Let me remind you, I met Marisa the first week of “Vive el Ebro” trip, I thought she was just the right blend of wit and humor, which I very much admire, although perhaps it was due to all that Rioja wine we downed. When we reached Logrono, she anounced that she had to go back home with her daughter Candela; she wasn’t the only one, Mamen and her son Carlos from Cuenca (if you remember the incident of the puppy that lost a toe) and Maria Antonia from Valladolid were also leaving; so that was the day I was supposed to go to the Wurt museum with the group, but I stayed to have a late breakfast instead with these wonderful people. Marisa showed me a picture of her home on her phone, she showed it to others too, along with an invitation. I was sad, but later that day I had the opportunity to read a poem about the fairies that had created the Ebro Delta to the rest of the group that she had left in my hands. Those days were so full of excitement and emotions, many other great people came and left, that I became accustomed to saying good-bye.
But the second to last day, when we left Tortosa to arrive at the Delta in the evening, for an observer would have compared it to the final leg of the Amazing Race, past contestants reunited; but it was so much more, so many tears, happy tears of course; it was the twilight hour, and we were received by a group of children playing drums, a batukada, then I started to see faces that had left, like Manolo from Madrid, and when I saw Marisa I was ready to explode from joy. We were all exhausted, yet we continued to celebrate each other for as long as our bodies would allow us.
I had been dragging my feet about visiting Marisa and a city I had not yet seen before, for no other reason than money shortage; but I took a Ryan Air flight which is very cheap, under 50 euros($60 aprox), but very important to read a follow thru the instructions, otherwise it can become expensive as they will charge you for everything, like 60 euros to print your boarding pass or any, and I mean “any” baggage.
Marisa greeted me at the airport and took me to a “romeria” (spanish for outdoor celebration), where her friend Inma was waiting with Candela; this romeria was organized by the “Gildas” a group of women that do fundraisers to help out critical disaster affected peoples around the world. The term “gilda” in Spain is usually in reference to an old Rita Hayworth character meaning beautiful strong determined woman. It was a nice surprise to see such a crowd of progressives here, because a well known fact of Santander, it was Franco’s favorite spanish city, and had been the royal house’s summer getaway for years before the civil war, so basically it was and still is a fascist haven.
Santander is on a large peninsula with many smaller peninsulas, the city facing opposite the windy Cantabric Sea and enjoying the more protected bay area. The drive home was along the bay coast, and Marisa’s home was in the Cueto neighborhood, just around the peninsula and facing the northern windy Cantabric coast, an area where no santanderino would ever build a home, so while other family members had long ago sold their land for very cheap, Marisa’s wish was to build her home on her grandparents plot where they had grown their own wine.
Standing outside on the terrace and just watching the sunset I could understand how Marisa was able to simply loose herself to this peaceful environment and wash away her troubles at work, she’s a professor of microbiology, which she loves, the pressure is the constant daily mindless name-calling and bullying from her fascist colleagues. She is thinking of leaving her home and moving to the south of Spain, in hopes of improving her surrounding, and because she believes the warmer weather will make her thrive.
Directly in front of the house is “el Panteón del inglés”, the spot where William Rowland died in 1889 when he fell off his horse that plunged into the sea. While Marisa went to find water shoes for Candela’s sailing class beginning that afternoon, I went for a walk with Inma, Candela and Vera (chocolate lab).
Inma pointed out a huge rock that will eventually slip off into the sea someday, and as if the picture was not enough, throw in a daring fisherman to make it even more unique.
Estela, who I had also met on the Ebro trip came to join us too, so while Candela was learning to sail, we went to visit the city. The downtown area is the least popular, due to the fact that after the 1941 fire that destroyed a large portion of this city, the now homeless citizens were divided and relocated to the outskirts, while the few wealthy fascist families simply took an entire block for each and built their ugly legacies. Marisa’s grandparents and parents were one of these families that had everything stripped away from them, despite the fact that her father was in Franco’s army.
The “raqueros” was the name given to local young boys who would dive into the port waters in order to chase the coins that were thrown in by tourists or navy men before reaching the bottom for their amusement; naturally they would get to keep any of the coins that they could get.
Any homes on this promenade have alternate backstreet access, to be used for service and deliveries, but on strong south wind days, it was so strong their front doors could not be opened, so they would hang up this hilarious sign not so long ago: “los dias de viento sur, los señores reciben por detrás”, translates to: on south wind days the gentlemen will recieve from behind.
The following day was a work day, so I was on my own, Marisa loaned me her bus and bike passes, although I ended up walking all along the coastline, first towards the nearby lighthouse, and since the fog began to follow me, I took my time in an effort to wait it out and try to get s few pictures of the lighthouse. Along the way, I had been told to look out for the recently fallen natural rock bridge, which had been up till just a few months ago a popular picture spot.
Just past the lighthouse is the Forestland Park, and just as in NorCal the same mistake of planting eucalyptus trees happened here, however they took the opportunity to use these trees for a different kind of amusement park. Like many other things though this used to be a public a free activity, but that has changed, and is for paying customers only.
The next peninsula contains a golf (of) course, don’t forget Severiano Ballesteros was from a town just across the bay. While a thick stone wall has been built around it, which many locals are not fond of, I felt it needed to be taller, as in some parts I felt compelled to duck, as I’m terrified of flying golf balls. On the other side of this peninsula is the small beach of Mataleñas, where I wet my feet in the Cantabric Sea for the very first time.
The popular trendy Sardinero beach area reminds me of Bondi beach, because of the english colonial style buildings, like the casino. As I was approaching it I noticed more people were walking up and down, most clothed, as if it were a promenade of sort,,, so I joined in.
Lastly and before Marisa picked me up after her work, I walked on to the next peninsula that harbors the Palacio de la Magdalena, built in 1908-12 as the royal summer home.
The next and last day before going back home, I stayed in and around the home collecting and identifying local wild plants that I need to make the “pomada sanjuanera”, named for the summer solstice, the recipe was handed to me via Concha, another Ebro friend, after seeing it’s extraordinary healing and not being something you can purchase anywhere.
