. Our friends are Javier and Ana and their family who we visited in New York in March. This was our second visit to Peñacaballera and you can read about our first one last year in this post.

Peñacaballera is a small village near Béjar and the Sierra de Francia mountain range and about a 2 hour drive from home through the province of Avila. We were there in time for lunch and were welcomed by Javier, Ana and their beautiful younger daughters Cristina and María. Ignacio was away in Murcia and Laura would be back later that night from a short holiday in nearby Portugal.

Javier with his delightful daughters Cristina (in white) and María.  No wonder he looks so proud.

It was good to be back in peaceful and rural Peñacaballera, to see Javier and Ana and of course their friends, Jorge, María and their family as well as many visitors and friends some of whom we had met last year and some of whom were new to us. There were so many people it was difficult to remember names and to know who was related to whom. I gave up in the end.

In the evening we went to the nearby picturesque village of Hervas (in the province of Cáceres in Extremadura) to visit the old Jewish quarter and to have dinner at a wonderful little place called Nardi. The meat there was out of this world we’ll have to go back one day.

A pretty street in the Jewish quarter of the picturesque village of Hervás in Cáceres Extremadura.

On Saturday we explored the village which that day was to witness a wedding, quite a coincidence as it was our own wedding anniversary.

A wedding in Peñacaballera on the day of our own anniversary.  I hope they will be as happy.

Fancy, 27 years together and life couldn’t be better. A happy marriage is something of a lottery in life but you also have to work at it. However the secret behind its success comes from mutual respect and admiration which cannot exist if there is no love. Yes, these are our ingredients and they are still going strong after so many years. We have yet to celebrate but Javier bought some nice cakes for us to have after the superb paella prepared by Nacho for lunch by the swimming pool that day for no less than 24 people!

Big paella lunch in Peñacaballera, lovely.

We enjoyed our time with our hosts, going for walks, having nice meals, long siestas and even longer conversations. We had differences of opinion on how to bring up children. You can guess who was the liberal one of course and I naturally sided with the younger generation on the time to come home in the evening (or should I say early morning). Javier and I vied for points on Foursquare and we all laughed when I became the Foursquare mayor of the village. Not for long I imagine!

Javier and Ana's house in Peñacaballera

Very soon it was Sunday morning and Eladio and I decided not to overstay our welcome and take the opportunity to visit the nearby Peña de Francia, the highest point in the Sierra de Francia mountain range as well as the medieval cathedral town, Ciudad Rodrigo on the border of Portugal and also in the province of Salamanca.

We had a great day, despite the intense heat. Last year we had visited some places in Salamanca with our friends Andy and Amanda but didn’t get to Peña de Francia. It is just beneath 1.800 metres high and has awesome views. The road leading up is some feat of engineering and at times I couldn’t look out it was so scary. The mountain top is also a sanctuary and there is a statue of a virgin which is much venerated there by pilgrims. In fact there is even a monastery there but we saw very few monks.

At the Peña de Francia with its spectacular views.

From the Peña de Francia we made our way down the steep and winding road and on to Ciudad Rodrigo some 50km away. We had both last been there some 30 years ago when we went camping in Spain, Portugal and Morocco just after we met in the summer of 1980. It was a trip we have always both considered our honeymoon as we were so in love. In fact when we married we were as poor as church mice and could never afford one so we have always thought of it as our honeymoon.

And yesterday we were once again in Ciudad Rodrigo, a superb cathedral town next to Portugal with many medieval monuments and churches and with a city wall which you can still walk around. We made a beeline for the Parador for lunch, something we could not have done 30 years ago of course. Later in the intense heat we explored the nearly empty town. It is never advisable to visit any town in Spain in August in the early afternoon and we should have known better. Even in the heat though Ciudad Rodrigo is a jewel of a town to visit and we will be back but this time will probably not wait another 30 years!

In the gardens of the Parador at Ciudad Rodrigo.

We drove home through Salamanca and Avila remembering the time spent last year with Andy and Amanda and were home in the early evening. Norah and my Father were there to greet us but so was Suzy whom we hadn’t seen since she went to Ibiza. Dinner together, albeit cereal and milk, was a treat. Just as we went to bed Olivia came in to say hello after her weekend trip back from Malaga. Thus we were all together again for the first time in two weeks. Today, Monday, was the first time we were together too for a family lunch. It was prepared by Olga who is proving to be such a great cook she is upsetting my down days. This week we will be all together until of course we get on the road again and that will be to Santander on Saturday.

Oli at the Feria de Málaga this weekend.  Isn't she beautiful?

Before that happens though, I have a few preparations to make for our participation in the annual telecoms conference there where everyone who is anyone in the Spanish telecoms sector goes. But more about that in my next post.

Cheers till then

PS you can see the full set of photos of our trip to Peñacaballera, Peña de Francia and Ciudad Rodrigo here.