recuerdos de infancia: Oliver y Benji

When we were little there was some tv that we had to watch, this series "Campeones" starring Oliver and Benji (in Japanese: Captain Tsubasa) was a huge hit in Spain, we loved it. I wish I could get it for the boys....

palo dulce: palolu

Glycyrrhiza glabra (Palodú o Palolu)

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In Spain I grew up eating sticks called palolu (from the spanish: palo dulce), and not just me, but all my friends as well. We would chew on them for hours, days with the ends slicking out of our mouths. Their nectar was potent, sweet and perfect. I decided that since I have a garden now, and I can plant whatever I want to plant I needed to find out what it really was that we were chewing on! I knew it as palolu, but it is known scientifically as Glycyrrhiza glabra. In Spain it is known as "the poor man's licorice" and has an intense and woody black licorice taste. I now use it all the time, since at the Beanery (local coffee shop) they sell it all cut up into little pieces for infusions or teas. I drink that almost every night...but that stuff has been dried and isn't as good to chew on, I want the real fresh stuff. So, I found some seeds...which is a little iffy...but I would love to have this memory to share with my boys.

Some things will always make me ache for my young days, for the free and careless days that I will never own again. All of my childhood memories are from Spain, and there are about 3 people that I can share them with without explaining it all out. Sometimes that gets to me, a sense of loneliness of unshared memories.

What brings you to your youth, smells, songs, games? I think I will do a full post on this including all my childhood memories....I can share them even if I need to explain them right!? I'll let you know how my search for palolu goes!!!

Glycyrrhiza glabra plant

tree land...ADVENTURE

Our adventure began after we shoveled our dinner into our mouths as fast as possible in order to make it to the tree world before it closed. We got in the car all warm and cozy and realized just how dark it was once we left the city of the living, and entered no man land (tree land!). We followed our friend Becky's directions to where we thought this place would be, and it was there...it was just very hard to see. There were no lights on, but there was an "OPEN" sign we could see once the headlights hit it. So, it was open...right!? Or did they forget to take in their sign?! Oh, well since we had traveled to tree land we did not want to come back treeless (especially with a 3.5yr old in the back seat, talk about disappointment!).

Brad got out of the car and went to the mobile home door and knocked. Soon after that, a man followed him with a light and a saw and tried to illuminate our path through this new and exciting world...it didn't really work too well. The man was in front with the flashlight, then Brad followed...and we all know Brad is much, much taller than any of the rest of us, meaning none of us could see anything. I was carrying Oliver and holding Jackson's hand thought this darkness, I mean adventure.

We kept tripping, falling and all sorts of fun things, but the funniest is when Jackson's face kept getting brushed by those really tall weeds and he asked, " there are no bees here, right mamma?". I about answered no, but our tree land guide turned and answered: No, well I don't think we have any out here right now, they are a little to the east". Uhm, yes...that is not what you tell a nervous, in the dark, muddy, falling over tree stumps 3.5 yr. old!! I held my breath and hopped Jackson did not understand that this man actually had homes to put his thousands of bees in, and that maybe they were not here right now....Jackson did not seem to notice. YAY!

So, we cut the tree, we carried it to our car and left tree land...with one Christmas tree. What more can you ask of tree land than that!? It was a great adventure. Happiness is going home with a tree in your trunk! right?! (and no bees)

my gypsy blood- always embrace, never forget

Every several months I begin to miss part of my heart, which is found somewhere in Spain. Every couple months I feel like half of me is not where I am. I know that my life is full, and complete, but my youth, my memories of growing up will never be from here...they are always from over there. If you have not gone through this it is hard, but really not that hard at the same time...therefore it causes you to not really do anything about it, and so it goes on...year after year, every several months.
I have grown up now, and traveled back to Spain
with my American family I have changed, and Spain has changed too. My memories have passed, and when I went back I was hoping they would still be living somewhere there for me to find them. They were not. They are not. We all have memories from growing up, but when we are cut from them and move on- it is hard to understand fully how and why they are not continuous. They are faded and embellished in your mind, and so pretty inaccurate. The memories I have of Spain that I think about are gone, they are old, they are in pictures and thoughts that I can share with those who lived them with me. But I have grown up and no longer live there, even though part of me still
lives in the memory of my Spanish youth.
Even though it is not much to bear, it is a longing for something that is not possible. Every once in a while I will dream we move our family over there and Brad works for some company in Spain. This dream is pretty while I sleep, and at first when I am waking up...but it gets more sour as I sit there, because it is me wanting to live in the place of my youth when both the place and my youth have changed and no longer exist in that same form. I could go back and make new memories, but then I'd have fragments everywhere. I could stay and remember the fragments I've left in different places and not want to do so anymore...but then how would I live, for that is who I am. I am a fragment of different nations, of different peoples, of different languages and passions and ideas, I am a formation of all these into one- and without one of them I would then, truly be a fragment and not a whole. I have gypsy blood in me, it is always moving, always embracing and always a little tiny bit sad because of the places it has left and the people it will never forget.

PS- it hasn't helped that I subscribed to a feed from flickr in which I get all the pictures uploaded that are tagged "Spain" it is amazing...I get hundreds every day. Look at the Photos from everyone tagged spain