Signs of fall around these parts are different but unmistakable. It's less leafy than Vermont or Michigan but more drastic in its temperature swing than San Francisco. The endless evenings Spaniards relish and foreigners envy shrink at a rate that reminds me that we are indeed hurling around the sun in a elliptical path, and on the fast slope toward cold. The general falliness reminds me of—and makes me homesick for—Ann Arbor in a way I haven't felt in a really long time. The garden is yielding the last of its bounty as the remaining tomatoes struggle to ripen between shorter sun hours and increased rainy or cloudy days, the last of the fall lettuce has bolted and the peppers turn deliciously red.
We have been enjoying our fruit trees immensely, spoiled by the seemingly never ending supply of jello-soft persimmons and juicy, tangy pomegranates. The figs, alas, have all dropped for the most part, but the olives are starting to ripen, and we picked a batch of green ones to cure. We left enough to do a black (ripe) batch, too!
We've had a fairly active itinerary so far, and it doesn't show signs of abating. Barcelona and Girona were great, for the physical locales, higher Jewish content and access to amazing food, as well as for the personal connections we made there. The congregation we spent Yom Kippur with was lovely and very welcoming. In Girona, we stayed with parents of a friend we've made here, and they were very gracious hosts as well as good company. We also met up with a friend of my mom's from her Venezuela days who is nothing less than a character out of an atmospheric book on Barcelona—an older artist with an amazing collection of art and artifacts surpassed only by her compendium of fascinating stories that she is not shy about sharing.
Unfortunately, we left the camera at home. Sigh. But being without a camera around our necks (in our pockets, really, but the neck imagery is more apt) let us appreciate the city in ways we just could not have otherwise. We'll be back, and really, you'd just see a lot of pictures in front of the monuments you've already seen in other people's photos...
Last week, we took a midweek hike in the Sierra Nevada, out of the town of Monachil and up the river through a gorge that's known as Los Cahorros de Monachil (Mom, Nora, where we started to go last spring). There are some pictures up on Flickr. I felt really good to explore such a beautiful place virtually alone.
In between, we've been keeping a close eye on the US elections, at times obsessively, I'll admit (I'm going to have to find something to do with that time after tomorrow!), and squeezing in enough work to get by.
We're already planning out our final trips before heading home, including a week in Oxford for Thanksgiving with Brian and Christina, a Christmastime jaunt through Morocco, and our February tour of Italy with part of the Polidor clan. A visit or two will also be coming our way, as my dad & step-mom and possibly Autumn make their plans to see us before March comes.
On the homefront, today's oven acquisition (traded from an empty apartment for the microwave we barely used) means pie will be coming to Spain! Along with my newfound obsession with perfecting vegetarian chili and our new ceramic spaceheater, we'll be keeping warm in ways comforting for both body and soul.
After sequestering ourselves away during the summer, we are more actively getting out and doing the things we've been meaning to do all year, mainly like getting out. Amberly has been busy organizing the Democrats Abroad chapter in the city and planning tomorrow's return-watching party; next week will bring my distant cousin's wedding, which will give us an excuse to wear the dress clothes we schlepped all the way here; the Jazz festival is in town this month; and our favorite Flamenco season has started up again.
And that's fall in Granada.
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