We Don't Need Raincoats!

Hello again! First, a brief rundown of the Hudson River valley. Wappingers Falls, New Hamburg, Beacon: these are the names of a few places we were near. Old American history. George Washington grew up here. We saw many old east coast friends here. Swam in the Hudson River, saw a great bluegrass band, played music in an abandoned high school (rock 'n roll high school), stayed up way too late, and were treated to some outstanding meals by our very good friends... although my feet did come out looking like a leper colony from the mosquito bites! After more teary goodbyes and goodlucks, our nomadic little crew was on its way again. Train to Grand Central, bus to JFK, Aer Lingus to Dublin (which was awesome: almost everyone was Irish. It felt like a Moylan family reunion.) Then Aer Lingus to Malaga.

Here, things got a bit more interesting. The airport in Malaga is a bit deceiving. Having all its signs in Spanish and English, I thought: great! Everyone will speak English. Yeah, not so much. One person did though and helped us to a taxi. This, after waiting for an hour for luggage which was eventually found in a different carousel. A 17 Euro taxi got us to the bus station - all conversation now in Spanish mind you. Here we purchased tix to Granada and on to Alcala la Real. It was hot! I was so tired I could barely stand. The boys had a moment of breakdown here and I could hardly blame them... almost 26 hours of straight travel... although they perked up after a Fanta and some Spanish trailmix. The bus to Granada was beautiful, past the Sierra Nevadas and thousands of olive trees. Lots of mountains. These glimpses we caught between brief moments of passing out from sheer exhaustion.

We finally arrived at Alcala la Real, thank you high school Spanish! Alcala is a charming Spanish town of about 20,000 surrounding a Moorish castle! High upon a hill. This is classic Andalucia: narrow roads, white ouses crammed together and red tile roofs. We weremet here by our host. She drove us to our new home, past Castillo de Locubin (an even smaller town) on to Cortijo Vadillo, our new home for the next two months. Set upon a natural spring, among thousands of olive trees, in a valley surrounded by large montanas. One that just screams Denny Moylan Scramble. Our new house is a Mongolian yurt shipped from Mongolia, all painted and quite comfortable. Also luckily water tight as it has rained almost every day we have been here. Extremely rare for this time of year and part of Spain. We felt a bit nervous our first day, but our hosts have made us feel like family and the work here is wonderful. Picking cherries, gardening, canning, concrete work and demo. This is no ordinary demo. We're talking a five century old building coming down around your ears style. The floors are literally made of bamboo covered in plaster sitting atop OLD olive limbs for floor joists. We have yet to experience a hot Spanish day as it seems we have brought our Oregon weather with us. But the locals say that the weather will clear on Tuesday.

I had my 38th birthday the other day. My gifts included a captured crested gecko from our hosts' son, a song from Diego, an embroidered patch from Isaiah, a bookmark from Cade, and a fine meal and cherry crumble with cherry ice cream from our hosts. Best birthday ever!

We are in Castillo today using the internet as there's no good internet where we're staying. The bar we are at has wifi, cheap beer and serves free tapas (listen up Portland baristas!) and the wine at the store starts at .65 per bottle... no kidding!

Because internet isn't readily available, we will post when we come into town. In between posts, we will be writing letters and thinking of you all often. We are all well and in great spirits. Hoping you're well too. Mucho gusto!