Month: June 2022

We visited an olive oil manufacturer today high up on a hillside about an hour east of Rota, Spain and about two hours from our next stop: the Albacín neighborhood in Granada.

The owner took us on a tour through the process of making the highest quality olive oil, explaining how they harvest the olives by hand, send them through machines that blow the leaves off, remove the pits, mash the olives, cold press them, and then bottle and sell them quickly so as to produce and maintain the quality.

When it was time to taste a variety of oils, we stood in a semicircle as the guide poured little samples into shot glasses for us. He gave us instructions pretty much identical to those for wine tasting.

The name Oleum Viride comes from the Latin word for green, and oleum is the plural for oil. Green is the color of the olive oil the Spanish tend to prefer; the green olives are the young and spicy ones. It was my favorite, too.

A friend of mine who was recently in Italy said the tour guide described Rome as a lasagna: layer upon layer of civilization throughout history. I thought that was a perfect metaphor to describe these cities that date back so far, some several thousand years.

We are in the Andalusian region of Spain’s southern coast and visited the nearby city of Cádiz today. It is the arguably oldest city in Western Europe, founded in 1104 by the Phoenicians, known for their maritime prowess and purple dye. Then came the Carthaginians, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and then Catholic monarchs.

We visited recently uncovered ruins of a Roman amphitheater today, which was basically built like yesterday compared to when the Phoenicians were here.

We arrived at the naval base in Rota this afternoon to visit with our friends for a few days. They took us to a beach with a crazy inflatable playground way out in the water. Before I knew what was happening, my friend had paid for the four kids (their two teens and ours) to access it. I had to fill out a waiver for Max since she’s under 16.

I stared at the choppy sea and the playground bouncing on the waves, not quite believing that our kids would attempt it. Once they had their life jackets on, they headed into the surf, holding onto the rope as they paddled their way out.

The parents retreated to the bar as I prayed to the ocean, “Please don’t eat my babies.”

About an hour later, they were back, tired and hungry. Max said it made her seasick but was pretty fun.

The tiles that pave the many pedestrian streets and most sidewalks in Portugal, at least in Lisbon and Lagos, are called calçada and are one of the things that have made this country unique to me. They can be quite slippery, and apparently a nightmare in a rainstorm, with rivers of water gushing down them. Consequently, they have ripped up many streets of them and paved them to make them more car accessible, but they have preserved enough of them to make Portugal unique in this way.

We went kayaking this morning, and our guide, Marielo, is from Brazil and lives in Lisbon most of the year, working in Lagos during the summer. He led a group of 16 of us along the coast in two-person kayaks, in and out of grottos as he pointed out different animals you could see in the rock formations, like a camel and an elephant. The kids were grossed out when we were in one particular grotto and Marielo pointed at a hole through which you could see a beach.

“They call this ‘lovers cove’ because that beach through the hole is a nude beach. When the tide is high, the lovers swim through the hole and make love on that rock.” Edwin quickly glanced at said rock and shifted in his seat. He later said that was gross.

We pulled our kayaks up onto a beach at the end of the trip and had some time to swim and hang out before being towed back in two lines hooked front to back. They really make it easy on you because you don’t have to paddle against the current.

This afternoon, Peggy and her husband and their blond, curly headed daughter came to unclog a drain and brought us fresh chicken and duck eggs from their farm.

It was a beautiful day.

We made it to Lagos, Portugal. Thank goodness for fresh seafood and conserva (free little apps like mildly pickled carrots and olives) for about a third of the price you’d pay for food in Switzerland. So tired. Going to bed.

Okay, it’s the next morning, and I want to add to this before I forget…

They have those shiny mosaic tiles on the streets here, just like in Lisbon. We are staying inside the old city of Lagos, so we parked the car in the town lot and walked through the old city walls to get to the flat we’ve rented. Sweeping views of the ocean greeted us on the drive into town and people carrying surfboards wound their way through the parking lot toward the beach.

Our host, Peggy, met us outside the flat with a warm smile, her blond beachy hair hanging down her shoulders and a golden tan that fit perfectly with this place. She is a British expat who lives on a small farm with her husband just outside the city. She showed us around the flat and marked places to eat and beaches to visit on a map before breezing out the door, reminding us to call her if we need anything.

After we settled in, we walked through the old city center and along the Avenida Dos Descobrimentos to a foot bridge that took us across the canal. We then walked past a marina, some scruffy looking sun-bleached buildings and a small train station to what appeared to be a fishing shack at first. This was A Barrigada, which turned out to be a restaurant with probably the freshest, tastiest seafood I have ever eaten AND at a very reasonable price, which we needed after Switzerland. We joked that the complimentary potatoes, tomatoes, and conserva would’ve each cost about 10 Swiss francs apiece.

Now I’ve got to rouse the kids to get ready for a little kayak adventure this morning.

The day started out rainy, which was just fine with me. We got to slow down and lounge around. After a lazy morning, Edwin and I went to a grocery store to get ingredients to make raclette (more on that later). We then stopped at a patisserie and picked up some sweets for dessert.

We waited for the rain to clear to visit the last Swiss town we have time for: Bern. This is the place I would live. I think I’ve said that about almost every town we’ve visited in this country, but this one is not too fancy, gorgeous, and very upbeat. Maybe the festival full of music, beer, gelato and happy people had something to do with it. Like many other Swiss towns, it has a clear blue river rushing through it. I mean, what?! I love the Potomac and all, but it’s not even in the same universe.

After we walked around Bern “City of Bears” for a few hours and listened to music, saw their famous bears (they used to be confined to a very sad Bear Pit, but the city expanded their domain to wooded hillside with a water hole someone maybe in the mid-1900’s) in dish where you cook your veggies and meat (tofu in our case), and ate french fries and gelato, we drove back to our place and made dinner.

So, raclette is a Swiss dinner in which you cook veggies and meat (tofu in our case) on an electric skillet and use cheese spatulas to heat below. Once the food is cooked and the cheese melted, you scrape the cheese into your food and enjoy. It’s a fun way to cook, talk, drink and eat all at the same time.

Now it’s time to get some sleep so we can catch our flight back to Portugal tomorrow. Bon nuit.

Today we went to Oschinen Lake and did about a five mile hike. We could’ve done an eight-mile hike, but that would’ve involved a very steep hour-long climb on the front end and a steep descent on the end. Instead, we opted for the gondola to take us up to the lake to begin there. The views were breathtaking, and the kids quickly got tired of my exclamations of wonderment.

We were trekking up a slope toward some large rocks we had pegged as a lunch spot when a herd of cows came streaming toward us, bells jangling and hooves clopping. Max and I hopped up on a bench, and Chris and Edwin jumped off the trail and onto some rocks.

The cows came to a stop and stood among us, just kind of hanging out. After all that hubbub, they were just like, “What? Haven’t ya’ll seen cows before?” But in a German way.

After Oschinen, we went to see an underground waterfall, apparently the only one on view in THE WHOLE WORLD. It did not disappoint. We took an elevator six stories up through the bedrock and were greeted by a thunderous waterfall, which you get to view from various angles through openings cut from stone as you climb the last four flights on foot. No doubt you’d have absolutely no chance if you were to fall in. It is beyond formidable.

We stopped in one last town before heading back to the farm: Thune. Another gorgeous Swiss town that makes me wonder why we don’t live here.

We just now got back from a nice meal out, where Edwin had his first legal glass of wine, as the drinking age for beer and wine in Switzerland is 17. We had a great meal, and I was especially happy because the server didn’t speak English and I actually got to use my French. I’ve still got it!

Coffee is a very important part of my life, so I must document our coffee routine bere on the farm. We use an old-school percolator to brew the coffee, use the kettle to add water to the espresso-strength brew, and add fresh-from Bessie milk delivered early this morning by Ann-Elizabeth.

Edwin grabbed the reins with both hands today and led us on an adventure through beautiful towns around Lake Geneva. Saint-Saphorin, in my opinion, was the clear winner. It’s woven into the Lavaux vineyards, which are part of the UNESCO World Heritage.

We began our walk high above the lakeside and came across a bridge that ran over the railroad tracks and down to the water. A rock held a diving board, and I lamented the fact that we did not have our bathing suits with us. The water is clear and blue and just the right temperature to be refreshing but not shocking.

After wading in the water, hunting for rocks, and sunning ourselves, we crossed back over the railroad tracks and the road and began our climb up a steep street. I heard violin music floating down from an open window and passed a children’s school. What would I have given to go to a school with this view?!

Once we got to the top of the street, we turned off onto a narrow road cut into the hillside between two of the many terraces of the vineyards.

After Saint-Saphorin, drove around the lake to Montreux, also beautiful and much bigger. Then we were on to Yvoire, a medieval town that is now full of shops. I have to admit I got the feeling I was in Busch Gardens. This is probably an insult to Yvoire and a compliment for Busch Gardens.

We pushed it by making a last stop in Geneva. We were tired and had no plan and ended up having to drive 62 miles back to our place in heavy rain.

The day had a good end, though. By the time we got back to the village, the clouds had cleared and the last rays of sun where hitting the steep slopes where cows munched grass, their bells softly tinkling around their necks. And six little kittens were padding around in front of the barn when we got to our place.