The Bad or Disappointing

Travels Through Spain – Part 3

You want to hear about the fun, the fabulous, the unforgettable.

But the truth is, bad or disappointing things happen on trips too. Right? Break downs, illness, accidents, arguments.

For instance. In Spain many small shops close down for siesta time in the afternoon, and don’t open back up for meals til 7 or 8 in the evening.

So there was one evening when Stuart and I walked and walked and walked to find an open restaurant or coffee place or anywhere—and were getting pretty ticked off at each other and tired that in a large large city, where we knew there were plenty of restaurants etc., they just weren’t near our hotel. Our neck of the woods had apartments and grocery stores where we could have easily found plenty of eats, but we wanted a warm meal (but not a $50-75 extravaganza). We finally found a small place where the owner was preparing some BBQ chicken—yes, just like we make (or pretty close to) our Lions’ Club BBQ chicken. We had to wait a while on that, but it was very tasty and filling. We truly had a hard time finding anyplace to eat our supper that night, without going out to eat from 9 – 11 p.m.

These are things that you don’t usually get photos of, right?

Then there was this. I was most alarmed when our bus driver—who was sweet, an excellent experienced driver, very cautious and safe—suddenly, right outside our bus window, almost got into a fight with a taxi driver. They were both vying for space, both trying to get through a narrow passage. I have a feeling the taxi driver (reminiscent of taxi drivers in New York City) was getting anxious about pleasing his passenger who was probably needing to hurry somewhere—perhaps to the airport? I don’t know. Anyway, it looked dangerous and ugly. Our bus driver was trying to unload luggage for us. Then he gave the taxi guy some space, so it worked out, more or less.

A more serious altercation took place another day on a lovely, fairly large plaza where we had sat down on some park benches to enjoy some ice cream. A Spanish artist (at least he looked like he was likely Spanish) was engaging in some painting on the plaza, the better to illustrate to passersby his excellent work and perhaps propel someone to pause and get a painting made. Then another artist of a different kind—musical—claimed part of the plaza space and began to serenade us with delightful Spanish guitar music. However, it looked like the painting artist was not a bit happy and looked threateningly at the guitarist who appeared to be just wanting a space to practice his art as well—(and collect euros in his guitar case). Then things got lively—the painter taking a whop at the guitarist with a board which actually broke the guitar. The guitarist got out of the way and we kept watching if he was going to call some police, which he did and finally one arrived to handle the dispute. We didn’t hang around much longer, and the artist drove away on his bicycle toting his bag, supplies, and backpack. I was not taking pictures, of course!!

In the city of Pamploma, there was a festival of some kind going on, with religious overtones, and all of a sudden two women approached Stuart and me and put strands of Rosemary (spice) into our hands and then spoke a blessing. Stuart told the woman who approached him he didn’t know Spanish, and while I got the gist of what the woman who approached me said, when she put her hand in mine and asked for money, I said no, sorry! And then she got angry and plucked the Rosemary wisp back into her hand and frowned at me and she and her partner went to their next “blessing.” But that was all of that encounter. Thankfully.

Finally, this last item makes me mad at myself. I took some notes about the places and palaces we were visiting, but it is really hard just a month later to keep track of what you did when, and in what city or countryside. Luckily most photos on my iPhone bear the names of cities or towns we visited, and sometimes reveal what building we were looking at. But I wish I had done a better job of keeping notes. (I’m still an avid writer!) Next time I’ll try to do like one of our friends on the bus did every day—took out her iPad and jotted down what she had seen or done. Great plan.

I’ll wrap up this travelogue next time. Meanwhile, some random-ish favorite photos or sites.

Do you take notes or notebooks or keep a diary on your adventures? What works best?

Have you traveled as a group with family members? Does that work out for you?

I’d love to hear your adventures and advice, good or bad!