My Handsome Grandpa

Here's a picture of my Grandpa when he was younger.  This is a snapshot from one of his acting jobs...I couldn't tell you which.  All of his boys look very much like him.  Can you see my dad's face in his (the tall one in the middle)?  

Mi Casa...

Aquí tenéis vuestra casa!

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine posted a great video tour of her house on her blog.  Many of you have been asking to see more pictures of the house and so I decided to take her cue and post my own video tour.  There are two videos because my camera's battery died shortly after beginning the first one!

This way you can get a feel for the lay-out of the house.  I know some of you have been confused by my explanations.  As you'll see, we have PLENTY of room for visitors.  At the moment, however we don't have much "extra" furniture.  We are used to living a pretty minimalist lifestyle.  That said, as you'll see in the videos, this house is anything but minimalist!  I forgot to point out in the videos that there is a speaker system wired through our bathroom, bedroom and kitchen.  So we can listen to music or the radio from anywhere downstairs!  Fancy!

Anyway, I think the videos speak for themselves.  Enjoy. :)


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Whoa Whoa

I cried a lot as a baby.  My parents say that just about the only times I wasn't crying was when I was sleeping, moving (in the car, in a chest pack, in a stroller) or floating in the hot tub!  The story goes that my grandparents--my dad's parents--were visiting when I was still quite the crier.  I was bawling as my mom changed my diapers and my grandpa, who had been an amateur actor in several Westerns, swaggered into the room saying, "Whoa, there, whoa, whoa!" in his best baby-calming voice (or horse-calming voice!).  I was immediately quiet, transfixed by the big, bushy-browed man cooing over me with such a deep, lulling drawl.  Then suddenly I pipped up with "Whoa Whoa!" A huge grin spread across my grandpa's face...and the name stuck.

My Whoa Whoa died last Friday in the early morning.  He was in good health up until the moment he passed.  In these last few years his memory had started to fade; each time we'd visit or talk on skype it took him a little longer to remember who I was: "It's me.  Sam's girl, Viola, Whoa Whoa."  A light of recollection would cross his face and he'd exclaim, "Viola Pearl!  I'll be darned!"  Somehow he'd gotten it into his head that I'd married Barack Obama--this explained my long absences from the country--and perhaps it is better that he believed that lie.  Angelines never got the chance to meet him.

Living in Spain I haven't gotten to see much of my grandpa in recent years and I am truly grateful for the visit that Lucy and I made to Oakdale last summer.  Some of you will remember that we made a stop by Whoa Whoa's and Uncle Donny's house last summer on our trip down to Sonoma State.  Whoa Whoa was asleep for much of our visit, but he did wake up long enough for us to spend a little time together.  He was happy to see us and we spent a good time chatting and laughing together--he was still making jokes!

When Lucy and I said our good-byes and headed on toward Sonoma, I pretty much knew it would be the last time I'd see him.  I hugged and kissed him and told him I loved him; then we walked out the door.

Living so far away from my family makes me feel that much more detached from the events.  I can't cry with them, partake in the memory-telling, or give my dad a hug.  We spoke on the phone the other night, but there's just not a whole lot to say.  Of couse, we are all glad Whoa Whoa died peacefully in his sleep; that he wasn't ill in the hospital for days or months; but rather at home with his eldest son and care-taker; and above all, that he knew he was loved.  Yet, even with all this in mind, there just isn't anything that can ever prepare you for the hole that a person leaves behind.

I love you, Whoa Whoa.

Our Posh Picnic

No picnics in Portugal.  This is current news. ;)

Just a week after my parents flew home, we received more visitors!  Angelines is always awed by the way we American's seem to welcome everyone and (just about) anyone into their homes.  From my point of veiw we're earning travel credit: you stay at my house and some day I'll stay at yours!  But I think that concept is pretty foreign here...at least with my wife.  She is slowly getting accustomed to it--what other option do I leave her?! hehehe.

Anyway, as I explained much to the befuddlement of my friends here in town, my sister's best friend's older sister would be visiting with her boyfriend for a few days.  ...Now what's so confusing about that? ;)

Kira arrived on Sunday afternoon with her lovely boyfriend, Ben, in tow.  They have been travelling for a little over a month now and have one more month of travel before heading home!  So far on this trip they've been to Italy, Austria, Germany and now Spain; to be followed by France and England.  Quite the European adventure--something else that Spaniards can't seem to wrap their heads around: "Are they rich?"

Monday evening we packed up our PicnicTime backpack--"state of the art" picnic basket--and headed to El Chorro.  This nearby reservoir is becoming a favorite place to take people when they visit!  It is especially nice in the summer.  We arrived in the late evening so we had the lake all to ourselves.  Kira commented that it reminded her of Lake Davis outside Portola.  The big lake surrounded by pine-covered mountains is actually quite similar...perhaps that's why I like it so much!  

Here is photo evidence of our relaxing evening on the lake:

Kira, Ben and Bela enjoying the water. 

Napkins tucked into bikini tops, pinkies raised: a posh picnic indeed!

No one would lend Ben a bikini top to tuck his napkin into... ;)

Sunset over the lake

Full moon rising on the drive home

Casa D'Auleira

Leg-stretch break

We left Port early Friday morning and headed North.  This was the first day of the vacation for which we had no reservations made for the night.  The previous night I had done some research and made up a list of posibilities, but upon calling each contact in the morning I was given a sound "Nao!" to my question as to whether or not we could bring Bela into the room with us.  And so we headed out with no real destination, simply with the goal of getting as close to the Spanish boarder as possible.

This time, we decided to avoid the toll roads (the jaunt up from Lisbon had cost us 21.25) and so we made our way along country highways enjoying the Portuguese countryside.  At our morning coffee stop we found out we would be going through the "original" Portuguese capital: Guimaraes.  We weren't entirely sure what that meant, but once we got there, we decided to pull off the road to explore.

Inside the castle/fortress at Guimaraes

On a hill over-looking the city was an impressive looking castle.  We took the opportunity to stretch our legs and let Bela out of the back for a bit. At Guimaraes, Afonso Henriques, who later became the first King of an independant Portugal,  won a key victory against the Moors during the Portuguese Crusades.  We explored the castle/fortress and also stumbled upon a small church from the 1100's where King Afonso Henriques's had been baptised.  At the nearby touristy souvenier shops, we allowed my mom about twenty minutes for shopping (poor thing, she was totally outnumbered by anti-shoppers on this trip--we were "NO fun!"--and so she had to blitz-shop which is apparently some kind of oximoron) and then headed back to the car for a quick snack of beer, wine, cheese and breadsticks befor hitting the road again.

From the pool looking back at our amazing rural hotel.

I had the town of Ponte de Barca in my sights mostly because it seemed on the map to be a good distance from Port, and close enough to the border to make the following day's driving bearable (we were on our way to Santiago de Compostela, Galicia).  Once we'd made it into the general area of Ponte da Barca it was around five in the evening and we began looking for a place to stay.  After two unsuccessful detours from the main highway, we saw a small sign for rural lodging.  They say the third time's a charm, but we were on the verge of giving up twice before we finally made it!  It was a narrow, nearly one-lane track which was very poorly signed and wound up the mountain at least 10km (which when you're driving slowly feels like forever!).  We couldn't have been more relieved when at last we rounded a corner and there before us was a beautifully restored stone farm house with a swimming pool, lush lawn and one of the ubiquitous hórreos  we would see all through northern Portugal and Galicia. 

...The next question was would they allow dogs?

Despite his original shock and concern for Bela's size, the kind owner took pity on us weary travellers and made an exception to his no-pets rule.  We assured him that our puppy was very used to people and being inside, that she didn't cause any damage and that she wouldn't bark.  She was an angel and all was well.  Once we got our things and Bela settled in the rooms, we jumped in the pool--water has never felt so good!

Views over the pool our across the mountains. You can see the hórreo on the right.

This little haven on the hillside was the best place we stayed our whole trip!  What a great find.  Our host treated us to homemade current berry cake when we ordered a bottle of cold, white wine from the region, and we sat about sipping and enjoying a snacky dinner at the poolside until the sprinklers spoiled the party! ;)
The next morning we were sad we had to leave (we already had reservations for that night), especially after the AMAZING complementary breakfast: toast, butter, jam, ham, cheese, cereal, fresh fruit, cake, yoghurt, tea, coffee, hot chocolate... virtually anything you could possibly want for breakfast.  All of it was prepared and served by our host's wife and daughter.  The place had apparently been in the family for years and just nine years prior they had begun restoration--it was incredible.

We sadly packed up the car after taking seconds on the delicious orange bunt cake from the breakfast buffet, and headed back down the hill with Santiago in our sights.

Bela the travelling puppy ready for the road!

A thumb's up for last night's jackpot find! :)

Praia at Lavra

You want me to eat what??

Day dawned at Porto Riad Guest House; after walking the dog--I found a nice park close by where I could let her off the leash--and having a nice complementary breakfast, we headed out to explore.  The beach was never far from our sights on most of our explorations...I think you're beginning to realize that.  Bela was just too much fun to play with in the sand and waves, and of course the water was a welcome break for her from the hot car.

About thirty minutes outside Port we headed west and wound our way over country roads to the town of Lavra.  Of course we didn't have any of the necesary beach items (namely an umbrella for shade or bathing suits) so the plan wasn't to stay long; but of course my dog couldn't get enough of her ball and the ocean, and my mom spent a full hour bent over in one place looking for microscopic shells in the sand: her favorite pastime at the praia.

Angelines and barnacles

Angelines is alergic to the sun.  She breaks out in an itchy rash if she's exposed for too long so the two of us paid to rent a little beach tent.  We sat in the shade and watched my dad wear out the dog.  As so often happens, the unexpected adventures turn out to be the most fun.  Our "quick stop" at the beach turned into a full day affair and we ended up eating the best seafood lunch of our whole vacation at the nearby bar that overlooked the Atlantic.  My parents couldn't stop saying what GOOD food it was; but even Angelines, who is somewhat of a connoisseur, was impressed.  I think the best part of the meal were the percebes--dragon claw barnacles.  I was taken aback by their completely inedible appearance, but once my daring mother showed me how to eat them, I couldn't get enough!

In Spain percebes are very expensive.  They grow on the rocky cliffs of the Atlantic coast off the State of Galicia in Northwestern Spain and are very dangerous to harvest.  A kilo can cost 40+ euros.  In Portugal, however, they were much cheaper--about half the price.  I think perhaps there is a greater supply since Portugal has more coastline than Galicia.  The cook also informed us after our meal that his son had personally harvested the barnacles we'd enjoyed and that they grew on the rocks just off-shore from where Bela had been playing with her ball!  So they are apparently less difficult to collect in Portugal, as well.

With bellies full of clams, octopus, grilled squid and barnacles, we made our way back to the city.  In the evening, we walked down to the river bluffs and explored a little more.  I'll leave  you with pictures.

Looking out over the Douro river

Plaza with beautiful tiled church in the background.  The Portuguese are very religious; our rock radio station was interrupted at tweleve noon to recite a Rosario and Hail Mary!

Strangely enough, a building under restoration!  ...My mom in the foreground taking pictures--how strange!  I think she took well over 3000 pictures.  Thankfully, she purged her memory card every evening. ;)

The Douro winding out to the Atlantic.

Port

I enjoyed Port much more than Lisbon.  Perhaps because it was a little smaller, or maybe it was a change in mindset: we only went to Lisbon to pickup my parents, whereas Port was the first stop on our roadtrip all together.

We found our hotel without too much trouble.  I had printed out Google directions (we didn't have internet on our cell phones in Portugal), but didn't quite zoom in enough.  Thankfully, Portuguese is fairly similar to Spanish so that at least with directions (right, left, turn, etc.) I was able to understand and be understood.  We had to stop a few times--something that would become a very common event over the course of our trip--and being the navigator, I would jump out of the car and ask the first passerby or nearest shop assistant for directions.

Reception at Porto Riad Guest House

It seems the Portuguese are similar to Spaniards in their very unhelpful way of giving directions!  In Spain, if you've ever asked how to get wherever it is you're going, the answer was most likely "todo recto, al final" (straight ahead, to the end)--beautifully vague.  In Portugal the equivalent answer was "sempre a frente" (keep going straight ahead)!  We heard that phrase so often it became our motto on the trip.  Any time we were doubtful about the road to take, someone would inevitably pipe up with "sempre a frente!"; any lull in the conversation might provoke a spontaneous, "sempre a frente!".
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Our hotel was a lovely old building beautifully deccorated in moorish-style: Porto Riad Guest House.  Surprisingly they allowed pets, which is why I made the booking in the first place.  Our reservations were for one night only, but we decided to ask if there was room for us to stay an additional night.  We were in luck.  Two nights in one place is the only way to enjoy a full day of exploring!

The city hall (I think) was pretty well-maintained

That evening we settled in the dog and then headed out to try some of the "authentic" Port food the receptionist at the hotel recommended to us.  Once again, on our walk down town, we encountered numerous historic buildings with missing windows and pollution-stained facades.  The economic crisis in Portugal is much more severe than in Spain.  The Portuguese received a bailout from the European Union in 2011 and there is talk of the need for a second in the near future.  Perhaps some of the run-down state of the countries cities was due to lack of public funds for upkeep, but these buildings certainly looked very far gone.

At first glance these are beautiful, 19th centurty buildings...

Port is another hilly Portuguese city.  It is perched on bluffs above the mouth of the Douro river.  The Douro, called Duero in Spain, is known for harboring excellent wine country along its shores on both sides of the Spainish/Portuguese border.  We had some great wine from the region with our dinner and decided that we'd save exploring more of the city for the following day--no one was up for hiking around the steep streets more than we needed to get back to our hotel and climb into bed