Showing posts with label Andalucía. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andalucía. Show all posts

Wednesday, 27 January 2016

Sierra Nevada ski trip!

A few months ago, the PE teacher with whom I had the most classes mentioned that he was taking the 2ndo ESO class (Year 8) to the nearby Sierra Nevada ski range for a day trip, and I should come along (he did say he'd love to take me to Andorra with the Year 11 class for their ski trip, but that one was out of his power). On the first day back of 2016, Joaquín told me that the trip was coming up in about two weeks, so if I could pay the 40eu the following day, I was in.  My co-ordinator released me from the day's classes, I paid up and I was on the figurative bus.

After two weeks of frantically searching for borrowed  ski gear, I was up at 6am last Wednesday to dress and head to the bus station before 7am.  Two dark hours of noisy 13-year-olds later, we pulled up to the town of Pradollano, the main town of the Sierra Nevada Ski Resort. Our guide handed out lift passes, and it was onto the gondola and up the mountain.
Pradollano and the mountains
Winter wonderland!
Though we were all already kitted up, it took a while to sort out the actual equipment - helmets, boots and either snowboards or skis and poles for everyone. We were then split up into smaller groups for lessons with an instructor.
Glamorous!
Lesson 1 - how to put on your skis (harder than it sounds.) Lesson 2 - walking. Then it was gliding, limbo, jumping and stopping. Once we'd mastered that, the instructor took us to a very small incline nearby and had us ski to the bottom before stopping.  Some of us managed the stopping better than others.  Some stopped into others.  In short, skiing with teenage first-timers is hilarious.  I spent most of the day laughing at them all falling over.
Walking on skis
Next it was on a small ski ramp to the top of the learner's incline, and then straight onto a longer one that dropped us about halfway up the nearest slope.  This time Manolo, our instructor, had us ski down bit by bit, working on stopping.  When skiing, you stop by turning your toes inwards to create a wedge shape, or 'cuña' in Spanish.  I spent a lot of time yelling "Cuña!" at my students, who equally spent a lot of time skiing right on past me 'til they ran out of momentum.  Again, so long as they weren't bleeding, watching my students whizzing past going, "I don't know how to stooooooop!" was pretty funny for me.  Call it revenge for tiring Thursday afternoons trying to make them stay in their seats and stop throwing paper around the classroom.
Halfway up the slope
Me and the kids
We stopped for lunch at 2pm, after a couple more sessions skiing down the small slope.  We also worked on turning, which, again, caused problems for some...

WHOOSH. "What was tha...oh, Antonio forgot how to stop again....cuña, Antonio!...yup, he's fallen over now."
THUMP. "Who fell over this time?" "Daniel.  Again.  No, Daniel, try standing up with your skis on this time.  Hey, Manolo, once you've sorted out Antonio, Daniel needs help again!"
THUMP. "Was that...". "Yup. Antonio." "How did he manage to fall over when he wasn't even moving?..." "I have no idea."
*This dialogue is not verbatim, but is 90% accurate.  I'm sure because this happened many times...many, many times.

After a quick sandwich lunch sitting in the lovely warm, comfortable snow, we had an hour of free skiing time until we had to meet again to take the bus.  I elected to go with our PE teacher Joaquín and some of the boys in my group, since they were doing the larger slope.  What I didn't realise was that they were taking the ski lift to the top of the nearest slope...ALL the way to the top.
On the main slope
After what seemed like a VERY long time on the ski lift, about a dozen of us marshalled at the top of the slope before setting off.  We lasted about 30 metres before we had a man down. In the 10 or so minutes it took to get Fran back on his skis, the snowboarders gathered underneath the chairlift and eventually took off without us, the rest of us skiers gathered a bit further up, and all the boys promptly fell down the nearest incline as soon as we started moving again.
Waiting on my boys...
Eventually I left the students behind, since they ALL kept falling over and I couldn't help them back into their skis, so I left them to Joaquín and went it alone.  The crowning moment of my day was skiing neatly to the bottom of the slope and braking gently from 200 metres up (ok, so I hurtled down in ever-increasing speed and terror until I ran out of momentum at the bottom, but hey, progress).  This was followed by a painful slog back to the hire centre to get out of those awful ski boots, and a two-hour bus ride home with an incredibly noisy, hyped-up bunch of kids.  How they had that much energy after the day we'd had I will never understand, but then that's niños for you.
Second ski lift from the right - top to bottom!
Bucket list #23: learn to ski - check!

Thursday, 24 December 2015

Road trip!

Over my birthday a few weeks back, Fate handed me a super-long weekend, so I decided to do something special and planned myself a little road-trip.  I picked up a really over-priced hire car from Granada and headed west across Andalucía, passing through Ronda, Cadiz, Tarifa and Gibraltar.  Since I've been uber-lazy with the blog and there's too much to fit into one blog post, here are the highlights of my trip...

Discovering the oldest bullfighting ring in Spain


Exploring the hillside towns of Malaga province

Checking out the Old Bridge of Ronda

Looking across to the mainland from the island city of Cadiz

Looking out over the coast of Spain from the Cadiz Cathedral
 
Seeing the Trafalgar Lighthouse

Standing at the southernmost point of Europe - Tarifa, Spain

Looking over the Strait of Gibraltar to Africa

Watching glassblowers at work in Gibraltar

Meeting Barbary macaques in Gibraltar

Climbing the Rock of Gibraltar! 

Celebrating my 23rd birthday in style on the Costa del Sol

Sunday, 8 November 2015

Down The Rabbit Hole

Ever since I arrived here, people have been asking me the same three questions: where are you from (Australia, easy); why on earth did I decide on Baza (I didn't), and; do I like Baza (I do). When they ask why the last answer, I've learned how to explain that I come from a small country town much smaller than Baza, and I like the cosy feel and friendly community atmosphere that both towns have in common. I think I've  floored a few people with that response from a 22-year-old.

But there's another increasingly significant reason why I like Baza. In terms of history, historical sites and cultural traditions, Anglo-Saxon Australia is pretty skint. The main attraction in my town is an 1850s gold mining battery, which is stored in a shed. So, if you go sightseeing in my town, you'll see a shed. The main street is pretty, I'll grant you, but it's just like any other street.  It lacks excitement.

Baza, on the other hand, is everything that my town lacks.  As I learned this weekend, Baza is a former Moorish (Arabic) town, with some of the buildings dating as far back as the 12th century or more.  Every time I step out of my apartment I'm entering a veritable wonderland of living history, beautiful scenes, unusual buildings and fascinating places.  Even something as simple as a trip to the doctor can be like falling down the rabbit hole, wondering where I'm going to end up or what I'm going to find along the way. My flamenco classes, for example, are in the Casa de la Cultura (Culture House), which used to be the Casino de Artesanos (Artisans' Cottage), about 200-odd years ago.  My yoga class is in a side street off Plaza Mayor, which backs onto Iglesia Mayor, which started life as the main cathedral for Guadix-Baza diocese some 500 years ago.  Every time I head out to do a Reclining Mountain Pose I pass by 700 years of imposing stone history on my way.



Amongst my explorations this weekend, I made my way down to the baños árabes, or Arab baths, which were built sometime back in the 12th century.  In Moorish times the baths served a three-fold purpose: promoting good hygiene, providing a social gathering place for the locals, and; enabling Islam's ritual bathing.  Most people met for a weekly catch-up in the largest central 'warm' room, while massages and more deep-cleansing scrub-downs were on offer in the 'hot' room, which disseminated its heat through the rest of the building.  A 'cool' room, boiler room/wood shed and welcome vestibule made up the rest of the facility.  The baths have now been preserved and opened to the public, though as the ground level has risen somewhat in the last 1,000 years, visitors now enter at the roof level of the old baths and peep over the railing into the boiler room before descending into the vestibule and touring the baths the way bathers would have done a good 10 centuries ago. 


The Arabic baths
Lucernas in the warm room
The hot room
Looking from hot to warm
Warm room skylights
But I think my favourite discovery of the past few days has been the Plaza de los Moriscos, or Square of the Moors, tucked away off a series of pedestrian-only streets in the suburb of San Juan.  On one side of this quiet, innocuous little grotto is a triangular house covered in fist-sized hemispheres with a little peak on each.  Famously called the Casa de las tetas, or 'The Boobs House', there is something delightfully incongruous about the well-kept balconies of greenery, on a pretty whitewashed house across a quiet square from a marble fountain, surrounded by hundreds of stonework models of the naked female nipple.

Plaza de los Moriscos
Casa de las Tetas
Lovely flowering balconies
I also took a peep inside the church of Saint James, one of many churches I've seen around Baza (well, I've seen their bell towers, at least.  I've yet to find most of the churches attached to said towers). It's the first church I've been inside since arriving in Spain, so it's hard to say what's normal, but it's nowhere near so elaborate as the churches in Italy, or as Gothic and gloomy as those in France.

Then, of course, there's the many other side streets and back streets and narrow streets and not-streets that populate Baza, the churches and ermitas and fountains and nooks and crannies and doorways and balconies and inumerable other quirks that make Baza such a magical place to live and explore.  There's even a working mule, complete with saddlebags.

Yes, I said this was Wonderland.

Plaza de Santiago
Iglesia de Santiago
Calle Acequita
Callejón Poyos (I think)
In the old arrabal of Marzuela
The back streets of Wonderland
Caños Dorados - Fountain of the
Golden Pipes
The north-west corner of Baza
It has a TOWER!
Calle Chorrillo
Panorama of Baza from the Alcazaba
Eastern Baza
North-eastern Baza and Iglesia Mayor
Iglesia Mayor by sunset
Plaza de Santiago by night
The Church of Saint James again

Monday, 2 November 2015

I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside

I just got back last night from my first weekend away here in Spain.  After class on Thursday afternoon I dashed off to Granada for a chiro appointment and I figured, while I'm on the road, let's go somewhere different for the weekend.  So on Friday morning I hopped on a bus to the nearest coastal city, Almería.

It's been months since I've seen the ocean - in fact, unless you count a morning in Greenwich, I haven't seen the coast since Italy three months ago - and as a sailor it's weird and even a little painful for me not to hear the waves and feel the salty breeze in my hair every so often.  I spent a lot of my time down by the beach or the port just staring out at the water, enjoying the sight and sound of the ocean.  I really have missed it - and watching the ferries arriving and leaving from ports in Africa made me wish I could jump aboard!

I also asked around about any tall ships in the area, but about the best anyone could offer me was a small private yacht, and as I've explained many times, when it comes to computers, ships and hot chocolates, I always say bigger is better!  So Almería at least is off the cards for sailing, but thankfully there's more to Spain than Almería!

On Saturday morning I walked up to the Alcazaba, which I was curious about because there's a ruined Alcazaba in Baza that I stumbled across a few weeks back with no idea what it was.  As I understand it, Alcazaba is an Arabic word for 'castle', and refers to the Moorish fortresses now scattered across southern Spain.  The Alcazaba in Almería is quite extensive and impressive, a proper royal hall with defensive capabilities and large landscaped gardens.

The actual buildings are currently undergoing archaeological restoration and excavation, but the gardens were great.  There's a Moorish fascination with water features that I've seen in all the architecture, often featuring a series of connected pools, and frequently surrounded by greenery.  Of course, the other major draw of the Alcazaba is the view.  As a defensive fortress, it's built on the nearest hill overlooking Almería, so for the price of walking up the hill I could see halfway to Africa!

Travel guide perfect anyone?

My first walk down to the beach

Sunset from the port

The lighthouse at the end of the pier

"Sunset over the beaches..."

Artistically blurry shoreline photo

Could this be California, perhaps?

The Almería Cathedral

Plaza de la Cathedral

Streets in the old town

More streetscapes

Views over Almería

Me in Almería - hi!

Almería again

The Alcazaba gardens

Staircase waterworks

Landscaped gardens

More fountains

Looking down through the Alcazaba

The bell tower

Reflecting pools

The archaeological works

Courtyard of the upper buildings

Eastern Almería - the old town

Looking out from the gun tower!

I'm in a castle!

The other side of the hill

The Alcazaba from the south tower

I love the blue building!

Beachside sunsets

Looking across the water

The old pier

Glowing sun

I really, really love that lighthouse

Am I leaving California??

More pretty buildings

Artistic photos of Spain According to Firefly