SPAIN JUNE 2014 -5- NOT ALL IS VERY ROMANTIC IN ANDALUCIA: WORST ROBBERY I EXPERIENCED

6/17/2014

After a wonderful day up on the mountains visiting pueblos blancas yesterday, we get up very enthusiastically to head to Granda. We have no other plan, we will give up our two days at our hotel in Marbella and perhaps will stay at a pleasant hostel we may find in Granada, the rest will be Zeynep's style, let things happen to us, I am all for it. After another breakfast in the old town in Marbella, we head east toward Malaga. On the way, near Terromolinos, we stop at a highway oasis to get gas and I slip off of our plan for "no plans". I knew already that reserving a time slot to visit Alhambra was essential. Why do I feel, leaving Granada without visiting Alhambra would be a waste of a visit? Is it the tourist in me lurking although I'd like to believe that I like anti-touristic travel better than touristic travel? Whatever it is, I ask about internet access on the oasis and am told that cafe-store on the same campus had wifi. Zeynep is agreeable and we park our car a few yards from us and take a seat on the patio, right in front of the parking line.

Plants spring out of cracks on walls in Andalucia
Zeynep locks the car, and we start our "surfing". I, checking Alhambra sites, and Zeynep her e-mail. At some point, I notice an almost unbearable noise around us; turns out to be a group of young kids, all dressed the same way, they look like middle/high school kids. The face of the first one I have eye contact with raises and uneasy feeling in my heart: He reminds me of the guy, who was about to steal my cell phone in Paris off a cafe table I was sitting at one night. I look away and notice that there are many of these guys around all sitting at tables toward my left. Being absorbed in what I was doing on my I-pad, I turn back to my search but also move my digital camera and cell phone, which were both on my left toward Zeynep and tell her "Please be mindful of our electronic stuff, I have an uneasy feeling about these guys". Since all the boys look like Roma people, Zeynep thinks I am biased, and I feel guilty for the same reason, but still move my backpack in between my feet and put my feet through the straps to be on the safer side. So, we both go back to our internet business with no worries about my red luggage in the back seat of the rental car and Zeynep's backpack and my carry-on in the trunk.

Another amazing balcony undersurface covered with tile
In a little bit, again I notice a change of air around us: Ah, the boys have disappeared just as they had appeared out of the blue. The noise around us ceased from one moment to the next, we didn't even see how and where they went. The only memory I have of them is that one boy's face and eyes, slightly aggressive, gregarious, but cunning, at the same time... Zeynep later on tells me they all had the same attire as if they were the members of a team and apparently there was an adult with them, who appeared to be their coach, distributing ice cream to all of them. However, later on exchanging our experiences, we will both express to each other that we both had a very negative feeling about this group being around us as if something bad was happening at the time they were around us. But we are not there, yet, so, we continue with our darn internet engagements without paying attention to what was really happening around us.

Ronda, one of the  most famous pueblos blancas

Finally, I understand that Alhambra reservations had to have been made 3 months ahead of time. No Alhambra visit for us this time. We decide to take off and see what Granada has to show us. Zeynep goes to the bathroom, I head to the car, unlocking it with the key as I walk toward it. I smile seeing the box of cherries we had bought the night before in San Pedro from a mother and her daughter, who were trying to sell the last box of the day for only E4, a box full of at least 4 pounds of cherries. I decide to take out the plastic bag I had squeezed into my red luggage to put some cherries in so that we can munch on on our way to Granada after taking off from the oasis. I go to that side of the back seat, not seeing it there, I wonder mindlessly, whether it were in the trunk, open the trunk, still mindlessly, note that it is empty, close the trunk and head to the back seat again, still mindlessly wondering whether it were on the floor. It is not there, either. For a moment, I recall a scene when we had put my red luggage on the floor at the parking ramp in Marbella as we were trying to squeeze in Zeynep's backpack and my carry-on into the tiny trunk. I feel disturbed with the possibility that we might have left it in the parking ramp, in Marbella.

Lake Zahara from a distance
All of a sudden I become fully mindful! I fully understand that the trunk is empty, I knew for sure it was full of our stuff before we sat down on the patio!!! I had seen with my very eyes that Zeynep's backpack and my carry-on went into the trunk and actually, just before parking I had taken my I-pad out of my carry-on. Reality finally sinks in and since settling down at the patio, mindfulness returns in full: All our luggage, most likely in the hopes that they would find money, electronics, etc was stolen by professional people, who had unlocked the car without causing any damage to the car. How mindless we must have been, locked into the virtual world, me trying to buy tickets to get into Alhambra, and Zeynep who knows what...

Zeynep, my daughter in Ronda

We truly were not there although our physical beings were... And those who observed how absorbed we were paying no attention to our surroundings did their job seamlessly... Most likely under the protection of the noise created by the rowdy group of youngsters, most likely part of the scheme. How important to be in the moment is, hits hard one more time. Had I been in the moment when I felt uneasy with the crowd and noise around us, could we have prevented this robbery, or would they have surrounded us in such a way, and stolen what we had had on us as well? Later, much later, we will come to the understanding that perhaps the worst did not happen to us, since all our electronics, our cash and cards, and our passports were with us, all they got essentially was junk in a way, all personal stuff, that wouldn't bring too much money to the thieves...

White washed Ronda against the meadows and mountains in the distance
I lock the car one more time and go into the store to break the news to Zeynep. I tell her "Keep calm now, but all our luggage was just stolen". She is in disbelief as well, she has to walk fast to the car to prove to me, it can't be. We were just there, a few yards from the car, how could it be? Well, she sees with her own eyes that it actually is, already has been! She takes it very well and takes charge with her Spanish engaging the ladies at the cafe so that they could call the police station and give us information on what we need to do. We need to go to the local and national police stations to start our claim process. OK, we will do that, but before, we wander around a bit to see if the luggage could be thrown some place due to frustration from finding nothing significant to them other than couple of pieces of silver jewelry in each bag, my camera bag with the charger but not the camera, my i-phone charger but not the cell phone, nothing precious, no money, no credit cards, no electronics...

Arab Bridge and Old Bridge in Ronda

I recall all of a sudden that the diary I had started chronicling a very precious friendship was in my red luggage, a pain stabs my chest forcing tears down; I try to breath hard to keep them back... Zeynep recalls a precious Christmas gift she had received from a precious person, a felt bag she has been using for her jewelry during her travels was in her backpack. We resolve, those were the only two items we both would mourn over, especially that I lost would have been my gift to my friend during our first anniversary, just in couple of days... It won't any more, but who can steal memories?

Elegant bathroom window covers
As we walk out to the patio, we see a man in the cafe, tall, big, with eye glasses, shorts and a big tattoo on one of his calves... A little after we walk out, he does, too, and sits down at one of the tables and starts observing us, looking around, talking somewhat anxiously, checking the car all around, etc. We both have an ambiguous feeling about this man: Is he simply a traveler, who understood what happened to our luggage by listening to our conversations and is just observing empathically what we are going through? Or is he part of the gang, who s trying to see how far their scheme would affect us or what action we would take?  Zeynep has a feeling he had something to do with what we would go through in this whole ordeal... I don't know...

Exploring Ronda a bit more in detail
Finally, we find the local police station. A friendly cop takes notes regarding our complaint, types of luggage, passport numbers,  names, phone number, etc.. However, on a piece of scrap paper, doesn't look like a trust inviting attitude... It feels like the moment we turn around the piece of paper will find its way to garbage can. However, the fact that he tells us if nothing valuable found in the luggage, it usually would be thrown aside and it might be found in 1-3 weeks and find its way to the police station instills hope in both of us. If that happens to be the case, they will inform the national police since they are the ones to contact international travelers. That said, we understand that we have to go down to the national police station for a more formal, digitized claim to be filled out. As we drive down to the next police station, both Zeynep and I are getting upset with our own selves for being so mindless and losing contact with our surroundings and getting lost in the virtual world... We feel, we both need our own space to debate in our minds how we put ourselves in this situation, learn from it, forgive our acts, and move on.

New Bridge in downtown Ronda, the most spectacular of all  bridges in town
I start waiting in the lobby, after talking to a police officer, who speaks minimal English. Zeynep arrives in a little bit. She wants to go back to the gas station and the cafe to see if she can talk to other people and mostly to that man. All I can tell her is to make sure to talk to anybody in the presence of others, especially to that man, not alone. She promises she will use all her street smarts and leaves... As I am waiting in the lobby, a team of officers get out and leave. I am getting a bit uneasy about the time, their siesta hour is approaching fast. And I am not wrong, somebody comes out and tells me, the translator left for the day and I will either have to come back the next day or file in Granada. Last straw! Whatever I do and say, the only thing I hear is "No". I am waiting for Zeynep to return.

How the meadows stretch below the gorge in Ronda from the New Bridge
A woman with her adolescent daughter arrives in the lobby. She has a clean face and smiles at me with a friendly smile. She is a blond woman, her daughter looks very much like her. She speaks English and actually after I tell her my story, she tries to translate to other officers what my desire is to no avail. I resolve that Spanish governmental offices are no different than Turkish: the client is subservient, and the less work for the officials, the better... All of a sudden, she volunteers, "If you would like, we may go in together and I can help you with translation." My face lit up, I am sure. Good people may need some time to process that there is nothing wrong in doing good for whoever needs it. We go in, she doe a very professional translation, she in fact had done so for Finnish people for many years. It turns out her parents were from Finland, but she was born in Spain so she had dual citizenship and was bilingual, in fact at least trilingual. Once we are done, I give her my contact info, she gives me hers. I give her and her daughter a very warm Turkish hug, after an instant of hesitation, they both respond as warmly.

Grazalerma, another pueblo blanca
By the time Zeynep returns with no news from the oasis, I was already cheered up with a signed claim form in my hand, but she was also in much calmer a state of mind. We do some shopping to survive the next few days ahead of us.  Zeynep's contact lenses were stolen as well. We need to go to an optician to first and foremost buy contact lens solution. Zeynep asks her if they had sample contacts for her dioptry. To my great surprise, she does and is willing to give two contacts at no charge! I am stunned to see how happy optician is to help Zeynep and how this kindness of heart lifts Zeynep's spirits and fills her with positive energy just as my Finnish friend had given the same gift to me an hour ago. Despite some evil on earth, there is much more good and kindness, that is what keeps this universe and its inhabitants go on without full destruction...

Andalucians love their flowering plants
We decide to return to Marbella, to our hotel and be two beach bums for the next two days before returning to Seville. As we settle down at our Bora Bora restaurant to have another lovely dinner by the water, we are already laughing about our loss, reiterating how mindfulness is so key to everything on earth and much more... We believe we will find out what is in all this that we need to learn at a deeper level about ourselves, about human experience, and about cultures, and who knows what else...

Delicious cherries from a generous Andalucian woman in San Pedro...

SPAIN JUNE 2014 -4- PUEBLOS BLANCAS IN ANDALUCIA

6.16.2014

We will go up to the mountains to see the pueblos blancos (white villages) today, we are both very excited. Ronda, Grazalerma, Zahara, Jeher are some of the jewel towns recommended, we don't know how much of it we can cover in one day and we don't want to take too much risk with driving up and down the mountains, especially after dark, either. Soon after our departure from Marbella following a lovely breakfast in the old town, we realize that, perhaps, it is too ambitious a plan for one day.

Mountains of Andalucia hiding the Pueblos Blancas

Jeher is totally out of the picture since it will almost take us to the Atlantic Ocean. We settle down with the possibility of visiting Ronda, Grazalerma, and Zahara, that should be good. The road soon starts climbing up the mountains and the temperature starts dropping. It is a beautiful drive, of course when Zeynep, my daughter is the driver, it is more enjoyable for me to watch my surroundings. The drive reminds me lots of similar drives in Turkey when one has to come from inland and cross passes across the Taurus mountains separating central Anatolia from the Mediterranean or when moving from one coastal town along the Aegean to the next, separated from one another with low standing hills and mini-mountains stretching perpendicular to the coastal line. I feel very much at home.

First glimpse of Ronda from the south

We finally spot Ronda through the hiatus between two hilltops. It is indeed a very very sweet scene; against gray/brown backdrop, the buildings of town, all white washed, create a serene, pure, inviting panaroma, we are excited and feel "we are finally there". As we get closer, we realize that some stone facades are preserved in especially historic buildings. What is most interesting is that there is a long, steep canyon cutting through the middle of town:

Some stone structures are preserved among all the white wash

Three bridges hanging between the two rims of the canyon like precious necklaces connect the meadows stretching before us with the old town: Arab bridge, old bridge, and new bridge, the latter is the most impressive of the three over the deepest section of the gorge. We start walking through the old town, enjoying the castle, the palace on Santa Mayor, the meadows stretching toward the direction we came in the distance... We walk along the city walls and back and forth across the bridges and finally go down to the bottom of the gorge to have lunch at Francisco's place: We have a very good craten with asparagus and salmon as well as a red pepper tuna dish along with bread, olive oil and olives of course. Bread, olive oil and olives have already become our staple food before all other dishes and will continue to be so during the next several days.

The steep gorge cutting across town in Ronda  

By the time, we are done with our visit, we realize that all we know about where our car is that it is in a public parking space across from a hotel, the name of which we cannot recall and it is close to the entrance from Marbella direction. How mesmerized we must have been with the pueblo blanca that was awaiting us to discover, we never looked at the markers! We need to ask somebody. We enter a store, I ask the gentleman the gentleman "Habla Anglais?" "si", great! I start explaining to him that we entered town from Marbella direction not realizing my description is at 17th grade level not 5th grade, my daughter remarks to me while she cracks up with the bewildered look at the man's face. OK, I get it, he doesn't get it, I guess I overestimated his English skills or he did. It turns out his English is no better than my Spanish, and I don't claim I speak Spanish.

Zeynep picks up the button and starts in Spanish, it looks like he is getting it better now and starts using his hands to direct us toward where we need to be.

 Beautiful tiles under the balconies of a building in Ronda 

Having lost my trust in him, I am not very hopeful still, wishing he is guiding us in the right direction. We pass through an impressive city center where we discover the grandeur of the new bridge and finally find ourselves on a familiar street that we had passed before. On the way to, though, I notice the beauty of the undersurface of the balconies of buildings: They are all made of tile with beautiful design and colors! Zeynep will show me in Seville as well how almost all old buildings have not only tile ornaments on the front wall but also underneath all balconies. Walking facing up to the sky pays off in the towns of Andalucia as long as you don't fall into an unexpected hole! Zeynep, our guide finally finds our way to the car: the hotel's name is Hotel de Andalucia: Daaa... We chuckle and get in the car with joy to head to the second town in line.

 Arco de Felipe V letting one get into the white town

The next town is Grazalerma. The road is climbing up to even higher plateaus as it gets more and more narrow; but the reward is spectacular; a beautiful white washed facade of a mountain top town. the tiny town is established at the brink of a steep cliff; it looks like half the cliff is earth color and the top half is white, which is the town itself! We love it, we have a leisurely tea at a tucked in cafe, we find a gem of a gift store. I buy incense, a lovely bowl, a horseshoe, and two other plates for my friends and family members. They will be tucked into my luggage carefully until we reach Iowa. I don't know at that point that my plan will unfortunately not materialize since all our luggage will be stolen from our locked rental car the very next day. Only the horseshoe, which I bought for Emmett's restaurant will survive the robbery for the simple fact that, I will forget to put it into my luggage...

 
Santa Maria La Major Church in Ronda

When we finally leave Grazalerma, it is already 8 pm and there is no way we can visit another town if we want to be sensible and choose not to drive down this steep mountain range in the dark. We decide to be sensible girls and start heading down right away to find a lovely place to eat by the water again in our good old Marbella coastal line. We discover that right at the end of the mountain road is San Pedro, a small town in the vicinity of Marbella and right by the water. We don't have too long of a discussion before we decide that San Pedro is our destination tonight. We appreciate that it is much smaller and more cozy than Marbella. As we head down to the shore, a woman and her daughter stop us, they are selling a box of cherries, clearly the last box of the day, at least four pounds of cherries, she asks only for 4 Euros. Zeynep murmurs "Universe heard us, we wanted to have fruit, see, here is fruit for you". I smile and gratefully drop the two 2E coins in the mother's palm, who smiles back at me as gratefully. Now we are proud owners of four pounds of cherries.

Grazalerma, another quaint white washed town

We find a restaurant, again the last one on the beach called "Bora Bora": This reminds me of Sadun Bora, a Turkish botman, who had crossed Atlantic in a relatively small boat when I was a child. As we have the best dinner of our stay; zeynep pasta with seafood and I a seabream "cupura" in turkish, dorado in Spanish, I keep gong back to my childhood images of Sadun Bora with his daily pictures broadcast on the newspapers... Our food: todos delicioso... We take another long walk along the coast and head toward our hotel with our ambitious plan of heading toward Granada in the morning and to Cordoba the following day...

Not only balcony undersurface but also building entrances are donned with beautiful tiles

SPAIN JUNE 2014 - 3 - BLOOD MOON (?) IN COSTA D'EL SOL IN SOUTHERN SPAIN

6.15.2014

BLOOD MOON (?) IN COSTA D'EL SOL IN SOUTHERN SPAIN

My daughter Zeynep meets me at Seville airport with her backpack, half her total body size and a hula hoop over her head and around her shoulders. She is something else, a chameleon, who experiences every culture, every relationship by becoming a little bit of the place, of the people to clearly understand their existence. That is why she is so empathetic, so tolerant of anything and everything. I am happy to see that she also has a very strong sense of self, she is her own person with her values, interests, and lots of strengths. I recall, how after living in Guatemala while doing a volunteer program, I found found her to have become a Mayan woman with her flowery skirt, her bandana, big ear rings and her spanish, which has acquired the exact same accent of the locals... I am now curious about how her accent has changed in Spain, where the language has lots of TH and PH sounds...

My daughter the Spanish gypsy

Wherever she goes she finds something unique to make a statement:), let's see what this hula hoop is about. Later during the day, she will declare passingly, "this allowed me reach out to the unique and unusual people on my path for the last week." She arrived in Spain a week before I and has been traveling through Southern Spain for 7 days. We pick up the rental car very easily and head toward Malaga and Marbella. Once we reach the coastal line, we are somewhat disappointed to see that it has become a tourist trap, lined with multiple hotel towers, town after town, unending. Costa d'el Sol. Fortunately, our hotel is in the old town in Marbella, which has quite a remarkable character, both the hotel and the old town. Both actually remind me of our experience in Antalya, Turkey last fall, when we had stayed at a hotel converted from a palace in the old town. Our hotel Puerta de Aduartez is very similar to Hotel Tuvana in Antalya, just as the old towns of both cities are very much alike with their narrow, meandering streets, unexpected squares lined with shops and cafes and restaurants, altogether creating a maze full of exciting discoveries.

Hotel Puerta Aduarez in old town Marbella

We both are exhausted for some reason, Zeynep from driving for close to 3 hours, and I from my jet lag, and decide to rest a bit. When we wake up it is 6 pm. I now feel we have arrived in Spain, siesta has become part of our day already, which I will discover along with Zeynep that it is a real aspect of the culture, here. As we head toward old town, Zeynep is craving for something sweet. We stop at a panaderia and find what they call "churro" here: A piece of dough is elongated into a 1/2 inch diameter string and rolled onto itself into a pancake almost, which then is deep fried and served with chocolate pudding and sugar, the first to dip the churros in, the second to sprinkle it over, based on choice. we try both and i settle down with the sugar since it brings all the tastes of "pishi" from my childhood. It was made exactly the same way, except that the dough would be dropped into hot oil as a small ball, which would then spread into a flat pancake shape and crisp up with the hot oil.  I am back to my childhood, Zeynep to hers enjoying our time with the same person, who made the pishi both for me and Zeynep: my dear sweet mother... we send her our love.

Statues on the beach created very artistically

We then walk up and down the meandering streets of the old town donned with white-washed houses, stores, restaurants, even churches. In southern Spain, most churches have a stone front and the sides are white washed as well as the rest of buildings in towns. I like it, white is purity, cleanliness, innocence, brings light to a place just like the white towns of the mountains we will see the next day, reflecting the sunlight with such brilliance, they will shine like silver patches up on hillsides. Gradually, we make our way down to the beach. Beautiful fine sand is as crowded as any Turkish beach in the middle of the summer. We walk through the crowd with our sandals in our hands toward a natural rock water-break at the east end of the beach.

All women can enjoy a beautiful sunset

As we approach, we see from a distance that a group of women in Islamic attire (not necessarily burka, but heads covered, long sleeves, long dresses, etc) sitting on the sand toward the sunset that is approaching and chatting away. Clearly of Arabic origin, most likely from Morocco, how wonderful, they are enjoying the same beauty we are, we celebrate that, that they are not confined into their homes and are allowed to be out and about even to be with people, who are "semi naked" in their swimming suits. I hope they don't judge us as infidel because we are in shorts and tank tops and our hair is exposed to the view of men, the fundamentalists in Turkey, would, who knows what these ladies think...

Phillipino fishermen

We then move to the rock barrier that is made up of huge boulders put side by side creating a sturdy barrier against the waves. Zeynep and I are moving toward the tip of it, to be able to have a better glimpse of the sunset. There is an asian looking man fishing up on the boulders. as Zeynep moves further to the tip to explore the sea urchins, which are abundant, I start talking to the young fisherman, who appears to be in his 30s. He is from Phillipines, so is his wife. they both work at restaurants, he resentfully; zeynep will discover later when he moves closer to her. He is planning to work in Spain for ten years and go back to his country to become his own boss. he has a daughter he is proud of. In a little bit, another man appears on the "pier", who happens to be his brother-in-law, also in the restaurant business. We will discover that there is nothing to be surprised to meet Philippinos in Southern Spain, since we will come across, in the coming days, many ethnicities intermingled on this coastline from Philippinos to Iraqis to Indians to ....

Our first sunset in Marbella

We then start walking toward where the sunset. It is a mild, serene sunset, not burning in red, perhaps, because the sun sets behind the mountains along the coastline, here, the sea and the coastal line are vaguely part of sunset, but that brings a peaceful beauty of a different sort. I like it as much as the sun putting the sea and the horizon above the sea on fire as I have seen in Izmir, in San Diego, in Porto among other cities that have turned their face to the west. We finally walk so far that the restaurant line comes to an end, we decide to settle down in the last restaurant, the music of which is very soothing, few customers with very friendly waiters. It turns out to be a very good choice.

Our first sunset in Marbella black and white

We order  olives, olive oil and bread, which will become our staple appetizer for the next 6 days, a large fish platter along with white wine. The platter has multiple kinds of shell fish including baby lobsters and three different fish, tuna, sword, and salmon. The best salmon I have had in my life. Our waiters are very friendly. they are joking with Zeynep, especially the one who probably is close to my age if not older than I. After dinner, we ask whether we could take our wine glasses to the beach. They are perfectly fine with that. We settle down on two seats right on the beach and listen to the Mediterranean in meditative trans. We both had desperately missed this sound. I shouldn't say sound, this act, this way of living, this way of breathing the  Mediterranean in and out... That is what we both grew up with, that is when we both feel most alive, coming back to life each time we meet again with the Mediterranean, at whatever part of it it may be; be it in Turkey, or Greece, or Cyprus, or Tunusia, or Egypt, finally or Spain, some sections of the Mediterranean we cumulatively have been to so far. I think of the Aegean coves and bays, inevitably, and think one more time that the best of the Mediterranean is definitely along the Aegean...

Blood moon documented with poor equipment

Finally we start walking toward Marbella to get back to our hotel. It is 11:30 already, which will become our routine to be done with our dinner in the coming days... Half way to our return to the center of town, we see a phenomenal view up above the water: moon is rising, but what is phenomenal is that it is red, pure red... Zeynep wonders if it is one of the "blood moons", 4 of which will be viewed in 2014 and 2015. We both are mesmerized, but I can tell, Zeynep is totally lost in this beauty... how lovely to see her enjoy the nature this much now, which she lacked when she was an adolescent. I am glad to see her start appreciating many more things I have been appreciating since my adulthood... We go back to the beach to sit in front of the seats and umbrellas to be able to admire this impossible-to-miss view with no barriers in front of us. Another meditative moment at the end of the day. Around 12:30, after being transfixed on the moon until its bloody red color fades into a light pink then yellow white, we are ready to really head back to the hotel. When we collapse to our beds, we both have the pleasant taste of all of our experiences of the day, which will put us to sleep around 1 am with no interruption till 10 am the next day..

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Another sunset from Marbella

SPAIN JUNE 2014 - 2 - ADVENTURE CONTINUES: INDIAN BEAUTY AND CARMEN AND JOSE

ADVENTURE CONTINUES: INDIAN BEAUTY AND CARMEN AND JOSE

The day is long, I woke up at 2:15 am, took a long bus ride on Megabus from Iowa City to Union Station followed with a ride on blue line. At 9 am, I am at O'hare. However, I couldn't have done it in any other way. I am glad I witnessed the stunning sunrise, no photograph could do justice to. But more is awaiting me at O'hare; next sweet human experience!  As i get off the blue line that brought me from Union station to O'hare, I see a woman in green attire, just like that of an OR nurse or intensive care unit staff. She is walking fast, apparently in a hurry. My spontaneous attention catches glimpses of her with curiosity about who she might be, what this hospital attire is about at an airport at this hour. She disappears around a corner and I am looking for a comfortable place to rest till my check-in time. After taking couple of turns in my pursuit, I decide to use the restroom before settling down at a comfortable cafe.

Aha, there she is, in the restroom! As I move to the toilet, I notice she is taking out a hair curling iron out of her purse. I am now really curious, already creating all kinds of scenarios in my mind. The most plausible feels like "she works at a hospital and has an additional job at the airport to make ends meet, and she is getting ready for her weekend job." I am content with this scenario... As I wash my hands, our eyes meet for a split second, when I see that she is curling her hair with nimble, experienced hand movements. She welcomes our connection with a sweet smile that enlightens her naturally shimmering dark skin (Is she Indian, is she Pakistani?). She is eager to talk in fact... She volunteers "trying to give some shape to my hair before I fly.". OK... scenario changed. Her second job may be flying as a stewardess, is it? No it is not... She is talkative, would like to share her story and I am eager to listen...

To sum up, she is flying to Dallas to the wedding of one of her best friends. She is indeed Indian (I figured that out as soon as she started talking), and after doing her hair, she will put on her sari before catching her flight. Oh, by the way, she is an intern in internal medicine, she was on call the night before, that is why she had to rush to the airport in her green scrap suits. Despite having had a rough night, she is still smiling, she is energetic, and clearly enthusiastic about the day lying ahead of her.  What a treasure to be young and look forward to such a long day after a rough call at the hospital... I recall how I was able to do the exact same thing in my twenties during my first residency in pediatrics in Turkey, whereas, when I had to repeat residency in NYC 10 years later in my late 30s-early 40s, all I wanted to do after a call was to go home and sleep...

When I reveal to her why I was asking all kinds of questions about her attire in my mind clearly recognizing the significance of it, her smile covers her entire face, making her even more beautiful than she already is. Hearing that I am a pediatrician, she almost sinks into her skin with much more peace, she knows now that I fully understand all she has told me and all that she has not, all the difficulties and rewards of being a resident, this green clothing becoming one's skin for 3-4 years, personal gratifications being scattered into the demands of what you need to do to help people, to heal people, rewards of saving lives, touching people's lives, among lots more... I wish her to have a most wonderful weekend and give my best wishes to her friend for her future life. She smiles even bigger and tells me "Nice to meet you..." I can feel just as she has brightened my day, our conversation also will continue brightening hers hopefully taking away just a bit of the exhaustion she came to O'hare with. I sense, just as I will tell this encounter to my daughter in Spain, she will tell it from her perspective to her friends in Dallas....

Later in the afternoon, I move to my gate having had a lovely breakfast at a corner cafe. How could I know adventure would continue, indeed. As I wait at the gate, there came a lady in wheel chair. Her hands are donned with hyperpigmentation, coupled with the fact that she needs a wheelchair revealing she probably is older than I. Curiously, I  look at my hands, no hyperpigmentation, yet. However, my hair is silver since I stopped dying my hair for the last year, and her face and hair (red) tells me otherwise; which one is telling the truth, hands or face/hair? She is seated by her help right next to me and we try to exchange couple of words regarding our flight. However, it turns out her English is worse than my almost non-existent Spanish. At the end she asks me my seat number. It turns out there is only one seat between the two of us she has 15J and I 15L. We smile in the universal language and wish each other a good flight in our language of fluency knowing exactly what the other party was uttering.

When I finally board the aircraft I discover to my pleasant surprise that we actually are sitting next to each other. I like that since she clearly has a positive energy about her, with a friendly smile and eagerness to chat with whatever tools she has. The only disappointment I have is that my seat is a window seat and she, due to her illnesses wants to keep her aisle seat. The first half of the trip we both either watch a movie or sleep or read. However, during the second half when she is having difficulty getting her movie on the screen I help her a bit and in Spanish heavily supported with body language of course, she makes a comment about my fingertips being magic! and she does that in Spanish, but I understand what she means... We both chuckle, I practice my gracias with Castellano pronunciation "grathias"...

Once we are done watching our movies, she is inclined to talk more. English, Spanish, mathematical, sign and body language, we use it all as appropriate. Whenever we need big numbers, we write them down, makes communication easier, but i get her to pronounce them, too so that I recall them one more time for my upcoming week in Spain. Her name is Carmen, somehow she is amazed with my name and surprised that she had never heard it before. As soon as she learns I am originally from Turkey, she animatedly starts going on and on about Istanbul that she had visited earlier; with its Aghia Sophia, Blue Mosque, and its history. We gossip a bit about how much history there is in Europe and Asia compared to America. I am mesmerized with how much individuals from the old world pride over that when we all know that most of the history in the old world that has been left to contemporary times in fact is the history of the ruling classes of the old times, the imperial powers when the masses were suffering from hunger, torture, diseases, poverty of unimaginable degrees, yet, we contemporaries still pride over that when those "treasures" reside on our land... something, i just couldn't acquire, yet... I see history wherever it is, whoever owns it today as belonging to the world and its cumulative peoples. We thus, agree upon the fact that Americas' native history in fact was not preserved as well by the Europeans that invaded Americas, who almost decimated the native populations and their cultures.

She walks me through the map of Spain on the screen and tells me about where she grew up, a most Castellano town (that I understand both in her spoken and unspoken language). she tells me she has three daughters, two living in different cities of Spain, one in Chicago for the last year, in fact she is returning from her first visit to Chicago. I tell her about my daughter being in Seville for the last week and our vacation plan in Andalusia. She is very excited that we are planning to go to Cordoba, of course none of us knows at this time what will follow us in Andalusia, which will change our travel plans drastically.

She starts telling me about how Cordoba is her most favorite city, the history of which was a spiraling mixture of Moore, Jewish, and Christian cultures, just as I read in my SteveRicks book. Although she sounds like she is celebrating the diversity in Cordoba, at some point, she also complains about the amount of "it is a lot" immigration by Moroccans to Andalusia. Later on, she also states, where she lives around Madrid, 15 years ago there was no "negro" and now there is a lot. I wonder if underneath the surface in this 72 year-old Castellan woman is a bit of discrimination if not racism... When she tells me in writing she is 72, I am stunned, I could have never guessed that. She tells me about her ailments, isn't this a doctor's fate while traveling if you disclose your professional background. She has fatty liver and one of her kidneys was removed due to nephrocarcinoma, she had varicose veins that limited her mobility. worst of all, her husband, who was a very "bueno" man had died 5 years ago. We exchange very empathetic glances and words. I touch her arm in a sisterly way, I can tell she appreciates that.

When she talks about her husband and her, she chuckles "just like in the opera "jose and carmen"". I tell her about my partner's passing away almost 4 years ago and now having a new partner for the last year looking at her in a way to instill hope in her, or perhaps see if there was any desire to seek such a chance for herself. No, there is none in her eyes and in her words there is none, either. She looks at me and says "but you are young". Yes, 17 years younger than her. My heart goes to her. It was very sad for me to lose my partner after being together for 8 years. I can't imagine how it must feel like to lose a partner after having spent 30-40-50 years together. I wonder if it feels like your skin is peeled off of you having learned what is behind every word, every gesture, every look of a person... And how does one come to peace with his/her new life without that, with whom one has identified him/herself for many decades... Recognizing I am getting too philosophical again, I gently bring my attention back to Carmen.

When she says "but you are young" there is no resentment in her eyes or voice. All I sense is peaceful resolve with where she is and what she could expect from life now. That is good I resolve, she is happy, I could tell from the enormous amount of positive energy she irradiated throughout our journey together till the last minute. Since my connection time is very short, we say our good byes before parking at the gate and I rush out. However, about ten minutes after I get in line for passport control, I hear somebody yelling "bueno vieja", turn to look at who is wishing "have a good trip" to whom. It is dear Carmen, in her wheel chair, half rising over her seat to get my attention, with a big, big smile, sparks in her eyes, waving at me... I wave back with as big a smile on my face and yell back "Gracias Carmen, para todos..." She disappears in the crowd again injecting my exhausted body with positive awakening energy to soon meet my lovely, sweet daughter...