Sanguinetto Joy

The family recently returned from a 5-day trip to Tuscany over Columbus Day Weekend.  We stopped in Florence for the day on our way down to our destination.  We spent Day 2 in Montalcino, the home of the famous Brunello wines.  Day 3 was spent touring the fantastic town of Orvietto.  And on Day 4, we had an amazing experience touring a winery outside of Montepulciano, followed by a wonderful lunch, ending in a tour of the hot-springs town of Bagno Vignoni.  (Day 5 was a leisurely breakfast in our apartment, followed mostly by packing and then traveling home.)

I will save descriptions of the whole rest of the trip for another blog (maybe by Suzanne?) and focus this blog on just one of the remarkable events of our trip to Tuscany: the tour and tasting at Sanguinetto Cantina.

Understand first that when visiting wineries in Italy, it is certainly not always obvious where you should go.  One time we have accidentally showed up at the winery owners' actual residence in town instead of their cantina that was located in the middle of nowhere.  Another time we traveled down some remote dirt goat-trail of a road which led to the farm, only to find out that their cantina was in the middle of town.  Clearly, it's not always obvious.

The entrance to Sanguinetto Cantina

In this case, we had directions to a winery in Aquaviva, just outside of Montepulciano (where we were staying).  There weren't many, if any, signs for this place.  We pulled into a gravel driveway of this local farm and parked in an empty gravel parking lot.  There was an old house, a barn, and a few other structures that looked typical for an old working farm.  I told Suzanne and the kids to stay put, and I'd go see if we were in the right place.  A woman stepped out of one little house, looking at us like we must be lost.  I took a couple of hesitant steps closer, not wanting to impose ourselves anymore than necessary.  Another woman came out of another building, and now I had two women staring at us as if to say "why are you people here? what do you want with us?"  I asked gently (in Italian) if this was Sanguinetto Cantina and they replied with a very curt "si".  .....ok....   I told them we were looking to taste some wine and asked if we were in the right place.  They said yes, but kind of had this expression of "we would have been fine if you had never come here, but since you're here, we may as well drink some wine."  Ok....so we unloaded the crew and were then escorted into one of the little farm houses, still not sure of what we were getting ourselves into.

From that point on, from my own perspective, I may have well have been taking a 2-hour orientation tour of Heaven.  Even now, two weeks later, I am overwhelmed just thinking about it.

We have been to a lot of wineries by now and we've seen the gamut.  This place was perfect.  Simply perfect.  First, the place was as much a working farm as it was a winery.  They have 50 hectares planted with corn, soybean, grain, etc, and 4 hectares planted with grape vines.  One hectare is about 2.5 acres, so it's not a huge farm (~150 acres) and a very small winery (~10 acres of grapes).  They are, however, one of the oldest producers of Vino Nobile wine in the area.



Inside the cantina.

The owner of the place was this wirey 72-year old woman, who was as weathered as she was friendly.  She was raised on the farm, working on the farm since she was a girl, eating bread with butter and wine as main staples of her diet.  She had long, thin, mostly grey, free-flowing hair.  She was always smiling and had this big, wide smile that showed all of her bad teeth as well as this wonderfully genuine friendliness.  She was proud of being an independent, single woman, and she walked around with this swagger like she would happily kick your ass if it came down to it.  Yet, in a matter of minutes, it felt like we were the closest of friends.  The thought came to me pretty quickly that this woman was a force of nature in many respects and definitely someone I connected with.

Guilia and Suzanne

Guilia featured in an article about authentic, traditional, unpretentious wine making.

Stepping inside the first part of the cantina was so interesting because for all the rustic nature of the outside of the farm, the inside of the cantina was a totally charming, immaculantly clean cellar.  The inside had brick walls and archways.  The space was filled with big wooden caskets that had natural finishes and ordorned with shiny black metal or bright red-painted trim.  It was beautiful!  So cozy.  So natural.  So authentic.  Just beautiful.

Simple elegance

Guilia, the owner, then gave us a tour of the fermentation room.  We were visiting during the harvest season, so she showed us large vats that had been recently filled with grapes and had started the fermentation process.  Josh came over to feel the heat on the vats from the fermentation process.  Guilia asked Suzanne if she wanted to climb this old wooden ladder, that looked like it belonged in a museum, so that she could look down on the vats filled with crushed grapes.  Suzanne braved it, and even took some pictures from up above.  I then asked if this ladder might withstand my weight, considering the fact that I probably weighed more than Giulia and Suzanne combined.  It did.

The ladder we climbed to peer down into the fermentation containers.

Josh was feeling the warmth created from active fermentation.

She gave us a full tour of the place.  Meanwhile, Josh and Isabel are having free run of the farm outside.  They were running around with full abandon, tending to the dogs, trying to get close to the geese, marveling at the roosters, making up games, being kids.  Sometimes they'd run into the cantina with us for awhile, then go back out and find some other kid thing to do.

Kids having fun on the farm.

Is this the same princess of mine who I was carrying around in the baby-bjorn the other day???

Now inside the tasting room, Giulia starts to give us samples of her wine.  Che bellisimo!  Yeah, the Brunellos are wonderful, but this wine was so good.

And Giulia is as authentic as they come.  Suzanne asked about irrigation because it had been such a dry year.  Nah, no irrigation, as Giulia would explain, Mother Nature knows what to do - it's we that need to interpret it.  After doing this for so long, you could tell she was still so interested and passionate and curious about how Nature could produce such wonderfully different expressions of wine that is produced with the slightest variations in grapes, weather, soil, and technique.  Clearly, the respect of tradition and Mother Nature was paramount, even when it meant a lower harvest, yield, or profit.  This isn't about being organic for the sake of putting a label on your wine stating that you're organic, it's because this is just "how it's supposed to be done".  There's nothing overly remarkable about it.

Now, it's like 9 or 10 o'clock in the morning and Giulia is giving us fairly healthy samples of each of her wines.  She, by the way, is drinking along with us - why wouldn't she, she asks.  Meanwhile, Josh and Isabel have started this game where they are "selling" rocks to us - rocks that they've collected from Giulia's parking lot, budding little entrepreneurs they are.  Giulia sees all of this, leaves, comes back a few minutes later, and gives Josh a large fossil that she has collected from her farm!  We are perfect strangers, haven't purchased a thing (yet), may not ever see her again, and she gives my son this grapefruit-sized fossil that she's collected on her family farm.  It's true I probably love fossils more than the average person to begin with, but I was just blown away by it.  What a nice and thoughtful and generous thing to do. Such a cool gift.

This whole time, by the way, Suzanne and I have been speaking only Italian with Guilia, as in, not any English.  I'm not going to say that we understood 100% of what she was saying, but still.

Then I hear a couple of gun shots in the distance and ask if those were hunters (knowing that hunting season has started).  She said yes.  She told me she hunted.  I told her I hunted and that it was a real passion.  She told me that she was the only woman in her local hunting association, and that she was the PRESIDENT of the association!  And so we go on and on with each other about hunting (still in Italian).  That takes us in a whole other direction of conversation, which led to a tour of one of her barns where she showed me a bunch of her deer antlers.  Then we started talking about the possibility of me coming back down to go hunting with her!!!  Ok, seriously????   SERIOUSLY???!!!!!  She tells me that cinghuale (wild boar) season starts Nov 1st and maybe we can arrange a time for me to go hunting with her!  Me....going cinghuale hunting...in Tuscany!!!!  Forget about it.  The thought of it is ridiculous, right!?

So understand that by this point, I am so happy with life and wine and fossils and kids having fun and the thought of going cinghuale hunting in Tuscany with my new 72-year old winery owner friend, that I have basically stopped talking in full sentences.  I am wearing a perma-grin, and the only Italian I can muster is a series of "si", "prego" (after you, you're welcome), "bellismo, "che bello" (how wonderful), "si, piu per favore" (yes, more please), "grazie mille" (thousand thank yous), etc, etc, etc.  I was a man totally and completely overwhelmed with a that is good. 

(Actually, the only time I say anything negative at all is when we were in the midst of sampling the wine and Guilia brings out that little container for when you don't want to finish your sample and dump it out.  THEN!...THEN is when I dropped my perma-grin, got dead-serious for a moment, and said with a low, somber tone, "Ah....no!  No thank you.  But we won't be needing that!")

Coming out of the barn with the deer antlers, I see a whole stack of big, glass demijohns, mostly covered in the thick plastic baskets that are used for carrying them when they are heavy with wine.   I've kind of had my eyes open for a few of these big, old demijohns because they're kind of cool.  I am even told they are sold in Pottery Barn as fancy-dancy home decorations.  Whatever.  Heck, I own a couple of medium sized ones that I buy bulk wine in, but the bigger ones are kind of cool, especially if they come from some old barn and there's a little story behind how you got them.  Whatever.  I say something to Guilia about them.  She says something back.  Then my eye catches one or two demijohns off to the side which really stand out of the other 50 or so that are all around.  They had irregular shapes with chipped tops, and instead of the heavy plastic baskets around them, they are wrapped in a basket made of really old rope. The rope was this really thick, old looking, fibrous, cord-rope.  It looked like something that would have been used 300 years ago for pulling oxen.  Or maybe something you'd see in a museum exhibit of Native Americans.  So me being the curious cat I am, I asked about it.  Guilia's expression changed a little and told me that ahh, these were antique demijohns - these were very old, very antique, hand-blown glass demijohns!  I was totally blown away.  She said a bunch more stuff, but I wasn't really comprehending the Italian much anymore.  I just kept saying si! bellisimo! che bello! bravo! piu per favore! siiiiiii! certo! bellisimo! - just kind of overwhelmed, and a bit tipsy, and just was not following the Italian anymore.  I was still stuck on the hunting thing.  I was still stuck on how good the wine was.  I was  really still so appreciative of the fossil-gesture thing.  I was useless at this point. 

So when Guilia asked if I wanted to see another one of these antique demijohns, I just answered with the same siiii!  che bello! etc, etc, etc.  She leads me over to this other area of the farm and shows me another demijohn.  It's as beautiful as the last one.  She hands it to me to look at, which I do.  These things are pretty big, by the way, like 2-3 ft in diameter and 2-3 feet tall, all glass.  I hoist this thing up into the sunlight, look at it's irregularity because it was hand-blown, look at the small bubbles of "imperfection", appreciate it's authenticness and it's simple beauty, and hand it back to her.  No, she says, and hands it back to me.  ...."Bellisimo!" I say, because that's ALL I've been saying for the past 45 minutes, and hand it back to her....  NO! she says, looks at me, and gives it back to me.... Then I realized that when she asked me if I wanted to see one and I had answered with such an enthusiastic "YES! How Wonderful!", she had actually asked me if I wanted to keep one!

I should point out that we had traveled to Tuscany for 5 days, with two adults, two kids, two accompanying car seats, all of our luggage for 5 days, including a small cooler, homework/books/games for the kids, clothes to cover us in case of chilly/warm/rainy weather, etc, etc, etc....in a standard 4-day sedan.  Our car was pretty much packed at the start of our trip.  Since being in Tuscany, we had also accumulated by now, boxes containing over 35 bottles of wine (imagine how much space that requires), bags of pottery and ceramics (highly breakable and fairly expensive), and a 5.5 ft long, rather-expensive, oil painting of Tuscany that we bought in Orvietto.  We accumulated all of this without any idea of how we could make it all fit.  And with all of that, I am now being handed an antique, breakable, hand-blown glass demijohn, roughly the size of a small dishwasher. 

Did I take it?....oh HELLS yes!

I was pretty convinced that Josh would have to go home by himself on the train...and I was ok with that!  I was NOT going home without that demijohn.

Do not ask me how I did it.  I have no idea myself.  I packed all of that stuff, ALL of that expensive, highly breakable, highly irregular shaped stuff, in the car, with kids, for a 4.5 hour car ride home, on the autostrada that was jammed with 18-wheelers and crazy Italian drivers, during a torrential downpour, without breaking a thing.  Honestly, I think I deserve a PhD in family vacation packing to have pulled that off.

In any case, we're back now.  The whole trip was just so wonderful.  It has been one of the best trips we've taken in a year chalked full of wonderful trips.  And one of the highlights was the incredible morning we spent with Guilia from Sanguinetto.

p.s. I have already warned Suzanne that if by some long-shot of a chance I actually get to go cinghuale hunting with Guilia in Tuscany....I am officially done!  Don't expect another useful or productive thing out of me, like ever again!

ct

End of Summer 2012

What just happened to the last 3 months?  For that matter, the past year disappeared right before our very eyes.  It was basically one year ago that we started the transition overseas.  Wow.  Just wow.

There are all sorts and kinds of things I'd love to share with our friends and family, as well as capture for posterity, covering the events of the last few months. I will only try to cover a few highlights though.

First, as I mentioned in my last post, we had a fantastic summer of family visits, including Suzanne's (and my) niece Annelise and my nephew (and Suzanne's) Chase.  I hope they enjoyed being here as much as we enjoyed having them.  Chase and I were able to slip away a few times for some uncle-nephew quality time together including a real nice hike together in Lumignano where I took this photo at arms length.

We had some awesome times in August including a short visit by Suzanne's sisters and family, a very fun weekend with Catherine and Scott Walgren in Oberammergau, and a super-fun extended weekend in Munich with just the four of us.  Josh learned how to ride his bike without training wheels and is now ready to conquer all of the riding trails in Northern Italy. All of that will hopefully be the subject of another posts(s) so they get their due attention.

September ushered in a whole new milestone for us: both kids have started going to school in the local Italian schools.  With the exception of one or two rough mornings for Josh, and one day where Isabel was particularly tired (and cranky), that has all gone very well.  The kids are making friends, Italian kids as well as a couple of other Americans, learning a few more words in Italian, and having a lot of fun.

Our grape vines have thrived through a very, very dry summer even despite being planted much later in the Spring than is customary.  I have done my best to water and care for them, especially given the fact that we spend most of our weekends traveling, but I also think they are resilient and would have done just fine without my attention.  "Mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow"....or something like that...here are a couple of photos:

The other big milestone was that Suzanne has started volunteering with the Red Cross.  She does all the same duties that a Primary Care PA would do, except that she does it a few hours a week and doesn't get paid.  She seems to have enjoyed being back in the medical world though, and that is fun to see.

As for me, I attended a week-long course in Eastern Germany in late August, and another in Western Germany a couple of weeks ago.  On my last trip North, I took advantage of a stopover in Fussen, Germany to go for a real nice morning bike ride.  Here are a couple of photos I took of that:

We've got some great recent photos and videos that I'd love to post of the kids.  Lots more to share....for another time.

Lots of love to all you reading this.  We certainly miss all of our friends and family, our home on Stoney Creek, and the good ol' U-S-of-A.

And of course, without a doubt, from all of us....GO ORIOLES!!!!!!!
ct

MySpace? Seriously???

A couple of days after returning from Spain, Suzanne went back to the airport to pick up my 14-year old nephew, Chase, and her 13-year old neice, Annelise.  They are staying with us for a few weeks this summer which we are thrilled about and which has put our kids into a frenzy of excitement.

Suzanne and I have been getting a kick out of the exposure to a couple of young teenagers in our house.  They are both super great kids - excuse me, "young adults" - but I think part of last night's dinner conversation was pretty eye-opening for everyone.

Chase said something to Annelise about how I was in my high school production of "Grease".  Annie couldn't beLIEVE it!  She suggested that it would be pretty hysterical if we had a video of it uploaded to YouTube.

Chase's all of the sudden became the authority on such matters and explained to Annelise how this happened so long ago, it was, like, back in the days of "MySpace"!!!

I had to correct my young Jedi nephew with the explanation that this actually was, like, FIFTEEN YEARS BEFORE anyone had HEARD of "MySpace" and as a matter of fact, it was basically before anyone knew much about the internet, period!  ...Yeah, that blew their minds.  I had fun with that one.

Suzanne, on the other hand, said something about a recording on VHS.  Annelise had no idea what she was talking about.  Suzanne explained about these cassettes that have a ribbon that goes from one spool to the next, bla, bla, and Annelise finally realizes that she may have heard about those once, you know, like, I think I saw one packed away in a box in our house one time, and, like, I think my Dad told me about those one time.

People, we are not that old, I promise you.  The only times when there is ANY evidence that we are aging is when I see my hairline in the mirror and when we have teenagers in our house.  Weeellll, that may not be entirely true - there is often a lot more snaps, crackles, and pops when we get in and out of bed everyday - but it is true as far as you all are concerned!

ct

Why not a tractor?

We went to a trattoria/pizzeria recently and pulled into an empty parking lot.  It might have been 6:30 or 7:00, but the Italians eat late and we were one of the first ones there that night. I don't recall any other vehicles there except maybe a scooter and definitely a tractor.  But you know, as odd as it may sound, I really didn't think that much of the tractor parked outside the front door.  There is a lot of farming and agriculture around here, and as one of my earlier blogs will attest to, the farming is pretty well woven into the fabric of society, at least once you get outside the downtown area.  So ok, there's a tractor in the parking lot.  Now, this is a full-size, working tractor, mind you, maybe a John Deere, maybe a Caterpillar, I don't know, but ok, it's a working tractor, you get the picture, no big deal. Maybe it's parked there after a day of work, maybe somebody will be using it again tomorrow.  Whatever.

Toward the end of our meal, we had a chance to see the owner/operator of the tractor.  This older gentlemen strolls out of the trattoria and climbs up into the cabin of the tractor.  The guy must have been 80 years old and he was wearing a sports-jacket that you could tell was both worn and well-made, a vest, shirt and tie, slacks, and some well-worn dress shoes.  He gets up into this tractor, fires it up, and drives away, presumably back home after his meal and cafe (probably a "cafe corretto" which is an espresso "corrected" with grappa).

And no one would have thought another thing of it.  By this time, there were plenty of people there, plenty of people who had pulled up in their beautiful Alfa Romeos, Land Rovers, or whatevers.  And this old guy, I'm going to say 80'ish, just hops up on his tractor in his full-blown evening wear, and drives off.  Ho-hum.

We're writing this blog in an attempt to capture and share some of our experience here.  There are countless things like this that happen everyday that just become a normal part of our life over here.  For most of them, you notice, register, perhaps appreciate, and then move on.  But these subtle little things provide the overall context for life here, and they are important if not for their subtlety.  I'd like to write about them every once in awhile and maybe preserve a bit for posterity, therefore, we now have the story of the man who gets gussied-up on a Saturday night and drives his tractor to the neighborhood trattoria.

ct

Adios, Pamplona

We just boarded the train in route to Barcelona. Pamplona was wonderful.  What an experience. We are currently pondering whether we will ever come back.  It sure is something to behold and I would love to come back again. I’ve never seen a party like the Festival of San Fermin.

Yesterday, Chris woke up early to watch the first running. He basically had to get up at 5:30a to be sure he got a spot to watch. He talked about how many people miss it because when it comes to actually getting up and motivating that early, many people just don’t do it, especially after partying. Since we had the kids up until midnight the day before, and given all the excitement of our big day, getting them up early would have been torture for them and for me. The kids and I had a good sleep.

Chris was back early to the hotel, and after an afternoon siesta, we all headed back to town.  Josh was still recovering from the day before and promptly fell asleep on the bus ride to town. I picked him up at our stop and he never opened his eyes. The town was as lively as ever with people everywhere in their white and red and the usual partying was in full swing. We walked to a grassy spot next to the bull ring and sat down to have a drink and let Josh finish out his power nap.  I laid him down with the backpack for a pillow and he slept for about another hour in that position, and most of that time was filled with loud drumming from the street performers that started up about 20 yards away from us.

Josh passed out cold.

Happy hour on the grass + nap time.

This was one of those moments that were great. It was a relaxing time sitting together, having a little wine, watching all the other festival goers passing by, watching the micro-party that surrounded the drummers, getting up and dancing a little to the drumming, and just enjoying the day. The funniest thing was when a couple young guys came to us , and in their broken English, asked us if we would use their camera to take a picture of them laying next to our son, who was totally passed out on the grass. When we finally understood what they were asking, Chris got up, the two guys lay down next to Josh and Isabel and pretended to be passed out, and Chris took the picture. It was hilarious. You see, it is a common sight to see people passed out in the green grassy parts of town, but it’s not usually little boys taking their nap.

Our children and some other festival participants passed out from too much partying:)

A common site around Pamplona during the festival.

The rest of the day was spent wandering about discovering other sights around town. We saw a parade go by (I think they were promoting Basque independence but I’m not entirely sure), saw a tranquil park along the river below the town,  stopped in a café for a snack, found a stage where a lively latino band was playing and many people were dancing (many older couples together…very cute), happened on another square where a Spanish heavy metal band was playing. The kids were jamming. We picked up some perritos (hot dogs) there and started back to the bus stop. It was a good afternoon.

Dancing with my boy to some Latin beats.

I’m glad we stopped there. We considered going back to the rides, but thought we might get up early the next day to bring the kids into town for the next day’s encierro. After finally making it home, I realized we were done. We had done the festival and it was wonderful and the next day was going to be just about packing up and moving on to our next adventure.

It was a bit sad saying good-bye to Pamplona, especially for Chris, I think. He has some history in that place. As I watched the tv this morning during our hotel breakfast, and we saw the erratic bull that broke away from the pack during that morning’s encierro, I was really glad Chris did not do any actual running. That stuff is crazy! I think most people don’t know that is only one part of this glorious festival…..and ok, I guess I can see why that is a fun part for those who do it.

Now, we are traveling to our next adventure. Until Barcelona…..

Waiting for one of our many buses.

On the train - yes, that crazy balloon had to come with us. It made it through two buses, a train ride, and the taxi to our apartment in Barcelona.

Viva San Fermin!

Pamplona, Spain
The Festival of San Fermin, 2012

This is it. This is the Festival of San Fermin, or what most people refer to as "the running of the bulls." The more official term for the actual run is the encierro, and the truth is the encierro is only a piece of the largest festival and biggest party in Europe. Each year, for hundreds of years, this festival has celebrated the death of the medieval Saint Fermin. It always starts at noon on the afternoon of July 6. As Chris has said for years, the person who described it best was Hemingway, "At noon the festival exploded. There is no other word for it."

We got here to Pamplona on the afternoon of July 5. We made it to our hotel in Huarte, a town just on the outskirts of Pamplona. This comfortable hotel is about a 20 minute bus ride outside of town. We are definitely not in the city, but it works and it was one of the only places I could find for under 200 Euro a night, even booking 5 months ago and paying in advance.

On July 6, we got up early, got in our festival uniform, and started out to the bus stop. It was around 10 am, but the bus stop was already filled with all the other people dressed in white with red sashes. The overall vibe was already good and fun.

We reached the town and we were already entering a sea of people all wearing the same uniform. White and red everywhere!

We started our walk to the main square. The closer you got, the more crowded the streets became. The biggest square still had lots of room to move, but soon we started down a narrow street in the old section of town and I suddenly realized what we were entering. We were passing more people holding large plastic bottles of sangria. Young twenty-somethings were passing us going the other direction and their white shirts were now more of a pink-sangria color. A rowdy group of guys was gathered on the side of one narrow street spraying passers-by and we had to make a run for it to avoid the spray.  We rounded another corner and there was the square where the heartiest of the heartiest partiers were ready to get things started. They were packed into this small, medieval town square, and it would have been difficult to get in if we wanted to. We were just fine hanging out down the street observing. People were chanting, jumping, tossing large beach balls. People filled the balconies above. There was the constant spray of sangria from bota bags and larger splashes from bottles. It was an impressive experience that assaults all the senses.....the smell of sangria, the sights, and the noise of it all.

the drink of the day

random passers-by

That said, it was all in the name of celebration. Spirits were high, fun was in the air, and it was still about an hour and a half until the noon start. In the spirit of it all, Chris and I ducked into a little store and grabbed a couple liter bottles of Don Simon sangria (Don't worry, I sipped it slow and we nursed them for the rest of the day).

We left the crazy square after filling our senses, and walked around until it got closer to the start time. Just before noon, we got back to the main large square (not the one where sangria was spraying everywhere). They have a large flat screen showing the wild goings-on of the other square. At noon, a rocket goes off, and everyone goes crazy. Everyone held up their red bandanas and chanted, "Viva San Fermin!" There's a certain spirit in the air that only that many people can create in the name of pure festival celebration.

You may have noticed there was a distinct difference between the goings-on in each of these two squares. One of the amazing parts of this gigantic festival is its ability to create a place where everyone can have fun no matter your age. The square where we watched the start of the festival at noon was surrounded by families, older people, groups of picnickers with their delicious spreads of shrimp, meats, bread, wine, etc.,  children in strollers, young children, and people with their dogs (wearing a red bandana, of course).

After some chanting, we walked around to take in some more festival sights. We walked to the bull ring and took some pictures on the statue of Hemingway. We also met a nice American couple there with whom we ended up having lunch. We were lucky to find a place with a small quiet courtyard where we could get a little respite from the revelry.

After lunch, it was back to the hotel for a siesta. Later, we were back to town again and things were in full swing. Now, it seemed there were things going on everywhere. We couldn't walk a few feet without seeing an interesting street performer, a band, someone selling things, some drummers, and of course, lots of great people-watching. We had a great rest of the evening walking around and eventually ended up on the outskirts of the old city, high up on the medieval walls surrounding the city overlooking the river valley below and the Pyrennes mountains in the distance. It was a gorgeous sunset. Then the kids caught sight of the rides part of the festival below, and the rest of our night was suddenly planned out.

sunset from the old walls of the city

On the way down to the rides, we noticed people were stopped just before the bridge crossing the river and there were gates up and a couple police guards. Upon asking, we learned, the bulls for the next day's encierro were about to be herded across the river and up the road to the pens from where they are released the next day.......so cool!! We waited with everyone and when the bulls are about to come, everyone whispers a loud "shhhhhhhh". You are supposed to be quiet as they come by so you can hear the bells around their necks. Isabel got a good viewing seat on a nice, friendly American man's shoulders and Josh on daddy's. It went very fast, but at least we got to see the bulls!

the bulls being herded up to their pens for the next day's encierro

Then, it was onto the rides and that finished off the night. The kids did great walking back to the bus stop even though it was 11:30p! Josh was basically a walking zombie and fell asleep instantly when we picked him up to get on the bus. It was quite a day! It was an awesome day, and we were looking forward to another.

Spain

We are sitting here relaxing in our modest hotel room overlooking an old narrow street in San Sebastian, Spain. The kids did the classic move of falling asleep in their chairs at dinner tonight so we carried them home and put them to bed. Part of their exhaustion is explained by the constant sightseeing we have been doing since arriving in Spain 5 days ago, part by the great day at the beach where they jumped over waves and soaked up the sun, and part due to the 4 am wake-up call we gave them this morning.

We started the trip with a great stay in Seville. We booked an apartment in a nice, old neighborhood called Triana. The apartment was on a pleasant pedestrian street filled with tapas bars and shops, and two blocks down it ends at the foot of a bridge (Puente de Isabel) that leads directly to the old part of the city.

I loved Seville. It was a very easy to navigate city with beautiful architecture, friendly people, wonderful food and drink, and a relaxing laid-back vibe. Everywhere you look, colorful tiles accent buildings, walkways, and store signs. Balconies overflow with flowers, and on the horizon is the third largest cathedral in Europe (next to St Peter's and St Paul's) looming over the old city on the banks of a wide lazy river.

Our stay in Seville was filled with wandering the streets, visiting the cathedral, drinking sangria and eating tapas, walking the old narrow barrio streets, more sangria, seeing the Plaza de Espana, more sangria and a mojito, riding a bicycle-car through Parque Maria Luisa, gelato, and seeing the Alcazar. The last sight is an old palace used by royalty. It is one of the best examples of the Mudejar style, a blend of Islamic and Christian architecture. It is a beautiful sight and the gardens were of more interest to the kids as there were many fountains spilling into pools filled with Koy fish and there was a labyrinth created from shrubs.

The kids' favorite part was riding the bicycle-car through the park. We first stopped at the large fountain in front of the Plaza de Espana and got sufficiently wet through much splashing. Also, along our path through the park Chris saw an ice cream stand keeper watering down the street in front of his stand and Chris yelled, "Signor, agua, aqui!" while pointing at the kids sitting in front. The shopkeeper abliged and gave us a good spray. The kids loved it.

As we were expecting incredible heat, we were pleasantly surprised to have relatively mild weather. The highs were in the 90s, but it was very dry and there was always a little breeze. Apparently, the heat was nothing compared to what the East Coast of the US has been suffering through.

We took one other sightseeing adventure to the Ahlambra in Granada. It is an amazing structure. It's a very large palace and gardens situated on top of a hill with larger mountains of the Sierra Nevada giving it a back-drop. The palace is the Mudejar style just like the Alcazar, only bigger and it looks down onto a town of white-washed houses and more mountains in the distance. The gardens are beautiful with trickling fountains everywhere and beds of roses and other delicate flowers. The only drawback to this trip was the work in getting there. It was a three hour bus ride to Granada. Without kids, we could have powered through the palace and enjoyed the town of Granada, too, but with little kids, we just about made it through the palace, down to the town to grab something to eat, and back to the bus station. For those with kids, I would say skip it and just see the Alcazar.

By our last couple nights in Seville, we were actually adjusting to the time. We were actually out on our street eating dinner with the kids between 9:30 and 10:30pm. It seems crazy, but you really do start adjusting. This is the time of the day when everyone is out strolling, eating, playing with their kids. The only night this changed a little was the night of the Euro Cup 2012. This is basically the superbowl of Europe and Spain was playing Italy (go figure). Spanish flags were flying everywhere and red and yellow was painted on many faces, including babies. People were gathered in bars and neighborhood bodegas where flat screen tvs were placed outside for all to see. When Spain scored a goal, the streets erupted in cheers and chants. In the end, it was a good night for Spain and a sad one for Italy. Sorry, Italia!

Very early this morning we bid adios to Seville and boarded a plane for Bilbao. We took a bus to San Sebastian, a beautiful city on the coast with a nice sandy beach and clear water. The kids had a blast playing in the waves and they are now passed out cold. We are listening to the on-going chatter of people down on the street. It is still very lively now at almost 10:30p, but it is probably nothing compared to what we will see in two days in Pamplona...Ole!