Postcard from Cadiz, Spain: Friendly since Phoenician times

This Phoenician woman appeared so friendly in the Cadiz Museum, as though welcoming us to town. Her wave in this post can be considered “adios” because these snapshots are our parting ones.

Love the sensuous Solomonic columns we encountered in random locations, the colorful azulejos benches and the braid left in a church alongside milagros. I had never seen a braid offered in gratitude for a prayer believed answered outside of churches in Mexico.

Next stop Cordoba.

Postcard from Cadiz, Spain: Port city grants chefs license to play

The peninsula restricts available square footage immensely, so some of our favorite spots for eating out in Cadiz were tiny. We actually resorted to reservations so we were not continually shoved out of the local favorites into the tourist zone.

With the grilled pulpo above as Exhibit A, La Candela Tapas Bar became our favorite spot. The housemade croquetas of the day always were great, but, aside from that traditional preparation, the kitchen liberated itself to play. Presentation of dishes always surprised, from the unusual duck “ravioli” to a green tea tiramisu in an espresso pot. The shrimp and mango ceviche was refreshing, and the loaded-up board of roasted vegetables was particularly welcome.

We never go long without pizza and had not found any to our liking in Sevilla. But coNfusione Pizza & Bar offered the Italian accent we had been craving in a spot even smaller than La Candela. Again, there seemed a port-city freedom at play in the kitchen. Freshly caught red tuna flavorfully found its way into lasagna, and salmon reclined seductively atop a house squid-ink bread.

Fortunately, the tables at Sonambulo occupied a larger patch of real estate on Plaza de Candelaria, so we were able to get seated there without reservations. The fried asparagus are not to be skipped, and the salads, including an heirloom tomato one with anchovies, were varied. The wild mushroom tost was ideal for sharing.

The Mister satisfied his once-a-month desire for a hamburger at Ultramar & Nos. Fresh red tuna found its way into a sashimi-type dish for me.

Balandro Restaurante has a tapas side that was packed with locals standing six-deep at its bar, so we settled into the restaurant side. Tortillitas de camarones, mussels with spinach and lasagna with lobster sauce all were flavorful, but the restaurant side seemed a bit stuffy even though it offered a view of the water.

Reservationless at the popular spot we wanted to try, one day we found ourselves with no choice but a restaurant row targeted by hoards disgorged from cruise ships. Pleasantly surprised amidst the sea of tourists, we found the seafood arroz caldoso at Bar La Dorado quite tasty.

Our overall recommendation for Cadiz, however, is to call in a reservation.

Postcard from Bainbridge Island, Washington: Land of towering trees and boastful blossoms

Hydrangeas

Dragoons, I tell you the white hydrangeas turn rust and go soon.
Already mid September a line of brown runs over them.
One sunset after another tracks the faces, the petals.
Waiting, they look over the fence for what way they go.

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

They say the blues symbolize frigidity and apology; although it seems a gift of a bouquet of them could be easily misunderstood. Pinks represent heartfelt emotion. Whites boastfulness or bragging, symbolizing the giver or receiver? Victorians considered all hydrangeas as symbolizing boastfulness, because each stalk was covered with so many blooms. There are mopheads, laceheads and panicles, and it seems Bainbridge Island has every kind.

Most of these photographs were snapped in the 150-acre Bloedel Reserve; although towering trees, lush greenery and flowers can be viewed in any direction one wanders on the island until stopped by water frontage.

Virginia (1902-1989) and Prentice (1900-1996) Bloedel accumulated much of their wealth from his family timber business centered in Vancouver. The couple purchased the estate in 1951 and transformed it into a botanical garden showcase. In 1970, the couple gifted the property to the University of Washington, but the university found the costs of upkeep prohibitive. So the Bloedels established a nonprofit, The Arbor Fund to purchase it and open it to the public.

The Bloedels were known for their art collection and their willingness to let their home and its grounds serve as a retreat for artists and writers. A son donated hundreds of the family’s paintings to the Whitney Museum of American Art and to Williams College Museum of Art.

Along the way, though, one of Bloedels’ paintings was mired in controversy. It turned out to be one of more than 160 paintings Nazis confiscated from a Paris art dealer, Paul Rosenberg, in 1941. According to an article by James R. Warren on History Link:

Most famous (or notorious) of the works of art collected by the Bloedels was Henri Matisse’s Odalisque, which they subsequently donated to the Seattle Art Museum. It was later discovered that, unbeknownst to the Bloedels or to the Museum, the painting had been looted by Nazis from its original Jewish owners. It was returned to their heirs in 1999.

Hosting artists also was not without its ups and downs. Poet Theodore Roethke (1908-1963), a Pulitzer Prize winner, was found floating face downward in the pool after mixing a batch of mint julips. The former family pool is now filled in to serve as a peaceful sand and rock garden in the Japanese Garden area of the reserve, complete with a Japanese-style guest house.

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

Theodore Roethke