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My first tattoo

6/15/2018

 
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“Tattoos were introduced to the West by Captain Cook when he returned from the South Seas (including New Zealand) in 1769. Some of the sailors who accompanied him on this voyage were so taken by the tattoos adorning Polynesian women that they got their own. After Cook and his mates made their way back to England, tattoos became an emblem of sorts among intrepid mariners…. In a scientific study, researchers discovered tattooed individuals were significantly different on three intriguing traits. They are extroverted, seek experiences, and desire uniqueness.” Psychology Today https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/head-games/201709/3-things-getting-tattoo-says-about-you.

“I’ll never have a tattoo,” I asserted many times, even though I appreciated skillfully created body art—especially full body art. But I don’t like needles and had no desire for a tat.

Yet there I was in Auckland, New Zealand, nestled into a black leather sofa at Otautahi Tattoo. I waited while Randy, my tattoo artist, sketched his interpretation of my idea. I wanted a turtle permanently inked onto my thigh.

I felt awkward getting my first ink at age 65. I didn’t know what to expect, how much pain I’d feel, if I’d embarrass myself being a weenie about the needle. I wondered what the staff thought of an older, silver-haired woman sitting there, waiting for her turn. I also thought that I was kinda radical, this no-holds-barred chapter in my life, taking risks and doing things I’d never done before.

The Otautahi staff didn’t know what an epic adventure I was on, that I’d traveled from the other side of the world to New Zealand, and how the tattoo would be a permanent memory of that place and time. They didn’t know what a big deal it was to me. I wanted the best. I wanted a skilled artist, so I read reviews on the tattoo shops in Auckland. Otautahi was one of the top-rated places.

Otautahi Tattoos was spacious, clean and bright. It looked sanitary. (That was reassuring.) Behind the reception desk, four customers rested on tables while tattoo artists created designs on their arms and legs. One guy was being inked on the inside of his arm. He looked away from the procedure, showing no emotion. It had to hurt.

A 30-ish woman had obviously been “under the needle” for several hours already. Her husband and 4-year old daughter sat on stools, watching as the artist worked a complex rose pattern on her shoulder. The woman stood up to take a break, the skin under the tattoo deep red and a bit swollen. She returned after an hour, climbed back onto the table, offered her shoulder again to the tattoo artist. She didn’t flinch when the needle pierced her tender skin. I realized that not showing pain was an important part of the tattoo culture.

While other customers were being inked, Randy worked on my turtle sketch. I wandered around the waiting area. Skulls were everywhere in the shop.
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Otautahi Tattoo’s logo was a skull, which was not especially reassuring. Had I been inclined, I could have purchased one of their skull-emblazoned t-shirts. I passed.
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A glittery, gold-painted deer skull with massive antlers hung on the blood-red wall directly above the sofa where I’d been sitting. Across the room was a horse skull on top of a glass and chrome table. That was disconcerting and rather weird. 
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On the front counter, a human skull (presumably fake) held the shop’s business cards between its teeth. In contrast to the skull theme, elegant Oriental art graced other walls. The shop's vibe was definitely about artistic quality paired with a rebellious attitude.

Randy came into the waiting area to show me his design for my turtle tat. It was beautiful, but HUGE—the size of my entire hand! I’d asked him for something small, about 2” to 3” long, and his design was more than twice that size. We had a lengthy discussion, I insisted on a smaller size, and clearly disappointed, he went back to modify his artwork.

When it was ready, I looked at Randy’s revised, smaller design. It was still much larger than I requested. We had a bit of a design wrestling match because what he envisioned was a traditional Maori design filled with intricate line work. It simply couldn’t be reduced to the size I wanted because the lines would blur together with the natural spreading of ink over time. He wasn’t willing to simplify the internal linework because it had deep symbolic meaning. We were stuck.

After more discussion, we agreed on a turtle outline at half the size he wanted and significantly larger than what I envisioned. It would be a Maori design without the internal linework. Randy was not especially happy about the compromise but he obliged. He transferred his sketch to a stencil which he then applied to my thigh.

Let the inking begin.

I slid onto the table, wondering how much the needling was going to hurt. Showing pain was not an option. Randy put on latex gloves and carefully, thoroughly cleaned the area where the tattoo would be. He told me to hold still, not to move my leg. I tried to relax, to be stoic like the lady with the rose tattooed on her shoulder.

I thought about how excruciating it would be to have needling on the inside of an arm or a bony area like a shoulder, foot, or ankle. I deliberately chose a location for the tattoo that I hoped would be the least painful—my thigh.

Randy started to work. His sharp needle pierced my skin.

It hurt.

I was brave. I grimaced a few times but didn’t make a sound. I was becoming a member of the tattoo culture where ignoring pain was the rule. As the needle dug it’s way into each new part of my skin, I wondered if only the first few minutes would hurt, and then I wouldn’t feel it any longer. No, the sharp biting sensation continued. Lying there on the table, trapped by my desire to be inked, I could only think about the tattoo being finished so the pain would stop.

Twenty minutes later, Randy leaned back and said I was done. Relief washed over me. No more stabbing of the needle, just a dull ache on my thigh. And there it was—the Maori turtle, the memory of my trip to New Zealand—etched into my skin.  
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Randy covered my tattoo with a clear, adhesive-backed wrap and gave me care instructions. “Leave the wrap on for 24 hours, then take it off in the shower. Wash the wound carefully with soap, pat dry with a paper towel, and apply this new wrap. Leave it on for a week.”

That was it. I could go. As I paid my bill, I studied the receptionist’s ink-covered arms. I said to myself, “I’ll never have another tattoo.”
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Wine Island

5/27/2018

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Wine Island. Such an evocative name. Of course I had to visit a place named Wine Island!
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The island’s official name is Waiheke and it’s just a short ferry ride from Auckland, New Zealand. The climate is perfect for growing wine grapes. Not surprisingly, about 30 wineries are dotted around the idilic isle. There are also beautiful beaches, but let’s be honest, I went for the wine tasting and the food.

To make the most of the day, I got up early, skipped breakfast, and caught the 8:00 ferry.  
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From the ferry's deck I had a terrific view of Auckland’s skyline and The Port of Auckland.
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The port has massive ship-to-shore cargo cranes, operates 365 days a year, and handles $27 billion in trade annually. That's impressive!

​The ferry chugged out of the harbor. A pleasant forty-five minute ride took us across Half Moon Bay to the landing at Wine Island. I had several choices for transportation around the island: a fancy tour bus, a hop-on-hop-off bus, or a bicycle. The bicycle sounded like fun until I noticed the island's hilly terrain. Then there was the problem of me cycling on narrow roads after several glasses of wine. Wisely, I chose the hop-on-hop-off bus.
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First stop was the tiny village of Oneroa. I was hungry! Happily, several cute restaurants were right next to the bus stop. Two overlooked Oneroa Beach. I chose the one on top of the hill.  
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The view from my table in the restaurant was gorgeous!
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My breakfast bill paid for that view: $17 for eggs and bacon! But the food was delicious and I was fortified for my day's adventures.

The next bus arrived 10 minutes after I finished breakfast. I hopped on and rode it to Onetangi Beach where I lingered until 11:00 when the wineries opened for business.
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Someone built a simple sand castle on the beach and decorated it with clamshells, knowing the incoming tide would wash it out to sea.  
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Two birds—one black and one white—hung out together, hopping along the seashore looking for food. I thought it was unusual for different species of birds to be together, but these two seemed to be working as a pair. I tagged along behind them for a while, watching them pick through the sand. I walked along the shore until 11:00 when it was time to catch the bus back to my wine tasting experiences.

How to choose among 30 wineries? I decided on three whose descriptions sounded interesting and that were fairly close together on the bus route. I hopped off at the first winery, walked up the long gravel driveway, and was greeted by a sign that said it was closed that day. Disappointed but undeterred, I walked to the second winery.  
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Stonyridge Vineyard was open for business. Along with wine and wine tastings, the vineyard had an excellent restaurant.
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From the road I saw an inviting red brick two-story building covered with ivy. Wine casks defined the entrance. I saw people mingling on a deck, decided that’s where the wine tasting was held, and went up to join them. There was a nice selection of wines available for tasting. I was primarily interested in their Sauvignon Blanc, signature wine of New Zealand, which is my favorite white. I hadn’t found any in Spain and was excited to drink it again.

Although I wasn’t quite hungry yet, Stonyridge’s lunch menu looked appealing. I took my three wine tasting pours to an outdoor table and ordered lunch. The day was warm, but the restaurant deck was shaded by an ivy-covered arbor. While waiting for my order I enjoyed chatting with the waiter, who had deep knowledge of wine, the wine-making process at the winery, and the terroir of Wine Island.
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My lunch arrived, beautifully plated. The filet was tender, perfectly prepared, and hands-down the best I had ever eaten! The wine pours were a lovely complement. I tasted the Cabernet Franc, Pinot Noir, and of course the Sauvignon Blanc.

I lingered a while, enjoying the cool deck and view of the grape-growing valley. But another vineyard was close by and I was eager to try their wines too.
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Wild On Waiheke Winery was just a short walk down the main island road. This winery was casual, with picnic tables and wood chairs shaded by canopies, and kids running around. Charming and relaxing. I decided to compare the wines here with those I tasted at Stonyridge: Cab Franc, Pinot Noir, and Sauv Blanc.
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I had passed on dessert at the previous winery so my (possibly faulty) logic said I could order it here.  
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A bowl of berry-filled meringue with mango sorbet arrived at my table. Delicious! The wines were very good, especially the Sauv Blanc.
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Although it was early afternoon, the day was becoming hot and humid, and I’d had my limit of wine. Three tasting-size pours at two wineries equalled about two normal-size glasses of wine. Let’s face it. I’m a cheap date. I was very glad I hadn’t opted for touring on a bicycle—the bus ride back to the ferry landing was many miles. It would have been challenging for me to manage the hilly terrain in the heat, even without a wine buzz.
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Wine Island was delightful! Next time I’ll stay overnight to have more time for enjoying other wineries and the beaches. But it was time to head back to the mainland.

​​​I appreciated the breezy, cool ferry ride back to Auckland. I arrived in the harbor with enough time left in the day to visit Auckland Museum's Maori cultural exhibition. And that will be another post.
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Sydney to Auckland: A (funny) harrowing travel tale

4/5/2018

 
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One of my primary goals while traveling is to make it as stress-free as possible. I allow more than enough time to get to the airport and make it through security. At least that’s what I thought prior to traveling to New Zealand.

I had an 11:10 flight from Sydney to Auckland. Despite a traffic jam, Uber got me to the airport before 9:00. When I arrived at check-in to drop my suitcase, the line was very, very, very long. But hey, I safely had almost 2 hours to get to my gate. Let’s just say I have never seen such slow service (name of airline withheld to protect the innocent). The line crept forward almost imperceptibly.

I looked at my watch: 9:30. I chatted with the people behind me. I looked at my watch again: 10:00. I was getting a little nervous. I still had to get through security and then go to the gate. A bit later, an airline employee walked through the line asking who was on the flight to Auckland and, by the way, we had to get to the gate by 10:20 in order to catch the bus that would take us to the plane. I mentioned, “It’s already 10:30.” She said, “Do the best you can.” What?
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I finally made it to the check-in desk, dropped my suitcase, and bolted for security. I didn’t bother to take off my boots and forgot to take out my little bag of liquids, so I made it through in record time, ran to the gate, and caught the bus. I felt sorry for the people behind me. They didn’t get checked in fast enough and missed the plane.
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The flight from Sydney to Auckland takes 3½ hours. My plane finally left at 11:30 a.m. to arrive at 3:00 p.m., except there’s that pesky time zone change thing so my arrival was 5:00 p.m. New Zealand time. I didn’t anticipate spending 2 more hours in the airport going through border control.

​I picked up my luggage at baggage claim and a sniffer dog came around to make sure I wasn’t carrying any food or other forbidden items. Then I went through 3 security check points with very thorough screenings!

First stop was passport check. I have a new e-passport so I sailed right through, no standing in line. But then I realized I didn’t get a stamp in my passport book. I wanted that New Zealand stamp but I missed my chance!

Second stop was customs. During the flight we were given a customs form to fill out, with many questions about items we carried in our luggage and places we’d visited. Food and animal products are not allowed to be brought into the country. There were many signs in the airport hallways instructing people to throw away any food or forbidden items.

No problem, I wasn’t carrying any food. But I had to declare that I had hiking boots and had been hiking in the mountains. According to the declaration form, the boots could potentially be carrying contaminated foreign soil. I worried that my boots might be confiscated!

Before getting to the customs check point, I went into a restroom, soaked a paper towel, and wiped the dust off my boots. I hoped that would help. Maybe they’d let me keep my boots if I promised to clean them completely. I loved my boots and couldn’t imagine how I’d go hiking without them!

On the other side of the restroom, a nervous young woman was digging through her luggage and throwing out a lot of sandwiches. Maybe she was going hiking too, and that was her food supply. There’s an instant $400 fine for trying to sneak anything through customs, so she was complying with the law by getting rid of her forbidden items.

After exiting the restroom and waiting in a long line, I presented my customs declaration form at the customs desk. I was asked if I was carrying any food. “No.” The customs man noted that I had hiking boots and made a green check mark on the form next to my “Yes” declaration. I was sent to stand in a special line next to a wall. I couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the wall and my anxiety about my boots increased.

When my turn was next, I walked around the corner of the wall and could see what was going to happen to me in a few minutes. A young woman was unloading her backpack on a long stainless steel table. She pulled out packages of food and bag after bag of fruit. The examining agent looked exasperated. He confiscated the food, I assumed she was given the fine, and then it was my turn so I didn’t see what happened to her after that.

A friendly woman motioned me to come over to her table. She asked if she could see my boots. Since I was wearing them, I put one foot on the table, she looked at the sole, and then I put the other foot up. She said they didn’t look too bad but motioned me into a room with tall, official-looking doors. I thought this would be where I’d have to say goodbye to my wonderful boots.

But no! She asked me to walk around on a squishy blue mat that was on the floor. It contained a foamy liquid that covered the soles of my boots, and I realized it was a decontaminant. I squished around on the mat until I was sure they had been thoroughly sanitized. That was all. Yay!!! I could keep my boots!

There was one more checkpoint: luggage x-ray. Relieved that my boots were coming with me, I confidently hoisted my bags onto the belt. They contained nothing illegal. The bags slid out the other side and I was finally free to go!

Uber dropped me off at my AirBnB at 7:20—just in the nick of time. Feeling rather cheeky, I’d invited myself to a 7:30 InterNations dinner party. I belong to the InterNations club in Valencia, and prior to arriving in New Zealand I introduced myself online to members of the Auckland club, so we weren’t complete strangers.

I quickly changed into dinner clothes, called another Uber, and arrived at the dinner “fashionably late.” The dinner was delicious, the conversation was lively, and I now have seven new Auckland friends. The perfect ending to a long, stressful travel day.

* I do not have affiliate relationships with Uber or AirBnB and do not receive any compensation from them. I use their services often and am extremely happy with the quality of service.
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Australia: Blue Mountain Drama

4/2/2018

 
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When I reserved my AirBnB in Sydney, a pop-up ad suggested that I might enjoy a guided tour of the famous Blue Mountains, which are a two-hour drive out of town. You know those suggestions that say, “If you like this, you might also like…”? Yup, one of those. I usually ignore pop-ups, but this one caught my eye. I’d planned to hike in the Blue Mountains anyway, and this tour was a small group geared for photographers. Bingo! I signed up and hoped it would be worth the money.

The tour was scheduled for Monday morning at 8:00. Our meeting point was the Strathfield train station, which is a half-hour train ride from Sydney. I was a bit anxious about arriving on time because first I had to get from my flat to Sydney’s Central Train Station in order to catch the train to Strathfield. My plan was to arrive at Strathfield around 7:00, grab some breakfast at a nearby cafe, and be ready to meet the tour group before 8:00. I got up extra early, took an Uber to Central Station, and boarded the correct train.

So far, so good. The train was comfortable and I settled into my seat to do a little writing. Announcements were made, but the voice was so garbled I couldn’t understand what was being said.

The train stopped at the first station out of Sydney, and a man with an orange bicycle got on board. The train continued its journey, stopping several more times to pick up and drop off riders. Half an hour passed and I looked at my watch, thinking it was about time to arrive in Strathfield. The train stopped at North Strathfield. I asked the man with the orange bicycle if this was my stop. He said no, we passed Strathfield and it was two stops back.

I jumped off the train. A tiny bit of panic set in. How do I get back to where I need to go? How long until the next train arrives? How do I get across the tracks and which platform is the correct one? The man with the orange bicycle gave me a few tips, then the train doors closed and he was whisked away.

Luckily the North Strathfield station was small, with limited options. One set of tracks was for east-bound trains, and one set was for west-bound. I needed to head back east. I ran up the stairs to the bridge, crossed over the tracks, and hurried down to the east-bound platform. A schedule indicated the next train would arrive in 7 minutes. I relaxed. But the excitement wasn’t over yet.

The next train took me back to Strathfield, where I disembarked. It was 7:15. As planned, I went to a nearby cafe for breakfast and wait for the rest of the tour group. The tour guide had mentioned the Monkey House Cafe was a good place to eat, but I didn’t see it. I found a cafe that was open and bought some food. I had plenty of time.

After breakfast, at 7:40, I went outside and stood closer to the station to be more visible. We were supposed to meet at the benches. I went over to a bench and asked a woman if she was part of our tour group. She wasn’t. I looked around for someone who matched the photo of our guide. No luck. Soon it was 7:55 and there was still no sign of our group. I called and left a voicemail for the guide, letting him know I was there and was looking for him and to please not leave without me.

I was becoming anxious again. I absolutely didn’t want to miss the tour! I didn’t have a wifi signal, so I wasn’t able to search for the right cafe. I walked up to a concessions counter outside the train station and asked if anyone knew where the Monkey House Cafe was located. A tiny Asian woman behind the counter had never heard of it. She asked a co-worker if he knew anything about it. He did. The cafe was located on the other side of the station.

It was now 8:00, the tour was supposed to leave on time, and I was panicking. I didn’t know how to get to the other side of the station because it was walled off. I asked the first person I saw and was told to go down into the station, back through the gates, and follow the hall to the opposite exit.

I hustled through the station but had sinking expectations. The guide had not returned my call, and I assumed they left without me. I was angry because I had been there, waiting. I was frustrated because I didn’t know which exit to take out of the station to get to the meeting point. I called the guide again and left another message letting him know I was upset.

By this time I was fuming. If you know me, you know that’s completely out of character. Typically I’m calm during difficult situations. But this was my one chance to see the Blue Mountains. I’d dedicated an entire day for this tour, and now it appeared that I’d missed out. I slumped down on a bench, very unhappy, and considered my options. I was in disbelief that my careful planning had gone so wrong.

Then I heard my name called. Startled, I looked up to see a man walking toward me. He looked like the tour guide. He was the tour guide! It was almost 8:15 and he was still at the station! Peter introduced himself to me and took me to his car where the other three other members of the group were waiting. They were late, too, because their car broke down and they needed an Uber to rescue them.

Now that we were ready to go, our cumulative stress evaporated. Luckily for me, Peter’s voicemail wasn’t working so he hadn’t received my terse message. After trading stories about our morning fiascoes, we all piled happily into Peter’s car and headed off for a grand adventure in the mountains.

And a grand adventure it was. Peter was a native of the area, and we were taken to special places that other tourists (and tour buses) didn’t know about. We hiked through forests, saw magnificent vistas of the Blue Mountains, and admired waterfalls that dropped hundreds of feet over sheer cliffs. Peter chauffeured us to a village where we ordered late lunch at a quaint cafe. We hopped back into the car, carried our lunches up a steep rocky slope, and ate together in a beautiful cave carved out by wind.
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​After several more stops at scenic overlooks, the tour was complete. We were delivered back to the Strathfield train station where we said our goodbyes. I boarded the train back to Sydney, tired and completely satisfied with my Blue Mountain experience—it was worth every penny!

I made it back to the city just in time to join a Latin dance workshop I’d registered for. Even though I’d hiked miles that day, I was excited to dance. Because there’s no such thing as having too much fun!

Blue Mountain Grandeur
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Most magnificent vista of the trip: The Three Sister
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An unusual rock formation of three stone columns, called The Three Sisters, is one of the best-known sites in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales, Australia. The formation is on the north escarpment of the Jamison Valley, close to the town of Katoomba. The rock columns are named Meehni, Wimlah, and Gunnedoo.

Dream Time Story
An ancient aboriginal legend tells the tale of three sisters Meehni, Wimlah, and Gunnedoo. These three enchanting girls lived in the heart of the Jamison Valley as part of the Katoomba tribe. The girls were young and their hearts were captured by three brothers from a neighboring tribe. However the law of the land forbid the girls from following their desires and marrying outside their own people.

The brothers decided to capture the girls and carry them away to be wed. A major battle ensued as the two tribes clashed and the blood ran thick. An elderly witchdoctor from the Katoomba tribe feared for the safety of the beautiful sisters and cast a spell to turn them to stone to keep them safe from harm. Yet during the raging battle the witchdoctor was killed and the spell couldn’t be reversed.

The sisters stand mournfully, high above the Jamison Valley, doused in glory, bewitching in their enchantment but never able to return to the human form. Even for those who don’t believe the legend, it still makes for a heart-wrenching sight to gaze up at the powerful rocks carved from the earth and to remember the tragic tale.
https://bluemountainstoursydney.com.au/blog/dream-time-story-of-the-3-sisters-in-the-blue-mountains/

The Other Story
This “aboriginal legend” is a fabrication created by a non-aboriginal Katoomba local, presumably to add interest to the landmark. The story originated in the late 1920s or early 1930s.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Sisters_(Australia)

I loved the Dream Time Story. Loved the mountains. Go there, you'll be happy you did.
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Australia: Sydney Landmarks

3/30/2018

 
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Google Maps showed two famous landmarks, the Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge, were a 30-minute walk from my lodging off MacLeay Street. I decided I could get over to the picturesque vantage point on foot and return to my flat before 4:00 p.m., when my friend would pick me up.

I set out on my trek at 10:00 a.m. to take photos of those iconic structures. Although I had Google Maps to show me the way, I still made numerous wrong turns on my journey. (You don’t want me to navigate for you. I’m directionally impaired.) That “easy 30-minute walk” from my flat, around the harbor, and to the photo op point took 1½ hours. But no worries, I had plenty of time.

My journey took me around the south end of the harbor, where I spotted an old-fashioned diner decorated with bright murals—Harry’s Cafe de Wheels. I learned later the cafe was a major tourist attraction and a “must” for visiting celebrities including Frank Sinatra, Robert Mitchum, Marlene Dietrich, and surprisingly
--Colonel Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame.
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Harry's Cafe de Wheels. I loved the retro Coca-Cola sign and hand-painted murals. On the far right is the classic image of a Navy sailor kissing a woman. 
Continuing on past Harry’s Cafe, I finally reached the vantage point and caught sight of the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, and Sydney's downtown skyline. It was nearly impossible to take a bad photo that day. The sun was shining, skies were clear, and sailboats were scattered on the deep blue water. My photos looked exactly like postcards you can buy at the souvenir stores. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad
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Sydney Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge.
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City skyline, Sydney, Australia
I finished shooting, thought about my 4:00 p.m. afternoon commitment, and checked my watch. It was already 1:00 p.m. and time to mosey back to my flat. The sidewalk led me directly past the entrance to the Royal Botanic Garden and I decided to make a quick tour of the palm garden. ​
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I would just pop into the Royal Botanic Garden for a few minutes. Really! It would be just a few....
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Fruiting maya palm tree (Gaussia maya). Something I'd never seen before. This species is native to Central American rainforests, where its trunk is occasionally harvested for construction.
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Fascinating tree trunk in the botanical garden. When I was a kid I used to climb trees like a monkey. I wanted to climb this one and sit on a branch.
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I visited the botanical garden in April, which was at the end of blooming season. But this lovely flower smiled at me and I made its portrait.
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Australia: First Day in Sydney

3/29/2018

 
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As soon as I stepped out the door of my flat in the morning, I realized I made a monumental wardrobe error. It was hot, humid, and sunny. Almost everyone was wearing shorts and flip flops. Thinking the weather would be cool (late March is autumn in Australia), I packed warm clothes for hiking—jeans and turtlenecks and only one short sleeved top. I never wear sundresses or shorts; if you’ve seen my skinny white legs you know why. Clearly the first task of the day was a quick shopping trip to find summer tops.

My flat was just off MacLeay Street, which is a trendy shopping area. I saw a dressy white t-shirt in a store window and popped in to look at it. The price tag was AU$119 (Australian dollars), which was $91.50 US dollars and way out of my budget. Just down the street I found a discount store and purchased a nice tank top for AU$10. My wallet and I were much happier with that choice, and I had a more comfortable top to wear on that hot day.

After changing into my new, comfy top, I explored the area near my flat, looking for things that were typically Australian. 
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I spotted an Australian White Ibis in Fitzroy Gardens. It took me a while to figure out he was standing on just one leg.
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Also in Fitzroy Gardens was a sign pointing to many destinations. Sydney is a hub for backpackers who are headed to some of those destinations. 
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Sydney's multitude of backpacker hostels have “street art” inspired signs.
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As I continued to ramble, I saw a sign for Kings Cross Bakery’s homemade pies. I thought of American fruit pies and suddenly had an intense craving for a slice of apple pie, or cherry, or maybe lemon meringue. But Australian shops offer meat pies and beef and vegetable pasties. 
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Although disappointed that I couldn't order a slice of apple pie, I was a good sport and tried a pasty. It was the real deal. My dad grew up eating pasties, so I learned to make them with potatoes and rutabagas. Oh, the pasty and a lemon bar cost AU$12.50. It was expensive to eat in Sydney!
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I saw pay telephones around Sydney. Lots of them. Even in Australia there are people who don’t have cell phones. I found that surprising because in the U.S. lots of young kids have cell phones.
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Random thought: The Australian accent is fun to listen to but sometimes difficult to understand. I asked for directions to an internet cafe and was told to go to Steinwall. What? Steinwall. What? Steinwall. Like a “stein” in a “wall.” Okay, I finally got it! Stonewall! The Australian accent is definitely unique to Australia!
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Paula's Epic Adventure

3/27/2018

 
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I announced my adventure on Facebook:
"You Won't Believe This!

I'm taking the trip of a lifetime! Six months of travel that includes two continents and ten countries. Traveling alone with just two suitcases and my camera bag. I'm excited to finally see countries I've dreamed of visiting: Australia, New Zealand, Italy, and Austria. Enticing cities including Sydney, Auckland, Florence, Prague and Vienna. Hiking in Australia's Blue Mountains, snorkeling in the Mediterranean, getting that tattoo in New Zealand. Oh, and salsa dancing in every city I visit! There are two judging assignments and Aussie workshops in the mix, so I'll meet Aussie fanciers where I go." 
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Half of what I carried was electronics--my camera and flash, travel tripod, laptop, chargers, backup drives, Kindle. It was heavy but this trip was all about taking photos and blogging, so that stuff was necessary. I also packed cool weather hiking clothes and my salsa dancing shoes. I wore the bulky clothes like my hiking boots and winter jacket because they wouldn't fit into my suitcases.

My Trip Began March 27, 2018
I flew from Valencia, Spain, to Madrid; Madrid to Dubai; Dubai to Sydney, Australia. I had a dog show judging assignment in Sydney, I explored that city for several days, and then headed to New Zealand for more adventures! After New Zealand I flew back to Europe to explore many countries there.
 
Day 1: Valencia, Spain, to Madrid, then Madrid to Dubai
It was a loooooong flight. Twenty-two hours in an aluminum tube flying at 40,000 feet. First leg: Valencia to Madrid. I stayed up late the night before to hang out with friends, then repacked my luggage. Who needs sleep anyway, right? Got up early, grabbed a taxi to the airport, and my need for speed was interrupted by a shockingly long queue at the terminal. It looked like the entire city of Valencia was waiting to go through airport security! (Note to self: ALWAYS allow more than enough time because there will be unexpected delays.) But I made it through the queue. The flight from Valencia to Madrid took only an hour, and when I landed I was hungry. At the restaurant near my gate, I ordered a tortilla de patata plato (something like egg and potato quiche) and zumo de naranja (fresh squeezed orange juice). The tortilla was accompanied by pan (bread) drizzled with olive oil and spread with traditional tomato salsa. Delicioso!
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My favorite Spanish meal. Tortilla de patata plato and zumo de naranja. I like this more that Valencia's world-famous paella.
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Our flight departure out of Madrid was delayed by over an hour. I hoped the pilot would fly faster to make up the lost time. But, no, we arrived in Dubai and I had just 40 minutes to get to my connecting flight before the gate closed. That seemed like a reasonable amount of time, except I had to go through security again, take a crammed escalator up two floors to the departures gates, run across a large hall, take an elevator down two floors to catch a train to the next terminal, go back up two floors, then run like a banshee to my gate. I made it! I wonder what people think when they see a silver-haired lady sprinting through the airport while pushing luggage and wearing hiking boots. At midnight.
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Dubai from my airplane window at midnight.
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Day 2: Dubai to Sydney
We departed Dubai just after midnight. That leg of the trip was 13 hours long. I was completely confused about which day and time it was because we had flown through so many time zones. I was exhausted, what with getting only three hours of sleep the night before. I had a window seat, but even better, there were no other people in my row. Bliss! I stretched out on all three seats, put on my sleep mask, and conked out. We arrived in Sydney at 10:30 p.m. Australian time.

I needed to catch a cab to my lodging, but didn’t have any Australian dollars to pay the driver. However, my American debit card allowed me to withdraw cash from an ATM in the airport. Problem solved.*

My lodging In Sydney was an AirBnB flat, and my host graciously waited for me to arrive, even though it was nearly midnight in Australia. I unpacked the necessities, stayed up long enough to post my adventures on Facebook, then gave in to jet lag and went to bed.
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* Practical note for future travelers: There are “currency exchange” kiosks in airports. Avoid them because you will pay a substantial fee in addition to the unavoidable international exchange rate (for example 1 US dollar equals .81 Euros right now, so your dollar doesn’t buy as much). The best option for me is to make sure my bank knows I’m traveling internationally, then use my debit card in an ATM to withdraw cash. I can’t avoid the exchange rate conversion, but I can avoid additional fees. Using a credit card to withdraw cash (rather than debit card) could also result in additional fees.
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Las Fallas: Sumthinz Burnin'

3/20/2018

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Valencia's mega-party Las Fallas draws to a close on the Nit de Foc (night of fire), when the magnificent fallas (sculptures) are set to the torch amidst music and fireworks, and are burned to the ground. Traditionally that day marked the end of the old year and ushered in the new year for Valencians. Symbolically everything old was burned in a purification ritual as an offering to spring. 

The prelude to burning the fallas is the Cabalgata del Fuego (Cavalcade of Fire), a spectacular parade of pyrotechnics like nothing I'd ever seen before. You couldn't get by with something like this in the U.S.! Safety hazard! As spectators crowded the sidewalks, devils danced down the street spinning huge sparklers, throwing sparks everywhere, including into the first row of onlookers and onto photographers who were in the way. I was enthralled. Then came a dragon spewing flames and sparks. What I loved most were the human fire breathers! Watch for them at 01:10 on the video. How do they do that? The parade concluded with a dazzling fireworks display at Porta de la Mar.



What an incredible night! Although I'm not a pyromaniac, I was spellbound by the fireworks and flames, and I'm excited about next year's Las Fallas celebration!

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Las Fallas: Brief, Brilliant Lives of the Fallas

3/8/2018

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Las Fallas (fi-yas) is a fun, exciting, crazy festival in Valencia that's celebrated all day and all night from March 15 to 19, and then the whole town is literally set ablaze. Las Fallas means "the fires" and the fiesta is all about fire, smoke, and happy noise. It's a traditional week-long street party that takes place everywhere in the city. Millions of people flock to Valencia to join in the festivities. 

In preparation for the event, beginning March 1, there's a daily mascleta (gunpowder explosions) in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento (city hall) that booms and vibrates throughout the city. The streets are decorated with lights and there are spectacular light and music shows.


Fallas refers to both the celebration and the sculptures burned during the celebration. Beautiful, massive sculptures are built over the course of a year, viewed by the public for four days, judged in a competition, then set on fire and burned to the ground. It's difficult to understand why such magnificent art is burned, but it's part of the culture of Valencia. The burning is a symbolic rite of cleansing away the bad things of the old year and starting the new year fresh and clean.
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The fallas are highly sophisticated works of art created by professional artistas falleros. They are constructed of wood, cardboard, papier-mache, and polystyrene, which is skillfully shaped, then carefully sanded and painted. Many of the fallas are so large they need to be erected using cranes and are never seen in their entirety until they are assembled on the first day of Las Fallas. This unique art form exists only in Valencia.
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Each falla is made up of larger figures that are surrounded by many small figures called ninots. There are enormous main fallas that stand several stories high, and an equal number of much smaller children's fallas. These sculptures are created around themes that tend to be satirical, poking fun at politicians and world leaders.
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Even this small falla towers over pedestrians.
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Detail of one of my favorite fallas. This one has so much energy and creativity!
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It's difficult for me to imagine how this intricately carved face was sculpted from cardboard and paper.
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This is just the top quarter of a very large falla. Each of the figures is a ninot.
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Detail of another one of my favorite fallas. Such a beautiful mermaid!
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This unique falla was assembled at the Ayuntamiento (city hall). When it was burned the 2018 Las Fallas officially ended.
Just your everyday four-story bonfire. This was the burning of a large falla at the end of the street where my friends Fletch and Katherine live. The bomberos (firemen) kept the fire under control at the base, but the spark showers were so large I don't know how they keep them from burning the city down. You can see the massive, excited crowd that gathered to watch the event.
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I loved Las Fallas! It was exciting and fascinating and crazy and I can't wait to enjoy it again next year! Come and join me!

​Read more about the history of Las Fallas here:
​http://www.folklore.ee/~liisa/too/RY2015/articles/RY2015_14_Wilk.pdf
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Las Fallas: Traditional Valencian Costumes

2/28/2018

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What I love about Spain are the traditions! As I was about to discover, the celebration of Las Fallas is a centuries-old tradition that's not to be missed. It's noisy and exciting and colorful and the costumes are unbelievably gorgeous!

On a warm day in late February, I walked around a corner in L'Eliana and saw beautiful girls wearing exquisite costumes gathered in the town square. Proud parents admired their daughters; the girls admired each other's gowns and perfect hair. Boys and young men were also dressed in costumes. I looked scruffy in my jeans, but I joined the crowd anyway. I had no idea what event this was, but I didn't want to miss anything. Several days later I learned these youth from L'Eliana were wearing traditional Valencian costumes in celebration of the upcoming Las Fallas event.
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Two young beauties wore ornate dresses of silk, lace and beadwork. Absolutely astounding! I wasn't sure how their hair was styled identically until I realized they were wearing hairpieces.
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Girls just a few years older helped a younger girl adjust her necklace. 
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Of course a selfie is needed when you're dressed so beautifully!
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Not everyone was happy about being dressed up for a parade.
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Even little girls were dressed in finery fit for a queen. These cuties were about four years old.
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The cluster of girls and boys moved into the street, the parents stepped back to the curbs, a band started to play, and a parade began. It wound its way through L'Eliana, stopping every few blocks where a short burst of fireworks was set off.  ​​
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There were what appeared to be a king and a queen of this parade.
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These lovely young women waited a few minutes when the parade stopped. I thought their gowns were particularly elegant and the hairpiece of one girl was very ornate.
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Even the backs of the gowns were richly designed and decorated. The dresses are very expensive, ranging in cost from many hundreds to several thousand euros.
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This young sweetheart already knew how to charm the crowd with her beauty pageant wave, and the young man was adorable in his costume. He had a bit of a pirate flair.
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A few weeks after the parade in L'Eliana, the Las Fallas celebration began. There were many parades in Valencia with men and women dressed in traditional Valencian costumes. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing the extraordinary regalia and being in the middle of this wonderful and exciting occasion!
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Pure Spanish Horses

2/15/2018

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Quillo (key-oh) is a tall boy. He stands maybe 17 hands high. I'm not sure because they measure in centimeters in Spain. He's a warmblood of French and English breeding who belongs to my friend Georgie. She's been on the back of a horse since she was a tot. For Georgie, owning a horse is vital to her health and happiness.
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Quillo gets carrots after his bath. Mollie the English Cocker Spaniel is always hopeful that a piece will drop for her.
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Georgie lives in Riba Roja, which is a little town close to my apartment. Quillo lives at a farm about half an hour away at El Mas de Santamaria near Chulilla. When Georgie goes out there to ride, I happily tag along. I love horses too, but a back injury prevents me from riding. Instead, I enjoy watching my friend ride, taking photos, and feeding carrots to the other horses.
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El Mas de Santamaria is a horse breeding farm that raises and trains Pure Spanish Horses (Pura Raza Espanola), also known as Andalusians. As the name implies, this breed originated in Spain, where its ancestors have lived for thousands of years.
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I enjoyed watching Diego Garcia-Saiz, owner of El Mas de Santamaria, as he skillfully worked with an inexperienced horse.
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Ten foals were born this spring at the farm. I love dogs and Aussie puppies, but these babies were so cute that I fell in love with them instantly!
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Baby Spanish horse cuteness. I want this little guy in my house! Look at those fuzzy little whiskers and long eyelashes!
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This is my favorite foal from the 2017 crop. He's such a sweetheart! And handsome too. The foals at El Mas de Santamaria are gently handled from the time they are born so they are friendly with people.
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Classic Andalusian elegance.
Andalusian horses are beautiful, intelligent, and responsive to training. They are known for their agility and ability to quickly learn difficult dressage movements. For centuries, the breed has been selected for athleticism, strength, and stamina, and they are used in many equestrian activities including classical dressage, show jumping, driving, and as stock horses. I'm very happy that my friend Georgie introduced me to this wonderful breed! 
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The Fine Art of Graffiti

1/13/2018

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“Graffiti is always about being slightly naughty…It’s a different mindset from painting legally.”
- Glynn Judd, a former train writer.


I
 grew up in a tiny town where "bad boys" spray painted on the sides of railroad cars and the walls of the grain elevator that sat next to the train tracks. They left scribbles, streaks, and carelessly written words in black and white paint. Defacing public property with graffiti was vandalism, a petty crime, and the graffiti was promptly painted over. I don't know if the boys were ever caught.

In many cities, graffiti artists are fined and jailed. But  some communities have developed an "enlightened" viewpoint: they embrace urban art as a form of cultural expression, a tourist attraction, or a tool of political communication.

There's a distinction between "graffiti," which defaces property and contributes nothing, and "urban art," which encourages the viewer to engage positively with the artwork.  

Valencia has provided an urban canvas for talented street artists from around the world who have left their beautiful work on its walls. The El Carmen area is particularly rich in urban art, and one of my favorite places to wander with camera in hand. Here are some of my favorite works.
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This richly-detailed work was created on the wall of an obscure parking area that I found by accident. Valencia is filled with urban art in hidden corners that was made by talented artists. 
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Note the dog piddle in the lower left corner. Perhaps a canine comment?
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More fist fighting.
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Think about the scale. This highly-detailed mural covers two large walls. Exquisite!
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Lots of symbolism here. I just don't know how to interpret it.
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Urban art is a tool of political communication.
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Blanquita (white lady). 
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Love the humor and retro style of this urban art. There's a woman vacuuming up men, and a man wearing jailhouse stripes hanging out of an upstairs window. This one made me stop, think about the concepts, and smile.
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Door of an auto repair shop. Perfect!
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Botox anyone?
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Notice how just a few areas have been painted, yet you see the dog's head clearly. Brilliant!
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In my ad agency days, we would pay big bucks for this style of art.
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This one makes me laugh!
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What's not to love about an opera singer performing in a paella pan?
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Street art in Valencia is imaginative, colorful, thought-provoking and beautifully executed. It's nothing like the graffiti scribbled on the sides of trains from my youth. These works enhance the vibrancy of the city, enriching the experience of locals and visitors alike. Come here and see for yourself!

Click to read My Love Affair with Valencia​
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Click here to read Even More To Love About Valencia

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Here's an excellent article "Is Graffiti a Force for Good or Evil?:
https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2015/jan/07/urban-graffiti-force-good-evil


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6 Fun and Unusual Christmas Traditions in Spain

1/2/2018

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I grew up in a very religious family. My father was a Lutheran minister. My mother held important roles in the church. My parents insisted our entire family had to be good examples for other people in our town, which meant being conservative in our behavior and not having any vices. Religious holidays were celebrated with the utmost reverence. Mom and dad would have been shocked and appalled to learn the Christmas holidays in Spain start with a lottery. Gambling! Oh my!

1. Christmas kicks off with a lottery.
Every December 22 el Sorteo Extraordinario de la Loteria de Navidad (the Extraordinary Christmas Lottery) is held. The first prize, el Gordo (the Fat One), is worth millions of euros. No wonder it's the most popular lottery in Spain!

Here's the really interesting twist. Orphans brought up at San Ildelfonso school pull out numbered balls from drums. The children sing the numbers and the corresponding prizes. That's right. They sing the numbers. Why singing and why orphans?
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Legend has it that San Ildefonso’s orphans once chanted prayers through the streets of Madrid for alms. They were chosen for Spain's Christmas lottery because as orphans they were thought to be less prone to cheating. Fascinating tradition!
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The numbers on the lottery balls are laser engraved to ensure they are all identical in weight. They are carefully examined and guarded before the lottery.
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Once the holidays have officially begun, it's time to indulge a little, or maybe a lot. My favorite L'Eliana bakery offered mouthwatering goodies fit for a king!
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Patrons ordered plates overflowing with treats to enjoy in the cozy coffee shop or the outdoor cafe.
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Galletas (cookies) in the bakery window. Are those snowmen? It's 60 degrees here!
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My goodness! How do you choose? So much deliciousness, so little time!
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2. Big gifts are not given on Christmas.
December 24 is la Nochebuena (the Good Night). Homes are decorated with el Belén (the nativity scene of Bethlehem) and arboles de Navidad (Christmas trees). Families gather for dinner, sing Christmas songs, and attend la Misa del Gallo (The Mass of the Rooster). It has that name because legend says a rooster crowed the night that Jesus was born. Traditionally, children are given a few smaller regalos (gifts) on Christmas Day, but the big gifts are given on January 6.
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A bakery in L'Eliana displayed a nativity scene with the stable and trees constructed of baked bread. ​
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The Three Kings rode their camels through a rocky terrain also made of bread. Creative!
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The traditional after-dinner treat on la Nochebuena is turrón (nougat).
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A local choir dressed in traditional costumes sang Spanish Christmas songs in the L'Eliana town square. 
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3. April Fool's Day is in December.
December 28 is el día de los Inocentes (Day of the Innocents). It's Spain's version of April Fool's Day, when pranks are played and the media airs fake news and silly stories. (Sounds like Saturday Night Live!) If that doesn't get you into the holiday spirit, I don't know what will! I didn't prank anyone, but wait until next year!
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4. Grapes bring good luck.
December 31 is Nochevieja (New Year's Eve) with celebrations and fireworks. At midnight, las doce uvas de la suerte (the twelve lucky grapes) are eaten, to bring good luck for each of the twelve months of the coming year. Then cava (champagne) is raised in a toast, and the party continues through the night with more cava, singing and dancing.
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My twelve lucky grapes! I took this photo exactly at midnight as the bells began to chime, then tried to eat the grapes before the chiming stopped. But they were full of seeds! I had get the seeds out and then gobble the grapes down fast! LOL.
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5. Santa Claus doesn't bring gifts to kids.
January 6 is Epiphany, el día de los Reyes Magos (The Day of the Magic Kings). In many countries, the coming of the three wise men bearing gifts to the Christ child is celebrated twelve days after Christmas. It's called the Feast of the Epiphany, Twelfth Night, or King's Day. That's the day Spanish children receive many gifts, which they believe they were delivered by the Kings. Santa Claus doesn't get any play in Spain! Spanish kids write letters to the Kings asking for toys and presents.
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On Epiphany Eve (January 5th) children set out their shoes to be filled with presents. Gifts are left for the Kings and sometimes a bucket of water is offered for their thirsty camels. (That's something I would do—take care of the camels!) In the morning, excited kids get up early to unwrap the wonderful presents left for them.
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Christmas markets offer toys, games, clothing, and CANDY!
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Gold foil wrapped chocolate coins,  foil-wrapped chocolate Kings, and bins full of favorite sweets. Enough sugar to make your teeth fall out!
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If a child has been “bad” that year, he/she is given a chunk of carbon. It looks exactly like lava rock, but it's sugar candy, so the child knows he/she is still sweet. I was sceptical about eating it, but the shopkeeper let me try a piece. It's very sweet and crunchy.
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6. Watch out for the bean in your cake!
After gifts have been opened, families celebrate Epiphany by gathering around a table to eat la Roscón de Reyes (King Cake). The cake is a circular-shaped sweet pastry decorated with dried fruit, sugar, and almonds. A small trinket and a dry fava bean are hidden inside. Whoever finds the trinket is crowned "king" or "queen" for the day, and whoever finds the bean has to pay for next year's Epiphany party.  ​
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La Roscón de Reyes from the local bakery. Yummy! Celebrating Epiphany with a king cake or similar type of pastry is a tradition that's enjoyed around the world, particularly in countries that are predominantly Catholic. In the U.S., king cake and Mardi Gras go hand-in-hand.
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My first Christmas and New Years in Europe.
This was
the first time I was away from family and the Christmas traditions I grew up with. I discovered holiday traditions in Spain that were like those in America, and some that were completely new. I sampled the holiday treats (I restrained myself from pigging out), joined in the festivities, and really enjoyed the Spanish songs and music.
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You remember those twelve lucky grapes? Just living my dream here in Europe makes me the luckiest person in the world! 2017 was flat-out amazing. 2018 promises to be even more exciting.
La vida es buena! Life is good!


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Recap of 2017: Incredible Life Change and Adventure

12/21/2017

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Five years ago, if you'd told me I would write two books and move to Europe, I would have laughed at the idea.

I would have replied emphatically, “I'm not a writer!”

“I'd love to live in Europe, but how would that be possible? I have a job here and health insurance. You know how expensive health insurance is!”

I read somewhere that women in their 60s have a burst of creativity. I hoped for it, but didn't see that happening in my life.

Then quite by surprise, my first Unforgettable Aussies book evolved. A few Facebook posts about famous foundation dogs turned into an avalanche of photos and comments from my Facebook friends. Fascinating stuff. Extremely valuable Aussie history. I decided to collect it all and preserve it as book.

And suddenly I was an author. That magical burst of creativity had happened.

Meanwhile, the idea of living in Europe kept playing in my mind. The warm, sunny weather in Spain was appealing. I checked into health insurance. It was surprisingly affordable in Spain. I could rent an apartment for about half of what I paid in the States. Maybe I could afford to live there….

Then, I accepted two judging assignments for May 2017—one in Germany and one in France. Possible travel logistics: I could travel back and forth across the Atlantic twice (ugh!), I could take a month-long unpaid vacation, or hey—maybe I should just move to Europe! Not the logic everyone would use, but it made sense to me!

I decided to make The Move.

Putting my wild idea into action required serious planning. I needed to: 1. Acquire a Spanish residency visa. 2. Sell my house and give away almost everything including my antiques and pottery collection. 3. Figure out logistics of overseas planes, trains, and automobiles.
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Obtaining the Spanish visa meant jumping through a LOT of hoops and mountains of paperwork. Everything had to be translated into Castilian Spanish and copied in triplicate. It also required two trips to San Francisco to appear in person at the Spanish Consulate.
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It was difficult to sell my beautiful house and give away my antiques and family heirlooms. A lot of things went to my sisters and niece for “safe keeping,” but I doubt I'll ever bring them to Europe or have them again. I let go of everything, said good-bye to my family and friends, and on April 27, I boarded the flight to my next home. My dream of living in Europe was coming true. 
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Logistics of May 2017: Fly to Germany to judge a show, fly to Spain to register as a resident, fly to France to judge another show, return to Spain. Two weeks later, fly to the Netherlands to cover the judging assignment for a judge who was ill. Return to Spain. Breathe. Set up housekeeping in L'Eliana.

My first eight months have been filled with beauty, fun, excitement, travel, writing and research on the book, and some frustration with trying to function in a foreign language.

I'm very happy to be an expat in Spain!
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HIGHLIGHTS OF  2017
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Discovering Valencia
The architecture and beauty of this city never cease to amaze me. I LOVE Valencia. For the first time in my life I finally feel like “I'm home.” I discover gorgeous art and scenery almost every place I go. A casual stroll to my doctor's office turned into a memorable outing with my camera when I spotted an ornate fountain, a boulevard decorated with poinsiettas for Christmas, and a historic statue overlooking an old bridge.
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Meeting Georgie and Mollie
I saw a woman with a dog in the L'Eliana post office. The dog was obviously a purebred of an English breed. Unusual in Spain. I asked the woman if the dog was a Field Spaniel. The woman spoke English and said the dog was an English Cocker Spaniel. I was invited to coffee, and that day I became fast friends with Georgie and her dog Mollie. 
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Berlin and Leipzig
The Altes Museum in Berlin was incredible. I spent so much time examining the pottery and sculptures that I'm sure the museum guards thought I was going to steal something. From Berlin I went to Leipzig for my first World Dog Show. My friend and fellow judge Sheila Polk invited me to share a room with her. What fun! We had a great time being lost in the maze of city streets, no thanks to an uncooperative GPS. We also have hair-raising stories to tell about Sheila's lost dog and lost luggage. (Both were eventually retrieved.)
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Learning the Spanish language
Ok, so I probably don't study enough. But I love the challenge of being immersed in Spanish culture and being able to function (sort of) in a new language. When my vocabulary fails me, there's always Google Translate. Me gusta hablar español.
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Navigating the Metro system
Definitely an important milestone in my first year here. What I've learned: always leave plenty of extra time in case I get lost. Because I do. Frequently. Remember, all those signs are in Spanish.
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Completing Volume II of Unforgettable Aussies
Absolutely the most important highlight of 2017! After hundreds of hours of research and writing, I released the second book in the series. My love for the Australian Shepherd breed continues to motivate me to record its history. As a wonderful bonus, I've made many new friends who sent photos of their dogs to be included in this volume.

As 2017 comes to a close, I look forward to an equally memorable 2018. Already in the works are trips to Australia, Italy, Germany, and the UK. I'll be unveiling my brand new, hands-on Aussie workshop, and you'll have to stay tuned to learn about other exciting happenings.

My wish for you in 2018 is to be inspired to live your life to the fullest! Happy Holidays to my friends around the world!
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Paula
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Alicante. A Spanish City of Contrasts.

12/11/2017

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When still in the U.S., planning my escape to Europe, I pinpointed three Spanish cities to consider as places to live. They were Barcelona, Valencia, and Alicante. All three were nestled along the Mediterranean coast with its abundant sunshine and mild winters. All three offered cultural experiences, were graced with historic architecture, and possessed modern airports.

My flight to Europe landed in Barcelona, so that was the city I explored first. It was a fascinating metropolis with much to offer, but it didn't feel like “home.”
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Barcelona's gorgeous cityscape.
Then I took the train to Valencia. When I disembarked at the magnificent Estació del Nord (North train station) I immediately fell in love with the city. I never made it to Alicante.   
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Valencia's Estació del Nord train station.
I felt I owed it to myself to at least visit Alicante to see if I had missed out on something special. A friend had entered her Aussies in a dog show in that city, and that was the nudge I needed to make the trip.
I arrived by train several days before the dog show so I'd have time to explore and take photos of the city. Alicante's train station is thoroughly modern, in contrast to Valencia's Estació del Nord.
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Alicante's railway station.
I walked from the train station to my AirBnB apartment, following Google Maps on my phone. Because I'm directionally impaired even with a map, I took a wrong turn and found myself on San Francisco Street, which is also known as “Mushroom Street.”
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I was quite surprised by San Francisco Street's Alice-in-Wonderland atmosphere in this very Spanish town. Actually, I enjoyed it so much I wandered back through it two more times during my stay.
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In contrast to the modern, whimsical theme of San Francisco Street, a few blocks away was the richly carved entrance to the Edificio Caturla.
There's much about Alicante that reflects its history, which dates back thousands of years. What impressed me most were the contrasts between old and new, rich and poor, traditional Spain and modern Spain.
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Santa Barbara Castle watches over Alicante from the top of Benacantil Mountain, 166 meters (545 feet) above sea level. ​
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Construction of the city's ancient castle began in the 9th century. Its base is surrounded by glittering new offices, apartment buildings, and restaurants.
In summer, Alicante transforms from a quiet Spanish town into a sunny playground for thousands of Spanish, British, Germans, and Russians on holiday. The Explanada de España (esplanade or prominade of Spain) parallels the port and is a favorite place for strolling. 
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I loved the gorgeous Explanada de España. It's lined on both sides with rows of palm trees and the walkway is decorated with 6½ million marble tiles that create a wave effect. Brilliant design! ​
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Shopping fun on the Explanade at open-air stalls.
The Explanade is lined with restaurants and shops on one side and the marina on the opposite side. ​
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If you're in the market for a new sailboat or yacht, you might find one here. Sailing buffs can also take a trip through history at the Volvo Ocean Race Museum.
Facing the marina are buildings old and new that stand shoulder-to-shoulder.
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The modern four-star Gran Sol Hotel and Restaurant overlooks Alicante's marina.
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Right next door to the Gran Sol Hotel is the elegant, historic Edeficio Carbonella.
After strolling up and down the Explanade, I headed through an archway that took me back in time to the Old Town.  
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Archway connecting modern Alicante with its Old Town.
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As soon as I reached the Old Town side of the archway, I was greeted by the splendid Casa Consistorial (city council building) on Plaza Santísima Faz. The Consistorial is a baroque palace that was constructed between 1696 – 1780. I found the doors particularly beautiful.
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Gorgeous doorway to the Casa Consistorial. When I was in Art School I was not a fan of Baroque architecture. I am now!
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Massive main entrance to the Casa Consistorial.
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Door handle and lock plate details. The face of the door was some type of metal that had a “quilted” texture. ​
I continued walking into the Old Town, up cobblestone streets, passing by outdoor cafes and small shops in narrow alleys.
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I peeked into this charming historic hotel on a side street of Alicante.
I turned off my Google Maps app and wandered. I found my self in the really old Old Town.
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Ancient stone steps led up to tiny homes clinging to a hillside. Loved the Spanish flag proudly displayed!
There were several small groups of people trudging up a hill on a dusty road. I followed them, thinking they might lead me to something interesting. Oh yes! They did!
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The entire trip to Alicante was worth it just to see the exquisite Basílica de Santa Maria.
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I become giddy with excitement when I see incredible beauty like this. Breathtaking! Note: Finding a scene as beautiful as this is called a “Photographic Emergency.” I must, I repeat MUST, stop and take photos.
Dusk was settling in as I trundled back down the hill to my AirBnB apartment, which was right in the middle of Old Town.
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My AirBnB apartment in Alicante was an eclectic blend of rustic and modern. It was perfectly situated in the Old Town, close to everything. Loved it!
Saturday morning arrived and I was up and out the door to the dog show. I cheered as my friend showed her Aussies, took photos of unusual breeds, and sampled local cuisine at food stands—but that's another blog post.
After the show Sunday, I caught the train back home to Valencia. I enjoyed visiting Alicante, and now I know I made the perfect choice of cities in which to live.
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Gratuitous selfie taken while waiting for the train home. Hey! I didn't know all the writing would be backwards!
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My Little Town of L'Eliana.

11/27/2017

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Let me take you on a tour of L'Eliana, the Spanish town where I live. It's a 20-minute train ride north and west of Valencia. When I moved here, I chose to live without a car and I use the train and bus systems, which are excellent. It's easy and inexpensive to get around.
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The trains are punctual—so you'd better be too! They stop at each of the small towns for half a minute. That's 30 seconds for passengers to get off and others to board.
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I enjoy riding on the trains. They are clean, air conditioned, and safe. I listen intently to the announcement about which stop is next to learn how the names are pronounced. Like Benaguasil, Les Carolines-Fira, and the one that drives me crazy, Ángel Guimerá. Because it doesn't sound anything like it's spelled.
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I hop off at the train station in L'Eliana, which is a 12-minute walk from my apartment. Except when I miss the stop because I'm on Facebook and I end up at the next town. Like last Friday night.
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Let me walk with you up the street from the train station. Our first stop is the Mercadona (supermarket) which is one of three modern grocery stores in L'Eliana. Lots of seafood is eaten in Spain, including shellfish, squid, octopus, eel, and fish. The big one is a Lubina (sea bass) that weighed in at over 13 lbs.
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We'll stop at a small fruit and vegetable store tucked in along main street. They have lovely produce which is amazingly affordable. But you need to get there before it closes at 2. Traditional customs live on—almost every store closes at 2 p.m. daily for the mid-day meal/siesta and reopens about 5.
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If we're up bright an early, we can shop at the Wednesday market. On offer are clothing, shoes, textiles, house plants, handbags. And if we're lucky, the Olive Guy will be there. You have no idea how delicious the olives are in Spain!
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L'Eliana has beautiful parks. This one's glass mosaic sculptures remind me of Gaudi's Parc Guell in Barcelona.
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The park is a favorite place for little kids to play during the day. Teenagers and families gather here in the evening.

L'Eliana's streets are lined with buildings that contrast ornate, time-honored architecture with newer, minimalist structures.

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Beautiful architectural detail: Tile house number.
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Traditional stone, wood and iron entryway.
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Ironwork on door.
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We'll pass traditional homes as we walk toward the modern Centre de Formación Persones Adultes (Adult Training Center) where I take Spanish lessons. L'Eliana also has a public swimming pool and an outdoor theater. The theater reminds me of drive-in movie theaters in the U.S., only with chairs instead of cars.
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We can stroll down side streets and enjoy the feeling of being in a true Spanish town where stucco walls are painted in bright colors.
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Then there's the matter of cats. Lots of cats. I thought this one might be dead until he lifted his scruffy head and looked at me. And went back to sleep.
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Courtyards provide privacy, security, air, light, and tranquility. Most homes have courtyards that are encircled by stucco-covered walls. If this wall could talk, it would tell us fascinating stories about the history of L'Eliana.
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I'm in love with the feeling of courtyards. There's something secretive about them. I slipped my camera lens between bars of an iron gate to snap this photo. 
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We'll wind our way toward the town square. The handsome Ajuntament (City Hall) faces the square and the church. In summer, kids stay cool by running (and screaming) through the fountains. Apparently the screaming helps. I don't know how.
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The beautiful Parróquia Verge del Carme (Catholic church) sits opposite the City Hall. I love listening to its bells ring out the time of day. That's such a wonderful tradition!
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Right next to the church is a plaza with palm trees and the Taller Artesano (artisan workshop). The painting on the wall is maravilloso (marvellous)! Why haven't I stopped in there yet?
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Although L'Eliana is steeped in tradition, there are many modern stores and trendy services available. If you'd like to go home with some fresh ink, there's a tattoo shop just two blocks from my apartment. You can have your hair and nails done, buy fashionable clothes, get photocopies made, and shop for fancy electronic gadgets.

Spain's blending of old and new is fascinating to me. I loved being immersed in the stunning historic architecture and rich cultural traditions, and yet I have WiFi! It doesn't get any better than this! Thank you for joining me on this brief tour of my little town.
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Australian Shepherds Cross the Atlantic.

9/18/2017

 
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I wanted a dog. It was 1980 and I hadn't seen a purebred Australian Shepherd, but I'd heard they were super-smart, talented, and basically the Best Dogs Ever. An Aussie show was announced in my local newspaper and I went to watch. I came home with two puppies. That's how easy it was to get hooked on the breed.

Aussies
are The Best Dogs Ever. People outside the U.S. noticed and wanted them too. In the 1970s, Aussies began making their way across the Atlantic Ocean to Europe. Some of the first dogs went along with Quarter Horses to the Circle L Ranch in Germany. In the mid-1980s Aussies were exported to the United Kingdom, and the breed's popularity spread throughout Europe. Aussies were in demand elsewhere in the world too. Dogs were also sent to Australia, South Africa and Israel in the 1970s.
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Gold Nugget Crimson Delilah. Born 1983. Imported to the UK in Sept. 1985 by Brian and Lianell Juecstock. Delilah was in whelp to Jokers Wild Sapphire Sampson. The Juecstocks imported two other Aussies at the same time.   ​
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Gefion's Fire On Ice. Born 1984. By Gefion's Man From Atlantis x Gefion's Sample's Cracker of L7. Imported to the UK Feb. 1987 by Winnie (MacIntyre) Brown. Fire was in whelp to Multi CH Bayshore's Three To Get Ready.  ​
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BISS CH Steal The Show of Bainbridge. Born 1984. Imported to the UK Feb. 1987 by Winnie (MacIntyre) Brown. By CH Fieldmaster's Three Ring Circus x CH Cassia of Wyndham.
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Gefion Ohtobe A Scarlette Star. Born 1985. By CH Beauwood's Out Rustlin' Bear HOF x Gefion's Ohtobe Gorgeous. Imported to the UK in Dec. 1987 by Winnie (MacIntyre) Brown. Scarlette was in whelp to CH Brigadoon's California Dude. ​
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Information about the above dogs was from the UK National Australian Shepherd Association brochure printed in 2002.

A significant number of Aussies from many U.S. kennels were exported in the 1980s and 1990s. In Europe, these various bloodlines were combined, resulting in uniquely European pedigrees. My first exposure to European Aussies was in 2004, when I judged a show in Germany. Since then I've had the privilege of judging many times on the Continent and in the UK, and have enjoyed watching the development of the breed over time.

My recent judging assignments have been Club Specialty shows in Germany, France, and Netherlands. I also watched the French All-Breed National Specialty and visited Aussie breeders' homes to get a closer look at pedigrees and breeding programs in Europe.

The following dogs are some of the best I've seen during my travels.
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AUSSIES IN FRANCE
Results from the Nationale d'Elevage Club Francais des Bergers Australiens. 27-28 May 2017. Cerilly, France.
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Best in Show and Best Opposite were very well constructed, typey dogs. 
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Best Veteran and Best Opposite Veteran. It was a pleasure to see veterans in such excellent health and condition.
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Two lovely class bitches in the lineup at Cerilly. ​
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AUSSIES IN GERMANY
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CH Rafter Creek’s EZ Valentine Day. Born 2012. German Club Champion, VDH Champion, Swiss Show Champion, VDH European Winner, CASD Club Winner, Most Versatile Australian Shepherd 2017. By Blaze x CH Mill Creek’s American Express. Son of CH Broadway's Blaze of Glory. Photo courtesy of Claudia Bosselmann. Photo taken in 2013.
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Class bitch with excellent breed type. Club fur Australian Shepherd Deutschland e.V. Donaueschingen, Germany. Photo taken in 2010.
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Promising puppy at 8 weeks old. Born 2017. By BIS BISS Multi CH McMatt's Blue Graffiti x Multi CH Cool-Paws Amazing Shooting Star BH RO-B RO-1 OB O1 DNA VP CHR. Photo credit: Author.
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AUSSIES IN MALTA
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INT CH Saussurea Spellbound. Born 2009. By VWW 2010, EW 2006, AKC CH Thornapple Oh Brother x Res.WW 2008, Multi CH Sunnyrain The Star At Saussurea. Great-great-granddaughter of CH Bayshore's Lucy In The Sky HOF. Photo courtesy of Leeandra Mifsud Mizzi. Photo credit: Dennis Mifsud. ​

AUSSIES IN THE NETHERLANDS
Results from the Australian Shepherd Club Nederland Kampioensclubmatch.
18 June 2017. Utrecht, Netherlands.  
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Best in Show and CAC. CH Terra-Blue Carmel Heart. Born 2013. By CH Echo Lake Merlin Rouge x Terra-Blue Kiss Me I'm Irish. ​​Photo credit: Birgit Kornet.
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Best Opposite and CAC. Skyron Devil's Advocate. Born 2016. By CH McMatt's Graffiti Kiss Me Now x JCH Tryfecta Game On @ Skyron! Great-granddaughter of CH McMatt's EZ Going. ​​Photo credit: Birgit Kornet.
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Jeugdklas Bitch Excellent 2. Happy Spark Dragon Princess. Born 2016. By Multi CH Blue Isle's Bourree x Multi CH Happy Spark Apple Blossom. Great-granddaughter of CH Broadway's Blaze of Glory. ​​Photo credit: Birgit Kornet.

AUSSIES IN SPAIN
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BIS BISS AKC Multi CH McMatt’s Blue Graffiti. Born 2006. World Winner. By AKC-INT-ASCA CH McMatt’s EZ Going OA NAJ ROMX-II x CH Graffiti Garnet Rose. Photo courtesy of Cristina Freixes Cau Fosca. Photo credit: Author.
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JRBIS AKC-ES-LUX CH Caufosca Your Coupit Name. Born 2015. By BIS BISS AKC GCH Copperridge Fire in Bayouland x BIS AKC GCH Bayouland Fleur de Lea. Great-granddaughter of CH Broadway's Blaze of Glory. Photo courtesy of Cristina Friexes. Photo credit: Jeffrey Hanlin.
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MORE AUSSIES IN FRANCE
Championnat de France. 4 June 2017. Nantes, France.
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A magnificent dog. MBIS-World Winner 2016-Multi CH-INT CH Risingstar Royal Flash Dcd Energies. Born 2009. By Multi CH-INT CH Risingstar’s Heaven Sent RN x Outlaws Million Dollar Baby. Great-grandson of CH Broadway's Blaze of Glory. Photo courtesy of Ludovic Gerona and Kerstin Patzold. Photo credit: Author.
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Lineup of class bitches competing for the CAC at the Nantes show.
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Jumpin’ Jack Flash Du Val D’Aury. Born 2014. By SR-INT CH Meadowlawn Boreal Night x SR CH Easy Way Out of Des Minis Toons. Photo courtesy of Isabelle Guillot. Photo credit: Author.
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Over the years, many high-quality Aussies have been sent from the U.S. to Europe. I've recently noticed that European-bred Aussies are being sent back to the U.S. as breeding stock, which adds an interesting twist to the story. Although Aussies originated in the U.S., the breed is now loved all over the world. Because Aussies are the Best Dogs Ever.

There are many more European Aussies featured in Volume II of Unforgettable Aussies. These photos give you just a taste of what you can expect.


Call Me Brave or Call Me Crazy?

9/12/2017

 
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When I announced my intention to move to Spain, the first question I always received was, “Are you going alone?”
​I answered, “Yes.”

“Do you know anyone there?” “No.”

“Do you have a place to live?” “No.”

Inevitably they would exclaim, “You're so brave!”

I didn't feel like bravery was taking me to Europe. I was being pulled by my dream to live there.

At first, I tentatively shared my plan with my son and sisters. At that point I thought maybe I was crazy. Sixty-four years old, single, leaving a job I enjoyed, selling my lovely home, getting rid of all my stuff, and moving to Europe—alone—with just a suitcase and my camera. That did sound way crazy. It also sounded like a Big Adventure.

If my family had told me not to go—that it was too risky, or too stupid, or just plain a bad idea—I might have changed my mind and stayed put. But none of them did. My son said, “Go for it!” My sisters said, “We want to go!”

I got braver. I started telling a few friends, expecting some negative reactions. But every one of them said, “That's so exciting! I want to do that too!”

Now it was too late to back out. I'd told everyone close to me about my dream, and the pressure was on to make it happen. I set my plan in motion to move to Europe within one year.  
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Downsizing. I sold my home in Oregon's beautiful Rogue Valley.
My first task was to implement Downsizing 1.0. I sold my house, sold or gave away all my furniture and household stuff. Although it was painful, I even sold my beautiful Set-R-Rite grooming table and all my dog equipment. I downsized from a 1500 square foot house to a 132 square foot room in a girlfriend's home.  
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Temporary quarters in my friend's home.
People really thought I was crazy when I told them I planned to move to Europe with just one suitcase and my camera gear. That would require Downsizing 2.0 and the program was implemented one month prior to takeoff.
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This is what I took to Europe: a 25” suitcase filled to capacity with clothing, a large purple duffel bag, and a backpack with my camera and electronics. Nothing more. I had to leave behind my camera tripod, Western boots <gasp!>, and a few other valuables. They simply wouldn't fit.

I wanted to take a second suitcase, but that was all I could manage with my travel and living situations. During my first six weeks in Europe, I had two judging assignments—one in Germany and one in France—and lived at a series of AirBnB apartments, with no permanent address. I could only manage one suitcase. When I made a trip back to the U.S., I returned to Europe with my other important stuff, including my boots.

Why now?
One fateful Friday night in February of 2016, I ended up in the hospital Emergency Room with a serious infection. It took weeks of heavy antibiotic use to recover. At that moment, I realized I wasn't getting any younger and I wasn't getting any healthier. Although I've always taken good care of myself, age was creeping up on me. (I hate to admit that!)

I watched my parents' dreams evaporate because their health deteriorated. They'd been to Europe once and wanted to visit again. But Mom had a stroke. Dad had heart problems. They were no longer able to go, and I swore I'd never let that happen to me. Shortly before she died, Mom gave me her cherished book about Florence, Italy. She said, “You'll have to go for me.” I will, Mom. My trip is scheduled for this fall.

Why Spain?
I'd been invited to judge dog shows in Europe a dozen times. Those judging assignments made it possible for me to explore regions near the shows. I'd been to Germany, the U.K., and France. Germany was beautiful, I spoke some German, and thought it could be a great place to live.

Just one teeny, tiny problem. Winter weather.

For 58 years I'd lived near Minneapolis and Chicago. Winters were cold. Very cold. Snow and ice were abundant. My neighbor used his skid-loader and bucket to clear my driveway—a shovel wasn't up to the task. Water in my dogs' water buckets froze solid in a couple of hours. I was tired of battling the weather and needed a major change.
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Need I say more about Midwest winters?
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In 2013, I escaped the frozen Midwest tundra and headed to the West Coast (close to California) where winters were milder. Never again would I live anyplace cold and snowy. Sadly, that knocked Germany and its chilly winters off my list of potential places to live.

When I planned My Big Adventure to Europe, warm weather was my number one criteria. Not too hot, not too cold, lots of sunshine. Spain's Mediterranean climate looked perfect.

Cities on the Mediterranean coast had the most moderate climates. Barcelona, Valencia, Alicante. I visited Barcelona and had a great time. My plan was to visit Valencia and Alicante, and then choose where to live. I made it as far as Valencia, fell madly in love with the city, and set down roots.

However, I'm not a big city girl. I prefer a small-town lifestyle. Through a stroke of luck I was introduced to the pueblo (town) of L'Eliana, which is a 20-minute metro ride from Valencia. It's an absolutely charming place, a mix of traditional Spanish culture with modern touches. My luck continued, I found an apartment the first day, and I settled in. I often pinch myself and say, “I'm here! I'm really living in Spain!”
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Parròquia Verge del Carme on L'Eliana's town square. The church is still an important part of Spanish life.
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Ajuntament de l'Eliana. The Town Hall faces the church across the town square.
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Palm trees and a mural in my pueblo (town) of L'Eliana near Valencia, Spain.
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Was I Afraid?
One thing that fascinates me about My Big Adventure is that I never felt any fear of the unknown. I had the utmost confidence that my plan would succeed, and it did. Here I am in Europe, this magical place, living my dream. Big risk, big payoff.

Brave or crazy? Maybe a little of both.

Even More to Love about Valencia

9/4/2017

 
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When I travel, I want to see beauty: expressive artwork, sublime landscapes, glorious architecture. I explored Valencia and was so charmed by its blend of art and architecture that I decided to make it my home. 
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I wast astonished at the sheer number of handsome buildings that grace the city. Nearly every block has a facade that's photo-worthy. Many of the structures have historical significance and are still in use today.
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I love the mash-up of architectural styles that are incorporated into many of the buildings. Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, and Neoclassical all play nicely together. They represent artistic influences that spread across Europe and were interpreted by Spanish architects.
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Moorish and Byzantine influences can also be seen in this facade. I'd find it very difficult to classify this building as any particular architectural style. That's what makes it so interesting. And look at all the detail! A very creative architect came up with this plan.
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No detail was left to chance. A simple streetlight is a work of art. I'm in awe of the ironwork and have no idea how this was made, but I love it! This type of beautiful detail is everywhere in Valencia's downtown district.​
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Dramatic winged archers, a steam locomotive, and a wooden ship adorn this clock tower. There's a message here.... I waited 20 minutes for a city bus to get out of the way so I could take this shot. Such a fascinating building!
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Another clock tower with ornate detail, sans archers. This structure is almost fanciful in design -- It reminds me of a wedding cake with columns holding up the layers.
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Looking for more buildings to photograph, I strolled down the street, where I enjoyed the brilliant colors of outdoor flower markets.
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When I heard the clip-clop of hooves, I turned around and saw mounted police on matching horses. As a horse lover, it makes my heart go pitty-pat to see equine in the big city.
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Walking past an old building near the Central Market, this snail motif stopped me in my tracks. I marveled at the attention to detail and careful workmanship.
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Sometimes just looking up can be a delightful surprise. The rosy-colored stucco wall was accented by a window balcony with a black iron railing. But the designer went even farther by adding interesting detail under the balcony and a motif on the front of the railing. The window frames are also rich with detail.
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I'd had an exciting day of shooting and was ready for dinner. As I walked toward the restaurant, I passed a prosthesis shop which apparently uses this wooden leg as their advertising. My friend said she knew a guy with a wooden leg named Steve. I asked her, "What's the name of the other leg?" <groan>
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La Tagliatella. A scrumptious Italian dinner and lovely glass of wine in the magnificent Spanish city of Valencia. Perfecto!

Click to read My Love Affair with Valencia

​Click to read Shop 'til You Drop: Valencia's Central Market

Shop 'til You Drop: Valencia's Central Market

8/21/2017

 
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Write this on your “Must Do” list when you visit Valencia: Shop the Mercado Central (Central Market). The building itself is a gorgeous art nouveau showpiece worth seeing, but it also houses one of the largest public markets in Europe. It's like your local farmers market on steroids – inside a palace.
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The grand entrance to the Central Market welcomes tourists from around the world.
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The market covers an area of over 8,000 square meters (86,111 square feet). For comparison, a U.S. football field is 57,600 square feet including the end zones.
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In the center of the magnificent structure is an intricate stained glass dome depicting the richness of Valencia’s fruit. The market is a symbol of the diversity of this region which produces internationally renowned fruits and vegetables.
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The market is a gastronomic heaven with nearly a thousand market stalls offering fresh meats, fruit, vegetables, seafood, cheeses, baked goods, olives, and lots of wine. There’s even a snail stand and a stand dedicated to the spice saffron (signature spice in paella). You can also buy funky souvenirs and rather unusual snacks.
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The Market is divided into sections for different produce. In the fish market, everything fishy is colorfully displayed on crushed ice. You can find all sorts of seafood including calamares (squid rings), sépias (cuttlefish), pulpo (squid tentacles), and – my personal favorite – shellfish of all types and sizes. You can even buy live eels. (Terrified Emoji here.)
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If you're in the mood to try something unusual, take a look at the percebes. They are barnacles that look like tiny severed legs with the hoof attached. They are supposed to be delicious, but I think the texture would be too weird for me to handle. Especially the crunchy hoof part. (Another terrified Emoji here.)
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Next stop is the cured ham section. Mind you, this is not one stand. This is an entire section of stands offering the finest hams. The Spanish take their jamón (ham) very seriously and you can find many types and qualities. Jamón ibérico is the celebrated ham made from Black Iberian pigs who graze on acorns. This specialty can cost you over €150/kilo ($68/lb). For the curious: yes, it does taste like acorns, in a good way.
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In need of something to sustain you through the rest of your exploration of the Market? Try the gazpacho-to-go! This delight takes fast food to a whole new level. Or, if you prefer, you can have tapas with a nice glass of wine at the Central Bar.
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Next stop: Fruits and Vegetables section. So many choices! So little time! You can pick up a glass of fresh-squeezed Valencia orange juice at one of many fruit stands. The flavor is out-of-this-world! Grab some fresh apples to snack on later, too.
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Many of the beautiful, ripe fruit and vegetables are seasonal and locally grown. They are on the menus of restaurants across the city. Your farmers market back home would be jealous if it knew you were here.
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Does cooking paella sound like fun to you? Indulge yourself with the perfect paella pan! The selection here boggles the mind. Sizes and styles to suit the most discerning taste.
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Sometimes you need to take home a bit of memorabilia from your trip, or you might be looking for that perfect white-elephant gift for your brother's birthday. The Central Market is sure to have what you're looking for. I couldn't resist the Gaudi-inspired spoon rest as the perfect accent to my kitchen. A couple of fancy wine bottle stoppers also came home with me. Refrigerator magnets, handsome tiles, you-name-it. There are plenty of fun choices!

You don't want to miss Valencia's Central Market. It's open Monday – Saturday 8:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. Closed Sundays. BYOB (bring your own bag) and have a shopping extravaganza!

Click here to read Everyday Street Scenes in Barcelona

My Love Affair with Valencia.

8/14/2017

 
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The train station in my tiny hometown in Estados Unidos (United States) was ancient, dark, and dusty. The floorboards squeaked. Uncomfortable wood benches flanked the entrance. In Alemania (Germany), the train stations I'd been through were of modern industrial design, spare, and efficient. In total contrast, when I stepped off the train and into the station in Valencia, Spain, I was startled by its beauty. Welcome to Valencia!
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The majestic Estació del Nord (North Train Station) celebrates Valencia oranges. I was amazed when I discovered its handsome façade is decorated with glazed tiles that depict oranges. Mosaics inside the station also tell the story of oranges.
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Yes, Valencia oranges really do grow here. For centuries the fruit has been tremendously important to the economy. There's even a cocktail celebrating oranges; Agua de Valencia (water of Valencia) is a delightful concoction of orange juice, cava, vodka, and gin. It's perfect after lunch, served chilled in a shot glass.

Fun fact: Along with oranges, Valencia is a prime rice growing area! Rice has been grown for over 1000 years on the low-lying land near the coast. Paella (pah-aye-ah) is the rice-based signature dish of Valencia. It's a free-style combo of rice, meat and/or seafood, with a few vegetables tossed in for a good measure. It's seasoned with saffron which gives the rice a lovely golden hue.

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Tantalizing seafood paella I helped make during a cooking class. Write “cooking class” on your Must Do list when you visit Spain.
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Speaking of food, the Mercado Central (Central Market), a beautiful art nouveau showpiece, is one of the largest public markets in Europe. Inside, a thousand market stalls are piled high with the freshest and finest meats, fruit, vegetables, and seafood. You can also grab souvenirs and snacks. Try the barnacles washed down with gazpacho-to-go! The Central Market is so fascinating that it will have its own post on this blog. Watch for it!
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Right next door to the Central Market is Església de Sant Joan del Mercat. I dare you to say that fast three times. It's the Church of St. John of the Market. The ornate clock tower is flanked by a matched pair of St. Johns. The rather unusual weather vane on top of the façade is known as the Bird of St. John. I was stunned by the incredible detail covering every surface of the building.
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Valencia's commercial prosperity in the 15th century spurred the construction of Llotja de la Seda (Silk Exchange building), to house commercial transactions and a marine merchant tribunal. The name of the magnificent la Llotja reflects the importance of the city's silk industry.

Another fun fact: In the past, if a merchant couldn't meet his financial obligations, the Trading Market would remove one leg of the bench he used. The bench was called a banco rota (broken bench), which later led to the English word "bankrupt." 
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The Silk Exchange's immense Sala de Contratación (Contract Hall) was the room where where merchants negotiated contracts. The intricate marble floor and awe-inspiring spiral pillars were total eye-candy for me.
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Another area of the Silk Exchange, Consulado del Mar (Consulate of the Sea), was where the Trade Court met to solve maritime trade issues. The room is embellished with an intricately carved wood ceiling and massive doors. It occurred to me that the gorgeous tile floor would be a spectacular place to dance!
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A few blocks to the northwest are the imposing medieval Torres de Quart (Towers of Quart). They were constructed between 1441 and 1460 as defensive gates for the city and were built of natural stone from quarries near Valencia. I was impressed by the cannonball damage sustained during the siege of the city by France in 1808. These towers withstood a ferocious pounding! 
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I've taken you around just a few blocks and we'll circle back to the majestic Estació del Nord. Beautiful by day. Gorgeous by night. There's so much more to see in Valencia! I can't wait to share more posts about this exquisite city.

Click here for a  quick link  to two maps that highlight the area we just explored. Check them out, then do yourself a favor and come to Valencia!

Click here to read Even More To Love About Valencia
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My sister Gracia passed away.

7/31/2017

 
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It's hard to believe she's gone. Gracia (gray-sha) and I played together and fought with each other as kids. We grew close as adults. I helped her get through her bout of cancer three years ago. I spent a lot of time with her, enjoying her feisty personality. I loaned my Aussie, Zubi, to her as a companion and therapy dog when I had to be away.

This was the third time cancer invaded her body. She fought it with a vengeance. But this time, even with the miracle of modern medicine, she couldn’t beat it.

She enrolled in a clinical trial to try an experimental therapy that might buy her more time. It made her very ill, but she kept fighting.

On July 3 we received a report that the experimental treatment wasn't working. The tumors were growing rapidly. Six days later she died.

I flew from Spain to Oregon, hoping to see her one last time. But I was too late. I'm thankful that I went to see her in April, just before I moved to Europe. Although her death doesn't seem real, I know I'll never hug her again.

It will never be the same again without my very special sister. Gracia, I love you and will miss you.

Gracia McDermid
December 3, 1954 – July 9, 2017

I'll tell the rest of her story in pictures because they share more than what I'm able to convey in words.
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Gracia is the kid on dad's knee. He gave her the nickname “Steamroller” because she was such a determined child. Nothing stopped her.
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The McDermid-Nelson-Slick clan of cousins with our beloved Grandpa Chris. Gracia is wearing the polka-dot shirt. We cousins keep in touch. They sent beautiful flowers for the memorial service.
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We were a family of five kids. Because we were PKs (Preacher's Kids), we went to church a lot. This photo was taken in the church's choir area. Gracia is wearing the orange dress. I'm wearing the black scoop neck top, in case you're curious.
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Gracia grew up and became an excellent nurse. We were very proud that she excelled in the Intensive Care Unit and as an emergency flight (air ambulance) nurse. She loved seeing many of the Western states from the sky. This is a photo of Crater Lake she snapped during one of her emergency missions.
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She had two beautiful daughters. Aquila “Quilly” was the oldest. My son, my Aussie, and I went to Phoenix, where Gracia lived at that time, to take care of Quilly when Gracia went to the hospital to give birth to her second daughter.
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 Sisters Bonnie, Gracia and Paula. We stopped fighting and became friends after we grew up. Funny how that happens.
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Zubi was a comfort to my sister during her bout of cancer in 2014. He was the perfect Therapy Dog.
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Gracia with her beautiful daughters Quilly and Liriel.
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Bonnie was the baby of the family. She and Gracia were great playmates and had a tight bond throughout their lives.
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A new member joined the family when Liriel married her chidhood sweetheart, Sean. When Gracia's grandson, Pierson, was born her whole world lit up with love for him.
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When Pierson gets older, these photos will let him know how much his grandma loved him.
​Rest in Peace, dear sister.

How to Mail Your Postcards in Spain.

7/7/2017

 
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You bought postcards in the airport of Beautiful Barcelona, Marvelous Madrid, or wherever your plane landed. You bought more postcards at cute little street vendor booths. You want to send them back home to make your friends jealous of your totally awesome vacation.

But where do you buy stamps? Where is a Post Office box or the Post Office? Fear not, the answers are here.  
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Buy stamps in a cigarette store?
​You'll see “Tabac” shops everywhere. Along with tobacco products they also sell—guess what? Stamps! You ask for sellos (say-ohs). Make sure you get internacional (inter-na-see-onal). Or say Unidos Estados (oo-nee-dose es-tah-dose). That's the United States. Right now a stamp costs about 1.30 Euros for either a postcard or letter. Oh, and bring Euros. U.S. dollars aren't accepted.
​

You're ready. You wrote a glowing description of your travels on the back of the postcard. You want to pop it into a mailbox and head out for more shopping. You don't see anything that resembles the U.S. Postal Service drop-off boxes in their official red, white and blue color scheme. Or anything with that general rectangular shape that has a hinged door to indicate where your postcard should go.
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Postal drop boxes in Spain are yellow. They are cylindrical.
They have “Correos” painted on them. They look like this photo. You might have to hunt just a little bit, but you'll find the smallish lid that lifts up so you can send your postcard to your BFF. Hint: See those three things that look like flaps? It's one of those.
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You might need to pay a visit to the Post Office. Look for "Correos." It's hard to miss the bright yellow sign. You can purchase stamps, envelopes with international postage printed on them, packing material, and such.

There's another very good reason to know where the Post Offices are located. Should you need to purchase something from amazon.es (the Spanish Amazon site) during your travels, you can have it shipped to the Post Office of your choice. Be sure to bring your passport when you go to retrieve it, because if you don't, they won't release the package to you.

Now it's time to finish writing those gorgeous postcards and send them to everyone on your list!
​

It's the Little Things That Matter. Like Flushing.

7/7/2017

 
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Okay, so you've been smitten by the photos and my blog about Barcelona and La Sagrada Familia. (And you haven't even seen my pictures of Valencia yet!) You decided that Spain will be your next destination vacation. Awesome! There are a few “little” things that you'll find very handy to know when you get there.

How To Flush a Toilet.
Imagine yourself in the Barcelona airport. You just walked off the plane and need to use the restroom. You don't know how to read the sign unless you speak Spanish, but you do recognize the little man and woman icons. You get in the queue. Your turn comes, you're finished in the stall, and you look for the flush handle. It's not there! A line of women is standing outside the door restlessly waiting for their turn. You panic.
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No, wait, you don't panic because I'm going to show you pictures of the unusual (for us Americans) flushing apparatus that can be found in Europe. So you can flush with confidence and stride proudly out the stall door.
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The commode lid button.
This one's easy to guess. It's shiny, it's a button, and there are no other options. What are the big and little crescent shapes? The little one is for a little flush of water. You press both buttons at the same time for a big flush. And that brush right next to the stool? You're expected to use it when needed.
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Photo credit Soak.com
The wall plate.
This one's not intuitive. It looks more like a dispenser of some sort. This is a round button design. It also comes in a square plate option to make things a little more confusing. Once again, the smaller plate is for a small flush and the large plate is for a big flush. This same design can sometimes be found on the commode lid.   
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The wall button.
You're getting the hang of this now! It's a regular old button you push. Note handy toilet brush that's hygienically mounted off the floor.
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Yet another variation of "guess what happens when you push here" button.
This design is tasteful, sleek and modern. Note polished nickel accents around buttons. And there's that pesky toilet brush again.


​Success! You have mastered the complexities of European plumbing before you even set foot on the continent!
​

La Sagrada Familia. Exquisite beyond belief.

6/30/2017

 
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Big girls don't cry in public. I find it dreadfully embarrassing. Then I found myself inside La Sagrada Familia with tears streaming down my face. I was in such awe of the beauty of the basilica that I couldn't hold back my emotions.

I've visited magnificent cathedrals with soaring Gothic arches, priceless marble statues, and intricate stained glass windows. They filled me with wonder and admiration. But they didn't bring me to tears.

La Sagrada Familia (The Sacred Family) is in a class of its own when it comes to stirring emotions.

Antoni Gaudí was the architect of Barcelona's controversial basilica. Its radical design received both intense criticism and immense praise. Some people considered Gaudí to be crazy; others thought he was brilliant. I think his work was pure genius.  
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Approaching La Sagrada Familia from the park is like entering an enchanted forest.
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The first stone for the building was laid in 1882. Because the scale of the project was so massive, Gaudí knew it would never be finished in his lifetime. He created detailed models of his ideas so architects were able to continue work after his death. ​
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Cranes reveal the ongoing construction. The basilica is expected to be completed in 2026, 150 years after work began. Generations of architects and builders have been dedicated to finishing this monumental project. Funding for the work comes solely from donations and ticket sales.
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Exterior sculptural detail of Jesus' birth announced by angels with trumpets. “A church is the only thing worthy of representing the feelings of a people, for religion is the highest thing in people.” - Antoni Gaudí ​
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The Holy Water font in the entrance of La Sagrada Familia reflects Gaudí's inspiration by the structure of shells. I loved how the smooth, glossy interior and rough exterior of the vessel beautifully reinterpreted a shell, and how such an ordinary object was re-imagined as a vessel with purpose and dignity.
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When I moved from the entrance into this part of the basilica I was flooded with emotion. The beauty was overwhelming. Gaudí's inspiration came from trees, leaves, cones, bones, and shells. He copied the structure of these natural forms to create a strong building that was filled with light. ​
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Gaudí’s architecture was unique and constantly surprising; he carefully considered every tiny detail of his work. I was awestruck by the incredible design, soaring heights, intricate ceiling decoration, and brilliant stained glass windows.
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Ceiling structures were patterned after leaves and the supporting columns were designed like trees. I felt like I was in a forest rather than inside a church. ​
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Gaudí's lifelong passions were architecture, nature, and religion. His work became an expression of his deep religious beliefs. Above the altar, you turn your gaze upwards to view the sculpture of the Crucifixion of Christ.
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Gaudí understood that nature uses curved forms, not straight lines. This area of the basilica is an example of his genius in choosing organic shapes, patterns, and textures to create feelings of strength and serenity.
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When you visit Barcelona, you must see La Sagrada Familia. It's magnificent! Bring your selfie-stick so you can share the experience with all your Facebook friends. You can even purchase memorabilia on the way to your next destination.

Tickets are only available online. Be sure to buy them well in advance of your visit because they sell out. If you aren't claustrophobic or afraid of heights, you can ascend one of the towers in an elevator, then walk down 400 steps to the ground.
​
More info and to order tickets click ­here: http://www.sagradafamilia.org/en/tickets/
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    Paula McDermid

    I love Australian Shepherd dogs and travel! Join me as I explore Europe, meet Aussies and their owners, and discover exciting places you'd love to visit.

    I moved to Europe from the U.S. in May 2017 and haven't looked back! My dream is to share with you the exquisite beauty of castles, cathedrals, and communities in the Old World. 

    I hope to inspire you to chase your own dreams. Come and explore with me!


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