Southward bound

Three weeks ago, I felt like I did at the beginning of my Vipassana silent mediation course in India. That is to say, I felt a bit daunted staring at the expanse of time that lay ahead while thoughts of Chico and murmurs of "when I get back.." vied for my attention. I glared at Charles and thought to myself, "Oh my god, nine more weeks," 

"Stop staring at me, weirdo," he shot back. Sigh. 

 But here we are, at the close of our time in Spain, and it feels like we have settled comfortably into our travel rhythm. Our pace seemed to take on the leisurely measure of life here in Spain; we took the mornings slowly, the afternoons sleepily, and the late nights wandering happily through the unusually lively streets.

Our first chocolate and churros experience in Spain, prompted by a drop in blood sugar and a google search for the "best chocolate and churros in Madrid." It was delicious. We also searched for the best gelato in Madrid, which turned out to be around the corner from our hostel, so we ate there four times.

Look! We found another Danan sister wandering through Spain!

It was great to spend time with Liora, here we are in the gardens of the Alhambra. The Alhambra was a fortress and palace for the Moors who lived in Granada. Its a massive complex layered with gardens, intricately carved buildings, and sweeping views.

Apparently instead of tanning, Charles turns greenish-blue and I turn pink?

The Alhambra at sunset.

Our second chocolate and churros experience.. Charles ate most of it.

We went hunting for a "flamenco cave" per recommendation of my good friend, Cooper. "Just wander up the river in Granada at ten o'clock at night under the full moon and listen for the sounds of flamenco, you´ll find it," he said. Well, our search wasn´t quite so romantic, and I´m not positive it was the same place, but it was certainly a flamenco cave and it was definitely an amazing performance.  The guitarist´s cool demeanor made the complexity of the melodies seem fluid, while the dancer´s fierce gaze highlighted the almost heart-breaking passion of the music.

This photo is from the Casa Sepharad, the Sephardic (Spanish) Jewish museum in Cordoba. It summarizes some of the teachings of Maimonides, a renowned Jewish rabbi and scientist, regarding a proper diet. Though the validity of the claims is debateable, certain Danans will tell you that we are direct decendents of Maimonides. So who better to take advice from, right? Except for he hates apricots and eggplants and swears by baby lamb.. 

Directly disregarding maimonides, we ate fried eggplant for lunch

the mesquita in cordoba

"goat cheese quesadilla" in Seville

The skyline of Seville

Now we are in Chefchaouen, Morocco, a beautiful city tucked into the rif valley. The streets here are washed in an entrancing shade of periwinkle blue making everything feel breezy and open. I am certainly wooed by the scenes here: the young man leading his goats to pasture, women washing their rugs in a stream, the smell of tagine wafting from a home, and the call to prayer echoing from the rooftop. Hopefully a better internet connection and many pictures will follow soon..

So far, so beautiful.

The journey begins! The next two months will take us through Spain, Morocco, and Israel on a quest to reconnect with our heritage. Our dad's side of the family is from Morocco and, we believe,  originally from Spain. I am eager to better understand my  relationship with this region,  and I wonder when (or if) I will feel a connection. Will I have some sort of revelation in an ancient synagogue in Barcelona? Will I feel at home in the neighborhood where my dad grew up? Or perhaps my body is best adapted to this bio-region, and I will 

naturally feel the most healthy here.  

Forty eight hours,  four planes, and not much sleep later. . We arrived in Barcelona. 

The first neighborhood we stayed in,  Gracia, was quite charming.  As we walked to the plaza with our picnic, ambient accordian music filled the air. Where are we?  The baguet in tow spoke more of France than Spain, and the narrow streets with floral dressed balconies recalled my time in Italy.

We spent the weekend in Barcelona with an awesome couch surfing host.  We ate paella, drank cervecas, and watched flamenco.  Next we journeyed to Girona (pictured above) which has one of the most well preserved Jewish quarters I'm Spain. 

Almond milk in Spain!

 

From Girona, we traveled north to Figueres to visit the Dali museum.

Definitely the coolest art museum I've been to, and very strange as well; I wasnt expecting to see his grave casually perched in one of the galleries.

Let's go to France, I suggested.  Let's go to the beach and get tan, said Charles. Next thing you know, we found our way to Tossa de Mar, a small coastal city, for a spontaneous Mediterranean getaway.  The water is crystal clear and the air is fresh.  We are much happier than this photo suggests.  

Ill try to post as best I can, but blogging fron a phone quite a chore..