so, I was just thinking that admin of this blog could use a really good thwacking for slacking so much, kinda like the one doled out at the minute mark of this vid:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jx1pRhqMxA4
I don't know about yall, but I had really high hopes for this blog, and not only did I not get regular and timely entries from the admin (and other participants), I most certainly did not see any abs crying molten steel by the end of it. I do not like being mislead, and I was told to "BELIEVE IT" and believe it I did.
Now, as best as I can recall I made no promises along this journey that was participating in the league. I may have made some warnings (i.e. "cuidado, soy tizona" for six pack or pack-less, Tizona is a force to be reckoned with) and false assumptions (like that it would be "cake" to get a two pack to a six pack in five weeks...), but I never issued any promises. Well, here's one: in exactly two months time, I will return again to post my six pack all over this blog's vacant and decaying wall. I don't have to tell you to "believe it," because seeing is believing. Until the 21st of November, I bid you all fair well.
Mordidas,
Tizona
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Final Abventure: Saquear Higos
I love fresh figs, so I decided to go to a region in Spain where I knew I'd find los higos (figs). I had bought dos cajas (boxes) of higos that I'd bought in the supermarket and spent waaay too much money on them, but while destroying los higos, I read on the label "Origen: Ávila. Being the ignorant American, I was like hells yeah, I'm goin' to Ávila to pillage for some figs (fully prepared to resort to violence if it had been necessary. My pack left me well armed and well prepared should anyone have gotten between me y mis higos. Some of you may get dressed everyday putting on a shirt, but I, I am actually sheathing my weapon.)!
So, I went to Ávila, la ciudad, even though with the little research I'd done and the few people on the street that I'd asked, led me to beleive I wouldn't find any "arboles de higos" there in Ávila. Even if they weren't in the city, I knew they couldn't be far... ...or so I thought.
Once in Ávila, although I found Santa Teresa's dedo and a friggin' amazing castle, I did not find higos. I learned that the higos were actually in hte south of the province of Ávila... ~80km south of Ávila la ciudad in a small pueblo called Arenas de San Pedro and that the only bus leaving from Ávila destined for Arenas had already left. So, undeterred, I returned on the train to Madrid, only to return two days later to see a bit more of Ávila and take the bus down to Arenas. There were direct buses from Madrid to Arenas, but I had a few more things I wanted to see of Ávila and this way I would be able to see more of the Spain's "paísaje" (landscape) than if I took the roundtrip from Madrid. This happened to be a very good decision b/c the landscape was like nothing I've ever seen before, and there was a lot of excitement on the drive for we ran into a massive hail storm/torrential floods. At the three bus stops we made in little pueblos along the way, the water was jumping off hill sides, and I saw people literally shoveling the water out of their stores and houses.
Upon reaching Arenas de San Pedro, I sprinted to the restrooms. Flood waters do not help with full bladders. I was lucky I made it! One poor old man wet himself on the ride and his friend who was napping in the seat beside him awakened to discover this got really pissed off and was yelling "¡coño!" and other obscenities at his friend. It was actually really sad. These dudes were like 70...at least.
So, I went to Ávila, la ciudad, even though with the little research I'd done and the few people on the street that I'd asked, led me to beleive I wouldn't find any "arboles de higos" there in Ávila. Even if they weren't in the city, I knew they couldn't be far... ...or so I thought.
Once in Ávila, although I found Santa Teresa's dedo and a friggin' amazing castle, I did not find higos. I learned that the higos were actually in hte south of the province of Ávila... ~80km south of Ávila la ciudad in a small pueblo called Arenas de San Pedro and that the only bus leaving from Ávila destined for Arenas had already left. So, undeterred, I returned on the train to Madrid, only to return two days later to see a bit more of Ávila and take the bus down to Arenas. There were direct buses from Madrid to Arenas, but I had a few more things I wanted to see of Ávila and this way I would be able to see more of the Spain's "paísaje" (landscape) than if I took the roundtrip from Madrid. This happened to be a very good decision b/c the landscape was like nothing I've ever seen before, and there was a lot of excitement on the drive for we ran into a massive hail storm/torrential floods. At the three bus stops we made in little pueblos along the way, the water was jumping off hill sides, and I saw people literally shoveling the water out of their stores and houses.
Upon reaching Arenas de San Pedro, I sprinted to the restrooms. Flood waters do not help with full bladders. I was lucky I made it! One poor old man wet himself on the ride and his friend who was napping in the seat beside him awakened to discover this got really pissed off and was yelling "¡coño!" and other obscenities at his friend. It was actually really sad. These dudes were like 70...at least.
I asked at the bar where I could find these arboles de higos only to find, ¡que suerte! there were two right outside the bus station!! After gorging on its wonderfully ripe fruit for a few minutes, I set off to find more arboles de higos. Having been told at the bar that I'd need to go to this place called Poyales del Hoyo that was 20km from Arenas de San Pedro (go figure), and as the only bus returning to Madrid from Arenas left at 18h, I was in a bit of a pinch for time. I had just over an hour to achieve my mission of finding and hoarding figs.
I walked around for a while trying to find a taxi in this little rinky dink town. I asked at a pharmacy and learned where the one spot in Arenas is where taxi's are supposed to congregate: by the castle. I also learned from the pharmacist that fig trees have a special name "higueras." (Cool) I found the spot where the taxi's should have been, but I did not find a single taxi, so I asked at a small local market if there was anywhere else that I might be able to find a taxi. She said she didn't know of any, but gestured an an unmarked Peugeot that was parked in the taxi zone.
Domingo was lounging back in his seat listening to some easy-listnening type music, when I approached him to ask if he'd be willing to drive me Poyales del Hoyo. He told me he wasn't from around there and that he was waiting on a client. I explained that I'd need to be back in Arenas by 6, and he said, something like "well, in that case, vamos, my client won't be ready 'til 6." So we flew.
While we were driving I began to explain to him what I intended to do: to pillage for figs. He seemed really nervous and mentioned something about the police and that he didn't want to support me as my driver, but I assured him of the powers of my pack and told him not to fear. He told me a little about himself and that he was from a small town adjacent to Poyales del Hoyo called Candeleda, and then all of a sudden it occurred to him that he had a friend that was a "dueño" of one of these! "¡Genial!" I thought to myself. But alas, he had no cell phone reception (one finds reception from the top of Black Butte and Half Dome, but no dice in middle of nowhere/higueras in Spain...).
Long story, shortened: we were able to pick figs from his friend's farm and all happily ever homemade-fig-marmaladey after and shit... The pic below shows my success, that if I weren't armed with such a weapon as my pack I may not have had the courage to pull off. And you can ask any number of people across Italy, Spain and the states to testify for the mermelada, of which 53 of the figs shown below went into.
Lastly, by the end of collecting all those oodles of figs, Domingo had gotten right into the spirit of the event, and upon noting me photographing some tantalizingly ripe grapes, he proceeded to take a bunch off the vine. He looked so very proud presenting me with that stolen gift (we were only entitled to the figs). Way to go, Domingo!
I walked around for a while trying to find a taxi in this little rinky dink town. I asked at a pharmacy and learned where the one spot in Arenas is where taxi's are supposed to congregate: by the castle. I also learned from the pharmacist that fig trees have a special name "higueras." (Cool) I found the spot where the taxi's should have been, but I did not find a single taxi, so I asked at a small local market if there was anywhere else that I might be able to find a taxi. She said she didn't know of any, but gestured an an unmarked Peugeot that was parked in the taxi zone.
Domingo was lounging back in his seat listening to some easy-listnening type music, when I approached him to ask if he'd be willing to drive me Poyales del Hoyo. He told me he wasn't from around there and that he was waiting on a client. I explained that I'd need to be back in Arenas by 6, and he said, something like "well, in that case, vamos, my client won't be ready 'til 6." So we flew.
While we were driving I began to explain to him what I intended to do: to pillage for figs. He seemed really nervous and mentioned something about the police and that he didn't want to support me as my driver, but I assured him of the powers of my pack and told him not to fear. He told me a little about himself and that he was from a small town adjacent to Poyales del Hoyo called Candeleda, and then all of a sudden it occurred to him that he had a friend that was a "dueño" of one of these! "¡Genial!" I thought to myself. But alas, he had no cell phone reception (one finds reception from the top of Black Butte and Half Dome, but no dice in middle of nowhere/higueras in Spain...).
Long story, shortened: we were able to pick figs from his friend's farm and all happily ever homemade-fig-marmaladey after and shit... The pic below shows my success, that if I weren't armed with such a weapon as my pack I may not have had the courage to pull off. And you can ask any number of people across Italy, Spain and the states to testify for the mermelada, of which 53 of the figs shown below went into.
Lastly, by the end of collecting all those oodles of figs, Domingo had gotten right into the spirit of the event, and upon noting me photographing some tantalizingly ripe grapes, he proceeded to take a bunch off the vine. He looked so very proud presenting me with that stolen gift (we were only entitled to the figs). Way to go, Domingo!
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