Let's put a little Gift Wrap on 2008

And so, we put the final details on 2008 and prepare to move into the next round of 364 1/4 days. I feel pretty good about this past year. I graduated from college, got to work in Alaska, and moved to Spain. On top of that, I continue to be blessed with family and friends who love me and support me. Yes, life has been good. And it has been scary. I can feel my perceptions quickly altering as I begin to see the world through these new adult eyes. I have a deeper grasp on the significance of the passing of time and it makes me want to cling to the here and now because I know things can be so different in a matter of months. Just look at stock markets around the world. Yes, we may go down, but at least we will all go down together. I can think of no better time for us to all join hands. And keep a loaded shotgun under the bed.
So, here is to 2009, possibly to be one of the toughest years to have been faced in generations.

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This past Friday I aired up a borrowed mattress and my dear friend Matt showed up on his 'tour de Spain'. The weather turned amazing; right on cue.
I had spent the past 2 weeks sloshing through heavy Mediterranean rains. Every morning I go up and looked out at the dismal clouds, but resigned myself peacefully to them, in exchange for the weather promising to turn perfect for my visitors. And it did.
We spent Saturday riding the Paseo Maritimo enjoying the sun and the brisk winter breeze was invigorating. It was lovely and I wondered if my Papa Morris was somewhere on the other side of the Ocean, riding his bike too.

On Sunday I got up and got excited. Today was my big Christmas present. I almost didn't believe it until I actually saw Granddaddy striding through the glossy airport. They had made it! Something we, sadly, could not say for their luggage.
We took a taxi to their hotel and had a choice between rooms overlooking Cathedral La Seu or the Passeig Mallorca, the roads which escort the largest torrent on Mallorca into the Sea.
They quickly settled in and we took an afternoon walk down the road past where Dorothy seemed to have found herself rather far from Kansas. The next day we ran into a man in the U.S. army, stationed in Germany, from Joplin, Missouri but spending Christmas in Mallorca with his wife and their baby. We come from everyewhere. Even, sometimes, the same place.
The next day grandmother, granddaddy and I intended to take the old train to Soller but the rail was closed for repair so we took the bus instead. It was beautiful and fun. We were on a quest for Gelati but to no avail. We took the old wooden tram down from the town of Soller to the port of Soller.
There is an interesting story behind why the towns in Mallorca are set up at a distance from the ports. And that story is...PIRATES. Before tourism caught Mallorca up, the coastal lands were the most useless. Not fit for crops and succeptible to piracy. The towns would set up ports and the housing along the water was often that of poor fishermen. A few kilometers inland they would build their churches and stone houses and shops. The people here really just don't want trouble. I suppose that is the best perspective when embracing a history of conquests and reconquests.
We ate lunch on the dock in the Port de Soller and enjoyed the sun and the pan amb oli and sodas served in petite glass bottles. We then ambled down to the beach and picked up ocean smoothed rocks.
Another day we took a trip to Valldemossa where we walked throught the sleeping gardens of the church where Chopin had spent a winter. It may not be its most beautiful season, but it was this climate which had nurtured Chopin's music, and so we sat in the maze of shrubs and let it fill us as well.
We walked back into the cobblestone center of town and into a cafe where we ordered hot chocolates and an assortment of Mallorcan pastries. Something improtant to remember is that over here hot chocolate is made with milk and is truly more akin to melted chocolate than we Americans are used to. The pastries, from bottom to top are ensaimada, torta de pina, coca de patata. They really hit the spot and sent us off happily, back to Palma. To give me an opportunity to have a face-off with a certain pumpkin pie and to allow the grandparents to truly appreciate the Spanish culture by enjoying a siesta.
I am not going to go into the gruesome detials of my pie-scapade, but all in all, I would say it came out a success. It at least did not scare the Mallrocans off and the Americans who knew seemed impressed that it had come out so well considering the dimensions of the pan were much wider and shallower than at home.

On Christmas day we all gathered together over quite a spread of food. Jamon Serrano and melon, cheese and grapes, salmon, and then, a turkey, stuffed with pork and bacon and dates and apricots and hard boiled eggs and who knows what spices. The turkey had been completely emptied so we cut him in half, in large slices. It was delicious and unlike anything I have ever seen. We chatted and communicated, Granddaddy quite holding his own in conversation and Matt doing his mallorquin to french to english interpretation of the world. We passed around gifts and I looked around and fell in love with my impromptue family. After we had all eaten, grandmother and I were watching A Christmas Carol and I began to wonder where granddaddy had gotten to. I found him downstairs in the garage, sitting astride a rusty red 1970s Vespa scooter, talking with Marga's dad. I do have a picture, but I think I am going to hold on to it as potential black mail.
And so, that was my unconventional Chirstmas.