Amazing Art & Food in Madrid

El Prado is a museum to rival the Louvre, the Uffizi in Florence, the Art Institute in Chicago and the New York Metropolitan Museum of Fine Art. We spent six hours tracing the evolving career of Goya, from a hired artist for the Royal Court, to an artist who made political statements, to a disturbed man painting his darkest nightmares after living through the horror of the War for Independence from Napoleon, and then viewing the works of Vasquez, El Greco, Ribera, Titian, Fra Angelico, Raphael, & others. Dianne "discovered" a Mona Lisa anonymous knock-off that looked every bit as good as the more famous portrait. It is clearly the same model in the same pose without the landscape background and from the same time period as Da Vinci's painting. There were surprises around ever corner.

But, as amazing as the art museum was, what I really want to share with you today is about the food of Madrid. We embarked on our first "Tapas Crawl" this past evening. This is a Madrileno custom where friends travel from one pub/restaurant to another, drinking wine/beer and eating tapas (basically a Spanish appetizer). At each stop they usually get a plate or assortment to share, or just small individual servings called "pinchos." Anyway, if you are a Madrileno (that is a native to the town) and know where you are going without needing to scope the establishments out and try to size them up, and you are with a group of friends, it sounds as if it could be a fun evening. But as a couple of tourists unsure of the language, the food, and the pubs/restaurants it was actually a somewhat daunting endeavor.

The first place we stopped was a vinoteca (a wine bar) where we had a delicious Rueda Verdejo (a white wine). But, though they had a tapas menu on the table, the waiter did not return to take our order. We did not see anyone else eating in the place, so we assumed perhaps the kitchen was closed (they were advertising on the door for "help") but when we went to leave I asked the waiter if there were "no tapas" tonight and he look rather flustered as though he had missed a sale. We then checked out several more places, all of which either seemed over-priced or what I could understand of what was offered I wasn't sure I wanted to eat. We finally got off the beaten path and discovered a wonderful little neighborhood place: La Tia Cebolla Taberna (Auntie Onion's Tavern). While it appeared rather rough around the edges we dove in. The wait staff was very helpful and we enjoyed a free offering with our vino rioja (red wine) of fruti del mar (a seafood salad, which included octopus slices). This beginning was good, so we proceeded to order and then enjoyed a lovely salmon & brie on toast and the house specialty a Don Paco, which was a hot open faced sandwich of toast, tomato slices, ham, covered with melted manchego cheese, flavored with pimiento powder & basil flakes. Both were very healthy servings and were wonderful. They filled us up so our crawl basically ended there (I don't imagine a true Madrileno would end the evening after just two stops!) except for the cafe we stopped for a hotel/bar near our own hotel. I am not sure we are fans of the Tapas Crawl, but we have experienced it!

The Spanish diet is heavy on meat (much like Argentina) except that this time it is weighted toward pork rather than beef. That is very clear when you visit the Museo de Jamon (yes, that is the Museum of Ham!) This deli/restaurant is a Temple to Ham, with large leg portions of pigs hanging from the rafters and almost everything on the menu incorporating some type of pig: ham plates, ham sandwiches, chorizo sausage, etc. This is mostly a dried, salted, type of ham which is much closer to prosciutto than to our ham steaks or spiral cut hams in the US.

Overall, we have found the food very good. We had a most exquisite gourmet dinner our first evening here. We started with mushroom croquettes, followed by two cuts of veal which were wonderfully prepared, and ended with a cheesecake dessert which was basically a form of upside-down cheesecake in a bowl topped with a delicious cream and berries, along with cafe espresso para mi y cappuccino para Dianne. The owner, waiter, and chef were all very young and most attentive. It was a wonderful introduction to Spanish cooking. I fear we will not lose any weight on this vacation!

Madrid is very familiar!

It feels like coming home! Arriving in Madrid and I feel as though I know this place! The architecture, the busy streets, the clothing the people are wearing, all feel very familiar. I even know where to look on the sides of the buildings at the corners about 10 feet up from the street to find the street sign to be able to identify the streets and know where I am! Madrid feels exactly like Buenos Aires! The sound of Spanish fills the air and mi Espanol es vuelve!

Walking the streets yesterday with Dianne had the same feel as walking the streets in Buenos Aires. Except, cleaner! No dog poop on the sidewalks! We have seen fewer dogs being walked than in Argentina, although one group did bring a HUGE Harlequin Great Dane (beautiful dog) into the restaurant last night as they sat at a corner table and had their drinks and tapas. The dog was amazingly well behaved and after it settled down in the corner you barely knew it was there.

It really should not have surprised me that Madrid would feel so much like Buenos Aires. After all, BA was founded and settled and created by people from Spain! It is that old colonial attitude still lurking in my brain that whatever we have in the New World (the Americas) is truly new and unique, forgetting that our ancestors arrived from Europe (most of them) and it was their culture which they brought with them. The connections are clearly here in Spain to see and it is one of those reasons I like to travel: to be reminded of our connections with the people of the past and our relationships at a DNA level with people all over the world.

I am posting a few pictures to illustrate what Madrid feels and looks like. In a future post I will add a link to more pictures. Buen dia!

Sabbath Time is Observation Time

Observation. This is another important reason to include sabbath time in one's schedule on a regular basis. With our hectic, high-speed, high-stress, constantly on the go, one more thing to do, scheduled lives today, we move so quickly and so distractedly through life that we seldom take the time to simply "observe" life. We might spend more time than we should (I know I do) "watching" TV shows, sporting events, even news. But how much time do we devote to simply "observing" the world around us: watching our children or grandchildren play, especially when they are not aware of our presence; watching the birds in the trees and bushes outside the window, or the lizards on the pool deck; watching the clouds form and float by; watching a rain shower or thunderstorm pour out its fury; watching the sunrise or sunset long enough to enjoy all the subtle color shifts during the event.

Beyond the obvious exercise benefits and the hour plus for meditation, the opportunity to observe the world around me is one reason I treasure my time to walk each day. It is during my walking times that I most often see the wildlife which inhabits the world with us. They are always there, but when we are zipping from place to place in our steel-encased automobiles we zoom by them so quickly we easily miss their presence. Last week while in Georgetown, Texas I walked three mornings at sunrise. The first day I spied 5 white-tail deer. The next morning, walking in a light rain shower I noticed 3 more deer. The last morning, a beautiful dawn, I doubled my count and saw 8 deer. That made a total of 16 sightings of deer in 3 days. (I realize some of them may have been the same animals, since they were all sighted along the same 2 mile stretch of road. Even so, the 8 deer spotted the last day were all distinct, separate animals.) I also saw what I believe was a spotted owl on the first morning fly across the roadway, being chased by some smaller bird.

Speaking of "observation" - as I write this blog post I just glanced outside the window above my desk and the sun has evidently shifted to strike with illumination, a large, intricate, well-crafted spider web hanging directly a foot beyond the window. I just looked up at the right time to notice it. Had I not done so, as I can tell now, a few minutes later, I would have missed it, for the sun angle has shifted again and the web has become almost invisible from this spot. So much of observation is obviously about timing. And being in a mode of alertness and readiness to receive.

While I enjoyed seeing the deer in Texas, I live in a veritable paradise of wildlife activity and enjoy spotting fellow creatures regularly on my walks here in South Florida. Regularly I enjoy the company of peacocks with their brilliant turquoise and aquamarine colored feathers, aw well as flocks of ibis along with lone herons, great and small, white and blue. Mullet regularly jump in the canals and this past week I finally spied one of the small crocodiles which lives in the small lake behind the office building where the VITAS south office is located. (I do think the large crocodile escaped that lake. The fence at the end of the ramp, evidently erected to keep the crocodiles impounded, appeared to have been breached, having been bent under a great weight. And I have heard reports of a 10 foot crocodile having been spotted in in the mouth of the C-100 canal at Deering Point feasting on the small snapper.) There is also a pair of horned owls which live in the trees of the small park on the C-100 canal through which I walk which I have occasionally spotted early in the morning right after sunrise.

This morning I arrived at the bay at Deering Point right at sunrise. There were growing cumulus clouds hovering on the eastern horizon which added to the splendor of the sunrise. But the most amazing part of the 15 minutes I spent standing by the bay was experiencing the waves of ibis setting out from their roosting mangroves about a half mile north of my spot. They left in groups of 15 to 30 at a time and flew in formations south. As they passed overhead and all around in wave after wave it was like some massive air force taking off and headed on some bombing run to attack some distant target. They make no squawking noise as they fly, but when a large flock passes close by the noise of the wings, the strong "whoooosh" is awesome! It was a most amazing, wonderful way to begin the day.

The pictures posted include the spider web I just observed, some samples of South Florida wildlife I often enjoy, and a sample of the low-flying, early morning ibis flocks passing close by which I photographed on another morning, not today.

Sabbath Time: Time for reflecting

“I just don’t think about it.” This is a common reply by my 93 year old grandmother who I have been visiting in Georgetown, Texas. Whether it is a function of her age, of the beginning traces of dementia, or a defense mechanism she has learned when she doesn’t want to talk about something I found it a fascinating reply. She offered it often when I would ask her some query, like why they receive nice linen napkins at their tables for lunch, but then receive large 2 foot by 3 foot cotton terrycloth bibs for dinner? She didn’t know. She just doesn’t think about it. I told her that was the sort of trivia about which I often find myself thinking. I would want to know. I would assume there must be a reason and I would wonder what that reason might be.

Martin Heidegger, German philosopher who lived from 1889 – 1976, said in an address given in 1955 that the greatest danger of our time was that the calculating way of thinking, that is part of the technical revolution, will become the dominating and exclusive way of thinking. Why is this so dangerous? Heidegger said: “Because then we would find, together with the highest and the most successful development of our thinking on the calculating level, an indifference towards reflection and a complete thoughtlessness … then humanity would have renounced and thrown away what is most its own, its ability to reflect. What is at stake is to save the essence of humanity. What is at stake is to keep alive our reflective thinking.”

Coming across that quote recently, and visiting my grandmother, began to crystallize some thoughts for me. I agree with Heidegger on the importance of the ability to reflect on life. Animals don’t seem to have this ability. It is part of what makes dogs such wonderful pets: they don’t remember and reflect upon the vagaries of human behavior. They grow to love those human beings who take care of them and they then do so with a complete devotion, with unconditional love, never flagging in their zeal to show that love. Other animals a primarily concerned with survival, with finding food and maintaining their security, and with breeding and perpetuating their species.

Certainly we human beings are concerned with those matters, but a large part of what makes us different, perhaps even unique, is our ability to also reflect upon our experience. We have the ability to remember, to recall, to think about and ruminate over what we did, what happened to us, and imbue it with meaning.

But as we have become more proficient at problem-solving, at calculating and planning, especially with the aid of technology, have we become so engrossed, obsessed, and consumed with this thought process that we take less time to pause, recall, remember and reflect upon the life we are living, the experiences we are having, and find some deeper meaning to our lives?

This is an important reason for Sabbath time. Not just to relax. Not just to take it easy and rest. But also to have time to think, not in a calculating, planning, problem-solving sort of way, but rather in a slower, thoughtful, reflective manner. Sabbath time allows us to just be still with our lives, to recall our experiences, to remember them and to reflect upon them. As we do, we begin to identify larger patterns, deeper meanings, and fresh insights that are refreshing, renewing, and enlarging of our lives.

My grandmother may not think about such things. (Although I suspect she might do more reflecting than she owns up to.) But I definitely need and desire to think about such things. In fact, I yearn to reflect upon many things. Sabbath time is indeed sacred time. It is time to reflect and keep alive that divine quality with which God blessed us when creating us in God’s image.

A Gentle Morning at The Cove

The air was near-still, just the vaguest hint of a breeze wafted the pungent aroma of the sea and marsh, rich with salt and decaying vegetation to my nose. The marsh grasses are so vibrantly green the salt water obviously does not seem to harm them but rather enhance their beauty. Obviously they are not really grasses, but some sort of grass-like plant growing at the edges of the coves and bays on Cape Cod. They pop visually, even when the daylight is muted, as it was that night at sunset in Rock Harbor. The low-hanging, heavy clouds which had blown in from the west hid the sun so we could never really tell when the sun set.

The next morning while I sat on the porch at The Cove Motel overlooking the cove at Orleans the sky was again overcast. The clouds hung just barely above the level of fog and again shrouded the arrival of the sun. Even with the clouds muting the sun-light the colors surrounding me were vibrant. The world was awash in various shades of green with accents of lavender, cherry, yellow, rust, white and brown. The air pulsated with bird life - song birds, swans, gulls, terns, ducks, geese, and crows - a veritable symphony of sound washed over me and awoke my eardrums.

Such a muted, gradual awakening of the world from slumber under a blanket of mist or low-lying clouds seems the most comforting and perfect manner for morning to unfold. The sunlight gradually intrudes upon the world, the temperature so very gradually begins to climb, and life gently stirs and stretches, yawning into activity. This is so much more civilized than when the world is startled awake by the brilliance and glare of a full, non-shielded sun.

These types of mornings occur often near water, the night mists and fogs arising to allow this slow embrace of the day to evoke life gentle, with loving nurture. It is a most hospitable way to care for life - inviting the world to awaken by providing a muted, gentle, open and welcoming space for that to take place. I much prefer it, and it seems from the joy and celebration of the morning the wildlife agreed, to the approach that demands a response and a conforming to the will and expectations of the sun in the harsh judgement of a naked sunrise. When the land and water is overshadowed by clouds they create an arena of peace where the plants and animals and birds can slowly stretch their limbs and begin to explore their capabilities and the world around them without the harsh judging glare and withering gaze that sternly demands results.

Would that we could provide such welcoming arenas for one another as human beings.

Memories Triggered by Familiar Sounds

The sound of the cicada's was omnipresent. The distant moan and rumble of the train washed over me like a warm shower. But it was the church bell's - just a brief Westminster chime sounding the quarter hour - which evoked the memories triggered by familiar sounds. I had not heard the sound of church bells in ages. A carillon used to sound from the steeple of Columbia Presbyterian Church, located right next to the Columbia seminary campus, several times a day, but most noticeably for me at the six o'clock hour every evening. Then First Congregational United Church of Christ in Elkhart, Indiana, followed by Melbourne UCC in Florida both had carillons serenading the local communities, primarily downtown business districts, with lovely sacred music several times each day. When I moved to Christ Congregational UCC in the south suburbs of Miami the carillon was turned off because the neighbors had complained to the County government about the intrusion into their lives with "church music." Shortly after I arrived we briefly turned the carillon back on, just to play the Westminster chimes on the hour, but the neighbors again began sending us nasty notes. Before we could even decide whether to turn it off or not, the carillon stopped playing and we never pursued repairs. Truth is none of the members of Christ Church really lived close enough to ever hear the bells and, other than the Preschool staff, the rest of the staff was never really present to hear them very often either. Still, I do miss the gentle sound of old church hymns played by carillon bells. Hearing the bells always brought me comfort and peace, often triggering positive, happy memories.

While reflecting on the church bells my ears picked up the distant moaning of a train horn following by the rhythmic parting of the sound waves by the passing of the train cars on nearby tracks. Again, the doors of nostalgia opened on past lives. The sound of trains did not become a regular part of my life until I moved to Columbia Seminary in Decatur, Georgia. The tracks were about a half mile away, close enough to hear the train as a distant romantic serenade, rather than an intrusive oppressive presence. Especially pleasant were the late night trains passing and offering a gentle form of lullaby while trying to drift off to sleep following late night studies. The trains followed me to Cullman, Alabama that first seminary summer, and then to Joshua, Texas my second summer, and even to Elkhart, Indiana in my first church after graduation. For eight years trains offered an audible connection with a romantic view of Americana, the earlier history of westward expansion, and a feeling of the transportation lifeblood of the country pulsating with life. When I moved to Melbourne, Florida, even though the church was one block off the Florida East Coast Railway, the trains did not seem to run as often and I can barely recall their presence. Since moving to Miami they have clearly faded the arena of nostalgia.

Strolling comfortably with these audible memories suddenly the cicadas jumped into my awareness. They had been providing an omnipresent backdrop of white noise so prevalent in northern climes in the temperate zone where forests with significant growth of deciduous trees are the rule. Sitting on the porch where we are staying, the sound of the cicada's ebbed and flowed, swelling to the crescendo that surrounded and enveloped as though it was a physical presence, only to fall to pianissimo level that never fades away, remaining at the lowest level of audible awareness.

I am not as aware of the sounds of my life in Florida as I was during this early morning meditation. What I did recall at that moment, becoming aware of their absence, is the sound of birds that are very present in Miami. There were no songbirds this morning. I don't hear songbirds in Miami either. Our birds are not the melodic type. We have mockingbirds and doves, jays and crows, parrots and peacocks, all joined by the squirrels. They offer more staccato, or screeching, or haunting calls rather than melody, but it is very present.

I will need to listen more closely when I return home to identify the prominent sounds surrounding me, providing the sound track for my life.

(The pictures offer a taste of the setting for this auditory reflection.)

The Glorious Poinciana

It was a scene straight out of some "indie" film. I was lying on my back, floating in my pool with my ears submerged so I heard no sound but the sound of the water. Staring straight up from there I was gazing at the most beautiful scarlet-orange poinciana blossoms, framed by the nearly lime-green miniature leaves fresh this spring, against a hazy bluish-white sky. It was deliriously gorgeous. (Poinciana trees [several pictures of them are posted here for those unfamiliar with them] are quite possibly my very favorite thing about living in South Florida. Along with the glorious weather 12 months of the year, which allows for continual golf, bougainvillea blossoms, orchids, frangipani trees, peacocks, ibis, white herons, and so many things that truly make this paradise.) With no sound accosting my ears or my awareness, what I was viewing was immensely more beautiful and intense. I felt like I was watching the opening scene of some strange, artsy, Sundance-worthy independent film and the camera was soon going to pan away to some obscure, or some strangely horrific scene. It was a mini-sabbatical moment.

I have been able to find such mini-sabbatical moments quite frequently, I have just been very terrible about making the time to write them down and reflect on them in the blog. I made a commitment to write at least once a month in this blog and I have done a terrible job fulfilling that commitment. Nor have I been writing in my journal, although I have probably written several more times there than here.

One of those journal entries I was able to identify that television watching had become part of my downfall for finding time to write and reflect on life. (Although I am doing quite a bit of writing, as I have now begun posting a weekly eDevotion for the members of my church, and having become Moderator of the Florida Conference United Church of Christ I am now needing to write a quarterly column for their newsletter and I intend to begin writing, perhaps monthly, eDevotions for the Conference clergy and lay leaders.) I do like to write. It is very cathartic for me and probably my favorite means for expressing myself. I really do enjoy the discipline of writing in this blog and in my journal and when I do not make that time I greatly miss it.

Anyway, I am recommitting myself, and I believe since we are entering the summer season and the regular television shows have all ended (including Lost, which was phenomenal, Fringe, which is almost as good, The Amazing Race, the only reality show worth watching, American Idol, what can I say, I get sucked in like everyone else, V, I am a sucker for Sci-Fi, and two which have been cancelled, so I will hopefully be watching a little less come next Fall, Heroes and FlashFoward) to writing regularly in my journal and on this blog. I will be making a stronger effort to share with you more of my experiences with mini-sabbaticals and other reflections on the wonderful dance of Sabbath Tango.