Sparkling San Sebastian

This is what San Sebastian looked like to us within the first hour of arriving... Magnificent.

And if it's this pretty at 5:30 pm, then what will it be like to spend the entire day on the beach, under one of those blue-and-white striped canopies, with my feet in the brown sugar sand?

This is the crescent-shaped bay beach, Playa La Concha, that is a half-block from our apartment on Calle de San Martin (add the accent over the "i" for me, I'm too lazy to look it up, and say it like "San Mar-TEEN" for a little Basque flavor). It was gloriously sunny when we arrived yesterday afternoon and the sweet half-moon beach is bordered by two small mountains and a tiny island in the middle. There are swimming platforms several yards from the shore, so you can swim up and dive or slide down the water slide into the bay. The water is crystal clear and there's a promenade that you can stroll for the entire two miles around the bay, from Monte Igueldo to the aquarium (near the statue of Christ on the hill, which reminds us of the famous hilltop statue in Rio) in the Old Town.

If you're like our good friend Habanakane, you can enlarge the images and try to find nude sunbathers, sort of a "Where's Waldo?," the European version. Trust me, though, for every perky and natural non-enhanced tanned set of young girl's breasts, there are three pairs of droopy, saggy, leather-like boobs swinging from ladies older than your grandma. But it's all good. The thing is, it's normal. Raf and I noticed one really pretty 20-something Spanish girl who was topless and just walking along the beach with three friends (two guys and a bikini-clad girl), comparing the tan on her arms with the guy next to her, no weird sexual vibe at all. Just a girl walking topless on a public beach with friends, that's all. So far, we haven't seen any Botox or big silicone boobs or California blonde hair. I wonder if that's the main difference between Americans and Europeans: an acceptance of bodies as normal.

We'll see today... I may join the locals and do as they do, getting an all-over tan. If I'm real good, I'll talk Raf into a Speedo...

The Sunday Morning Crawl

Woke up too early and have been hanging around the apartment with the kids, figuring out jet lag. When we opened the balcony door, this is what we saw: a parade of young partiers making their way home after a Saturday night. Oh yeah, it's 7 am.

Marlowe to Raf: Are they just going home? When did they sleep?

Raf: They'll sleep on the beach today.

Toto, we're not in the Oaks anymore.

A 10-hour flight with kids, an "after" and "before" story

These were taken en route to Bilbao, Spain, the second leg of our European journey.

For comparison's sake, this was taken before... Before the limo ride from our house to LAX. Before the 2 and a half hour wait for our flight to Paris. Before I watched the first 20 minutes of "Nine" twice and then heard that the audio/video would be shut down for the entire flight. Before the lady next to me moved the arm rest out of the way and may as well have sat *on* me rather than next to me. Before yet another of my kids' iTouches came in fatal contact with water, its dreaded villain. Before our family's near meltdown at the currency exchange at Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport, due to no ice cream stands and the adversarial relationship that the French seem to have with both air conditioning and ice. Before I discovered the reason we hadn't gotten our luggage from the carousel was, heck, we were in the wrong place... no wonder everyone else was gone. Before we realized that it was a good thing I only packed two suitcases because apparently they don't rent Suburbans in Europe (their version is an Audi 4-door with manual transmission). Before we drove an hour through Spain and fell in love with the green countryside. Before we landed at our pretty apartment in San Sebastian, with views of the beautiful bay-like beach, saw a few topless sunbathers , an orange striped banana hammock, and a parade or rally for something or another. Before our kids insisted that we go back to the apartment at 9:30 at night to get bathing suits because the sun was still setting and the waves were warm and the lights illuminating the surrounding boardwalk came on and made the whole city appear to be magically bejeweled.

Basically, before we fell in love with San Sebastian and decided that yeah, we could do that 10-hour flight and 2-hour connection to Bilbao again, if it meant we could be here.

I'm Ready... Is Europe?

Two suitcases, five carry-ons, three girls, two cameras, a patient husband, an overly excited nomadic mama and her five pairs of heels... all set for Europe for a few weeks.

Last year, we planned this trip to try to shake things up a little bit. We didn't count on buying a new home and moving away from the Valley, the trials and joys of learning a new house's quirks, or the unexpected sadness of Max's death. But life has a way of just rolling along and we're just going with it.

At one point, during the toughest part of the last month, Raf said, "This is the most poorly timed trip ever." I sulked - you have to know that I love traveling and that I have poured more than an ounce of excitement into this particular trip, in which I'll finally get to expose my kids to the experience of traveling on planes, trains and automobiles in Europe - and I eventually conceded that he was probably right. But I lied.

In light of sadness and change and uncertainty, the severing of all ties -- including language and customs and culture and home and the trappings of "normal" -- seems like the best thing for us, perhaps the ONLY thing for us to do now.

Raf is used to making "worst case scenario" plans now and he is suddenly unafraid to tell people what needs to happen with our businesses, etc., if we don't come back. Ordinarily, I might be worried about this, but there's a certain lightness to that existential way of thinking. We can perhaps be free to explore and do and be what we want, whatever that may be.

That's my story. Europe, you ready?

A Raging Time in San Dimas

A few weeks ago, my aunt and I planned to take my kids to Disneyland after school let out; because she works there, we can usually get in free, a definite plus (though I would gladly pay for a Disney day).

My kids were looking forward to it and talking about it and counting down the days... until my aunt called and said that she'd had to have an emergency dental surgery and would have to reschedule our outing. After a few tears were shed, I knew I had to come up with a Plan B.

And so I took the girls to Raging Waters in San Dimas, CA, on Wednesday during the first official week of summer. I thought it would be crowded and hot, but I just braced myself and decided to suck it up.

I'm so glad I did; the park wasn't crowded at all and the weather was perfect (in the 80s). Compared to Disneyland's Park Hopper prices, it was also relatively inexpensive to spend a day at Raging Waters: $36.99 for general admission and $22.99 for junior admission (48" and under; I didn't ask whether or not this is offensive to little people, but I'm assuming they mean kids).

There are two picnic areas with cooler storage at Raging Water; however, I found that even the meal we got at the burger joint right inside the park was reasonable for an amusement park, with kids' meals hovering around $7 for a cheeseburger, fries (or apples) and a drink. There were "healthy" options, too, like chicken sandwiches and a caesar salad, and a pizza place and ice cream shops on the lower level.

Perhaps due to the temperate weather, there weren't a lot of people. In fact, most rides had little or no wait. My kids (ages 8 and 9) rode the Vortex and Dark Hole several times while my 5-year-old and I tooled around the lazy river on inner tubes (called the Amazon Adventure) and floated in the Wave Cove. The only wait we had was for Thunder Rapids, which simulates a whitewater rafting journey down a twisty luge-like slide - for about 30 minutes, my kids and I stood in dripping swimsuits in a shady line. Still, that was our only wait all day, so we were fine with it (except that my 8-year-old thought it was way too short of a ride!).

The only drawbacks were the general lack of cleanliness in the bathrooms and changing areas, though I saw people cleaning these areas constantly... I suppose it's just the nature of a wet theme park to have gross bathrooms.

A HUGE plus, though, were the lifeguards. The website touted the park's 250 lifeguards and I had thought, Yeah, right! But there were lifeguard stands EVERYWHERE, probably every 10 yards at most attractions and the guards were very serious about watching guests and blowing their whistles at anyone who was outside the lines or being unruly. As a mom with three kids there, I felt very safe and secure; I knew that not only would my kids be watched (by me or a guard) but that teens wouldn't be allowed to be too rowdy near us. (God, I sound old just writing that, but you mamas know what I mean.)

In all, it was a very fun day and we left right as the park was closing. I know it will be much, much busier as the summer heats up, but if we lived closer I may have paid for season passes (2 for $99, and you could apply the cost of the day's admission, too).

The best part? As we were leaving, I got a text from my aunt saying that it was good we had rescheduled Disneyland... turns out that California Adventure had been closed several times this week due to FULL CAPACITY crowds. Thank you, Raging Waters, for saving the day!

Malibu

So, it can seem pretentious, pampered, provincial, pricey, too A-list, too D-list, take itself too seriously...

But damn, it's pretty.

Rose Bowl Flea Market

The Rose Bowl Flea Market is not only a large congregation of avid scavengers, hoping for a good deal or a collectible find. It is also a damn good time, if you're up for a little dirt, dust and sun.

For instance, my girlfriend KP found this saber and a few other dagger holsters (I mean, really, is there a term for those??). I'm thinking she could just attach one to her belt and voila! Instant glamour.
Her son and I found a frozen lemonade stand and shared a frosty treat. Doesn't look like he's happy to share his lemonade with a weird cougar in a floppy old hat, but I assure you, he was just fine.

This is a photo of our husbands, mine holding a real set of antlers, checking out antique rifles and Swiss Army knives. You know, like every other Sunday.

My finds for the day: a vintage polyester dress (Halston-esque, but only $5), a framed 1970s photo of a mom and two kids dressed as Indians in front of a homemade teepee, a 1960s 8x10 b/w photo of four teen girls on carousel horses, a nicely worn leather Coach purse (for $25!), and of course the antlers, which I'll display in our new house in the rural horse country of Conejo Valley.

Fleas? Heavens, no. Just a whole lotta market and roses among the dirt.