Falling for Spain, or The Sprain in Spain

Travel is overrated.  I thought so when I did it for business, and even going on vacation – though it is great to get away – brings with it a certain amount of inconvenience – or worse.

I was looking forward to my first real vacation is several years, a long-awaited trip to Barcelona and San Sebastian with my sister alumnae from the Associate Alumnae of Douglass College.  Unlike a friend who travels often and told me she packs nine outfits for a 30-day trip, I packed what seemed like 30 outfits for my nine-day trip (no washing out anything in the bathroom sink for me!).  I even “fired” another friend who graciously offered to pack for me, knowing that after she left, I would only add more to the pile.

I was looking forward to experiencing the culture, walking the cobblestone streets, and putting to use the 12 years of Spanish I studied from third glade through my sophomore year at Douglass.

I got off on the wrong foot, so to speak, upon arrival at our hotel in Barcelona.  We weren’t there for more than 30 minutes when the group began to scatter, eager to explore the city with our free afternoon.  I could see my carry-on bag containing my camera just yards away in the lobby and I headed in that direction. 

And then came the fall.

Looking straight ahead, I missed the two (not one, but two) steps between me and my bag and fell hard, twisting my ankle and landing with a thud on both knees on a very hard marble floor.  You know that awful feeling when you know you’re going down and there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself?  When you hope you aren’t going to break anything?  When it seems to take forever just to land and you know it won’t be good when you do?  When you hope no one is watching?

So much for the latter, because EVERYONE saw it, and I was immediately surrounded by well-intentioned people asking if I was alright.  Too soon to tell folks.  Did I want to go to the hospital (more on that later)?  See a doctor?  Die of embarrassment (they didn’t ask me that question, but of course that’s what I wanted to do)?  I gamely got up – swearing at myself for being so negligent – and was swiftly brought to my assigned room – thankfully, near an elevator.  I elevated, iced and had the ankle wrapped by a hotel employee.  Needless to say, sightseeing that day was out.  Later that night, when the group went to dinner, I went by taxi instead of walking the tree blocks to the restaurant. 

Our AADC leader and my good friend Valerie Anderson went to the local “farmacia” (and there are tons of them in Barcelona) and bought me a crutch, which I used for the rest of the week to walk over those cobblestones, go in and out of cathedrals and museums and get in and out of buses as we toured. 

The ankle only hurt with every step I took.  Having broken both of my ankles in the past, I was worried that I was doing more harm than good and decided to go to the local hospital to get it checked and make sure there was no fracture.  How would I get my pants on over a cast?  Would I be confined to my room?  How do you say “broken ankle (tobilla) in Spanish?  Somehow our Spanish conversations in school – which included trips to the library – never covered this now-important ground.

So I got to see a part of Barcelona not designed by famed architect Antoni Gaudi – the inside of a Spanish hospital.  

The people there were extremely nice and accommodating.  The first question I was asked was “Que paso?” (what happened?).  I quickly abandoned my Spanish and gave way to the more familiar terms, explaining my fall and twist.  Three hours, three x-rays and 300 Euros later (on my Visa card), I was relieved to learn the ankle was not broken, just sprained.  It could have been so much worse.  I could have broken the ankle and needed a cast or fractured my wrist, in which case, how would I have gotten myself dressed?

By the next day, my right ankle was a combination of swollen (I could only wear one pair of shoes) and discolored, and the left shin turned lovely shades of purple from the impact.  Though I missed the special dinner in which the group celebrated birthdays – mine included – in favor of elevating and icing in my room, I gamely marched on and did everything else.

Spain is a very interesting place.  Barcelona took full advantage of the 1992 Olympic Games and has repurposed all of the facilities built for them, along with massive improvements in the infrastructure of the city and environs.  

And then there is Gaudi, the famous architect whose masterwork, Sagrada Familia, is a cathedral that has been under construction for more than 100 years and which is scheduled for completion in 2026 (though most people are dubious).  This man never knew a straight line when he saw one.  In addition to the group visit to the cathedral and a park where he was supposed to build what amounts of a housing development (only two houses were ever completed, so it isn’t exactly Levittown), I ventured to a tour of a private home he built.  Little did I know that seeing the entire building required a walk up 10 stories to the roof.  But it was worth it.  His work reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, and it is better seen than described.

Our trip (pardon the expression) included a flight to location two, San Sebastian, in the Basque County, where everyone understands Spanish but uses the distinct Basque language proudly.  I was hauled to the plane in a wheelchair, clutching my crutch.  We had a stop an hour away in Bilbao, home of the Guggenheim Museum, an architectural wonder designed by Frank Gehry and a completely different experience from Gaudi’s work.  We were lucky enough to see it on a sunny day, and the colors of the metallic exterior glistened and changed in the light as we moved around it.  The modern art inside was not my favorite, but the building itself exceeded my expectations.  And there wasn’t a cobblestone in sight!

We spent a morning in Pamplona, not trying to outrun the bulls but dodging delivery trucks and vans as we and they made our way down hilly, twisty, cobblestoned streets (definitely not on the activities you want to do on a bum ankle and with a crutch). 

It seems that every city in Spain has an “old town,” and we visited each of them.  I wondered what we in the United States would show Spanish visitors about our old towns:  “Here’s where George Washington slept.  And here’s where he also slept.”  There are cathedrals (very grand, and with many stairs and steps) and tiny shops and more cathedrals.  I spent much of my time looking down rather than up, walking cautiously and taking into account the uneven surfaces.  For a few days, I took barely any pictures, since it was impossible to carry my camera and remain balanced and upright.  But as the week progressed, as I got used to the crutch, popped ibuprofen and took care to elevate and ice as much as possible, the pain wasn’t quite so bad.  

By the end of the week, I was able to walk 2½ miles on a beautiful, sunny day – and on my birthday, to boot – to the funicular, a cable car that goes up the steep side of a hill.  We had spectacular views of the coastline (San Sebastian is on the Atlantic Ocean) and took the requisite photos that I will treasure as happy memories of this vacation.

I’ve traveled before and will do it again, and despite the accident, I enjoyed the chance to see so much of Spain.  I had been there twice previously, but I was in Marbella on the Costa del Sol, a resort, so I hadn’t experienced any of the cities aside from Granada. 

So here are my impressions and some of the lessons I learned.

• Every place in the world should be on the same electrical system.  I favor the US system, so I wouldn’t need a converter.
• Every hotel where you stay has its own quirks.  You have to remember to put the room key in the slot so the lights stay on, get used to the shower controls and the hair dryer, which required a finger on the on-button in both hotels. 
• You have to tolerate people in any group asking genuinely stupid questions.  Asking “where is such-and-such?” to each other made no sense since none of us knew the answers.
• Ham is big in Spain.  Iberian ham, bacon – whatever – was available or a part of every meal.  PS – I don’t eat ham.
• European countries have more statues and cathedrals per mile that you can count. The US has more Starbucks and McDonald’s.  Europe wins.
• Despite the relatively cool temperatures, people in San Sebastian go into the ocean, do yoga on the beach and enjoy the sand and surf.  No beach badges required, either.  Are you listening, NJ?
• In every restaurant where we ate, we enjoyed delicious bread, but there was never a bread plate.  The bread was put on your place mat or on the table with nothing under it.  And if you wanted butter or olive oil – and this is a country that exports olive oil – you had to request it.  There were bottles of red and white wine on every table without having to ask, however (part of the tour package, I presume). 
• Many people in Spain speak English well but don’t think they do.  They were very accepting of my attempts to communicate in Spanish and I could understand them as long as they spoke muy lentamente (very slowly).  Despite so many years that have passed since my last Spanish class in 1970, I was proud of my ability to use it. 
•  Always bring plenty of plastic bags.  I used them for ice bags for my ankle. The next time I travel, I am bringing my portable cane, an Ace bandage and more ibuprofen.  And my health insurance card.  It’s not like hospitals in Barcelona take United Heathcare or Medicare, but I had to contact a friend back home to get the Membership Services number to find out the process for dealing with the hospital in Barcelona. 
•  I still bring plenty of underwear and throw out the oldest pairs to lighten my load.  We were all just under the 50-pound suitcase limit and determined NOT to pay extra for our checked bags.
• Noise cancelling headphones and a mask come in very handy on a nine-hour flight, as does a neck pillow.  I wouldn’t leave home without them.

Our group, which traveled through the touring company AHI, had several lectures from highly informed and interesting speakers and an opportunity to have dinner with local residents, so I learned so much about Spain on this trip.  Among the highlights for me was learning the term “cuadrilla,” which, here in the US, would be translated into “circle of friends.”  In the more modern vernacular, that would mean your “squad,” or the people who are closest to you.  Long-time, dear friends comprise your cuadrilla.  I know I have mine, and now I have a name for them.

And I know how to say ankle in Spanish.

Tina's October 2016 Movies

A vacation to Spain interrupted my movie watching, so there are only 9 movies on this month's list.  They are rated on a scale of 1-5 cans of tuna, with 5 being the top rating.  Those movies I had not seen previously are marked with an asterisk.  Numbering picks up from previous months.

109.  All of Me (1984) – Steve Martin shows off his physical comedy prowess in this fantasy about an uptight lawyer/musician whose body becomes inhabited by an eccentric woman after a plan designed to help the dying millionaire (Lily Tomlin) switch bodies with a vibrant young woman (Victoria Tennant) goes awry.  Martin and Tomlin battle it out over body territory as they each control half, which makes shaving and relieving himself nearly impossible.  The story is a trifle, but the performances are so much fun to watch.  Martin has had two memorable dances in his career, one amazing stint on the dance floor with Gilda Radner on an episode of “Saturday Night Live” to the tune of “Dancing In the Dark,” and the closing dance sequence here, set to the title tune.  Martin is truly a gift from heaven.  3½ cans.
110.  Queen of Katwe* (2016) – Ten-year old Phiona (Madina Nalwanga) and her mother (the graceful and fierce Lupita Nyongo) live with her brothers and sisters in Katwe, a village in Uganda, barely subsisting on the sale of vegetables.  The children don’t go to school, don’t know how to read and can only look forward to a lifetime of hardships.  But then Phiona meets Coach Katende (David Oyelowo), who teaches the local children to play chess.  Phiona is a prodigy, growing so skilled that she beats the teacher and is accused by one of her opponents of “reading my mind.”  But considering her background, can she possibly become a chess master and use her status to improve her living conditions?  This movie is based on a true story, and it is delivered with intensity and warmth.  Who is braver?  The teenaged chess champion facing off against more educated and experienced players?  Or the mother, dealing with weather disasters without a roof over the head of her family?  This is a Disney movie, and you know they don’t dwell on defeat, so you can figure out where this is headed.  But the ride is a good one.  3½ chess pieces.
111.  The Four Seasons (1981) – Any movie that starts with soaring music from Vivaldi is bound to get your attention, and this examination of three close-knit couples delivers.  Alan Alda wrote this comedy/drama about six people who vacation together, get on each other’s nerves, care for each other, laugh together and, every now and then, let loose with a judgmental evisceration of each other.  Yet, for the most part, it is entertaining.  Alda has always tended to be preachy in my view, and this movie is no exception.  The highly-likeable cast (couples Alda and Carol Burnett, Rita Moreno and Jack Weston and Len Cariou with first wife Sandy Dennis and second wife the considerably younger Bess Armstrong) has plenty of chemistry.  I recall liking this one better at first view, but it was an interesting study of the dynamics between couples and friends.  3 cans.
112.  The Girl on the Train* (2016) – Here’s my summary:  Girl gets on a train, girl gets off a train, girl drinks too much on the train and we know it’s not water in that bottle.  Rachel (Emily Blunt) is a hot mess.  Fired from her job because of her drinking, she boards the Metro North line every day so her roommate (Laura Prepon of OITNB fame) won’t know she’s unemployed.  Despite her alcoholic haze, she is able to see clearly into the homes and lives of the people whose houses she passes.  She yearns to be living in her former home with now-ex Tom (Justin Theroux) and fantasizes about the lives of the attractive young couple Megan and Scott (Haley Bennett and Luke Evans), who hang out on the deck of their house down the street from Tom entirely too much.  Tom has remarried and has a young daughter with wife Anna (Rebecca Ferguson), but that doesn’t keep Rachel from calling him, stalking Anna and recalling past incidents that make her feel responsible for the demise of her marriage.  When Megan goes missing, Rachel thinks she has information that could help solve the case.  She also thinks she might have had something to do with harming Megan, since she can’t recall why she herself came home bloody and bruised the night Megan disappeared.  This is a whodunit about a bunch of people with lots of problems.  Because it jumps back and forth in time and because two of the three women look very much alike, it can be confusing.  It definitely helped that I read the book first.  It was not quite as twisty as “Gone Girl” and not quite as suspenseful as “Fatal Attraction,” movies of the same genre, but it held my attention.  Emily Blunt has the right amount of desperation and smeared make-up, the men are all creepy, and Allison Janney reminds us (in a small part as the detective) of her dramatic chops.  By the end of the movie, I wished Rachel had just driven instead of taking the train.  Still, 3½ train cars.
113.  Notting Hill (1999) – She is a movie star with a megawatt smile.  He is an unassuming owner of a travel book bookstore.  One day she walks into his store and changes his life.  Julia Robert is the American star and Hugh Grant is the English bookstore proprietor in this utterly charming story about two people from different worlds exploring their possibilities.  He is surrounded by good friends while she is swallowed up by fame, chased by photographers and hounded by the press.  She can break his heart, but will she?  Will he let her?  Could he recover?  Watch this movie for the answers to these burning questions.  There is a great scene between them towards the end that is worth the price of admission.  Good cast, good story, good movie.  4 cans.
114.  Still Mine* (2013) – Craig (James Cromwell) is a stubborn guy.  Although he is in his 80s (and Cromwell is clearly younger), he is convinced he can construct a new house for his ailing and failing wife, Irene (an unrecognizable Genevieve Bujold), on a piece of property he owns.  The man knows his lumber, and his construction skills are stellar, but that’s not enough to satisfy the local town authorities and their building codes.  As he defiantly continues building, he also cares for his increasingly frail wife, who is given to severe lapses in memory and who can wander off and fall.  Theirs is a solid relationship – as solid as the perfectly plumb and square house, a one-story structure where Craig and Irene can live instead of in their old place, where Irene can’t climb the stairs so the bathroom is outside.  Cromwell is magnificent in the part of the husband, father and master builder.  But Irene is getting worse, requiring more care, and she may never get a chance to live in their new home.  This is a tender love story about a 61-year relationship, about love and trust AND carpentry.  3½ cans.
115.  Money Monster* (2016) – George Clooney and Julia Roberts team up in this suspense movie about one of those TV financial gurus who dispense glib advice and seldom think of the consequences.  But a young man who has lost a considerable sum (for him, but peanuts to Clooney’s character) invades the TV station while the “Money Monster” show is live and threatens to kill Clooney if he cannot explain the huge drop in the stock price of one of his picks and everyone jumps to track down the shady character who runs the company.  Clooney has sympathy for the guy, while Roberts, the director, just wants to get everyone out alive. This is exactly why I don’t watch and cannot stand these kinds of programs, where the so-called experts espouse their theories with sound effects and razzle-dazzle as if they know everything.  Clooney and Roberts always make a good team.  3½ cans.
115.  The Meddler* (2015) -- Some might call it meddling.  Some might call it mothering.  I call it annoying when Susan Sarandon, a lonely widow with a lovely, grown daughter (Rose Byrne), shows up unannounced and proceeds to intervene in the young woman’s life, assuming relationships to her friends and generally meaning well but pestering the daughter no end.  Until she meets a completely different sort of guy (J. K. Simmons) and realizes she might be able to have a life of her own.  This movie is very similar to the road trip one with Barbra Streisand and Seth Rogen – two well-meaning mothers and the children they drive crazy.  No, thanks.  2½ cans.
116.  My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2* (2015) – We know the characters, the Windex jokes, the smothering family (see above) – so nothing is new in this sequel to the delightful Nia Vardalos original, so I didn’t have high hopes after reading tepid reviews.  But I found myself laughing out loud more than once at the antics of the Greek family, admiring their closeness and even appreciating a plot that stretched things out more than necessary.  Nia wrote and stars as daughter Toula, but it is Michael Constantine and Lainie Kazan as her parents and Andrea Martin as her aunt who get off the best lines.  John Corbett as Toula’s non-Greek husband comes across as the blandest, but, after all, he is not Greek.  3½ cans.
117.  Dirty Dancing (1987) – Since I am going to see a stage version of this memorable movie in a few days, I thought it would be a good time to view the original in all its glory.  Patrick Swayze’s duck-tailed dancing dervish, Johnny Castle, is the bad boy of Kellerman’s Catskills Resort, spending his summers cha-chaing with the guests, until he and Baby Hausman (Jennifer Grey) and her family come along.  Johnny teaches Baby more than how to dance.  Swayze, whose character dons a shirt only occasionally, is all sinewy muscles and grinding hips as he and his fellow dirty dancers tear up the staff cabins and the dance floor.  Is there anyone who hasn’t see this movie?  Great music, great dancing and an excellent cast.  Corny, yes, but I could watch it again and again.  I hope the stage show is even half as good.  I had the time of my life.  4 cans.