France

Waiting for the train to Madrid.

We’re back on the train, which just started rolling, on the way to Madrid – apparently facing backward for the entire trip – following two days in southern France.

Leaving Barcelona on Monday morning, we decided to skip the bakery and coffee on the way to the metro, figuring we could grab something once we got to the main station. We pulled our bags across the Gaudi sidewalk tiles several blocks to the metro station. The trip to Sants station took about 15 minutes, and then of course we had to navigate a series of tunnels and stairs to get to the railway station. There were a couple of cafés there, but we decided we should get through security first. We found our way to the platform without seeing any further options for food and coffee, but we decided we could get something from the café car on the train.

We boarded on time, but the train ended up leaving about 20 minutes late. I almost overheated trying to cram our bags onto the already-crowded luggage rack, but I rearranged the other peoples’ stuff enough that I eventually got most of our bags to fit. Once seated I started blogging, but Gywen and Barry quickly dozed off. I thought I one of us could go to the café car once they woke up, but they never came around long enough to make the effort worthwhile. Once we were in Perpignan we would have about half an hour before we could pick up our key and drop off our bags, and out host had recommended waiting at a nice restaurant to have a coffee on the terrace. I concluded that I could make it until then and looked forward to a nice sit-down meal.

The train trip passed quickly while I blogged. Although I was focused on my screen I did see some nice scenery along the way to Perpignan. We arrived there shortly after passing through a long tunnel into France. We took a taxi for a short ride to the restaurant where the very handsome, non-English speaking waiter informed us they were not serving food until Noon. There were customers enjoying coffee on the terrace, though, and we managed to convince him that we wanted some, too. The coffee helped, although it certainly wasn’t the large satisfying Starbucks-like beverage we’re used to getting at home. That’s not how they do things in France.

Coffee finished, it was time to walk about two blocks to the apartment, where the host Alexandre showed up to meet us with the key. We climbed two flights to reach the apartment which was a very large, bright, uniquely furnished space overlooking one of the city’s famous buildings near the heart of the city center. The apartment had a large common room with three bay windows, a kitchen and office, both with balconies, two bedrooms, two baths, and a laundry room. Alexandre recommended a lunch spot, so we dropped our bags and walked several blocks to the restaurant, crossing the lovely river and passing the historic Castillet along the way. Once seated we waited close to 15 minutes before an English-speaking server was sent to interpret the menu for us. The menu prices were a little high, but the Plat du Jour combinations were reasonable so we made selections from that list. I do think the food was worth the wait. Barry and Gywen both ordered salads with frommage and I ordered a salad with bacon and pate. For the main course, Barry and Gywen had salmon while I enjoyed a delicious tender pork in mustard sauce over mashed potatoes. For dessert, they had wonderful-looking apple tarts and I devoured a rich, flourless chocolate cake with pistachio ice cream. It was an indulgent and filling meal.

On the mini train.

Lunch ended in time for us to catch the 45-minute tour on the city’s “mini-train.” We drove through the streets on the little tram learning about the main sites and a bit of the city’s history. It was delightful being able to get the lay of the land while seated and mostly dry, considering it started raining during the tour. Starting at the Castillet, which was the main gate into the walled city during Medieval times, we drove past a beautiful park, buildings constructed on the site of the former wall, homes build more recently literally on top of the old wall, the Cathedral, the Maritime Court, former convents, the modern arts center, and the very large Palace of the Kings of Majorca among other sites.

At the end of the tour it was raining steadily, so we hung out for a few minutes under the arch of the Castillet while a busker filled the air with some very French-sounding accordion music. When the rain let up a little, we wandered through the streets until we found the massive Cathedral of St. Jean de Baptiste. Somewhat plain on the outside, it was much grander on the inside, although it was dim and solemnly quiet. We explored the various chapels and took pictures of the most interesting features, including the massive organ which we all wish we could have heard. We stepped out the side door and found a small chapel containing a famous wooden statue of the Christ. Beyond that was the famous crypt Campo Santo, which was closed for renovations.

Cathedral bell tower.

Plate by Picasso.

We explored more of the quaint city streets and read the historical markers as we made our way to La Loge de Mer, now the home of the city council. I asked a man there where to find the Picasso exhibit recommended by Alexandre, and he pointed me upstairs to the third floor. That wasn’t actually the Picasso exhibit – but there was a gallery there with an exhibit of photographs of Picasso which we fun to see and gave us more insight to Picasso’s personality and his life as a real person (as opposed to my perception of him as a esoteric, dead artist). A few blocks beyond old Court we found the Hyacinthe Rigaud Museum with the Actual Picasso Exhibit, a temporary showing highlighting the two years he spent time in Perpignan as a guest of the Luzerme family. All of the accompanying text was in both Catalan and French, so we mostly had to guess about what we were looking at and what Picasso was doing there. But we saw a sizable collection of nice paintings, sketches, cut and torn paper, and pottery as well as historical photographs and video. The Museum is actually in the former Luzerme home, where Picasso stayed during his visits.

The Museum’s permanent collection was quite large and included an interactive audio/video tour. We walked through, listening to a few highlights from the audio tour, seeing some historic alter pieces, more Picasso works, sculpture, modern art, and many paintings. The core of the collection was work by Rigaud and his contemporaries. He was a very talented 17-Century local artist what became known primarily for his excellent portraits. There was a lot to see, and as much as I wanted to take it all in I started to get a headache and had to resort to a quick walk-through of some of the galleries. I’m sure Gywen was tired, too. After seeing all we could take, we exited back into the rain to head toward home. Nearby we found a small bakery where we purchased some sandwiches and cool drinks. Barry had a mozzerlla and tomato sandwich on a roll. Gywen and I had baguettes that were split down the middle and stuffed with chicken, cheese and mustard. It was tasty, and just what I needed after a long day. I also had a really big pistachio macaroon which I ate too quickly. Barry ran out to a grocery store that evening to pick up food for the next day, while I blogged. We couldn’t find anything in English for Gywen to watch on TV. She retired to read in her room and Barry and I hung out the rest of the evening using the WiFi, staying up later than we should have.

Now we’re back in Barcelone, stopped on the platform en-route to Madrid. Barry had a little cat nap on the way here, but he’s awake now reading about Weimaraners on his computer. Barry and I are enjoying some beers we bought yesterday. Mine is “Dark Owl” from a brewery called La Mandra, and Barry has an IPA from the same place. I’ll have to look that up at some point…

Yesterday morning, Tuesday, we grabbed some yummy pastries and coffee at the shop next to the apartment which Barry and I ate while walking to the train station while Gywen stayed at the apartment until we went back to pick her up. We walked from the Place to Catalogne and the historic Aux Dames de France department store across from the apartment down Av. General de Gaulle to the train station. I believe I heard this street referred to with two other names during our visit, and on the mini-train the guide told us that Dali called this street the “Center of the World.” That’s cool, but the street isn’t, I assume, what it used to be. It was a relatively narrow street lined with businesses, apartments, ethnic restaurants, and a few abandoned buildings, some of them which had once been grand. The narrow sidewalks were lined with Palm trees, so I can imagine the street was once more impressive.

At the station, we went to the Europcar desk and picked up keys to the car we had for the day. We made our way out of the garage and across town to pick up Gywen and the food we had packed for our road trip. We headed northwest form the city toward our first destination, as per usual about 20 minutes behind schedule. We didn’t find the signage pointing to Mas Amiel winery particularly clear and made a couple of wrong turns along the way. At one point, I tried to make a U-turn in the road, but the car didn’t have a great turning radius and I hadn’t yet figured out how to put it in reverse. There was a significant drop-off, so while I sat in the car Gywen and Barry jumped out to push us backward into the road – unable to move us until a nice woman came up behind us and got out to help. She couldn’t get around us, so she had little choice but to jumped out to assist and did so with no questions asked. Finally, we found the turn-off to the winery and drove up the little lane through the vineyard to the impressive new tasting room. We were the only gests there at that point, just about 20 minutes after opening, so we enjoyed a nice relaxed tasting in which the friendly man poured samples of about a dozen wines for us. Behind the counter was a gorgeous view of the vines and mountains through the large picture window, which made the experience even more enjoyable. I think we enjoyed all of the wines, and we bough a few bottles before leaving.

We had asked the server of other good wineries in the area, and he recommended Domaine Thunevin Clavet, just down the road in Maury. Once again in this place we were the only guests, and here we found a very pleasant and chatty woman who told us all about their wines and poured several for us to taste. This place was less scenic, being right on the highway, but it was a sleek modern building. We happened to be there when some of the workers came in just having completed the harvest for the year. Again, we enjoyed much of what we tried and we left with a couple of bottles.

Or next destination was visible from the parking lot – one of the several castle ruins in the area. We drove up the mountain to Château de Quéribus where we opened the back of the car and ate a quick picnic lunch. While Gywen rested in the car, Barry and I hiked to the top of the mountain to the ruin site. Exploring the castle took longer than the walk up or down. It was a fascinating maze of rock and masonry dating to the 1100s originally, and occupied, I believe, until the 1600s. The entrance featured a number of small passages through which you could see and shoot things at approaching invaders at various points along the path. We saw the remains of a barracks, cistern, large hall, main house, oven, courtyards, tunnel, and block house, as well as the vaulted, arched ceiling of the castle owner’s residence. The views from the top were definitely one of the highlights of the site and we enjoyed taking in the views of the Pyrenees, the surrounding vineyards, nearby villages, and neighboring castles. I took us an hour to make the hike, explore the ruins, and take in the stunning views.

View from Quéribus.

Our plan was to visit nearby Château de Peyrepertuse next, even though we decided we probably wouldn’t have time to buy tickets and walk into the ruin site itself. We didn’t make it there. Along the way there is the scenic village of Cucugnan, which boasts a 17^th-century windmill which was central to the local economy when wheat was the main crop in the area. I wanted to just pull up and snap a photo, just to see it, but it turns out you can’t always do that in France. The village, like many others in the area, is built on an illogical hillside and the windmill is at the top. Naturally, the streets are tiny and certainly not built to accommodate tourist traffic. We found a parking spot just about as high as we could go, but then we had to make Gywen get out and walk with us up the hill the rest of the way into the village. We took our time, and along the way we found a tourist shop with postcards (bought some), nick-knacks, lots of books about regional history and cooking, as well as stories, imagery, and merchandise related to the Knights, the Crusades, Joan of Arc, etc. (This is where Barry and I bought our beers... just finished mine).

Further up the hill we found a simple church where Gywen and I sat for a bit while Barry explored a little more thoroughly. Finally, just beyond the church, we reached a large bakery attached to the base of the windmill. Inside, a friendly young guy helped us select a beautiful loaf of hearty wheat bread and some cookies before Barry and I climbed up the penultimate rocks to snap some photos of the windmill. We had a leisurely stroll through the village back down the hill to the car.

Once on the road, we headed south out of the immediate vicinity toward the main Pyrenees range. We took winding roads through towns like Latour de-France – all of them scenic – until reaching a scenic overlook just outside of Ille-sur Têt, where we found nice views of the rock formations at Les Orgues d’illa and the even closer, striking rock formation on the other side of the road. Originally I had wanted to stop and hike at the park, but we were short on time at this point so we were content to take a few photos and move on.

Next we headed to another winery we had picked out in advance, the coop at Vinça. The coop was founded in 1926 by a few dozen families in the area with small farms, and most of the original families are still owners of the coop today. Another couple came in while we were there, but again we had the nearly undivided attention of the very friendly woman in the tasting room. She explained a lot about the wines, the coop, and the area, and she let us taste anything we wanted to. We probably tasted about eight; some were ok, but most were quite good. A number of wineries in the area historically make sweet wines, and we tasted one here that was not made by the coop and was quite good. We bought that and another traditional Catalonian dry red before leaving. And now we’re carting around a bunch of wine.

Eus.

Our final stop of the day was the nearby village of Eus, designated one of the ten most scenic villages in France. Like Cucugnan, Eus was built on a hill – but a much higher one. At the very tope was a remarkable stone church, and naturally we had to go there. We stopped a couple of times for photos on the way up, and at times the low evening light made the yellow stone hillside structures almost glow. Unfortunately, it was fairly cloudy so the light wasn’t as spectacular as it could have been, the mountaintops were obscured, and the approaching sunset was muted. We drove up as far as we could to park, and Gywen stayed in the car as Barry and I walked toward the periodically ringing church tower. We went through a couple of sharp turns and short steep climbs through what qualify as streets in this town, past all the cats, reaching a narrow passage beneath the bell tower. Then we went through an arch under the church steps and around the corner and up to the entrance of the church. It was not 7:00 and the church was closed, but we enjoyed the view from up there.

The drive back to Perpignan was fairly quick and uneventful. We dropped off Gywen and all of our acquisitions from the day at the apartment and went on our car-return adventure. I had googled the closest gas station, and as we drove past I was frustrated to see that it was closed. We pulled over and looked up other options. The next closest station was in the parking lot of some sort of superstore, so we zig-zagged our way through town to get there. This was an unattended station, and the pump wouldn’t accept our credit card because it requires a signature in Europe. Nearby was a kiosk where one can insert money and get a ticket with a number to key in to authorize the pump for the amount of the bill used. But the pump keypad had no English instructions and no “enter” button which one might intuitively push after entering a code. Somehow Barry finally stumbled across the correct menu and selected the correct steps to allow the pump to credit us for €10, and we filled the car with Diesel. (First we had to Google the French synonym for “Diesel.”) Then we dropped the car at the train station and walked back to the apartment, where Gywen had begun to worry that something had happened to us.

By this time – a little after 9:00 – we were pretty hungry, and we forced Gywen to walk a few blocks down the street in search of food. We had seen some crowded looking places when we drove by, so we thought we might find something good in that direction. We first came to a place that had a decent crowd and a nice menu of tapas and paella, which they advertised as being served until Midnight. We forged on to check out the other places, which turned out to be crowded bars, although one of them had nice looking tapas. I decided on paella, so we circled the block back to the first place. Upon arrival, they told us we couldn’t order food because it would take over an hour and essentially the kitchen was closed (at 9:30) because they only had one chef that night. So much for the sign on the wall advertising paella all night. The man there recommended we go to the Italian restaurant which was actually across the street from our apartment. Back we went. We sat outdoors there, which was pleasant aside from the cigarette smoke coming from every direction and, later, the street crew that showed up to cut up the street in front of the restaurant. We had a friendly server who was a former baseball pitcher, and we filled ourselves on nice salads and a tasty pizza with ham, sausage, eggplant, and mushrooms. I wasn’t done though, because I didn’t think I should leave France without ordering a crepe. I got one with chocolate and Garnd Marnier flambé (which never actually caught fire), and I do not regret it.

We drug ourselves back to the apartment and utilized the WiFi for a little while before falling into bed, thankful that Wednesday morning would not start so early.

Getting There, and Two Days in Barcelona

Third day into the trip, and now that I’m sitting on a high-speed train to France, I have time to write. The train isn’t moving yet, but we should be leaving any minute now.

The trip started off well enough, although Rufus didn’t want us to go. He laid down in the yard with his belly in the air, limp as could be, so  Barry had to pick him up and carry him to his pen. We left home about 20 minutes late, but Gywen was waiting at the curb with her bags so we made up some time picking her up. Barry bought some new headphones in the Indianapolis airport before we zipped through security and stopped for a quick bite at Harry & Izzy’s – shrimp cocktail and Bloody Mary’s. Gywen added soup, Barry had a salad, and I had some amazing filet sliders.

Sunset over the Atlantic.

The flight to Atlanta was fine, and we switched terminals to get on our flight to Paris. On that flight we got dinner and I watched some animated Story Corps stories… alternating between uplifting and really sad war stories. I lightened the mood by watching Baywatch before mostly falling asleep for the remainder of the flight. It wasn’t a particularly restful sleep, but at least I could doze. At one point Barry pointed out the beautiful sunset over the Atlantic.

We arrived in Paris early in the morning, and apparently about 11 minutes ahead of schedule. We were almost at the far end of the international terminal, for we walked quite some time before getting to a spot I recognized, where we quickly used the restroom and headed down the escalator to the main section of the airport. We kept following the signs for the F2 terminal, finally getting to the security checkpoint. That line took a while, but at least we kept moving and we didn’t have a major hold-up. On the other side of security was a mess. The Border Patrol lone for international visitors extended beyond the snaking stanchions and double back on itself in front of the entrance for the European visitors. On our side, out of 10-12 potential lines, there were four officers checking passports. The line was NOT moving. There were some airport workers directing traffic, when they felt like it. By this time, our flight was boarding. We asked a woman if we should stand in that line if our flight was boarding, but she seemed unconcerned and said she guaranteed we would make our flight. I asked for her name, and she covered her name badge and made up a name, and then told me if there was a problem I should come back and find her.

It was obvious it would have taken another hour to an hour and a half to get through that line, so after about five more minutes I walked to the front and asked another woman if we should continue to stand in that line while our flight boarded. I was persistent enough that she took pity and we jumped ahead, with about 5 people in front of us. Still, the officer was in no hurry and it took us forever to get through. The “nice” woman reassured us that it wasn’t a far walk on the other side; the gate was just at the top of the stairs. Not true. Once we finally got TO the stairs, we had to take a left past a long line of shops to get to the actual gate area, and our gate was the last one. By the time we got there, the plane was still there but the gate was closed and we could not board. It took us just over an hour and a half to get from one gate to the next

We found the AirFrance counter, where the unsympathetic agent booked us on the second flight out later in the day – the next flight out was already overbooked by 10. We had a four hour wait until our new flight, but he refused to give us a meal voucher because the delay “was not the fault of the airline or the airport.” Regardless, we found a café and grabbed a quick bite.

Upon arrival in Barcelona we were supposed to stash our bags with the apartment management company and then visit the Picasso Museum at 1:00. With the flight delay, I called the museum when they opened and changed our entrance time to 4:45. I read for a while, and then shortly before boarding Barry and I got some pretty nice chair massages. Finally we boarded, and then we sat on the plane for about an hour and 10 minuets while they changed a tire on the plane. My frustration and anxiousness increased by the minute.

When we finally landed in Barcelona, I felt rushed as we made our way to the ground transportation with a sense of urgency. We took a bus to Plaça Catalunya, which was quick and efficient, and we saw some interesting sites along the way including Plaça Espanya. I got the sense that I was going to like Barcelona, although I wasn’t exactly relaxed. From the bus,w e took the Metro two stops to La Ramblas, which looked lovely, and found the spot to drop our bags and pick up the apartment key. I kept trying to rush the woman who checked us in, but her English was not excellent and she insisted on going through every step of check-in and explaining how all of the keys worked. It was now past 4:50, and I finally got it across to her that we were supposed to be at the Museum in about 7 minutes before our tickets would be no good. We took off walking up the street toward the Museum, but it was clear we wouldn’t make it, so Barry finally prompted me to call them again. Now our 4:45 entry was switched to 5:15 and I could stop worrying about missing it. About 5 minutes later we arrived.

The walk was interesting, even if I couldn’t enjoy it. I felt like our vacation had a “soft opening.” We were there, but I didn’t feel like I was on vacation yet. Nothing but worry from the time we landed in Paris until we got to the Picasso Museum 11 hours later. But the walk through the Gothic section of the Old City was nice. Lots of crooked little streets to look down, plenty of tempting looking shops, stately municipal buildings, and lots of people. Very European, obviously. The street to the museum - one long straight path - changed names twice, and I couldn’t properly pronounce any of the street names to the poor woman on the phone at the Museum. But in the sense of the changing street names, at least Barcelona has something in common with Bloomington.

The Picasso Museum was nice – beginning with some incredible portraits and landscapes he painted as young as age 13. He really was quite talented. The collection progressed chronologically through different stages of his life, often corresponding with a change in residency. I really enjoyed some of his sketches and drawings, which I thought often showed his sense of whimsy and humor. I was struck by how he could capture a form with amazing accuracy with a few simply strokes of the pencil. The works moved into the Avant Gard from the time he lived in Paris, and began to take on elements of pointillism and expressionism. We saw a number of works from his Blue Period, and a few from the Rose period, before reaching a display of works from 1957, the year he spent making 40 interpretations of the Velázquez painting Las Meninas. He was really into the Cubism at this point, and the works were colorful and fascinating in their variations. What an obsession. Shortly before leaving we saw a collection of his pottery, which was brilliant and, I guess, revolutionary.

At Correfoc.

We left the Museuam as it was closing and headed back to pick up our bags. To my delight, we ran straight into the little devil’s Correfoc, or Fire Run. A highlight of the festival la Mercè, this parade featuring and intended for children and young people is a procession of costumed people, drummers, giant spinning sparklers, and loud firecrackers. The marchers delight in spraying the onlookers with sparks, and we had to duck a few times to shield ourselves from direct hits. We took this in for a while, getting our fill before crossing through the parade to get back to our luggage. As we approached the place, we encountered a Gigantes parade coming directly at us. This parade featured a series of small bands – one quite mariachi-like, and another heavy on trombones – and giant figures with papier mache heads representing various characters like knights and royalty. This was a lot of fun, but the parade was a bit stalled, maybe because of the other parade, and we finally got back to the office in the midst of the chaos and picked up our bags.

Casa Battló.

A short Metro ride later and we were in the Eixample, the neighborhood of our apartment, which dates to the early 20^th Century and features a grid of wide streets and boulevards. We exited onto the street directly in front of the Gaudi masterpiece Casa Battló, lit up beautifully for the evening. We walked about three block to find the apartment where we discovered that the “second floor” was four flights up the stairs. We sent Gywen up in the tiny lift with the bags while Barry somehow figured out how to open the door. I had already failed that test. We were all starving by this point, so we quickly turned on the AC, opened the windows, dropped the bags, and headed back out to get some dinner.

A couple blocks away we found a sit-down place that might have been a little more expensive than we initially wanted, but it was a nice Don Quixote-themed place that was comfortable and relatively quiet. We ordered a much-needed bottle of Cava and shared a number of diches including two salads, some shrimp, and a baked sea bass. Satisfied, we made our way back to the apartment to get settled in and to stay up a bit too late utilizing the WiFi.

In the time it took to write this recap of the first two days, the train made it to Perpignan. I’m now getting back to writing after a full day here. We’re exhausted. My feet are tired. We are crashed at the apartment, where the TV only carries programming in French and the trash has not been emptied. It has been raining off and on. Barry ran out to the supermarket – I think to get wine – so I hope the rain holds off.

Our second day in Barcelona started with us leaving the apartment about 18 minutes late and grabbing take away breakfast on the way to Casa Batlló. This is one of the most famous homes designed by the Modernista master Antoni Gaudi, and one of the three Art Nouvou homes making up the “Block of Discord” on Passeig de Gràcia. I expected the home to be funky. I did not expect to find such a brilliant, innovative, intentional, and functional design. Excellent use of light. Thematic consistency. Sculptural details. Human-centered design. Excellent craftsmanship. Color and beauty. Creative solutions to air flow. Elegantly concealed water tanks and rainwater drainage. Nods toward sustainability. I was in awe at every turn, and actually felt very emotional experiencing such architectural brilliance first-hand. Adding to the tour was the “enhanced reality” audio-tour. We could look at the devices in each room and see what the house would look like with period furnishings, moving windows and doors, additional fixtures, etc. The tour was time well spent, and they had a really nice gift shop where we spent some cash, but not nearly as much as I could have.

Following the tour, it was Festival time once again. We headed into the Old City to Plaça de Sant Juame, just between where we experienced the Correfoc and the Giant’s Parade the day before. As this was going to be one of the highlights of the festival, it was extremely crowded. Lots of good people watching, of course, which was true across Barcelona. Anyway, there were thousands of us trying to get up the narrow street between the Metro station and the square in front of city hall. There was a constant stream of people leaving the square (a surprising number of them pushing baby strollers), but almost too many people to move forward behind those exiting. We continued to press our way forward for 10-15 minutes until we finally reached the entrance to the square, at which point there became a lot more room to move around in spite of the massive crowd. When we arrived there were a couple Giants dancing in front of the municipal building, and a concert band was playing while dignitaries sat on the city hall balcony. An announcer spoke in Catalan, and when the band played an anthem or a “Catalana popular song,” many people in the crowd sang along. Several chants of “Votarer” broke out, along with other patriotic chants calling for the upcoming vote for independence. There was a lot of energy surrounding the upcoming vote and the Spanish government’s push to stop it. Shirts and flyers promoting Democracy, Catalan flags on buildings, flags worn as scarves, hand symbols… Everyone is pretty fired up about it. The Canadian expat we spoke with said she’s not leaving her apartment on the day of the vote, because she expects things to get crazy.

Approaching Plaça de Sant Juame.

Finally, the main event started: The human pyramid display, or the Castillers. From a small street next to city hall, individual castiller teams were introduced and built single towers 4 people high, then moving them to the front part of the middle of the Plaça. It was impressive each time, but the final team actually ran to the center of the Plaça and elicited huge cheers from the crowd. But the best was yet to come, when the teams began, simultaneously, to build pyramids 8 people high. Each time, the smallest person climbed to the top and over the next level before immediately sliding down the other side of the tower. I wanted more – I would have loved seeing them stop there to stand upright. Is that too much to ask?

Before that event wrapped up completely, we moved a few block to the north to the front of the impressive Cathedral to catch some of the traditional Sardana dance. There were two large circles of people in the street with hands joined, doing the steps of the dance. We watched them go through the dance a couple of times and, although I hadn’t been paying close enough attention and Barry said he hadn’t figured out the steps, I was just about to go join them when the dance ended.

View from the lunch table.

From there we walked around a bit – more then Gywen would have preferred – to find some lunch. We ended up seated at a café just outside of the Royal Palace where we selected a set menu of shared tapas that came with a pitcher of Sangria (described on the menu as a “Litter of Sangria”). It was a large assortment of good food – more than we could finish. It was lovely just sitting, with shade, good food, drink, and people-watching.

Lunch!

View from Montjuic Castle.

After lunch, we took the Metro to the Funicular up Montjuic, then took the Cable Car to the Castle at the top of the mountain. At the top we found the Circus portion of la Mercè. There were lots of families there, and dogs, and stages with solo performers, and some people in papier mache big heads, and food trucks. Barry and I walked the perimeter of the very large castle and on the back side we discovered the docked cruise ships and the port. We watched the port operations for a while, which was of interest to me after having recently read Door to Door. We walked past the crowds of people lined up to enter the castle and met up with Gywen at the cable car station. We took the scenic ride back down the mountain with a nice couple from Minnesota and then took the Metro back to our apartment. We crashed there for a bit (and approved time sheets). Gywen stayed in for the rest of the night, but Barry and I ventured out again for the evening.

Slightly refreshed, we ventured back out to the Metro to head down toward the beach. We got off at the Barciloneta station and followed the crowd down the impressive street of restaurants toward the large, brightly lit Ferris Wheel. We stopped for Gelato at the first shop I saw, a promise I had made to myself when we left the apartment. When we reached the beach, we found a large crowd of people waiting for the finale Fireworks show of le Mercè, scheduled to begin at 10:00. We walked down the beach toward the jetty and finally found a few square inches of wood to sit on facing the jetty. A guy came by selling Mojitos, so I made an impulse buy of two over-priced and watered-down drinks to “enjoy” during the show.

Going back down the mountain.

The fireworks were impressive, with multiple cannons and typically many simultaneous explosions of dazzling color. It was fun to hear the entire beach-front react to the most impressive fireworks. My favorites were some that left a bright orange trail as they spiraled up, then exploded into thick showers of orange sparks falling gently to the earth. As good of a show as it was, Barry and I were surprised to see some flubs – and so was the rest of the crowd. A couple of tubes must have fallen over, as at least two exploded on the ground. It was certainly impressive to see something that large light up the sky from the ground, but also a little worrying. A couple others shot off over the water and exploded from the surface beyond the Jetty. All things considered, it was a fun show and a memorable experience.

Gin selection at Lime House.

After Fireworks, we walked to a wine bar Barry had discovered online and had some nice regional wines and amazingly delicious tapas served up by a friendly wait staff, with free Wifi, a lively soundtrack and a dancing barkeep. They also served us free shots of a caramel flavored vodka that was as good as candy. We had a great time at le Dissent, but finally moved on to check out the highly-recommended Lime House bar. It was funky, with some Modernista flair, but the kitchen was closed. They only took cash, so Barry had one IPA from Scotland and I had a yummy drink made with Vanilla Gin and lemonade (more like a lemon Schwepps). We were out of cash and it was way too late, so we headed back to the apartment and crawled into bed.

One Month to Departure

La Senyera - the official flag of catalonia.

One month from today we will be en-route to Barcelona! The trip is becoming more "real" as more of our plans fall into place. We still need to secure one lodging location and a few train tickets, and finalize some of our sight-seeing plans around Barcelona and Madrid.

At the same time we face some uncertainty and concern as Barcelona has encountered some difficult times and tragedy in recent week. Workers at Barcelona's el Prat airport dissatisfied with wages and working conditions have staged strikes which have resulted in severe delays and chaos. A growing anti-tourism movement across Europe has led to marches, protests, and even an attack on a tourist bus in Barcelona.

And then there was last Thursday. A terrorist drove a van down Las Ramblas, the main pedestrian thoroughfare in the heart of Barcelona's old city killing 13 people and injuring at least 130 more. He killed a 14th person during his escape. Nine hours later, a similar attack occurred in nearby Cambrils, killing one woman and injuring six other people. All of this was part of a larger plot in which plans were apparently underway to deploy bombs in the area, which was disrupted by a premature explosion in the building where the bombs were being manufactured. Eight members of the terrorist cell have been killed as a result of the explosion and police action.

All of this is enough to give one pause, and to cause concern among friends and family members. It will certainly lead us to pay close attention to State Department travel guidelines, to be more aware of our surroundings, and to approach our trip in a more somber, less celebratory, and perhaps less relaxed mood. What it will not do is prevent us from living our lives; experiencing new cultures; exploring food, wine, and architecture; visiting friends; celebrating festivals; cheering on football; enjoying the beach; and fulfilling a years-long dream of traveling to Spain. Calling off such a trip would giving in to terror.

Last week's attack brought back a specific memory for me. I really hadn't thought about it at all in the context of our upcoming trip, but I was supposed to have traveled to Spain in high school. A group trip was being planned, I suppose through our Spanish classes, but it was actually called off out of concern about terrorism. I don't remember the specific incident that resulted in the trip's cancellation, but I imagine it was either the terrorist attack in Madrid in 1985 or 1986. I was extremely disappointed at the time, and I remember thinking it was the wrong decision even though now I can't say I blame the adults for making it. Now, as an adult, I am free to make my own choices about travel, and we will go. We are sober and cautious, but we are not afraid.

Impromptu Las Ramlas Memorial (REUTERS/Susana Vera)

We're Going to Spain! (And France!)

Ten years ago this week, Barry and I traveled to Maine to help our good friend Dean and his new husband Antonio celebrate their marriage. Dean and Antonio met on vacation and found themselves in a long-distance relationship, as Dean lived in the Boston area and Antonio lived in Spain. But back in those days, same-gender marriage was legal in Spain and not in the U.S., so off went Dean to live with Antonio in his home town of Torrijos. Ever since then we've wanted to visit the couple, and Spain has been very high on our "to do" list. Actually, Spain has been very high on my list ever since I saw the 1999 film "All About My Mother" which is largely set in Barcelona. Throw in the Modernista architecture, Spain's national football team winning the 2010 World Cup, and Lionel Messi at FC Barcelona, and Spain rises to the top of the list!

We surely would have visited earlier if it weren't for that third trip to South Africa we took, almost unexpectedly. Following that, Spain once again became our "next up" travel destination. Then one day last November, I saw a Facebook post from a former student: Airlines were having a sale on travel to Spain and other European countries, for certain dates in 2017. A few clicks later, we had purchased flights to Barcelona for less than it costs to fly to Arizona.

Sagrada Familia in Barcelona - still under construction.

We waited for la Liga to announce the soccer schedule before making any specific plans for the trip. Once tickets went on sale July 22 we could finally purchase our FC Barcelona tickets and our planning commenced. On September 22, Barry, his mother, and I will head off to Europe for a two week vacation. We will land in Barcelona during their big festival La Merce. After two nights there, we're taking the high-speed train to Perpignan, France - just because we can. Then we will take the train to Toledo, Spain to connect with Dean and Antonio, and to stay with them and their family during the big annual festival in Torrijos, la Sementera. We will head back to Barcelona in time for the FC Barcelona match vs. Las Palmas in Camp Nuo, will see more of the sites there (including Montserrat and Flamenco!), and spend some time in Sitges before returning home.

We're really looking forward to the time off and the opportunity to travel together again. Stay tuned!

Montserrat Monastery outside Barcelona.

Thailand Trip Closure

At the closing dinner.

 I honestly never imagined it would take me nearly three months to sit down and write my final blog post about the Thailand trip. With that kind of delay, it doesn't really serve much of a journal of my thoughts, feelings, and observations during the trip. Unfortunately, I lost steam when Blogger ate half of my last post on the bus back from Chicago, and considering I still suffered from a bronchial infection when I got home I didn't have the energy or motivation to blog. Then life happened, with three trips to Iowa, a trip to California, surgery, drum corps... it took me two months just to download, organize, sort, and post my photos.

So, where were we? Wednesday was our last day in Thailand. After the doctor's visit, the medications, and a decent night of rest, I felt marginally better and decided to head out with the class for our final business visits. After a morning debrief at the hotel, we went to PwC for a nice visit with a Kelley alumnus who is a partner and several other PwC staffers, one of whom was in Singapore but chimed in remotely via video conference. If I'm remembering correctly we learned something about forensic accounting. Although I was not quite 100% that day and I can't recall the specifics now, I do know it was a good visit and I was impressed by the engagement and contribution of so many employees.

Following PwC, we visited FinTech - a financial product venture capital firm owned by a Thai bank. This was an interesting visit. The office itself was pretty trendy and designed to inspire creativity, so it was fun and interesting to see. Our host was quite the unique character. He essentially shared his life story and how he ended up in his third(?) career running this place. He laid bare all of his past trials and failures, moves, and career choices - from dropping out of college (failing?) to opening all of the Apple Stores in China. Basically, it was a story of someone discovering himself, his strengths, and his motivations. He learned something at every step along the way, and he didn't stay in jobs he didn't love. And you never can predict where you will end up.

Lunch came after the FinTech visit. Brenda took a student back to the hotel, I think, and Angie went to lunch with Peter leaving me to walk with the Students, Dom, and O to a nearby second-floor restaurant for a buffet lunch. I didn't have a lot of energy or a huge appetite, so I sat quietly with Dom and O and ate little bites of the available dishes. I don't remember being super impressed, although I'm sure it was fine and I know it was better (for me) than the lunch at the airport two days earlier. I think I was most disappointed in the drink selection. In the end, I reluctantly drank whatever they offered figuring I wouldn't get much sicker at this point.

We had free time after lunch. Some people shopped and some got massages, but I went back to my room to rest and pack. I actually don't think I got to the packing at that point, but I appreciated the rest. I had to meet Angie and Brenda in the lobby at some point to work out - once and for all - the tipping situation. After a series of misunderstandings and miscommunication beginning prior to the trip and continuing throughout, we finally figured out the most appropriate tipping protocol for our guides and made arrangements to properly compensate them for the amazing service they provided during our time in Bangkok.

Closing feast at Ban Khun Mae.

That evening we headed out for our closing dinner, walking to nearby Ban Khun Mae Restaurant. We were in for a treat - and it's a good thing I had an appetite. This place brought out copious amounts of food, served family style, and we could barely begin one dish before the next couple of dishes were delivered. We had giant prawns; we had soup in flaming cauldrons; we had green mango salad; we had fish... It bordered on being wasteful, but everything was delicious and we certainly didn't go hungry. Angie shared some reflections on the trip, and we presented our gift to Peter. The students gave each of us thank-you gifts, as well. I received a small packet of what I think are dried scorpions... I'm not really sure. All of the writing on the package is in Thai, and it sits unopened on my nightstand. The more meaningful gift was a personalized leather passport cover which they had made in one of the markets. It was perfect; I love it.

Walking back to Pathumwan Princess Hotel.

I took a while for me to sort out the bill and get an acceptable receipt for the drinks, but I finally got that sorted out and walked back to the hotel with the leadership team. I spent the rest of the night packing before getting a few hours of sleep, but of course some of our students went out to Khaosan Road for one last night on the town.

We left quite early for the airport, with some boxed breakfasts from the hotel. I bought a few gifts at the airport, since I had missed out on a couple of opportunities to shop during the trip. The travel was, thankfully, uneventful except for the Chinese tourists who kept trying to cut us off at the airports and the lost bus driver on the way to Zionsville. The first flight, to Hong Kong, was the nicest plane I've ever been on. Thankfully, while I didn't feel great, I was well enough to travel without too much discomfort. I slept some and watched some movies. I took Friday off of work and went to the doctor in Bloomington. The two-hour wait was miserable and I actually fell asleep in the waiting room. I finally saw someone who prescribed a different antibiotic, and after two more days of rest I was ready to head back to work.

Churning of the Milk Sea at the Bangkok airport.

I certainly would have enjoyed the trip a lot more if I had been healthy. But in these past few months I've had the opportunity to tell many friends, family members, and colleagues about the trip. Each time, I find myself telling them what a great trip it was: fun, responsible, curious, and engaged students; excellent business visits; great guides; beautiful scenery; elephants; time spent with friends; delicious food; good colleagues; no travel issues. In spite of my illness and the experiences I had to skip, it really was one of the better Kelley trips I've been on. I could see myself going back to Thailand.

Don't forget to check out my photo gallery, also linked in the right column!

Back in Bangkok

Still on the bus, approaching Lebanon. Let's see if I can wrap up this blog before getting home. (*It's not going to happen... Blogger just erased at least 20 minutes of writing... toward the end of this post.) Oh shit - I65 traffic jam. We just pulled off the interstate to take back roads.

Monday morning we again had breakfast at the hotel. I was not super hungry, so I had some fruit, yogurt, and yummy granola. I was once again disappointed in the range and availability of hot foods. But it was probably just as well considering my meager appetite.

We headed to the airport and checked in, where I got my coffee and blogged while we waited to board. Just after wrapping up my post for the day, and only about 10 minutes before boarding, a student noticed her camera was missing. I went with her back through security to the airport entrance security checkpoint. We were about to give up there when a woman told us they had a camera at the information desk. That was the missing camera! But it took the student a minute to convince the employees it was hers.

Of course we made it back to board on time. The flight is only about an hour and 20 minutes, but I slept as much as I could. In Bangkok we walked to a hotel restaurant adjacent to the airport. It was warm and crowded, but we sat near an air conditioner which I appreciated. I still wasn't hungry, and I didn't find the spread at all appealing although Brenda and Angie seemed to enjoy the food. I had some good pumpkin soup, fried rice, half a boiled egg, and the two last bites of teriyaki chicken. They didn't seem to offer any entrees with no sauces. The only drinks were fountain drinks or water from pitchers, so I went without.

After lunch we took a bus to the Board of Investments and were back into the swing of the business-y stuff. There we met the #2 person, a woman who received her MBA from the Kelley School (Secretary General Duangjai Asawachintachit). She told us some interesting stuff about the ease of doing Business in Thailand, a new manufacturing corridor, Thailand 4.0, and other stuff that tied in quite nicely with what the students had learned in class. During the presentation I was fidgety, then cold, and a little unfocused. They provided some coffee which wasn't working for me (wish I could have tried the Thai iced tea, but the beverage service seemed... random). I could barely bring myself taste the pork-filled bun they gave us. I went to the restroom and realized I actually had the chills so bad I couldn't type on my phone. I knew I had to abandon ship and go to the hotel.

The guides convinced me to ride the bus to the next visit and take an Uber to the hotel from there, since it would be closer. I watched the map on my phone as we approached the city center, passed near the hotel, and kept going in a big circular path to the east and ultimately far south of the hotel. And of courses we had to go past the place and cross over to the other side of the road and backtrack before we finally arrived. The students went inside to learn about copyright law and the counterfeit goods industry while I waited for my Uber. Finally he arrived, and a mere half an hour or so later I was back. I went to the mall and bought a higher strength Tylenol and a thermometer before getting some harsh Thai Whisky and heading to my room to sleep for about 12 hours.

We are seriously driving around on country roads and through subdivisions somewhere near Zionsville... and he just turned the wrong way. Now literally driving north, away from the student drop-off point.

Tuesday morning I awoke feeling better, but not 100%. I had fruit and yogurt for breakfast, which I ate by myself. We had a nice briefing meeting and we headed out for a day of cultural visits. We took a bus to the area of the Grand Royal Palace where we had to walk to the security checkpoint. We showed our passports to get in to the area, then walked a couple hundred yards to the Palace entrance. It was crowded, but apparently with fewer people than during the high season. While it had been raining when we left, it was now dry but overcast and humid. The place covers something like 60 acres, and of course we could only see part of it. We did a group photo first then proceeded to the temple area where we learned about the various structures there such as the gold stupa, the assembly hall, and the building where the sacred texts are stored. Next to all of that was a large building holding the tiny and most sacred Jade Buddha. No photos allowed inside, and of course we had to remove our shoes to go in. Only the Thai people could go closer to worship the Buddha.

[Starting here is where all of the brilliant stuff I wrote before disappeared]

Everything was very detailed and ornate; things that were not gilded were covered in painted tiles or mirrored mosaic tiles. We were given about 15 minutes to walk around and take pictures. There were tourists of every nationality taking pictures of themselves - selfie sticks or not - or of groups, or of us. If was all a bit overwhelming and claustrophobic. I paused to take my temperature, which was going up, and realized I couldn't make it through the day. (I later discovered I was taking the wrong dosage of Tylenol.) We headed away from the temple area and toward the palace itself, but first we had to stop to learn about pollution and the ongoing restoration of the temple buildings. Finally we got to the palaces, where the King no longer lives, and the guides told us all about their uses, architecture, and history before we at last we headed toward the "Happy Rooms" (restrooms), at which post I told Angie and the guides I couldn't continue.

To get out, we had to walk out the same entrance but the streets were restricted there so we had to walk a couple hundred yards around to the back side of the palace before I could summon an Uber. Thank God the driver was right there,  but the ride back was excruciatingly long due to the stop-and-go traffic. I took my temperature during the ride, and it was now up to 102.4. I knew I had to see a doctor.

At the hotel, I asked the nice Duty Manager Wannisa(?) to call a doctor. I was resting in my room with a headache when he arrived with his nurse. He looked me over and asked some questions and knew right away he had to give me a shot to bring my fever down. I also got a shot of antibiotic, an electrolyte drink, an antihistamine described as a ”Face Bomb," antibiotics for later, and some other tablet. He also gave me a large bill, but it was totally worth it.

Within a couple hours, while everyone else was seeing the giant reclining Buddha, hearing personal stories from the guides, visiting the Marble Hall, seeing the Queen's high-security exhibit, and enjoying free time at Khao San Rd (as seen in Hangover 2!), my temperature had returned to normal and I was feeling much better. The hotel sent flowers for me, and Wannisa called once or twice to ask if there was anything else she could do for me.

I blogged, ordered room service, and even sat outside for a while on the pool level (after the heavy shower that popped up) before going to bed around 10:00.

We are finally south of Martinsville and getting closer to home. I think I recreated most of my lost writing and added on the last two or three sentences describing the day, but that puts me out of time and energy to write about the last day and the trip home, although there's not a lot to say about the travel. I will simply have to do another post to wrap up Thailand after I get home -  which kind of defies the name of the blog. I might also tweak these previous entries with more links and photos at some point.

You may be interested to know that the bus driver is still playing annoying R&B...

I can't wait to see Barry and our dogs soon!

Elephants!

Sunday morning after an adequate breakfast at the hotel we got on the bus and rode about an hour or an hour and a half north of Chiang Mai, past a number of military bases, golf courses, new developments, and smaller communities to the scenic countryside. Eventually we stopped at a remote and quite modest mountain village where we got off the bus and walked through the the streets and up the hill to the Thai Elephant Home.

After changing into attractive blue mahout uniforms and shoving our belongings into small lockers, we listened to a basic briefing about the place, Asian elephants, what we were about to experience, and how to ride an elephant. Before long we were off to interact with the magnificent beasts. We took a group photo and fed the animals bananas and sugar cane before practicing mounting the animals and taking a quick practice ride around the lot.

Once we had our initial test run, we were off for the full day's excursion. I started out on my own at first on Wan (well, I assume she wasn't "Juan") a twelve-year-old ele with a consistent Grey color and sparse, spiny, black hair. We took off down a path that eventually crossed the road and led us to the river. Once there, Brenda joined me on Wan and we crossed the fast-moving river which was very brown from the rain the night before.

On the other side of the river, I wasn't sure what to expect. Based on the briefing, I thought we would soon be going back to the Thai Elephant Home for lunch. Boy, was I wrong. Once we crossed we began an immediate and pretty steep ascent up the hill. It was a big hill. We kept going, and eventually I figured it out: we were climbing a mountain. As long as we kept Wan on the path and away from the delicious bamboo and trees along the way, we continued to climb higher and higher until we began to see the surrounding mountains through the thinning trees and great views of the now-distant village below. About when I thought it would never end, we reached a hillside structure and watering hole where we stopped for lunch.

The lunch itself was a quite delicious Pad Thai wrapped for us individually in banana leaves along with some sticky rice also packaged in banana leaves. I was barely hungry enough to eat all of it, as delicious as it was. We also had some fresh, green, little oranges. As we ate, we watched the elephants come about two at a time to bathe themselves in the mud. When we were done eating, we all got an elephant kiss and the students got in the mud to play with a couple of the creatures, applying mud to their skins to help them stay cool and to keep flies from bothering them.

Following that messy event, it was time to descend the mountain. By this time I was feeling a little off, and I thought maybe it had to do with the intense heat. I got a Sprite, thinking the sugar would help, and when offered a choice I concluded it would be better to ride back down rather than walk (especially since I was wearing flip-flops). This time I had Wan to myself. I thought we would never reach the bottom of that mountain. I was second in line, and it was impossible to turn around to see the group behind me. By the time we finally got to the bottom of the mountain I definitely knew that I wasn't feeling very well and I was ready to go back. However, the at the bottom of the mountain was the river, which meant we all got to play in the river with the elephants, rinsing them and splashing around. It was pretty cool, and I heard students remark that it was the best day of their lives.

Once we had our fill of fun and photo opps, it was back on to the elephants for the trip back to the Thai Elephant Home. I thought it would be a short ride back up the same path we came down, but of course it was not. We took the long way - first past a handful of very nice riverside homes, then past what seemed like a center of operation for the village with lots of trucks and oxcarts parked around, past a number of mostly vacant tree-level stands (many of which were in disrepair) where people sell bananas and sugar cane to passing tourists, and finally onto a dirt road leading away from the Thai Elephant Home. It was a chance for one last photo before we rode the elephants through the streets past many of the local homes, up the hill, past the school to the Home.

We dismounted our rides and said goodbye, then went up to get our things, shower, and change. We ate watermelon while everyone cleaned up and we waited for the staff to finish a slide show of our day. They captured some great photos of us, which we were able to see on site and which were actually posted on Facebook before we left! A fun day, but I was feeling pretty crappy by the end of it. Oh - and we all used muscles we didn't even realize we had to maintain balance on top of elephants for more than two hours of riding. We walked down the hill to the bus and rode through the pretty tropical mountain scenery back to the city.

We had free time when we got back. Brenda and Angie disappeared off the bus before I knew it and I proceeded to make a plan to meet my acquaintance Paige for dinner. I know Paige through mutual drum corps connections -  she marched in the Colts and Colts Cadets for several years before spending a couple of years on the tour admin staff. Oddly enough, our timing never really overlapped so we probably hadn't met in person before.

Paige and I made plans to go for the Northern Thai noodle curry dish, Khao Soi. She came to meet me at the hotel, where we said "Hello" to Angie and Brenda in the lobby bar where our students were quite loudly enjoying Happy Hour. She cringed a bit when we told her about the elephants , and recommended a sanctuary Angie might take the class to in the future. We took an Uber to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant near the Chinese market called "The Best! Local Thai Restaurant" because, why wouldn't we? We had some delicious Khao Soi, mediocre Thai beer, and some good conversation about Thailand, her teaching work, our class, and of course, drum corps. Before leaving the area she went with me to a pharmacy to get some Tylenol and cough medicine. I asked about taking a Tuk-tuk back to the hotel, considering Paige seemed to be an advocate for them prior to the trip, but she said it would cost way more than and Uber - so we took an Uber back to the hotel and she went home to sleep before her first day of teaching in a new school the next day, which was the first day of the school year.

Although I wasn't feeling great, I was feeling better after dinner and I was equipped with Tylenol so I didn't want to squander my last, and only free night in Chiang Mai. One thing the city is known for is the Sunday Night Market featuring a lot of locally made crafts. I walked to the market from the hotel - about a 15-minute stroll. I came upon the east end of the market where it meets a massive brick gate that was part of the original city wall. Beyond the gate, the market extended for blocks and the street was filled with tourists checking out the various vendors, with and occasional Street musician and some side areas for Street food. There was lot of fun stuff to look and, and I could have sent a lot of time there, but I knew I needed to keep an eye on the time so I could get a reasonable amount of sleep. So I ventured in just a few blocks before turning around, leaving with only a few small items and an odd little ball of chocolate ice cream.

On the way back to the hotel was a massage place I had identified in advance. I knew I wanted a massage at some point, and with the sore muscles I had after this elephants this seemed like an appropriate time to do so. I went in and was soon disappointed to learn they the guys who do the Thai massage were not working that evening. I had to settle for a regular "aromatherapy" massage - although I must say the oil really didn't seem scented. In any case, I enjoyed a massage and made my way back to the hotel to be in bed by about Midnight.

So that was Sunday. We're still on the bus, somewhere near Lafayette. Close to wrappings this thing up...

We really got some great photos with Elephants. Check out all the May 14 photos here:  https://www.facebook.com/My-Elephant-at-Thai-Elephant-Home-1825029831056274/