Fonso's nephews, two brilliant boys

One is five and the other is six-months-old, and these boys are going to grow up to be giants, tall and strong. Everyone in Fonso's family is built like lumberjacks, with big bones and muscles and these kids are no exception. They are much bigger for kids their age. Yesterday, Brazier, the baby, discovered that he can push against my leg, moving himself with the carriage. He was absolutely delighted by this and kept motioning for me to stand close so he can do this, over and over.

I gave Xian a box of twelve Egyptian toy figures, including Queen Nefertiti, and he was spellbound by them, wanting to learn more. What fun. Xian is growing out of his baby face into a kid's one. It is great to witness this.

I admire these Galicians

I admire these people, who tend to waltz in the streets during holidays, lavish love and attention on their kids, eat chorizo and octopus and drink white wine with joy and moderation, and work hard. Last night, after what had been busy night at the restaurant, we sat outside with Fonso´s friends and compared life here and in California. A couple of observations: while you can legislate gay marriage, it takes a long time for society to accept such things. There is a big divide in this society between those who were born before Franco and after Franco, with the later group, in attitude and worldview, being like European counterparts in Stockholm or Dublin. What impresses me about younger Spaniards is their insistence on change and adopting the best aspects of European society. They feel that the Catholic Church ruled and abused the people during Franco's time, and have been discredited as a legitimate political force. And my friends predict that in the next 10 years, there will be a full accounting for the right-wing attrocities of the Franco era, as this democracy settles into middle age. A national reconcilliation would be a good thing for this country that still hesitates to discuss the recent past.

With the coming of the Euro here, prices have risen on most things and last night we walked through a large youth gathering (16-25) on the wharf, where people were hanging out and avoiding the high prices of bars and clubs -- just drinking beer and rum, listening to music and playing pranks on each other. While some were tipsy, it was not like similar scenes in the UK where there is more dangerous atmosphere of drunk and fighting gangs. Last night, people were content...enjoying the temperate weather and moonlight, the company of good friends, and the taste of the local beer, Estrella Galicia. All at 4AM. This American included.

My Saturday in the old country

Today was another perfect, warm fall day, with clear skies and a refreshing westernly ocean breeze. Like last night, today, I helped Fonso in the restaurant´s kitchen, hung out with his family and friend Fernando, and accompanied Fonso to a wooded nudist beach, which was, surprisingly, dominated by young Spanish families. Now, I am going to stroll down to town, watch the festivities of the city festival, and help Fonso with the dishes at the end of the night. I am content.

I made it to the other side

A few moments ago, I arrived in Spain, a little sleepy, jet-lagged and still getting used to my Spanish keyboard. It was an uneventful journey but the last 15 minutes were beautiful, as our small plane dropped out of the clouds, skimming the verdant Galician mountains that opened up to the rias and a large natural harbor, home to Vigo.

There is a bit of humidity in the air, the temperature is in the 70s, and it is good to be back in the old country. With my gallego!

Galicia: the Celtic part of Spain from which my family hails...

Most people think of Spain as a sunny, arid country. That's only part of the story, because in the northwest corner of this Iberian peninisula, right above Portugal, is Galicia. In this rainy and green place, a visitor would think they are in Ireland or Brittany. Indeed, the Celtic people of this region are related to both of these places, and also descend those warring and nomadic Visigoths, rather than the darker Moors of southern Spain. This is where my grandfather emigrated from during the 1920's, thankfully, about 15 years before the Spanish Civil War commenced. Check out this picture of my boyfriend, from a few years back, when he used to dance with a native Celtic troupe. (I am not sure if his dance partner is wearing a hat or a potted plant.:))

The natives of Galicia are called "gallegos" and are famous for their friendliness, industriousness, long grudges, thrift, stubbornness, and beliefs in all sorts of witchcraft and trickery. I mention this because my family still possesses many of the characteristics, including an interest in spirituality. And on a bad day, you might call one of us cheap, brooding or stubborn. I am sure my grandfather is tickled by the idea that my boyfriend is from Galicia and that my "lil bro" Jase is working in his old country during this summer. Well, my family is proud of Jason for his 60-hour work weeks, summer exploits and all the things he is learning while working for Fonso's family restaurant, including fluency in Spanish and Galician dialect.

I spoke to Jase and Fonso, tonight, after their 12-hour day and they were tired, silly, and full of the devil. Real gallegos. Just like my grandfather. Wherever he is, I am sure he is pleased and as am I. Good night.