I'm a bit peeved, because I can't get my slideshow to embed as I wish. :(
So, anyway, here is the link to some of my pics of La Carolina.
Friday, March 8, 2013
La Carolina, aka The Caroline
The La Carolina time can be summed up fairly fast.
- We went to Los Jardineros, one of the tapas bars, for churros con chocolate, and some random middle-aged dude (who hadn't even talked to us first) bought us shots. Did I mention it was about 4pm?
 |
| Went there for this. |
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| Nek minnit... this! |
- Sabrina was forced to do a lot of walking to entertain herself. I had to actually do some work at the high school, and a wee bit of tutoring, and there is not a lot to do in La Caro.
- Mission up to the Cerro de la Cruz (hill with a cross on top of it) to get an overview of the town
- Sabrina participating in a language exchange with my Spanish friend who is learning English
- Chinese food from the restaurant just down the road
- Meeting at the classy joint, La Toja, to have tapas with friends
Final (Marbella) Countdown: Monday
Awoke to the sound of school children. What a sound. Those things are loud. Clearly, not everyone was on holiday. There was nothing we could do but go with it, and get up.
Back to El Greco bakery for breakfast, for which I chose one of these Spanish Easter delights.
They are called torrijas, and quite similar to French toast. I will let someone who knows more about it explain. Thank you spain.info:
Checked out of El Castillo, and made our last trek up to the Marbella bus station. After a decent bit of bus-ing, it would be time to introduce Sabrina to La Carolina, my Spanish home.
Back to El Greco bakery for breakfast, for which I chose one of these Spanish Easter delights.
They are called torrijas, and quite similar to French toast. I will let someone who knows more about it explain. Thank you spain.info:
They are eaten all over Spain and consist of slices of bread soaked in milk, sugar and egg, fried in olive oil. According to what they are dipped in and the way they are presented, there are other, delicious varieties: with wine, syrup, honey or sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon.Making the most of our last few hours in Marbella, we had a cruise around town, checking out any cool little places we had missed (there are a lot of cool places).
Checked out of El Castillo, and made our last trek up to the Marbella bus station. After a decent bit of bus-ing, it would be time to introduce Sabrina to La Carolina, my Spanish home.
Living the high life (Sunday)
It began with a search for breakfast. I can't actually remember what we found, but I'm assuming we went back to our favourite corner cafe, on the way to the beach. Maybe.
Sabrina had been told that Puerto Banús (aka Rich Person-ville) was a must-see. She was keen to walk there, but I was pretty shot after the previous day's walking. I know she was sick of buses, but it would have been 7km just to get there. She agreed to go by bus.
We were dressed for a beach holiday - since that's what we were doing - and it perhaps wasn't quite the dress code for PB. Never mind. We looked in the windows of the shops, and that was fine, because we couldn't afford any of that stuff, anyway.
Happily, looking at the yachts was free, and so was strolling down the beach, past all the exclusive clubs.
Then it was back on the bus to Marbella, where we wouldn't have to spend the earth to get a good lunch. And I'm so glad we did, because we found what I thought was a fantastic place: Loving Hut (a vegan restaurant). There's some Spanish food that I love, but I do get sick of the heavy, fatty stuff after a while. This restaurant was the antidote; look at that delicious felafel and hummus!
Sabrina wanted another swim, but the water was just too chilly: it turned into a paddle. Certainly, all I could bring myself to do was dip my toes in.
Sabrina had been told that Puerto Banús (aka Rich Person-ville) was a must-see. She was keen to walk there, but I was pretty shot after the previous day's walking. I know she was sick of buses, but it would have been 7km just to get there. She agreed to go by bus.
We were dressed for a beach holiday - since that's what we were doing - and it perhaps wasn't quite the dress code for PB. Never mind. We looked in the windows of the shops, and that was fine, because we couldn't afford any of that stuff, anyway.
Happily, looking at the yachts was free, and so was strolling down the beach, past all the exclusive clubs.
Then it was back on the bus to Marbella, where we wouldn't have to spend the earth to get a good lunch. And I'm so glad we did, because we found what I thought was a fantastic place: Loving Hut (a vegan restaurant). There's some Spanish food that I love, but I do get sick of the heavy, fatty stuff after a while. This restaurant was the antidote; look at that delicious felafel and hummus!
Sabrina wanted another swim, but the water was just too chilly: it turned into a paddle. Certainly, all I could bring myself to do was dip my toes in.
Just to make life more difficult, tickets for our bus back to Jaén the following day were unavailable online. Back we went, up the hill to the bus station. At least Marbella is pretty.
As the sun was setting, we strolled in a Puerto Banús direction along the beach front path. It was magnificent.
Dinner was at an empty chiringuito (beach front restaurant), with a very friendly waiter, who thought he could speak English. We kept trying to speak Spanish to him, and he would insist on replying in English. Only problem was, we couldn't really understand his version of English.
I tried (and recomment) berenjenas con miel (eggplant/aubergine with honey). Probably not very healthy, but it is tasty!
Walk-a-thon (Saturday)
Any day beginning with pain au chocolat and a smoothie on the beach is a good day.
Sabrina is a walk-aholic, so we tramped to 'Funny Beach.' When we arrived, it wasn't really that funny... kind of like an outdated children's theme park. Maybe we were just there in the wrong season. Anyway, you can't complain about walking along Marbella's lovely beach, so who cares?
Along the way, I was torn between amusement and pity while watching the 'blanket salesman.' These guys look like they've come straight over from Africa (I mean, you can actually see Morrocco from Marbella, so maybe) and lay out their wares on a blanket on the side of the footpath - until a police car passes, that is. Then they speedily grab the four corners of their blanket and disappear as fast as they can, normally down behind the beach wall.
Lunch was some very reasonably-priced (and tasty) almond pasta.
Sabrina was dead set on a swim, so we both braved the 'fresh' water, then dried out on the beach.
When we returned, salty and slightly bedraggled, there was some very flashy wedding/christening going on in the church near our hostal. I felt rather underdressed in my togs (swimsuit, for non-New Zealanders), so we discreetly picked our way through the ties, heels, suit jackets, and gowns in the crowd.
Up in our hostal room, we closed the doors to keep out the ungodly racket that a large group of excited Spaniards can make!!
We enjoyed exploring the narrow streets and boutique-style shops of the casco antiguo (old town).
I see from my collection of photos that we found churros at El Churrito Feliz (the happy little churro) at some point...
Our only disappointment was that we couldn't watch a flamenco show at one of the bars without having a full meal.
Consequently, we rebelled against Spain by going to an Indian restaurant (Jaipur) for dinner.
The curry must have given us a super burst of energy, as we went for a wander around all the clubs down by the beach. No-one was out at this early stage of the night (probably around 10pm, & remember we were in Spain) so we just went to Eclipse and took over the whole dance floor. Which was easy, because no-one else was there- at least, for a while.
Sabrina is a walk-aholic, so we tramped to 'Funny Beach.' When we arrived, it wasn't really that funny... kind of like an outdated children's theme park. Maybe we were just there in the wrong season. Anyway, you can't complain about walking along Marbella's lovely beach, so who cares?
Along the way, I was torn between amusement and pity while watching the 'blanket salesman.' These guys look like they've come straight over from Africa (I mean, you can actually see Morrocco from Marbella, so maybe) and lay out their wares on a blanket on the side of the footpath - until a police car passes, that is. Then they speedily grab the four corners of their blanket and disappear as fast as they can, normally down behind the beach wall.
Lunch was some very reasonably-priced (and tasty) almond pasta.
Sabrina was dead set on a swim, so we both braved the 'fresh' water, then dried out on the beach.
When we returned, salty and slightly bedraggled, there was some very flashy wedding/christening going on in the church near our hostal. I felt rather underdressed in my togs (swimsuit, for non-New Zealanders), so we discreetly picked our way through the ties, heels, suit jackets, and gowns in the crowd.
Up in our hostal room, we closed the doors to keep out the ungodly racket that a large group of excited Spaniards can make!!
We enjoyed exploring the narrow streets and boutique-style shops of the casco antiguo (old town).
I see from my collection of photos that we found churros at El Churrito Feliz (the happy little churro) at some point...
Our only disappointment was that we couldn't watch a flamenco show at one of the bars without having a full meal.
Consequently, we rebelled against Spain by going to an Indian restaurant (Jaipur) for dinner.
The curry must have given us a super burst of energy, as we went for a wander around all the clubs down by the beach. No-one was out at this early stage of the night (probably around 10pm, & remember we were in Spain) so we just went to Eclipse and took over the whole dance floor. Which was easy, because no-one else was there- at least, for a while.
Bus, bus... more bus (Friday)
I got to bed at approximately 3am after conducting research into the tapas/bar facilities of Madrid with Kevin. But, there's no rest for the wicked, and Sabrina was getting off an overnight bus from Paris at 7am. So, I figured, she couldn't be feeling much worse than me.
The morning was random and cosmopolitan in the way that only big cities can be. While I was on the computers in the hostel, an Italian guy came along and started explaining a hip-hop beats game to me, in Italian. Luckily, it's similar enough to Spanish for me to have had some idea of what he was on about. Then, there was Mexican music on the metro.
I found Sabrina or, rather, she found me. She'd accidentally got off a stop too early, and been forced to do a little metro mission to get to Estación Sur.
As if Sabrina hadn't had enough of buses, we bought our tickets to get down to Marbella, before wandering off in search of a cafetería (or something of the like) for breakfast. When we found one, it was full of agentes de movilidad (mobility agents) - in true Madrid style!
Six hours of bus travel followed: there were tears, strange noises from the toilet, heart-to-heart conversations, and multiple languages.
Marbella greeted us with rain, yet we walked from the bus station to the town centre.
Checked into our hostal (Hostal el Castillo) in the old town centre (casco histórico), and then went off for a long wander down the beach front.
Found a little tapas place near the water for dinner. Cheeky waiter brought us our many tapas dishes and set them down on the barrel-table with a 'para las francesas que tienen hambre' (for the hungry French girls). Sabrina had told him about her bus marathon and, of course, if she was French, I must be too.
The morning was random and cosmopolitan in the way that only big cities can be. While I was on the computers in the hostel, an Italian guy came along and started explaining a hip-hop beats game to me, in Italian. Luckily, it's similar enough to Spanish for me to have had some idea of what he was on about. Then, there was Mexican music on the metro.
I found Sabrina or, rather, she found me. She'd accidentally got off a stop too early, and been forced to do a little metro mission to get to Estación Sur.
As if Sabrina hadn't had enough of buses, we bought our tickets to get down to Marbella, before wandering off in search of a cafetería (or something of the like) for breakfast. When we found one, it was full of agentes de movilidad (mobility agents) - in true Madrid style!
Six hours of bus travel followed: there were tears, strange noises from the toilet, heart-to-heart conversations, and multiple languages.
Marbella greeted us with rain, yet we walked from the bus station to the town centre.
Checked into our hostal (Hostal el Castillo) in the old town centre (casco histórico), and then went off for a long wander down the beach front.
Found a little tapas place near the water for dinner. Cheeky waiter brought us our many tapas dishes and set them down on the barrel-table with a 'para las francesas que tienen hambre' (for the hungry French girls). Sabrina had told him about her bus marathon and, of course, if she was French, I must be too.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Considering Yourself Spanish Can Cause Problems
I was initially quite surprised at this news. After reading a few more articles and getting some background on Ballesta, I think I see why it happened...
Salva Ballesta, a former footballer, never made any secret of the fact that he felt very Spanish.
400km into his journey to take up his new co-coach position with Celta de Vigo, a Galician football team, he received a call to say that he was no longer welcome to the position.
He had been told that he had the job, but had not signed a contract.
The club claimed the decision was made for "political reasons."
On a tv programme called Punta Pelota, Ballesta said "If there's a Basque or Catalan who doesn't feel Spanish, he has to put up with it because he was born in Spain."
Admittedly, it's not the only time he's made unfavourable comments about the Basques or Catalans, or made strong pro-Spanish comments that have riled feathers.
Spanish readers can check out an article on Salva Ballesta's Most Controversial Statements.
Others, like Catalan journalist Lluís Mascaró, have the opposite view. On the same programme, Mascaró stated "Iniesta's goal in the final of the [Football] World Cup left me completely indifferent. If they had lost against Holland, I would have felt exactly the same."
ARTICLES
Celta decides against signing Salva Ballesta due to his political ideology
Marca.com
Salva Ballesta, demasiado español para el Celta
ABC.es, Mariano Pozo
Salva Ballesta: "Si hay algún vasco o catalán que no se siente español, se tiene que joder porque ha nacido en España"
24POR7.com, José Pablo González
Lluís Mascaró: "No me siento español. Cuando España ganó el Mundial me dio exactamente igual"
24POR7.com, Boris Latermann
Veto ideológico a Salva Ballesta
El País,Juan L. Cudeiro
Salva Ballesta, a former footballer, never made any secret of the fact that he felt very Spanish.
400km into his journey to take up his new co-coach position with Celta de Vigo, a Galician football team, he received a call to say that he was no longer welcome to the position.
He had been told that he had the job, but had not signed a contract.
The club claimed the decision was made for "political reasons."
On a tv programme called Punta Pelota, Ballesta said "If there's a Basque or Catalan who doesn't feel Spanish, he has to put up with it because he was born in Spain."
Admittedly, it's not the only time he's made unfavourable comments about the Basques or Catalans, or made strong pro-Spanish comments that have riled feathers.
Spanish readers can check out an article on Salva Ballesta's Most Controversial Statements.
Others, like Catalan journalist Lluís Mascaró, have the opposite view. On the same programme, Mascaró stated "Iniesta's goal in the final of the [Football] World Cup left me completely indifferent. If they had lost against Holland, I would have felt exactly the same."
ARTICLES
Celta decides against signing Salva Ballesta due to his political ideology
Marca.com
Salva Ballesta, demasiado español para el Celta
ABC.es, Mariano Pozo
Salva Ballesta: "Si hay algún vasco o catalán que no se siente español, se tiene que joder porque ha nacido en España"
24POR7.com, José Pablo González
Lluís Mascaró: "No me siento español. Cuando España ganó el Mundial me dio exactamente igual"
24POR7.com, Boris Latermann
Veto ideológico a Salva Ballesta
El País,Juan L. Cudeiro
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