Today: sitting in my portland living room, watching a snowstorm.
They interviewed the proud mother of an Illinois soldier who had received multiple medals during four tours of duty in Iraq.
The guantanamo prisoners are coming to the nearby prison, and she said that bringing 'terrorists' there is a 'slap in the face' to her son's service.
Will someone explain to her that (unless the real reason is oil), her son's overal purpose for being there was to help establish our beloved (rightly so) principal that every accused person is both presumed innocent and guaranteed a trial?
Why is this so difficult, both for Mom to understand and for NPR to mention?
We shared a nice salad, with warm goat cheese, apples, bacon and walnuts, then Karen had an egg dish with mushrooms and foie (it's hard to say what that was), and I had cuttlefish in a mysterious, salty sauce.
The place was bustling, with a surprising number of tables occupied by women.
Instead of dessert there, we walked back to the hotel, stopping at a gellato place for a small, perfect cup of hazelnut ice-cream.
It's a lovely night, warm and happy. Time for bed.
Tomorrow we leave Tarragona to begin the final, Barcelona phase.
Some fun, eh?
After another meager, expensive breakfast, we found the bus and took the 10 minute ride to the 'Pont del Diablo' stop, beside a busy highway.
A 10 minute walk brought us to the aqueduct, but it (like much of spain) is under rennovation, so acces was limited and giant scaffolding covered much of the structure. What we saw was ok, if a 2000 year old engineering marvel is your cup of tea. However, compared to Segovia's, this "Devil's Bridge" is much less devilish.
The park had a network of trails, so we hiked around a bit, and it was pleasant, to say the most. After a while, we turned around, and made our way back to the bus stop, and the next bus was on time, to the minute.
Back in town, we grabbed a filling, cheap lunch at one of the always-reliable kebab joints, then went back to the hotel for a siesta.
An hour later we packed up a lot of stuff and returned to the beach, where we now sit. Karen just emerged from the surf and now it's my turn.
We bought something for someone back home, then headed to one of the civic attractions, as mentioned in all guide-books and web sites: the walk along the old city walls.
Unfortunately, a large part is closed on weekdays, so the 3 euros apiece didn't buy us much. My recommendation is to skip it and head for the Cathedral.
For a bit more (3,80) per person, we got to immerse ourselves in art and religion spanning 1200-1800, and the free audio guides were very good, if a little too detailed at times. Great stuff, especially the amazing cloister, with its ingenious, varied carvings
By then, we were ready for lunch, and found the right place, downhill from the cathedral. It was a teeny bistro called 'La Teulas' and they did right by us.
For the first course, we both had huevos del plato, a casserole with two eggs, chorizo and tomatoes, baked and served bubbling, with bread.
Second course: Karen had a slab of grilled beef with herbed potatoes and I had a delicious creamy rissoto, with red peppers and other subtle additions
It's now Tuesday morning - we arrived in Madrid two weeks ago today, and, apparently, done a lot since then.
It's a lovely morning - a cool fresh breeze blows from the blue, endless Mediterranean, and there are both coffee and Roman antiquities in our future.
What could be better? See ya' later.
Karen is sitting by the pool, soaking her feet. Tarragona looks like a beautiful place. We'll get settled and then check it out.
But first, a shout-out to friends: Kim, Barbra, Jane, Steve, Gail, Teri, and everyone else (you *can* leave a comment once in a while, you know), we miss you all.
Now, perhaps, a stroll by the Mediterranean...
We were the only native english speakers at the table, but the charming young woman sitting across fom us had enough english to converse.
Even better, her significant-other, from Barcelona (whose english was pretty much limited to 'very good'), went thru my Barcelona guide-book with enthusiasm, circling every recommended site and restaurant.
This morning, we take the train south from Figueres, passing thru, in the course of two hours, Girona, Barcelona, and Tarragona.
I believe these are all the major onas. Let me know if there are others.
So, we slowly rolled along the area bike paths, winding our way into Figueres, by way of the little hamlet of L'Olvia, which we made a point of visiting in honor of the 19th birthday of our friend, Olivia.
In Figueres, we found the Rambla, much busier today than we found it, a week ago. We sat for a while, enjoying the scene, before picking an outdoor café for lunch.
It was mixed. I had a nice seafood salad (creamy dill dressing) and an unexciting-but-ok paella (will keep trying and comparing), while Karen had a nice fried turbot, accompanied by sauteed mushrooms and peppers, which she liked. Too bad the waiter was surly, but we got what we needed.
We headed back the way we came, again passing L'Olvia, ending up cycling the last km back to Baseia, arriving around 4.
We emptied our bicycle bags, took off our sweaty bicycle gear and clothes, and said goodbye to the bicycle part of this trip.
Total ridden: 204 km - not bad for a couple of baby-boomers going to seed.
We hit the swimming pool for a bit, then I lay out in the sun for a long time, reflecting on the following:
1) we did it (the biking)!
2) we are off to Tarragona
3) it's still 4 hours until dinner
4) there were over 20 flies crawling on my legs
5) my family has come a long way - driven out from Judaea by the Romans, driven out from Spain by the Catholic Monarchs (did you know my family lived in Toledo, until 1492?), driven out of Russia and Poland (by the Russians and Poles, obviously), only to have found a happy home in Upstate New York, USA.
I grew up there, and moved to Oregon in 1977, but that's another story.
The point is that it's great to be back in Spain, now that the Inquisition is over. I am having a much better time here than my ancestors did, when they had reached the end of their Spanish road.
You will remember some days ago, when we cycled thru the hamlet of Matajudaica ('The killing of the Jews'). There wasn't much there. It's the thought that counts.
It is now Saturday afternoon, around 5. We left Peratallada at 9 this morning.
We cycled north, along quiet roads to Gualta. It was cool and cloudy - Karen said it was going to rain on us. I hoped for the best, an annoying trait, under most conditions.
At Torroella de Montgri, we crossed a bridge over the river Ter, known to locals as 'The Bridge Over the River Ter', since it was built under Franco in 1940, using slave-labor supplied by defeated Republicans, back when Republicans were the good guys.
We got a little lost, following the complicated bike route thru the busy city, but eventually reached the outskirts and the countryside, when the rain hit.
Around Albons, we got drenched. Nothing to do but pedal on.
We reached the coast at L'Escala, and the rain clouds were already breaking up. By the time we got to the archeology museum at Empuries, the sun was shining and blue sky warmed our very damp clothes. About 25 km completed at this point.
We were getting tired.
We toured the extensive Greek and Roman ruins. This was the major settlement on the spanish coast, way back when (200 BC, to be more precise).
The museum had a lot of artifacts, some surprisingly obscene. Uphill in the Roman town, there were some interesting mosaics - the Rich really knew how to live (nothing new about that).
The public latrine sort of reminded me of Cycle Oregon, but that's another story.
By now it was well after noon, and we had many km to go, and energy was beginning to flag.
We cycled north along the coast, and, most fortunately, found a bustling restaurant in Sant Marti d'Empuries, across the square fom the old church, where a tumultuous wedding was taking place.
We needed that meal - we were only slightly more than half way.
We had a giant mound of steamed mussels, salads (mine with smoked salmon and Karen's, tempting the gods of Lactose Intolerance, with goat cheese). Also a beer, a coke, and two coffees - 35 euros.
Fortified, we resumed.
We biked along dirt roads thru a natural park, on and on under the hot sun, faithfully following the detailed turn-by-turn directions.
At Sant Pere Pescador, we crossed the river Fluvia, and began the final 12 km to Baseia.
Getting tired reading this? Just imagine living it.
The final couple of hours were mostly along uneven dirt roads, through farm-land, far from recognizable habitations. We did pass thru a couple of little towns, energy depleted and butts sore, and finally made the last turn for the final 1.1 km to Can Navata, our home for the next two days.
50 km today. We are beat, but were happy to see our bags waiting.
Karen hit the bed. I went immediately to the small swimming pool which, months ago, I had spied with Google Earth.
The water was cool, but I was ready for it. After a while, I got out and stretched out on a pool-side lounge-chair, where I have been laboriously tapping this out on my phone, while flies are crawling all over me, and I'm doing this All For You.
Dinner at 9 pm. Now, I must rest.
We went first out to the beach, with big views north and south, big waves crashing, and big, dark storm clouds all around.
The amount of actual rain was minimal, as we rode rhru a vast marshy area, planted intensely with rice.
We contined north to Gualta, where we had hoped to find a café. Alas, none was to be found, so we headed back south, along quiet farm roads.
We were tired by the time we got back to the room. After a shower and a brief rest, we walked the ten feet back to 'El Pati', for their 12 euro menu del dia.
First course: for me, very nice pasta with pesto; for Karen a bowl of lovely pureed-vegetable soup (carrot, leek, and squash - we asked). Second course: for karen a chicken leg with mushroom sauce plus a baked potato; for me, a casserole with an eggplant, stewed in tomato, onion and bits of meat, plus a potato. Also, good bread, a bottle of water, a bottle of beer, and a coffee. Total: 30 euros.
Karen took the netbook out to the terrace, to work.
For me: nap.
Tomorrow we leave Peratallada and head north - the longest ride of the trip: 50km. It is a little daunting - better have another great dinner in five hours!
Settled on 'El Pati', because I had read a glowing review, and its back entrance was eight feet from our room.
It was amazing - the place itself takes 'charm and elegance' to new heights, and the chow was ok, too.
The teeny olives, fresh bread, vegetable puree (for bread-dipping) was a great appetizer. We also had a bottle of the house white, which was, shall we say, yummy.
I had bacallao (salt cod, a catalan staple), nestled in a comfortable bed of rattatouille (sp?). Karen had a duck leg, garnished with an amazing scoop of seasoned rice and what appeared to be a spiced orange slice.
Don't forget dessert - little chocolate wafers atop licorice ice cream, with a splash of whiskey.
During most of dinner there was just one other couple eating. Later, two more parties arrived.
You get the idea.
It is now early morning, and I am sitting alone in the main plaza. Our breakfast should be ready soon, then I think we will go for a bike ride.
The route to Llfranc was challenging, but the final 1km descent to the beach was exciting, as long as we didn't think about the return.
It was beautiful there, sunny with waves crashing on the golden sand. We lingered until we felt mostly recovered from the morning ride.
I had taken two wrong turns - the turn-by-turn directions a little ambiguous in places - but eventually found our way. A very nice stretch took us on a dirt road through a peaceful wood, but there was traffic to contend with around Palafrugell.
We retraced much of the morning route, taking time for a much-needed break (and impossibly-expensive refreshments) in Pals.
Got back to peratallada around 4, very sweaty and pretty tired.
It is now almost 7pm, and the restaurants should be opening soon. I'm very hungry.
Tomorrow, another shorter ride. Regards to all.
It was a twisty 20 km to the beach at Llafranc, but we made it. Rain threatened the whole time, but it's now mostly sunny, as we sit at the outdoor café of the Hotel Llevant, drinking coffee and waiting for lunch to arrive
Today's bike ride took us first uphill to Foixa, then down onto the flats again.
We passed by Matajudaica again, before climbing to Ullestret, where I had another flat tire. This time I checked the inside and found the little thorn that had been my doom.
Fortunately, we found a quiet outdoor café, and had two coffees each, after I changed tubes.
We continued to Palau-Sator, then on to Peratallada, where we easily found our hotel. Our room is very nice, and our bags were in it, which is even nicer.
Once again, we are the only guests at a place that can handle a dozen. The lady in charge let us use the washing machine, which was appreciated.
We did a load, went for a walk around the tiny town, got oriented and got lunch. Clothes are still on the line drying.
The town seems carved out of bedrock and has little twisty passages. The ancient bell-tower is nearby, as we sit on the *very* peaceful terrace and watch the birds swirling by.
There are many fine restaurants here, and they should open in a couple of hours.
Alas, no wifi, so this won't be posted for a while.
THE NEXT MORNING
Aha, an early-morning stroll led me to someone's wifi, which I am poaching, sitting b the side of an ancient street.
We had an ok dinner, and, although I slept well, karen says she didn't, and we are hoping to do over 20 miles today, before returning to Peratallada.
Looks like another nice day - a little cloudy but breaking up (8 am). See ya latter.
We spent most of the late afternoon getting clean, relaxing, and getting caught up on email and (dare I say it?) work.
By 7 we were definitely 'getting hungy' and after a very brief stroll around the hamlet of La Pera, dinner was served.
And what a dinner. First of all, realize that we are the only guests (a crowd is expected later in the week). We sit outside in the peaceful yard, at a tablecloth-covered table for two, and are served a fish-soup with pasta, a salad of greens, sprouts and white asparagus, fresh bread (both white and wheat), and an amazing platter of green asparagus, fish, shrimp, clams and mussels, in a subtle sauce.
Oh, did I mention a bottle of cold, sparkling white wine?
For dessert, fresh pears and a peach, with yogurt and honey. And herbal tea, with a final shot of honey.
This is very good, but we are thrashed and ready for bed. Tomorrow we pack up and cycle to Peratallada, while our bags get transported to the next guest house.
Not bad.
The final 4km, returning to La Pera were, thankfully, downhill. Karen went immediately to lie down, in our darkened room.
The route took us thru autumnal countryside - little villages and harvested fields, along minor roads. There was one long stretch of dirt/gravel where, of course, I had a flat.
It was easy to fix and get moving again. I especially wanted to take a photo of one teeny town we passed, Matajudaico (translation: the killing of the Jews). It was pretty peaceful there today - other days, not so much.
We stopped for a short break in Cruillers, at the base of the silent 11th century tower, before cycling on to Monells, where we had some cold drinks in the charming old square.
By now it was getting pretty warm and our energy was fading. The stretch from Monells to Madremanya was brutal.
Tomorrow, the route is only 24km, and should be much less hilly. If not, we're doomed.
Karen worked on a case, while I people-watched and did a little wandering, just so I could say that I have walked across all the bridges.
We exchanged some dollars at a bank, walked around the old city, looking for our new winter home (a fixer-upper, of course), and, for the third time, found ourselves at Le Bistrot.
THREE HOURS LATER
We had a big lunch - salad, main, dessert, wine and coffee. I would tell you what I had, but it was treyf.
We returned to the hotel, grabbed our bags, and rolled 'em to the train station. The 12 minute ride to Flaca brought us out to the country, where we were met by the owners of the rural hotel where our bike ride begins.
Not only is the place incredibly charming, but we are the only guests and the bikes were actually waiting for us.
It's all too easy.
It's monday morning - we see little kids going to school with little backpacks, holding a parent's hand. We see businessmen, looking serious.
You can't tell that everyone was up past midnight in the cafés. No doubt they will do it again tonight.
We checked out of the hotel and strolled the three blocks to the plaza café where we've repeatedly enjoyed their wifi.
At some point this afternoon we take the train to the small town where we are met by the owner of our first hotel on the bike tour, which begins tomorrow.
We have fantasized about moving to Girona. Enough said.
The Jewish museum was free today, and was quite interesting, not skimping on details about the ultimate tragedy of 1200-1492, with escalating persecutions and indignities leading up to the final expulsion.
I bought a CD of jewish-sephardic songs. We'll see if it's interesting enough to play on KBOO!
We found the path, through beautiful gardens
, to the old city walls, which you can follow for a great distance, punctuated with frequent towers, with sweeping views of the city.
The walkway took us back down to the river, where we found the perfect outdoor café for lunch. Karen had grilled tuna and I had a large plate of pasta with clams, calamari, garlic, onion and tomatoes, in a sauce of olive oil and squid ink. And a large beer, of course!
We are now back at the same café where we breakfasted, enjoying an afternoon coffee and the wifi (which, by the way, is pronounced WEE-fee).
Lovely day. We like Girona very much. Now, to drink that coffee!
Now, church bells are ringing, as we sit in an outdoor café. Karen is on her 2nd coffee, checking her mail on the netbook, while I am patiently tapping this into my phone.
We have a full day to wander around girona, which is a place full of delights and scenic surprises.
This is all very nice.
We grabbed stuff for the day and needlessly rushed to the train station, where there was plenty of time.
We wandered thru the town and found the museum without problems. It's a trip thru that madman's twisted world.
Paintings, sculpture, bizarre visual tricks, perverse whimsy - all there, designed by Himself.
Worthwhile seeing - glad we didn't miss it.
Caught a 4 pm express train back to our girona hotel room.
Weather - sunny and warm.
Flamenco and folk music concert tonight. The fun never ends.
We did our final packing, the pre-arranged shuttle picked us up and we got to the airport by 11:30.
Now the surprise. We were flying on a discount airline, and the pre-purchase rules were very strict about carry-on weight limits. Imagine discovering that our main bags were 19 kilograms over the limit, which would cost 20 euros/kg, or over $300 extra.
Our carry-ons were permitted 10kg each, so we had a frantic 20 minutes, transferring as many heavy things as possible to our carry-ons, with the knowledge that they had both weight and size restrictions.
We got everything pretty close to the limits and the check-in lady cut us some slack on the final 3 kg.
We got on board, the only english speakers we heard, surrounded by spaniards (who resumed their loud chatter whenever the flight announcements shifted from spanish to english).
At the Girona airport, we took the pretty-cheap bus to the central station, then rolled our bags to the hotel, stopping on the way for a cool drink at an outdoor café.
Hotel Ultonia seems fine - comfortable room and great location. We settled in and relaxed for an hour, before heading out. We are just 5 minutes from the river and old city, and it is absolutely charming.
Posh stores line the Rambla, and the narrow, canyon-like medieval streets are wonderful.
We made our way up to the majestic, ancient cathedral an hour before closing, paid the 5 euros apiece and were amazed to have it all to ourselves. We spent time in the rooms-of-treasures, admiring the many 13th, 14th and 15th century paintings, tapistries, and gold-and-jewel encrusted ceremonial objects.
The main nave is immense, and we walked thru the dim, cavernous space, while appropriate classical music echoed. Nobody else around, so I disobeyed the stern 'no photos' injunction.
It was great standing in front of the gleaming high altar, knowing that those wacky
medieval Christians had built their church directly on top of the previous temple, erected way back in the 2nd century by those incredible (and persistent Romans) .
The ticket-seller at the cathedral recommended a restaurant that happened to be one that I had also noted, in my many hours of internet research. We found it.
It was the best restaurant in the world.
The setting, outside on a quiet side-street with steps leading up to an amazing ornate carved façade, was perfectly gorgeous, and the food, wine, dessert, coffee, and service were perfect. Finally and uncharacteristically, it was, compared with othe meals so far on this trip, cheap.
We are going back there for lunch.
Full day in Girona planned for tomorrow. Looks promising.
The ballet was modern and exciting, as was the Opening Night crowd. Afterwards, we went to a nice neighborhood place for a late, light supper (omelet with shrimp and a glass of champagne).
We got up early thursday, and took the crowded metro to the bus station, and then found the bus to Segovia, getting there around 10:30.
We walked to the astounding aquaduct and tok a couple of quick photos, before heading up into the old town, in search of breakfast, which was successful and horribly overpriced (but the espresso was strong and yummy, as always).
We found the main square and paid the 3 euros (each) to enter the immense cathedral, where we spent over an hour checking out the many bizarre chapels, altars and genuine old art, all with its rather singular purpose. The cloister was especially nice, with the expected rich Treasury room, filled with gold, silver and crystal goodies.
We continued downhill to the amazing Alcazar (look it up), where we toured the many restored rooms, with ornate ceilings, great stained glass, many suits of armor, and sweeping vistas overlooking the city and surroundings (we paid the extra 2 euro each for the privilege of climbing the narrow, winding 152 steps to the top of the tower). The Alcazar was a great thing, worth seeing.
We were getting tired and trudged back to the magnificent aquaduct, where we spent over two hours taking pictures and eating some pretty darn good Turkish food (plus a large, cold beer).
It was a long day and being a tourist is hard work. We got the 5:30 bus and pulled into a bustling Madrid by 7. After more Metro madness, we are back at our peaceful haven.
Made a bunch of Skype calls and are now ready for bed. The wifi seems to crap out each night at 10:30, so I will post this in the morning.
We fly to Girona tomorrow early afternoon - on to the next phase!
We walked over to the fabulous Reina Sophia museum, stopping at a little joint for pan tosta and espresso (two each).
The museum has a great collection of modern stuff - you can really see that something revolutionary happened between 1890 and 1920.
The big draw, of course, is 'Guernica', which fills an entire wall, and is accompanied by several dozen studies of the many figures in the finished mural.
It is clear that Picasso went into a creative frenzy during this period. In the same room as the mural, they had a half-dozen photos, showing its several stages of completion. You can see Pablo changing his mind on some components as he worked.
There were also several nearby rooms with photos, posters and drawings related to the Civil War - very sobering.
All in all, I liked this museum more than the Prado.
We found a sidewalk restaurant in the plaza in front of the Reina Sophia, where we had a variety of sandwiches - ham, anchovies, and mackerel, on crunchy fresh bread, washed down with a large beer (me) and mineral water (KG).
We are now back in our perfect little room, enjoying the bird-chirping in the garden outside our windows, cooling our jets before we attend tonight's premier of a modern ballet at the Zarzuela Theater (dress-up time). I think we will have a pre-ballet drink at the historic Palace Hotel, just around the corner. Hemingway drank there (the son of a bitch).
We are liking Madrid.
It's in an cool building that goes back to the 1600's, and, since lamb is a specialty, we had lamb.
Amazing - slow roasted over wood and straw since 8:00 this morning. The word 'tender' is insufficient. As someone with district anti-meat biases, I was, surprisingly, murmuring in appreciation.
Of course, the roasted veggies, succulent olives, fish croquettes, fresh bread and superb rioja helped, capped with mint tea.
We found our way back to the hostal, thru the streets swarming with diners and revelers, and are finally ready to call it a night.
If this is an indication how this vacation may trend, I say 'bring it on.'
Night, night, everyone.
It's about 10 pm, and the night is cool, but not chilly. It was a beautiful portland day, and I am happy to be here.
The moon is more than half full, and my old, crippled dog is resting his chin on my leg. We are happy in each other's presence.
I have a radio show to do tomorrow morning, and karen is upstairs, beginning her final packing.
I can check in for the madrid flight when I get up.
Zacky nudges my elbow. I rub his tummy.
It's all so peaceful - so normal.
