This was shot on the old set of “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” in the Tabernas Desert, near Almeria Spain. The set has been turned into a pretty cheesy attraction but we stayed the night near by and felt compelled to pay homage to the western legend. This set and the surrounding desert was host to the plethora of spaghetti westerns produced in the 60’s and 70’s. I guess the attraction [Mini Hollywood]  is worth it if you are in the area but I would not necessarily go out of my way to visit the old western set unless you are a spaghetti western freak. My 4.5 year old son really thought this was a real cemetary and I could not convince him otherwise.

Here is a slide show from the rest of the day spent there:

• Camera: Lumix DMC-LZ8
• Exposure: 0.002 sec (1/640)
• Aperture: f/5.7
• Focal Length: 17.5 mm
• ISO Speed: 100

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Well it hit today. The 12th Annual International Photo Competition edition of Photolife Magazine that I was lucky enough to place fifth in the category of “People, Family, Friends, Strangers” I had found out that the image had placed back in December and I have been eagerly anticipating it’s arrival on the news stand shelves ever since.

I have been published before in magazines like the Georgia Straight and 24Hr magazine, among others this however is a pretty big deal for me as the competition was fierce with thousands of entries from around the world. The other thing that I am so very proud of is the fact that I shot the image on a Lumix procumer point and shoot. The rest of the winning images were all shot on DSLRs and SLR. I am a small camera fan and like the portability and “always with me” style that it brings.

I may be a new media guy but I have to admit still like the feeling of being published on real paper and cover stock, it just feels so tangible. I did also rush out and buy up the entire rack at the local Chapters.

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I have been posting the raw and un-retouched photos on jaypiddy.com at the bottom of each relevant story for a while now. Some people already know that I have been working on a different series and positing it to Flickr. The theme is kind of a homage to Lomo photography, the Russian camera that is very popular with the hipsters. It’s an homage but I have added my own unique look and feel to it. I have cropped each image square and enriched the colours and added some blur and vignetting in the corners. Like the stories I am documenting most of the days on the trip and although it is taking longer than I had hoped to do I am happy with where I am at. The idea is when the images and stories are complete that I will then publish a book. The goal is to have both complete by May of this year. So here are the first eight days. Feel free to comment with your thoughts.

Madrid Day 1

Madrid Day 2

Madrid Day 3

Madrid to Cordoba Day 4

Cordoba Day 5

Cordoba Day 6

Cordoba to Seville Day 7

Seville Day 8

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[Previous Chapter Here] By 10:30 am and were are back to lugging a summer full stuff out of the hotel and into a cab for our trip to Cordoba. We were heading into uncharted territory now and that always gets me pretty amped up. The hotel that we stayed at was fantastic and I will not argue the fact that it is the number one recommended hotel for Madrid on Trip Advisor. Great staff, quite rooms and impeccable service made it a great place to ride out the jetlag and find our balance.

We hopped into the Taxi and were whisked off through the ancient medieval streets of Madrid. There was no feeling of sadness as we left this beautiful city behind because in a couple of months we would be back to bookend this Spanish adventure. Once the taxi made it through the massive six lane roundabout he pushed his way into the very packed drop of zone. I have been to many trains stations in Europe and I find that more often than not there are just jammed to the gills with people. Luckily we had surveyed the lay of the land on the trip out the day before to pick up the tickets. Noah was excited because mum had made a promise to the toy store once our bags where checked. For the exception of the 3, 4, and 6 am wake ups he has been fantastic and is digging the trip so far.

Bags are checked and we are admitted to the security zone. Noah has his treats and we sit and have a bit to eat before heading down to the train. Things are great and I and still stunned to be here for the summer but there are pangs of stress related to the cost of living here. I am not trying to make a big deal of it but as I paid for breakfast I could not help but notice that it was another $30 meal that really was not all that special. The meals go something like this: Pre-packaged sandwiches, two café con leche’s, fruit salad, juice and yogurt. Lunches closer to $50 when you add the beer and dinner well you get the idea. No big deal right it was only two months as I did quit my job and all? We were in the big city and every thing’s more expensive here I figured. Well I pushed the anxiety of cashflow back down for the time being and refocused on the next event…THE AVE HIGH SPEED TRAIN baby!

Ever since my back packing days in 91′ have been in love with two things trains and Spain. Now when I was in Spain in 91′ the tracks were still narrow gage left overs from the age of Franco. Rickety cars that rocked and rolled so badly that you actually felt se sick at times. Well the times have changed what used to take me 12 hours in a smoke filled cars now takes three. Not just nine hours faster but in a sleak spaceship like train that looks like could be the future.

The AVE’s are all lined up on the platforms like rockets ready for lift off and I think that I am more excited that our four year old. Once the train left the station it travelled at ‘regular’ speed for quite a while. Come on man lets get the hustle on I want to travel near 300km on the ground. It was kind of the same feeling as when an escalator it broken and you have to actually walk on it. You know that feeling like this is even harder that regular stairs…well maybe it’s just me then. But the sense that this train could go 300k means that it should and the sluggish pace that we were travelling was not cutting it. Then I heard it. There was a low click in the under carriage and then the feeling that I was being pushed into my seat. Not the sudden feeling like on an airliner but a slow steady increase of pressure. There is a speedometer at the front of each are so you can get an official confirmation that you are indeed going fast.

As we blasted through the countryside the olive tree covered plains gave way to the mountains to the south. The passing scenery and the remaining jetlag had a hypnotic affect and before I knew it I had passed out into a light slumber and forgot all about the fact that we probably couldn’t really afford this trip.

When we exited the AVE in Cordoba we noticed two things right away. The first thing that we noticed was the jump in humidity and temperature and second was the fact that it was siesta! Damn I forgot how long it takes to get used to the fact that entire cities close down between the hours of 2 and 5 in the afternoon.

I can recommend taking the AVE enough. If you are from North America it will be even ore exciting due to the fact that high speed trains are pretty rare and it’s cool to see that trains are still relevant in the modern world.

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Photos copyright JP Holecka

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[Previous Chapter Here] This morning we woke up at a less ungodly hour but not by much. Trying to ply ourselves with vacation fueled wine and beer in the evenings is not really helping with the time adjustment and only makes waking up at an early hour all the more painful. So it’s six am and time to mozy up to the Starbucks for a cup an ass spankingly expensive coffee and banana bread for the third day in a row. But the investment is worth every penny when it comes to battling the jetlag booze combo.

Dressed and ready to roll we intend to take advantage of our two day double decker bus pass and get out into the city before it gets too frick’n hot. It’s not that we don’t like the heat and didn’t prepare ourselves mentally for the warm climate. It’s just taking a few days to adjust but I guess there are worse things to endure in life anyway right?

We get out and make our way to the local square for a lovely light breakfast and then off to find the elusive Vision Madrid bus stop.

We jump on the bus and immediately head to the top deck to take in this wonderful old city from the roofless transport. Madrid for those who have not been here, it is a very formal looking city. There are ornate buildings that look like giant wedding cakes for as far as the eye can see. The beauty may not be as readily apparent as Rome or Paris but she sure can hold her own once you start to explore the many historic barrios. This is a city that was built on the riches of the Spanish empire. You can see where the galleons of loot returned from the new world wound up that’s for sure. There really is no better way to view this elegant city’s buildings and barrios than from the open air double decker buses that that run on two main routes though the city. We had been on the red line [historic Madrid] the day before and today the choice was to go on the blue line [modern Madrid] to see the other side of the city. The description is a bit misleading to those from North America because when they say modern it means within the last say 150 years unlike at home where we would be talking about the last twenty years. Europe is like that they deal with time like we deal with distance. It was sunny but today there was a nice breeze and that helped a lot ease the conversion of our cold Canadian blood that was still in shock from the rapid shift to hot the day before.

The first stop on our journey was to the Atocha train station.  This was our last day in Madrid and we needed to buy tickets for the high speed AVE train to Cordoba that we would be taking tomorrow. I could have bought tickets on line from Vancouver but didn’t think that was really in the spirit of travelling through Europe as I remembered. This would be our real first language test on the trip and it was up to Denise to get us to Cordoba. Denise had taken a intensive five week Spanish course,  prior to the trip, from our Venezuelan neighbour and was ready to negotiate the ticket purchase.  When we jumped off the bus we noticed a funky cool building that had a living wall that on the one side. As we approached to have a closer look one could not help but feel the cooling effects of the lush vegetation that was clinging to the side of the newly renovated building. I had seen this on a blog prior to our trip but the photos did not really capture it’s beauty or size very well at all.

Green Wall in Madrid from John-Paul Holecka on Vimeo.

Atocha Station from John-Paul Holecka on Vimeo.

As we approached the station we crossed the biggest traffic circle that I had ever scene in my life. There were six lanes of traffic that all seemed to know what to do and how to make it around this nonsensical marry go round. We got into the station and found the ticket area without any issues. I attempted to use the automated ticketing machine but got cold feet at trying to make a purchase on a Spanish only kiosk. Denise had a system of pre-writing down the majority of the phrases that she would need in an ultra organized little notebook and this would be the test to see if her system worked. We left my nervous wife to make the ticket purchase besides that Noah was in need of a bit of a run around to work out some of the energy that a four year old has at any give time. Denise is much more shy than me and I have a habit of talking over her with my really crappy Spanish when we were trying to get directions or buy things so I thought that the would be a second great reason to take off. How cold she possible hone her Spanish language skills with me constantly barging in. When Noah and I return Denise is beaming and has the tickets in hand. So we do have transport out and we are going on the brand new high speed train to the next city on our trip. Now time for a bite to eat and back on the double decker to see the rest of the city.

As the bus wound through the quite streets of of the east side. We quickly realized that this is where the rich and famous live without a doubt. The houses where large and elegant and Denise and I fantasize about living here sometime in the way distant future. It would not be too hard at all, well I guess the mortgage payments would be but I think you get the idea. Noah fell asleep on our lap and we both finally had a chance to listen to the pre-recorded history of the city recordings on our headsets without having to wrestle the monkey. This was an amazing hour spent holding hands and just quietly riding through this city in the cool of the afternoon.

After a short rest in the hotel is was time to head out and get some dinner. Something a lot more casual than the fancy ass place we had gone to the night before. I knew that the Plaza Mayor would suffice and if I remember correctly from my visit in 91′ that it gets pretty lively there in the evening so there would be plenty to look at while we dined.

There are a ton of great cafés in the plaza and maybe there are a bit too touristy for most but tonight one of these open air restaurants would fit the bill just fine. The Plaza Mayor is one of Spain’s most beautiful squares and it is steeped in history. The plaza dates back to 1619 and was once used for the macabre rituals of the Spanish inquisition. The only thing that we were going to enquire about was the simple source of authentic sustenance of Spanish cuisine.

As we made our way into the plaza there is just the right amount of people to make it feel lively without being overly crowed. This was another chance to practice some Spanish and Denise readied her note books for the event. The waiter was friendly and sat us down in a spot with a great view of the plaza. He sat us down and placed an English menu down with the assumption that we would appreciate the native language choice. Denise wasn’t having it. She did not toil for five weeks of lessons to be given an English menu. So it was sent back and a Spanish one requested. The challenge level just went up tenfold. I could order the beer and wine just fine and Denise took care of the rest. As you can see from the photos below the olives were divine. It was an authentic mix of tapas of Manchego cheese, Jamón serrano and bread as we took in the while the sunset on this the third day of our summer adventure. Madrid was great but there is one thing that Denise and I both share and that is the constant desire to keep moving. That unexplainable feeling of curiosity that keeps us in a constant forward momentum while travelling. Tomorrow it was on to the smaller medieval town of Cordoba.To be continued…

Plaza Mayor from John-Paul Holecka on Vimeo.

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12►

Photos copyright JP Holecka

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[Previous Chapter Here] Well we knapped the afternoon away and I woke up in the darkened hotel room that was heavily cooled by the air conditioning. It was actually a little to cold and I stumbled out of bed to turn in down or up or whatever you call that. I was a little perplexed at first of where we even were. Oh ya Madrid that’s cool I thought. Denise and Noah were still asleep and I new that letting them sleep much longer would mean an extremely early wake up and that would not be fun at all. So I made a lot of noise and switched on the tv. Let’s see, spanish channel,  spanish channel,  spanish channel,  spanish channel, BBC News,  spanish channel,  and spanish cartoon channel. Yep we were in Spain and the realization that they spoke spanish here was further realized in my exploratory run up and down of the TV dial. So I guess there was no satellite from the UK then. So I watched the BBC news for a bit and only now do I realize that they were months ahead on this whole real estate meltdown thing.

So we got dress and I coxed the family out the door for a little exploratory walk around the hood. Guidebook, map and gps in hand we made our way out in the direction of a place to grab a bite to eat. Down the winding medieval streets we went in search of café con leché. I had actually been off of coffee for the last six months due to ’stress’ issues but was fully ready to get hooked up on the habit again now that I really had nothing to stress about. And the sweet memories of the coffee in Spain were far too strong to resist reliving. I can tell you know it’s been six months back on the coffee and looking back at my ’stress’ related issue with the tasty brew I realize it had nothing to do with coffee and more to do with the job I had.

We found a little place called Café & Té just near Madrid’s famous Plaza Mayor that looked good and had enough of a choice that would satisfy our need for sustenance and we parked ourselves at the coffee bar. As we walked in I realized that smoking indoors was still aloud here and that we would either have to just get used to it or make a big harry tourist scene about it. No we were gonna let ride, that whole “when in Rome thing” seemed to be the way to handle this situation. Besides for some reason the cigarette smoke didn’t smell that bad. I am not sure if it was the blend or the romance of Madrid either way we were more focused on the coffee and eats.

We shuffled back to the hotel and on the way picked up some Mahou beer and wine. Denise and I then sipped our beverages while we took in the sights and sounds of the city from the deck of the hotel.

Night one Madrid from John-Paul Holecka on Vimeo.

Day two in Madrid started at 3am when Noah woke up and was ready to greet the day, or night in this instance. Having realized that there was no English satellite TV stations that he could watch I grabbed the bag of DVDs that we had packed. Looking at the selection of DVD’s it became apparent quite quickly that we really underestimated the amount of portable entertainment required to make it though the summer. So on went the the old school version of the Transformers and that kept him entertained until oh I guess around 5:30am or so.  I then got up and made the little man a light breakfast of yogurt and juice that I had stashed in mini bar fridge the night before. Ok so now it was 6am and Denise is not an early riser at the best of times and now with jet lag in the mix I knew that I would have to get Noah out of the room for a bit.

The two of us trundled out of the hotel in near darkness around 6:30am. Unlike North America, there are no 7/11’s or other shops open before 8am. So we wandered around looking for something that would entertain us at this early hour. I was still coffee-less and somewhat more groggy than usual do to both jet lag and the beers I had consumed the night before. As Noah and I turned a corner we spied a little urban playground. As we approached the brightly coloured to Noah’s great excitement but as in Vancouver there where some homeless folks sleeping there so we reluctantly had to pass up the opportunity for some early morning slide action. So we turned and went up Madrid’s big street Grand Via in search. Surely there had to be something up here it was the cities’ biggest street and had all of the international chains on it. Well no luck here either so I made a sharp right hand turn down a smaller to get us back on track to the hotel. At first glance the street looked fine and there seemed to be more folks that the other streets but then I realized that we were now walking down the hooker section of town! Great I know I was looking for entertainment but not adult entertainment. All of the girls looked at me like I was a bit looney to be cruising with a 4 year old and I don’t really blame them. Lucky for me they all kept there distance and I tried to double time it out of there without looking like I was trying to double time it if you know what I mean.

Coffee in Europe is not a “to go” kind of thing and our mission was to get some to take back to mum in the hotel room. Alas the only coffee joint that was open and did “to go” was Starbucks! Crap I did not frick’n quit my job and fly to Spain for the summer to have Starbucks coffee for breakfast! After you have café con leche the thought of Starbucks is quite un appealing and seems like a cop out. But there we where ordering a grande cappuccino and a slice of banana bread to go. There was one huge difference between out Starbucks and the ones in Spain…and that was the price. All in our order with exchange came to around $20 CAD. Oh, oh I hope this is just an expensive part of town otherwise pulling off the summer at these prices was going to be tricky!

After returning with the coffee we got ready and headed out as a complete unit this time and had a Spanish fry up at the local cafe. The Spanish seem to like their greasy breakfast just like at home and for today at least it was a good thing. I am not sure though that we could eat like this the whole summer.

We noticed that the playground nearby was now clear of the homeless and could get that morning slide or two in for Noah. The city was still cool but was heating up and that pungent smell of European city was in hot pursuit.

We decided to head over to the Royal Palace to catch the tourbus and to see the gardens that surround the palace. We found another large playground and I headed off to find tickets for the tour bus. The ticket booth was easy enough to find and I returned with tickets in hand ready to explore the city. We could see the a double decker open air buses driving past the palace and the map we had indicated that there where two stops near by. The funny thing was that the buses did not seem to be stopping anywhere and there was no indication that the bus stops where designated for the tour buses. I would attempt to flag them down and the drivers would point to the fictional bus stops in any number of directions and we would then head off into another direction sweating under what was now becoming a very hot day. We finally figured out the riddle of the stops and got on our first of many rides that day. Noah passed out on the bus, remember the 3am wake up, and we did two rounds of the city in the un-air-conditioned bus watching Noah sleep away the hour or so.

When Noah finally woke up we jumped off the bus for lunch and some air conditioning at Cortes Ingles, the massive Spanish department store chain. It may not be glamorous but did hit the connivence and cool factor on the head.

From there we jumped back on the bus to go to yet another playground for some afternoon play. If you have a five year old boy you will understand the continual trips to the playground throughout any given day. It is a good thing that the Spanish seem to have playgrounds sprinkled throughout as it does make travelling with a four year old just that much easier. The one thing that Noah finds frustrating though is that none of the kids in the park speak English….that will change when we hit the meditranian coast and we are surrounded with the expat brit families.

Now because our family does not like to do anything in half measures it was now time to hit the Museo del Prado For those that are not familiar with the Prado it is:

It features one of the world’s finest collections of European art, from the 12th century to the early 19th century, based on the former Spanish Royal Collection. Founded as a museum of paintings and sculpture, it also contains important collections of more than 5,000 drawings, 2,000 prints, 1,000 coins and medals, and almost 2,000 decorative objects and works of art. Sculpture is represented by more than 700 works and by a smaller number of sculptural fragments. It is one of the most visited sites in Madrid. Source wikipedia

The museum had been seriously upgraded since my trip in 1991 and is a must see for anyone that like art museums. It is usually quite crowded and I recommend that you get there early because waiting for hours in the hot sun can be a real drag. [Website here]

The American writer Ernest Hemingway was a great fan of the museum. As he writes in his 1932 non-fiction delights-of-Spain book Death in the Afternoon, what he admired was the museum’s simplicity and clarity:

“If Madrid had nothing else than the Prado it would be worth spending a month in every spring, if you have money to spend a month in any European capital…The Prado is altogether characteristic of Madrid. From the outside it looks as unpicturesque as an American High School building. The pictures are so simply arranged, so easy to see, so well-lighted and with no attempt, with one exception, the Velasquez of the small maids of honor, to theatricalize or set off masterpieces that the tourist looking in the red or blue guide book to see which are the famous ones feels vaguely disappointed. The colors have kept so wonderfully in the dry mountain air and the pictures are so simply hung and easy to see that the tourist feels cheated. I have watched them being puzzled. These cannot be great pictures, the colors are too fresh and they are too simple to see. These pictures are hung as though in a modern dealer’s gallery where they are being shown off to their best and clearest advantage in order to be sold. It cannot be right, the tourist thinks. There must be a catch somewhere.”  Ernest Hemingway

We then went on to our hotel and nap for an hour or so. Then it was on to dinner. Formal dinner this time as Noah was quite fond of this sea food restaurant that was near the hotel. I suspect because they had a fancy display of the fish on the menu. When we entered the restaurant it was soon realized that we where the typical North Americans and completely under dressed! The staff were very polite and served us none the less. It was quite the formal affair with well dress older men serving on us hand and foot. I felt like i was in some movie form the sixties and that we were some garish cheesy tourists that although the staff were friendly to our faces that was not the case behind the kitchen door. As we muddled through the meal with very poor Spanish Denise was accidentally interpreted as asking for the bathroom [baño] when what she really wanted was a glass of white wine [blanco] this was quickly sorted over giggles and pointing to the bottle of wine.

Wow what a day. I can say that day two was even better than day one…

To be continued…

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Photos copyright JP Holecka

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[Previous Chapter Here] Well the air is hot and I am definitely as stale as the Kelsey’s meal they tried to fool me into eating on the flight over but I could care less because this trip is now on. We made it and our feet were on the ground in Madrid Spain. We collect our things for under and above our seats and slowly make our way out of the Airbus. As we made it out onto the jetway it got even hotter with the kind of dry heat that you only find in the desert. I know it may technically not be a desert but flying in it looked dry enough to be one that’s for sure. Making our way down to the baggage carrousel I relize that we are not in the new modern terminal that I had seen in the pictures on line. It is the old terminal that is circa General Franco and, well, quite underwelming to be honest. I have a love for new and modern airports and Madrid has one of the coolest ones on the planet and this wing was not part it!

At the carrousel it was taking forever for the bags to make their way out. “Crap!” we had one transfer in Toronto and that does increase the odds of lost luggage ten fold I thought myself. Suddenly there was a the dull moan of an old engine coming from behind the rubber curtains of where the luggage comes out. I wandered over to check it out and as I peered through I noticed an ancient tractor pulling the carts full of what appeared to be our luggage. Then I heard the sound of Spanish being bantered between the two handlers as they tossed the bags and cases roughly on to the old carrousel. It seemed that every bag from the plane had been past us and here where really only a handful of people still waiting for their bags. I wasn’t to worried because Simple Plan were still short one base guitar as well so we were not alone in the situation. Then our bags started to slowly make their way around the ancient carrousel. All but Noah’s that is…we waited and waited. I even helped the band find their base and still no bag. We where going to be forced to use our freshly minted tourist Spanish to sort out a mild emergency within 1.5 hours of arriving. F’n great. I took one last spin around all the while thinking why us why not the band’s base guitar. I’m sure they had more than one of those bloody things anyway right? Not only that I was not looking forward to telling my five year old that our great vacation was going to begin with the loss of all of his worldly possessions. Seriously can you imagine having to break that news? So I take one last spin around the belt and what do I see but Noah’s little grey suitcase. Ah but there was a glitch…it had fallen off the belt and was on the wrong side of the conveyor. Ok so on first glance I might be able to reach but if I screw it up I will wind up falling and getting pulled into the machine. Mmm ok I guess I have to ask for help. I am not very good at asking for help generally, just ask my wife.[budump bump!] So I wave the security guard over and point and grunt in really shity spanglish that my bag is off the rails and I point to the stop button and gesture a “shall we push this?” kind of thing. The response is a resound “no” to that idea? The tinly little guard just kind of reaches over risking getting pulled into the belt extends her reach magically for the case and gets it. Just like that! Ok so maybe it wasn’t that far of a reach and I was a bit woosy on the matter. Oh well.

We wandered the airport looking for the Metro station. “Metro station?” you are probably asking yourself. “Why the hell would you not take a taxi downtown?”. “You have been travelling for 16 hours why make it worse.” I know I know…Let me explain. Prior to the trip I had been really fixated on global warming and trying to figure out how to keep the carbon footprint down for this trip. The other thing was that Denise had never been to Europe before and I wanted to show her that transit works in other countries etc, etc. So I convinced my family that it would be “cool” and a “local” way to travel. Maybe loco would have been a better term for the idea.

We were tired the and when you are tired things are a lot harder especially when you add a foreign language and a five year old to the mix. Well we got on the metro and it was clean, not too crowded and I had a pretty good idea that we were on the right train to get us to the hotel, pretty sure… So the first drama happened when we had to transfer to another train. [Remember we are carrying everything a family of 3 would need for two months of travel] So we exit the train and make our way over to the elevator to get up to the other line when we realized that there was no elevator. Damn that sucks, I could have sworn that the EU were totally all over that handicapped thing. Well just as a heads up they are not! This was the first of many painful episodes of stairwells al la super heavy luggage that we would endure for the next hour or so of metro train transfers. Trying to get all of your heavy bags off in a timely fashion and not leave your son on the train because the frick’n doors close so fast was the other battle that we faced on each transfer as well. I was trying Denise’s patience with this whole “going local” method of travel that was for sure. So we are on the last train into town and I was counting the stations. “Three more, two more..” Then on the second to last stop the train’s doors opened and at that point the entire train load of people collected their belongings and just got off the train in a matter of fact manner. It was at that point that the security team got on the train and yammered at us to get of the train and pointed to yet another set of stairs. “Great news.” I thought. So we lugged our crap up yet another set of elevator free stairs to the street. Remember I was already stale when I touched down and it was about 33˚ in the metro so ya more stale now.

I was now a bit flustered in our final relay of heavy luggage up the stairs and I completely forgot that Denise had not been to Europe before. I was flailing around stressing, fussing and yammering away about needing a cab etc. when I looked at her and stopped in my tracks. I then looked up to see what she was in awe of and realized that we had popped up out of the gopher hole of the metro station in one of the most beautiful intersections in Madrid. we where surrounded by ornate white stone buildings that were hundreds of years old and there was on of those massive six lane traffic circles that you can’t really believe until you see it first hand. Denise was like “Um hold on a second, this is amazing, wow so this is Europe!” The look on her face was priceless and said to me that she was indeed impressed with what she was going to be immersing herself in for the summer. It was really a magic moment and yes very romantic.

We stood together and soaked in the fantastic cosmopolitan scene for a for a few minutes when the mood was broken by the sounds of Noah expiring. For those who don’t have kids it is hard to describe. It’s not really a sound that they utter as much as a shift in attitude I guess. It is a self defence mechanism that kicks in when they have no more left.  Everything they do from that point forward is completely concerned with rectifying what ails them. Be it hunger, heat, cold, tired or any number of other ailments. But when it hits there is little that compares I guess could be compared to a big gulp of sour milk on a very hot day! I knew that I had to get the little tired boy who was not in his native time zone into the cool the hotel room fast. Remember when we left Vancouver it was hovering around 16˚-20˚c and we where now sitting close to 35˚ so it was a bit of a shocker for the little guy. I hailed a cab and we stacked our stuff in the back of the Skoda and informed the cabbie of where we wanted to go. It’s a funny thing in Europe even if you speak the language and have clear instructions more often then not the cabbies do not really know where you want to go and it is always a bit of a cofuffle. Luckily they all have GPS units now and you wind up to you destination eventually. The cab driver dropped us off in the square and grunted in the direction of the hotel. So we unloaded out bags and marched down the street. It gets so hot in Madrid that they hang translucent banners between the buildings to reduce the heat on the pedestrians and yes we had no idea how much we would need them in the coming weeks. On our way down the block we passed a seafood restaurant  [Picture] that had the daily catch displayed  in the window in the most amazing and ornate fashion. It was a small restaurant but like most things in Europe the was so much care put into the display it was hard to not stop and fantasize about a tasty meal there.

We found the hotel Preciados and relished in the air conditioned lobby. Now I know that Denise it the one that studied Spanish for weeks and was going to be the great communicator during the trip but we where tired and I just pushed my way past her to the counter and started to blunt out the reservation details in slow and careful English. The young Spaniard replied in perfect English that our room was ready for us and we could check in no problem. Well that was easy and pleasant.

Our room was amazingly modern and tasteful [Picture] and would be our retreat from the Madrid heat for the next three days. I had forgotten about my carbon footprint for the time being and cranked the AC so that we could reduce the our overall clamminess a few notches. We settled in for a nap and kind of slept the afternoon away.

[Show as slideshow]

To be continued…

Photo copyright JP Holecka

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[Previous Chapter Here] So now I have left the agency, performed best man and dj duties at Jon and Diane’s wedding and am now set to spend the entire summer in Spain with Denise and Noah. It really does not get much better than this. We are packed, the arrangement with my brother to water the plants is in place, the arrangement for my dad to hound my brother about watering the plants has also in place, Denise’s five week intensive Spanish lessons are complete and rent cheques are all prepaid. Let’s get the f*ck out of dodge.

We get to the airport in plenty of time and perform the great security dance. Belt off, shoes off etc. I am for the first time not put off by this ridiculous security charade. It’s a bright sunny day and have started this fantastic journey. And what better way to kick off this bad mamajama of a trip than with a sit down meal at the White Spot at the end of the terminal platform. One more triple O burger to send us on our way. Besides last time I was in Spain the hamburguesa was not so good and made into the hotel garbage can, after I had eaten it if ya know what I mean… 

The first leg of the trip from Vancouver to Toronto went well for the exception of the super cell that is now above Toronto and pummelling YYZ with a crazy deluge of rain and hail. The plane flew into the storm and touches down to the applause of the passengers. After touchdown the we are held on the tarmac for for what seems to be for ever and that nice buffer that I had planned between connecting flights is evaporating fast. I feel an episode Airline headed our way now for sure.

The plane disembarks and the flight crew tell us that we have to run as fast as we can to make our connecting flight. “That’s cool, Is the gate close by?” I ask. “No it’s not so you better run” She wasn’t kidding on how far the gate was. The distance that we had to run up stairs, down hallways and though gates all with a 5 year old and fully loaded Pokémon suitcase in tow was insane. We ran for no less than ten hard minutes to get to the connecting gate. Looking around I see that the holding pen for our flight is still completely full of people waiting to board. “What the hell is this?” I thought. I ask super helpful Air Canada attendant if this was gate for flight number “Get me the f*ck out of dodge for the summer” and “I thought we had to run across half the airport to in order to make it on time.” She answered in a wicked mix of Torontonian with a heavy dose Air Canadian “Yes it is and no you didn’t need to because there have been delays due to the heave rain. This flight will not be going anywhere for an hour or so.” she says with as little feeling as possible. Sweet Jesus we ran that 10k sprint for nothing? It’s a good thing that we are not in Toronto and it’s not f’n humid…OK enough time for beer and some snacks then.

We finally board our flight from Toronto to Madrid and are almost ready to leave the jetway when all of a sudden there is a bit of a hubbub at the front of the plane. A bunch of  pysdo punk’esc types sprint onto the plan all sweaty and rushed. Sound familiar? The flight staff were all in a tizzy and there was one flight attendant in particular that was more attentive to the boys than I have ever seen on an Air Canada flight. She was flirting up a storm with the guys and everyone else on the flight was being nicely ignored as side effect. We had dressed up extra nice for the flights and I had requested that “If there was room that an upgrade to first class would be really appreciated.”. The staff told us that they would put our name on the list. When we did get on the plane we couldn’t help but notice that there were enough seats for a well dressed family of three likes ours and quietly held our breath for the upgrade;) Well now with all the commotion going on over the ‘cute’ punkers that had been mistakenly placed in the back with the rest of the common folk I new that our chances were now slim to none. It turns out that the band was “A Simple Plan” and they where going to Madrid for an European awards show and that they had been seated in economy by mistake. So ya we got f’d on the seats. Oh well it was only the first day and there wasn’t many things that would get me down today and besides the sweat from the 10k dash had finally subsided to a clammy glow.

We where exhausted and pretty much slept entire flight anyway. Still it would have been a sweet way to kick off the trip. On the decent into Madrid I grew more and more excited. The reality of this crazy idea was starting to sink in. I had not been to Madrid since 1991 and the memories I had were becoming more and more vivid with every kilometre of decent. I could not wait to explore the city again. This time as a father, husband and man on the run from the reality of this thing called a job! The countryside looked so hot and dry as I pressed my nose against the window. Just think an entire summer without the rain…it would be heaven I thought. When we arrived at the jetway the cabin door opened and hot arid air pushed through the cabin and it was at that point that the trip felt very very real.

To be continued…

Photo copyright JP Holecka

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Catchy headline and exactly what I did. I left my job at an up and coming web agency in Vancouver where I was in negotiations for partnership, ya that’s right. So let’s back up here for a moment and get some context. 

I had been working a large telco [TELUS] as an creative director for the in house web marketing team. It was roughly four years into that great job when  I was offered a job with promise of partnership at the talented up and coming agency that I had been outsourcing design and production to a couple of years. The offer sounded great and I knew the partners very well from working so closely with for the past 2.5 years on the TELUS projects. I thought about it, and thought about it, I mean it was a drop in salary and there are the large risks involved with joining a small agency after all right?. I conferred with my wife and decided to take the plunge into the agency side of life.

It was March 8th when I moved into the new role and it felt great and exciting to be part of a young agency that was making is way up the food chain nicely. Soon I would be part owner of this shop and that was even more exciting. The major life miles stone of turning 40 was fast approaching and this was a great way to usher in the ’second half’ I thought.

Agency life was great and I was working on awesome projects, there was beer in the fridge and a giant LCD screen in the board room for Guitar Hero Fridays. There were the business and awards show trips to NY, SF, Toronto to name a few. Sounds great right? Well it was but that feeling started to fade and I became restless again. “Wait come back here great feeling of being successful and on my way up in the world” I quietly said to myself more than a few times. But no it would not return and I was faced with making some more hard choices, yet again.

The thing was that I had gone from being a creative director to account executive/strategist and that title just never really sat very well with me I guess. Every time I saw my business card I thought that doesn’t sound right to me. So those restless and unfulfilled feelings began to grow into an ever louder white noise in my head. But I had just sprinted across the 40 year mark planning to not look back. The was also this thing called rent and all that I to deal with, so I was feeling kind of fucked. How embarrassing to tell everyone that the partner thing at the cool agency wasn’t working out. I guess it’s kind of like calling off the wedding just before the big day. Oh wait ya it does feel a little like that as I have done that too.

So while driving back from a weekend stay in Seattle to take Noah to the Woodland Zoo I decided to run the whole “quitting my job” idea passed Denise. I have not quit many things in life so I was not sure how proceed with the bad news. About the half way point between Seattle and Vancouver while eating our Taco Bell drive through I turned to Denise and said with a stutter in my voice ‘Um I think I have to quit…” and without pause she cut me off with “Your job!?”. Huh? Wow talk about finishing my sentences, that was impressive. I knew there was a reason that married this amazing woman! That was a hell of a lot easier than I thought it was gonna be. She asked me only one thing in return…”Please take at least two weeks off between gigs this time would ya?”. Sure I could do that I thought. Two weeks would be easy to take off and it would be summer so ya I can do that for you and Noah. Well by the time we got to the border the two weeks had turned into two months and a major hit to the down payment on our dream home. It was going to be either Spain or Japan and that choice would come later when we did a little more digging on what would be better for a family with a five year old.

So now I had an endorsement from my wife to quit my job but what the hell was I going to do? Get another job or go solo…I had no clue. Both had pluses and minuses and I needed time to figure it out. So I told the partners that I was going to be “moving on” as it were and that once the projects I was manager were wrapped up I head out. I informed them that I was going to go on a trip and figure out the rest of my life. It did not feel like a mid life crisis on the inside but I imagine it sure did to the 20 something owners and employees of the agency. What ever it was there just was no stopping the feeling, so I dealt with it the only way I new how.

I did my time and finished up a big job for a bank in Alberta and transitioned  my other other clients to the new guy Patrick. As the end of June approached I was alive with excitement. We had decided that Spain was going to be the lucky country to receive us and the only thing between me and my ice cold cerveza in the sun was performing best man duties for my dear friend Jonathan. It was so close I could taste it. 

So the 27th hit and I was out of there. No looking back and no real plans looking forward. This was going to be either the best or worst thing thing I ever did. Regardless it would be an exciting ride that’s for sure.

So that’s my advice to anyone that has the white noise of discontent ringing in their ears. Get out and change the situation. What happens next will only be better that what you are dealing with today regardless.

To be continued…

Photo copyright JP Holecka

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