Who says Madrid is Barcelona’s less attractive step sister?  Our hotel on the Plaza de Santa Ana teems with the Spanish version of the 1940’s elegance of the U.S.

Full cognizance escapes my jet-lagged brain, but my liberated mind registers all the color from the passing multitude of beautiful women and handsome men like the fanning of a 64-count box of Crayolas.

Several bull fighters are staying in our hotel.  Where to eat? How far is the Prado Museum?  How wonderful it is to hold the arm of my husband while we stride leisurely, a world away from jobs and crazy schedules. Much to absorb. Yet all l I can think about are my hunger pains.

Catching glimpses of the colorful scarf around my shoulders as my head turns back and forth has a magical effect. The soft swish of silk beautifully accompanies the Madrileños charming trill. The last year of freelance writing has negatively affected my dress habits. I packed for this trip with a strict departure from my daily wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts.

Still a bit tired from the flight from the U.S. and the hectic schedule prior to departure, we wandered back to the rooftop lounge of the Midnight Rose, the restaurant in our hotel. Black Mojitos, saffron and shrimp croquettes and steamed brioche filled with buffalo mozzarella and truffles, soothed our hunger pains and staged a short-lived but energetic second wind.

The hotel in Madrid, ME Madrid.

The scarf I imagined wearing on the rooftop lounge

The Fuzzy Slipper Travel Chronicles © is a series I began to give life to a trip to Spain/Morocco that was recently canceled. To interject your own ideas about what I should imagine seeing or doing during this trip, send me an email!  If you’d like to join me on this trip of traveling fiction, subscribe to a RSS feed here.

Imagine for a moment it’s hard times.  They’re not uncommon, times of economic cut back.  And really, imagining this shouldn’t be too difficult. For many, it’s reality for now.

No one can say who started the whole travel-from-home-to-the-grandest-of-destinations idea (the first human that realized there was a continuance of land beyond the river’s bend, I’d guess).  Henry David Thoreau wrote tomes about exploration, never venturing far from Walden. Gustave Flaubert dreamt of the grit filled warmth of Egypt well before he actually ventured there. He was disappointed, I might add, with reality, as has been many a traveler upon physically landing at their fantasy destination.

From the comfort of houseslippers and a favorite robe, our imaginations can operate like the transporter in a galaxy class starship, or better yet, the Holideck (virtual reality on steroids). Disappointment is impossible - unless you care to program that in. I don’t.

To celebrate our imagination and the capacity it holds within to take us without, The Fuzzy Slipper Travel Chronicles © will begin with the trip to Spain/Morocco that was recently canceled.  I plan to vicariously live those 15 days through picture and guide books from the downtown library.

Travel fiction? Indeed.  Roused by the fireflies in my backyard and the sparks now being coaxed from the logs ablaze in the firepit, it is the best time of year to dream.  Don’t you agree?

I’ll be posting The Fuzzy Slipper Travel Chronicles © : Spain/Morocco over the next couple of weeks. If you’d like to subscribe to this travel fiction series, click here for a RSS feed.

“One waffle, please”, I croaked. Just two steps from the door to the counter, the guy running tiny Corbet’s Cabin barely looked up when I trudged in. Ruddy skin, chapped lips and wild eyes topped off by a black stocking hat, a bright orange bulky backpack and beat up hiking boots, he saw my type several times a day.

Scott McGee, my Exum guide during the preparatory mountaineering course, recommended for the two days prior to the start of the Grand climb I take the tram to the top of Rendezvous Mountain, do some light hiking, take a book, and breathe the air that was noticeably absent at 10,500 feet,,, for 4 hours each day. “No one ever does what I tell them, but trust me, it’ll help when you get above 13,000 feet.”  “Oh, and, load up on carbs. It’ll be easy to do.  Corbet’s has this waffle thing.”

This climb was at the upper end of my physical abilities and I had, and would continue, to do whatever the experts suggested would help. Loading up on carbs would be the easy part.

“What topping?” the gentleman asked. He didn’t wait, “there’s Nutella, strawberry preserves, and brown sugar butter.”  Darn. Only two days but 3 toppings.  “I’ll have Nutella today. Tomorrow I’ll try the strawberry preserves.”  He turned to the blackened, blistering waffle iron behind him. I took another step, swung off the backpack and submitted onto a wooden bench.

I expected a waffle. Flat. And a plastic fork. What I got  was this brown edged, crunchy on the outside, dense but light and moist cake-like on the inside, slathered with Nutella and folded over,, waffle sandwich. The slight saltiness from the oiled crust, the mild sweetness of the soft interior, the hazelnut and chocolate sublimity of the Nutella all collided, then burst on my energy bar deadened tongue.

Wrapped in parchment paper, its heft involuntarily lowered my arm from chest high to waist high when the hand off was made. It was hard to eat with a smile that big.

The best thing about this culinary experience? It can easily be duplicated at home. Trust me.

Day #2. You didn't think I was kidding, did you? One more day and I'd have gone back for the brown sugar butter. Next time.

Photography Tip: strawberry preserves photograph better than Nutella.

Scott, my Exum Guide. Grand Teton in the background.

Corbet's Cabin

If you liked this post, some of my previous Travel & Taste Buds’ posts might be equally entertaining:

Oklahoma Fried Potatoes & Rocket Science

Scandinavian Almond Bread

Solo Road Trip’s Basic Food Groups (anything but basic)

For more delectable photographs and discussions of food around the world (and not necessarily at the top of it), check out Wanderfood Wednesday at Wanderlust and Lipstick.

The day the Tulsa World reporter called to tell me the story about climbing my first mountain would appear on the COVER of the Scene section in Sunday’s paper, we made the decision to cancel the upcoming trip to Spain/Morocco. My Mom’s “there’s always a silver lining” rings true.

Did you say you want to read the Tulsa World story?! It’s here.

October 8th - the day we were to fly American Airlines to Madrid for the celebration of my husband’s 50th birthday. From Madrid, the AVE train was to whisk us to Cordoba in an hour and a half of high speed panoptic viewing.

A rental car would’ve been waiting at the Cordoba train station to carry us to the Casa la Celada B&B south of Cordoba in the Andalusian countryside. The next five days would be spent puttering around Andalusia -  an Anis Distillery and a Chocolate Belen, the Rock of Gibraltar, Granada’s Alhambra, Seville, sunshine, flamenco, sherry, gazpacho - the start of 15 days of much needed R&R (an insane and slightly vulgar amount of vacation time for us LOL).

About the time the transformation into completely useless tourists doing nothing but eating, sleeping, drinking, butchering the lyrical Spanish language and obnoxiously snapping off point and shoot photographs with a professional DSLR was complete, a return trip to Madrid was slated. A flight to Marrakesh, Morocco where a car from the Kasbah du Toubkal would wind its way into the Atlas Mountains with its human vegetative cargo, was next. Three days there were to be followed by more in a Marrakesh riad at the Maison MK, back to Madrid, then home.

Andalusia is shown in yellow

So much planning, so much anticipation, so many deposits. In the end, unexpected (and recent) economic/job uncertainty won and in its wake, pragmatism.

With no fanfare, and really no sadness, reservations were canceled. Disappointed? Yes, of course.  But we’re positive people and things like this, while undeniably a set-back, won’t squelch our joy and thankfulness for the many blessings bestowed upon us. Besides, we WILL take this trip - likely sooner rather than later.

I’ve never canceled a trip. As a result, much was learned about the small print. I now know things about travel policies and industry-wide cancellation standards I would have never discovered otherwise. Some nefarious things, really. And I only say that as the cancellation was made within restrictions. Policies that take advantage of misfortunes (a canceled trip usually means some sort/level of misfortune) and neglect to consider that most people will be taking their canceled trip at another time, are prevalent. It seems bad business; then again, the hotels and booking agents have to make a living too.

Can I do anything about these policies when I rebook the trip, or another like it? No. But awareness is so empowering.  I plan to write about the lessons learned, so check back!

In the interim, join me. Let’s dream about this FUTURE trip together.

The hotel in Madrid, ME Madrid. Our stay here would have been for 3 nights, on dates interspersed throughout the 15 days.

The B&B, south of Cordoba in the Andalusian countryside is near Lake Iznajar.

I was looking most forward to the stay here. Atlas Mountains, Morocco. Next time, we've already decided to book this for an additional night - one less night in Marrakesh.

Maison MK, Marrakesh. I was drawn to this Moroccan riad because of it's romantic, escapist environment.

Enough of the accommodations!  Here are a few of the sights that still await us.

Granada's Alhambra

The Rock of Gibraltar. In myth, Hercules straddled the strait, one foot on the European continent, one foot in Africa.

Seville Spain

ALL photos, COURTESY