Final Days in Barcelona, and Sitges

We've made it back to the U.S., and I'm using our final flight back to Indy to write this one. 

Fish at Santa Clarita.

Wednesday morning we left the hotel at 9:00 to go to Santa Clarita Market for breakfast. Everything was open Wednesday, and the market, which caters more to locals than to tourists, was bustling with a lot of fish vendors, plus stands selling cheese, olives, hams, and fruit. We bought half of a road skin Mellon and bought some tasty pasties and coffee, and we sat outside on the bench watching people and dogs as we ate. On the way back we passed through the Cathedral, now open. It was impressive, of course, if not as over-the-top as some of the others we had seen. Some interesting elements were an open crypt beneath the alter, and two tiny crypts mounted on the side wall, containing the remains of a King and Queen, dating to about 1050. For some reason, this Cathedral is known for having ducks, and we saw those on the way out.

We quickly packed up our bags and checked out of the hotel, leaving the bags there for the day. Without any set agenda for the day, and having already seen Casa Milà, we decided to visit Tibidabo. We took a new Metro line to the neighborhood at the base of the mountain ,and it was interesting to see an area of town we hadn't seen before. The Blue Tram wasn't running, so we took a city bus up to the base of the Funicular to Tibidabo. Funicular #4 was a graffiti-covered car which, again, didn't run as frequently as it could have. We didn't wait in line for long, though, as we were able to sit in the car and wait.

Tibidabo Funicular.

The trip up provided some nice views of the city. It was overcast, and the visibility of the sea wasn't ideal, but it was well worth the trip. At the top was an amusement park and, naturally, a big basilica. We checked out the city views before sitting outside at a restaurant for lunch. After lunch, Barry and I went to express the Basilica, which was actually an impressive mosaic-covered church with another, very tall, perfectly  square neo-gothic church built on top of it. We took an elevator from the plinth of the upper church to a level near the ceiling level where large statues of the 12 Apostles look out over the city on one side, and the surrounding Green hills on the other. Next we found two steps of stairs, totaling 140 steps, that led to the top of the structure just beneath the large bronze Jesus statue. It's the highest point in Barcelona, and the views in every direction were wonderful in spite of the clouds. The main Cathedral we had visited in the morning, the Castle we had visited the week before, and even Sagrada Familia looked pretty tiny from up there.

Capturing the view from Tibidabo.

Satisfied, we made our way back to the city center to collect our bags from the hotel, then took a combination of trains down the coast to Sitges, the beach resort town. Sitges was pleasant and sunny, and a quick cap ride delivered us to Hotel Capri where the super friendly and helpful desk clerk got us checked in and recommended some restaurants. We chose one, and walked about two blocks down the street to the beach in our way there, catching the last bits of the sunset over the shoreline to the west. Dinner was primary seafood, and it was nice. And we had some cava, too. That night, after Barry and I walked Gywen back to the hotel, we went out to check out more of the town and visit a few of the gay bars.

Sitges at sunset.

On the Promenade at Sitges.

Thursday morning we left Gywen on her own while Barry and I headed out for our adventure. She slept in, walked down near the beach for breakfast, took the tourist train around town, and read by the pool during the day.

We intended to drop off a small load of laundry on the way to the train station, but we arrived at the laundromat to discover there was no one there to take it. We called two numbers they had posted - one number didn't work, and the woman who answer the other number spoke no English. We had to cart our laundry with us the rest of the day.

We found some fruit and pastries on the way to the train station, where we caught the train to the next town, Vilanova. We grabbed some coffee there at the station café and headed out on foot to the beach, where we're were supposed to have a sea kayak and snorkel excursion. Along the way, we found a laundry that couldn't do our wash with same-day service.

I had received a message that said to meet the "Paddle in Spain"  office on el FAR beach. It was a pretty good walk to that beach, and when we got there we found a nice lighthouse, no other infrastructure, a few cars, some people camping, and an itinerant young French man in a van with a dog. No sign of Paddle in Spain  which, of course, never came up in my Google searches of the area before we left.

Paddle in Spain is, of course, an agent, and they contract out with other companies. I called them, and they told me I should have received a confirmation with the real instructions on where to meet the guide, as well as a direct phone number. I received a confirmation, but it was truncated and contained no helpful information.

After several conversations with the agent, the guide finally arrived to pick us up in a van, half an hour after the designated meeting time. He drove us to his company's actual office, on a different beach. Fortunately for us, we were the only customers for the day and the guide, Enrique, was apologetic, super friendly, and accommodating. Enrique is an architect and engineer by trade, but is an independent contractor as a water sport guide for fun and fitness.

Barry and Enrique opening the gate
to the boat storage.

It was a really windy day, so the original plan of kayaking toward Sitges and snorkeling had to be scrapped. We kayaked in the other direction, past a cow statue and some fisherman to a beach beneath an old palace, which had some war-era fortifications on it, along with a couple of topless women sunbathers. After snacks we kayaked back to the base and prepared for a second excursion: sailing. We didn't take  a Catalan catamaran, which is simple but can only accommodate two people. Instead, we spent about 20 minutes rigging a more complex but still small catamaran that we soon took out onto the breezy sea.

It was a really fun time. With the stiff breeze, we got up to a pretty good speed. The sun and the water were warm, and I enjoyed leaning out over the water as we sailed out toward a tanker ship where we could get a good view of Sitges. But of course, the day had to come to an end. Enrique had things to do, and we had to get back to Sitges and Gywen. We showered and said goodbye, then walked back to the train station, grabbing some fruit and olives in a supermarket along the way.

Back in Sitges we walked to the hotel and enjoyed a bottle of our French wine, our olives, and some other remaining snacks by the pool. We rested for a while before going out to dinner.  After walking back to the hotel that evening, we didn't make it back out to experience the nightlife.

Sunrise on the beach.

Yesterday morning Barry and I wok up in time to walk down to the beach for the sunrise. There were a few clouds in the sky, but it was lovely and we got a bonus full moon in the other direction. I went back to the hotel to collect Gywen while Barry went to scout out breakfast locations. Gywen was already out somewhere, so I went to meet Barry and we sat down at a large restaurant which had enough other people in it that we thought it was a safe bet. Soon Gywen happened to walk by and come in to join us. She had already had a pastry and been to a book store, but she ordered her coffee. Barry had fruit and yogurt, and I went all out with a Bloody Mary and a full English Breakfast.

After breakfast Barry and I went to finally do our laundry. We needed coins for the machine, so I ran to the bank while Barry waited for a machine to open up. I got behind a woman who must have been banking for the whole town. My patience ran very thin, but eventually I got the coins I needed and went back to the laundromat where I blogged while the really expensive laundry machines did their work. With the laundry done we walked back to the hotel, packed up, checked out, and stored the bags at the hotel until it was time to leave. Gywen planned to read by the pool, while Barry and I would go to the beach.

The last few days in Barcelona and Sitges we had contacted seven masseurs to try to arrange massages - which would have been especially nice following the kayaking - but we hadn't been able to schedule anything. Only three people responded, and the one who actually seemed available ended up out of our price range. I was regretting this as we walked to the beach, our vacation coming to a close. But when we got to the beach, the first thing we saw was the sign in Catalan advertising massages! It didn't take long to decide to do it.

Barry had his first while I walked through the town to an ATM, and then relaxed in the sand to wait my turn. The sum felt great, and the sound of the waves was relaxing, but the sound of pop music emanating from the nearby bar was a little distracting. My bad for not picking the best spot. When my time came, Barry walked to the church in the old town, where there was a lot of activity as the town prepared for its 50th annual International Film Festival beginning that day. My massage was very relaxing, and I particularly enjoyed the warm sea breeze and the sound of the waves contributing to the overall effect. Following my massage, we had drinks at the bar on the beach - a sangria for Barry and a Damm Lemon for me. But it ended too soon, when we had to got back to the hotel where I showered before we took a taxi back to the train and returned to Barcelona.

For our last night in Barcelona we got a hotel in Castelldefels, conveniently located near the airport for our early morning departure. But with the Sagrada Familia closure on the day of the general strike, we had to purchase new tickets and we got them for Friday evening at 6:00. We got to Castelldefels in time to check into the hotel and enjoy one more bottle of rather delicious French wine before going into the city. We finished up our nuts and fig cake from Montserrat and our rather delicious marzipan from Toledo.

First view of Sagrada Familia.

We took a taxi back to the train station, and then two trains to the Sagrada Familia stop, emerging from the Metro station directly beneath the towering Passion Façade. It was mammoth and impressive and, as expected, replete with construction fencing and giant cranes. We made our way to the Nativity Façade and tour entrance where we braved crowds to pick up our audio guides and explore the Basilica.

Sagrada Familia is a massive, modernist temple to Christ, Gaudí 's grandest vision, and a project to which he dedicated 40 years of his life. While construction started more than 130 years ago, the building is not scheduled to be completed until 2026. It's impressive and awe-inspiring now, not only because of its size unique plan, but also because of the incredible detail, symbolism, forest-like columns, beautiful stained glass (colored differently for the morning light and the evening light), and varied building materials. I had a feeling of disbelief as I touched the wavy Stone of the massive columns and looked toward the ceiling. The building moved me much like Casa Battló had on our second day in Barcelona.

East facing stained glass.

View from the park.

I had barely stepped into the museum when the guides began ushering everyone out of the building. It was too soon to leave, but we had no choice. I forced Barry and Gywen to go into the park across the street so we could get a better, more distant view of the Passion Façade before leaving.

It was now supper time, and Gywen was not only really hungry , but also very anxious about our early morning start. Across from Sagrada Familia we saw an FC Barcelona museum / store that we just had to peek at. The cashier there said there was no good food in the area, since it was all so touristy, so I made everyone walk about four blocks up to the next Metro station to look for other food options. Google Maps was not showing a lot of promising options, but there happened to be a delightful little wine bar just across from the Metro, and it turned out to have some nice tapas and decent options for dinner.

Our trip back to the hotel included to different trains, with a ridiculous walk to change trains at the Passeig de Graçia station. The taxi got us back to the hotel close to 10:30, and we quickly did our final packing before laying down for four hours of sleep.

Tuesday in Barcelona

This is my second post to write on the flight from Amsterdam to JFK.

Closed up Boqueria.

Tuesday we slept in a little bit, planning to leave at 9:00 am to visit La Boqueria Market for breakfast. The market is along Las Ramblas, so it was an easy walk from the hotel. Along the way, we noticed that the Metro was closed completely die to the general strike, whereas I had thought it would just be operating with reduced service. The Market was also mostly closed. It was a large place, but the majority of the stands were shuttered. There were a few open, though, and we found a woman making some delicious-looking crepes. We sat down and ate crepes. We went across Las Ramp Las to a Pan for some coffee.

Crepes!

It turns out that La Boqueria Market wasn't the one with the architecture that Barry wanted to see. So we walked the rest of the way down Las Ramblas, checking out the sites mentioned in our guide book, and made a plan to go across town to the Santa Catarina Market.

My advance research said that hailing a taxi in Barcelona is simple - just hold up your arm. We stood around for a nice long time waiting for a taxi to come by, with no luck. When we saw an occasional taxi, it was in service. We kept moving to new locations, and still had no luck. I began to get frustrated because we were making Gywen walk so far. We only wanted to make a simple trip across town and it was taking way to much time and energy. We checked on a pedicab (too expensive), and he finally pointed us toward a legitimate taxi stand near the Christopher Columbus monument.

We finally got in a cab, and by the time we did we noticed the police had closed off auto traffic to Las Ramblas. The taxi took us along Passieg de Colóm toward the market. When we got to Via Laietana, our turn toward the market, it was closed off by police. The taxi let us out and we would have to walk the rest of the way.

We started to walk up Via Laietana, seeking a lot of people hauling their luggage up and down the street. We went into a grocery to get cool drinks and sat down along the street to enjoy them as the reason for the street closures became clear: protesters were coming down the street from the direction of Plaça de Catalunya. We ventured off the main street to finish the journey to the market, and found it completely closed when we arrived. Barry and I took some photos while Gywen sat to rest. We walked back up to the main street to get a closer look at the protesters -  contrary to all guidance from the State Department. Everyone was walking from the area of the Plaça toward the sea, but the crowds were much thicker toward the northwest and we're thinning out by the time they reached us near the Cathedral and the market. Some people carried signs, and some chanted. Some were walking with their dogs and children. A lot of people seemed smiling and happy, like they were out for a walk with friends, but with a purpose. Barry remarked that it might be nice if people in the U.S. would care enough about something to show up in such numbers, and I tend to agree with him.

Being in a place inaccessible to taxis, and without the Metro running, we had no choice but to walk back to the hotel - which was only a few blocks away, but on the other side of Via Laietana. We had no choice but to walk through the protesters.

It wasn't difficult to find a break in the crowd to pass through. We were then in the Cathedral square (the Cathedral was closed ,so we couldn't visit), and we looked at some of the Roman structures on the way back to the hotel. We rested in the room the rest of the afternoon, but we did make a lunch in the hotel with the rest of our food from Montserrat, as well as a baguette Barry bought across the street.

That evening, we had reservations for dinner and the Flamenco show, which was not cancelled. We walked over to the show on Las Ramblas, noticing that the Metro was open again. The dinner was a buffet of traditional Catalan dishes, with over 40 items on the menu. The meal wasn't particularly memorable, although they did have a nice chicken dish, some good fish, and good sausages. In any case, we weren't about to starve -  after sampling most of what we wanted to, I was stuffed.

The Flamenco show itself was fantastic! We were seated in the front row, center stage, so we had a great, up-close view of everything. There were three male singers and a featured wan singer / dancer, as well as two guitar players, a percussionist, and three featured dancers (two women, one man). Everyone performed with so much strength and feeling - it was a great performamce. Their dance steps were so forceful that we could feel the vibrations through our wicker chairs. It was a really impressive and enjoyable way to end the evening.

Flamenco singer/dancer.

Flamenco musicians.

Montserrat and La Pedrera

Monday’s big agenda item was a full-day tour to Montserrat. We were still a bit dejected from the game having been cancelled on Sunday, and we headed out somberly walking to the tour company office, near the beautiful modernist Palace of Music, stopping at Starbucks on the way for some American-style coffee and a bit to eat.

We met up with the tour guide and about eight other people and walked to Plaça de Catalunya to find our bus. The guide took off quickly, seemingly not to notice Gywen’s pace, so by the time we reached the bus most of the front seats were taken. Barry and I sat in the very back, to avoid sitting over the wheel well. Our guide Lorea told us some tidbits about the city and the various sites we passed as we made our way toward the outskirts of town and further into the countryside. She was knowledgeable and interesting, but we both dozed off a bit in the back of the bus. I realized how nice it was not to be travelling with students so I could sleep through the tour if I wanted to. But I woke up as we approached Montserrat – the Serrated Mountain – and marveled at the amazing views of the countryside and the monastery as we approached.

It was an overcast day, so we didn’t have particularly clear views when we arrived, but it was still fairly spectacular viewing the surrounding hillsides from above from this dramatic setting, and seeing how the clouds blanketed them. Lorea told us what we needed to know as she guided us from the parking lot past the entrance to the boy’s boarding school, street vendors, shops, funiculars, trailheads, museum entrance, and plaça to the Basilica entrance. She then released us to explore for about three hours on our own.

Ascending the funicular.

Three hours is hardly enough time, as the museum is filled by works by many of the masters, there are days-worth of hiking trails leading to remote chapels and spectacular monastery views, and the Black Virgin – the statue discovered in a cave by children in Medieval times, and the primary reason people have studied and worshiped at this site for more than 1000 years. None of this we saw. We had to budget our time carefully to hit some of the other highlights. Our first order of business was a trip further up the mountain on the funicular to St. Joan. The funicular only travelled every 12 minutes or so, but it only took about 2 minutes to load it, so we felt like they weren’t making the most efficient use of everyone’s time. We stood in line for a bit… not a long time, but long enough for me to think about my past experience with funiculars. This was the third one of our trip (the second one being essentially a lift in a Metro station) and I suddenly realized I’ve ridden funiculars on 5 continents. We joked that it was Un-American to not make more efficient use of the time (thus allowing greater revenue creation), but before long we were on the way up the VERY long and steep railway to the top.

On the viewing platform.

At the top, we allowed ourselves just over half an hour. We were surprised to discover that trails led away from the funicular in both directions, and that hiking the length of either of them would take hours. While Gywen sat and enjoyed the view, Barry and I walked a short distance one direction, to see where the trail led, and then walked a bit further in the other direction, on a trail that fairly quickly reached the top of a ridge. We wanted the views, especially the view of the monastery below, but we were so high – and the slopes were so steep – that the monastery was completely out of view. We headed back, and just before riding back down we discovered a nice viewing platform on the top floor of the funicular building, from which the monastery was visible. Back at the bottom, it was time to walk back to the basilica to wait for the boy’s choir performance. The boys in the boarding school have a world-famous choir, and every day at 1:00 the choir sings two prayers in the basilica. When we arrived around 12:35, the line to see the Black Virgin was very long, We went directly into the already-crowded basilica, found a seat for Gywen, and marveled at the spectacular building (including the distantVirgin in her shrine) as the people kept flooding in to hear the performance. At 1:00, a priest gave a welcome and read a Bible verse in six different languages (impressive!) before the boys entered and sang two lovely hymns.

The performance complete, it was time to have some lunch before meeting the rest of the group back near the parking lot. We bought a baguette in the shop and visited the street vendors to buy some rosemary goat cheese, figs, a fig loaf, peaches, and nuts for our picnic on the terrace.

When we boarded the bus, we drove down around the other side of the mountain and south toward the coast for a tour of a cava cellar. We stopped at Cordoniu, which Lorea said was more popular with the locals than some of the nearby cellars which produce more cava for export. There was a beautiful view of Montserrat from the vineyard, but we didn’t linger there ling before heading to the beginning of the tour. I was surprised, and thrilled, to discover that the cellar and cava bar had been designed by a modernist architect – it was a beautiful space with a tall arched ceiling, stained glass, and interesting hexagonal block glass windows. Nearby was an impressive large family home, now used only as an event space, and the “museum” housing wine presses and barrels dating back to the 1600s. (Cordoniu was founded in 1551; they produced the first cava around 1876.) This large, long building originally served as a production/shipping facility and barrel storage, and I believe it may still serve that purpose, but I honestly didn’t catch a lot of what our tour guide there was trying to convey. After a wlak-through of the museum area we went downstairs – and then down again, down and down until we reached 100 feet below ground. The big surprise at the end of the twisting staircase was the real cave (“cava”) where thousand of bottles aged – approximately 23 kilometers of tunnels lined with racks of something like 100 bottles each. Each cave had its own name which, I assume, helps the workers navigate the tunnels like a street grid. The guide told us a bit about the production process, which I didn’t understand, and then we all hoped on a little “train” to take a relatively speedy ride through the caves, I assume to give us a better impression of their immensity. I thought it seemed a little “Willy Wonka,” and in my head I kept singing “There’s no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going…”

Gywen learning the
proper way to drink cava.

At the end of the train tour, we took an elevator up to the tasting room for samples of two different delicious cavas. The guide used Gywen as a guinea pig to demonstrate what he claimed was the proper way to hold and drink from a cava glass – grasping the base of the glass between the thumb and forefinger. After finishing the enjoyable tasting, we stopped in at the shop to buy a bottle and some souvenirs before getting back on the bus and returning to Barcelona. On the way back, Lorea told us her abbreviated version of the political situation in Catalunya, her thoughts on the subject, and that she had not participated in the vote. She didn’t agree with the Spanish Government’s actions and thought there should be a referendum, but a proper referendum in which all sides agreed to the terms, and there was campaigning on both sides of the issue (as opposed to only from the “Sí´ camp). To her, there were too many unanswered questions – Would an independent Catalunya be welcomed into the European Union? What currency would they use? What would happen to her boyfriend’s residency permit? She said the Catalunyan officials leading the separatist movement hadn’t answered any such questions.

There was a lot of activity around the Plaça still, when we arrived there at 6:30, in the aftermath of the prior day’s referendum and in anticipation of the general strike that had been called for the next day, in protest of the violent police actions. Knowing that the metro service would be disrupted and that our Sagrada Familia visit had already been called off due to the strike, we decided to go that evening to La Pedrera, or Casa Milà. We had purchased open tickets valid for any day or time, and we had just enough time to get the tour in that evening.

La Pedrera rooftop.

Casa Milà is a very large home and apartment building, which is still used primarily as private apartments. For the tour we were ushered in through the impressive front gates and courtyard and taken by elevator to the famous rooftop. It was certainly a sight to see – with 30 chimneys grouped into sculpture-like mushrooms and helmet, decorated water towers, archways, and multiple levels atop a window-lined attic with wavy surfaces surrounding two courtyards and two light wells. Our next stop was the attic, which contained a museum about Gaudi’s work under an irregular, rib-like system of hundreds of wooden arches. From the museum the tour led us through an apartment with period-decoration. Compared to the confusing-looking floor plan, I thought the apartment was laid out well with large rooms, high ceilings, and plenty of natural light. The tour concluded in the front courtyard, which originally was an entrance to the underground parking – a true novelty for the time the building was constructed.

La Pedrera front courtyard.

I didn’t love La Pedrera as much as I would have hoped to. Somehow I thought we would tour the main home of the owners, but that was not on the tour. In the apartment we saw a video which I thought would be informative, but ended up being merely a slide show set to music featuring historical ads as well as photos of the neighborhood, the house at the time, and the city. I became anxious, thinking there was a lot more to the tour, and wanting to see the actual architecture as opposed to a series of meaningless (to me) slides. I thought it would never end. Just prior to that, in the museum, I missed the audio-guide descriptions of about 75% of the exhibit. The guide had said “now explore the museum…” and I never saw any more audio-guide numbers until the end. In all, I didn’t feel the audio-guide was informative as the one at Casa Battló. Perhaps I was simply tired from a long day, or still upset about the strike and the soccer game, or anxious about fitting this tour in before closing. It was an impressive and interesting place; I just wasn’t in the best of places from which to enjoy it.

La Pedrera gate.

With the tour ending as the house closed, it was late and time for dinner. We decided to walk a few block to a Tapas place that was highly rated. I felt bad about dragging Gywen that far at the end of a long day when we were all tired, but I knew it would be nice to finally sit and eat. We arrived to find the place shuttered and closed – in spite of Goggle’s claim that it would be open at that hour. Disappointed, we turned back and went into one of the first places we saw and had our dinner. We took the metro back to Plaça de Catalunya and walked back to the hotel, where we were happy to climb into bed.

La Sementera

Barry and I are doing a small load of laundry - at a high price - so it gives me an opportunity to write more. We're on our last morning in Sitges, but we need a few clean items for the return trip home. I last left off in Torrijos...

Each day in Torrijos began with a nice breakfast at Dean and Antonio's, with pastries, toast, coffee, chorizo, cheese, melons (including yummy toad skin mellon), and coffee. Fortunately we didn't need to get up particularly early Friday or Saturday. While we got ready n the morning, we could hear music from the bin heads parade, which we missed, or children's singing from the children's event at the Town Hall up the street.

As mentioned in an earlier post, we were in tn during La Sementera, the annual celebration of the harvest. Someone pointed out to us that small town festivals are much different than city festivals, which are more of a series of large events. For small town festivals, everyone returns to their hometown for the big celebrations so they take on more of a social feel. Everyone hangs out for days, greeting friends and relatives, socializing, eating, and drinking. Torrijos has a sister city in Spain, with a relationship dating back generations, so a lot of people from the other town come to la Sementera to celebrate.

Waiting for the Moors and Christians.

The town seemed to go all-out for the festival. In addition to the big heads parade, there was a main parade on Sunday, with floats, which we missed. Saturday night beginning at 10 was the Moors and Christians Parade. Thousands of people's shows up to watch. The parade itself included four bands and ranks of people coming down the street in various costumes - Moors first, then the Christians, each accompanied by two bands playing the music appropriate for the procession. The costumes were wonderful. Each group had their own prescribed way of Marching or walking down the street. A person carrying some type of weapon lead each rank, dancing and encouraging applause. After the parade we had some very large churros - apparently a very popular festival tradition.

Some of the Moors.

Some of the Christians.

Giant churros.

Making the churros.

Paella delivery.

The other big "event" we experienced ( other than the fireworks) was the delivery of the big paella. At about 1:30 on Friday afternoon, the annual paella tradition commenced. A large truck drove into the Plaza carrying a room - sized paella pan filled with rice, seafood, and chicken, and covered with foil. A crane lifted the pan off the truck, and workers guided the pan through some brick columns into  the tent set up in the interior of the Plaza. Once in place, volunteers began serving the paella free to anyone who wanted some. We watched the delivery and sat to enjoy drinks and some picked vegetables from a street vendor before getting our Paella. Dean, who had stayed home to finish some work translating a speech for the University President, joined us as we finished our meal.

Stuffed pickle.

The Festival was set up on the two main plazas in the town, with a stage for DJs or live music in each square, beer and food tents set up by various restaurants and political parties, and Street vendors. Lining one street leading away from one of the squares was a line of food trucks selling churros and chocolate. At the far end of town was a large lot or field with people selling bags, shoes, shirts, and DVDs along the street, more vendors and trucks selling churros and all kinds of fair food, plenty of Carnival rides, and an even larger stage for the main concert. Friday night we walked to that end of town to see the sights and eat churros. We walked over to they stage to catch part of the concert by a young Venezuelan pop artist. Gywen and Antonio danced while the rest of us stood there listening like Americanos.

Dancing.

During the festival we met a lot of Antonio's family, including his sister and her family, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We also met friends of their nephew, former students, and a few other people along the way. It was definitely a social occasion, with elements of U.S. traditions like a  reunion, a flea market, a festival, and a carnival or fair.

Dean and Antonnio.

Torrijos is a nice small town of about 15,000, and it's not at all touristy. I believe it has roots in agriculture, and now it appears to be a fairly active center of commerce. There aren't a lot of sites to see, other than perhaps the church, so la Sementera was a great time to visit and experience a bit of the culture and a lot of the local pride.

12 Hours in Madrid

I feel like it's been forever since I've blogged, and if I'm jut writing about Madrid now, that essentially means I'm a week behind. After returning to Barcelona and experiencing the game cancellation, compounded by the general strike on Tuesday and just being tired, the wind was kind of knocked out of my sails and I couldn't find any time to sit and write. Now it's evening in Sitges. We've had dinner, adn rather than going out, we've spending some quite time in the hotel. We are sad to think that we only have one more full day in Spain.

A week ago today we awoke in Torrijos and joined Dean for a nice breakfast in his apartment. After breakfast he walked us to the train station to catch a train to Madrid for the day. We had some minor excitement at the train station, when an alarm sounded while Gywen was in the restroom. She swears she didn't do anything to trigger an alarm, and the cleaning woman certainly didn't seem concerned. Some man asked Dean about it in Spanish, and our joke for several days was that Gywen was known all over town as "that American woman who set of the alarm in the restroom."

Dean sent us off on the train around 10:00, as he had to go to Toledo to teach around midday. The train delivered us to Atocha Station in Madrid as expected, around 11:00. Having been there before, we found our way out fairly easily and set about looking for WiFi access so Barry could send off an important email he had composed on the train. My map showed a Starbucks nearby and we headed that direction, but ended up at a Dunkin' Coffee (a.k.a. Dunkin' Donuts, re-branded for Spain) drinking smoothies and coffee at the tables on the sidewalk while Barry took care of the task.

The task complete, it was time to start our sightseeing. We had no particular agenda which was fine, except that no one seemed to offer any strong opinions about what we should do. We considered the Reina Sofia museum, but opted instead to hop on the Madrid City Tour hop-on, op-off bus to get a 45 minute orientation to the city. I'm not sure how long the tour actually took, but we sat on the open-air upper deck as we toured around the central city from the Prado museum past some key monuments, fountains, squares, and churches as well as the Templo Debod, the Royal Palace, the Royal Opera House, and the Cathedral. It was a fun, relaxed way to get a sense of the city and we enjoyed spotting interesting architectural details, people-watching, and seeing the hustle and bustle of the large city. It certainly had a very different character than either Barcelona or Toledo.

We decided that lunch would be good once we had completed the loop, since it was approaching 2:00. After driving past numerous inviting looking cafes with outdoor seating, we got off at the stop closest to the Prado and ended up not finding any such restaurants in the area. We used the restrooms at Starbucks and started out walking to find a lunch spot. We headed toward a small plaza visible on the map and found absolutely nothing there. We passed a couple of fancy restaurants with linen table cloths and high prices. Finally, after walking several blocks and turning back toward the museum we found a small dive offering €10 lunch specials so we sat down and ate it.

Next we went to the Prado. There were a few things in the museum I definitely wanted to see, so we went directly to those areas to check them out. The first was el Bosco, or Bosch (c. 1450-1516), whose almost surreal paintings depict fantastically imaginative scenes based on religious themes. They are often large works filled with amazing detail, and it's difficult to imagine they were created more than 500 years ago. From there we went to check out Valázquez, the famous portrait artist for the royal family. The highlight there was seeing Las Meninas, the inspiration for the series of 40 Picasso paintings based on the work. The room featured many other very large portraits, and we concluded he was better at painting people and dogs than he was at painting horses.

Before leaving, I wanted to check out the Goya paintings, which spread across three floors and incorporate different styles and themes dating to different times. He moved away from religious subjects and more toward human pursuits, country scenes, and political statements, particularly in light of the American and French revolutions. Shortly after we arrived in the Goya gallery, Gywen headed to the restroom. Barry and I continued to take in the Goya, but Gywen didn't come back. We headed out to one of the main areas where we thought the restroom was, but there was no sign of her. Barry decided to continue the search while I ran upstairs to take in the Goya "cartoons" (tapestry studies, essentially) that I really wanted to see. I practically sprinted through the top floor galleries - enjoying what I saw - while awaiting a text from Barry to tell me he had found here. The text didn't come. Meanwhile, I had been texting Dean who had arrived in Madrid following his classes and was waiting to meet us. When her heard that we lost Gywen, he decided to come to the Museum to find us.

I headed back downstairs after my quick look at the cartoons, and discovered Barry and Gywen together near where I had last seen Barry. Apparently she had reported to the staff that she had lost us, and they took her into a secluded room while they called staff all over the museum looking for us. She got tired of being stuck in a room out of sight, so she stepped out into the museum, and that's when she saw Barry. We all headed to the entrance to wait for Dean. I quickly bought postcards and realized from the selection available just how much other great art we didn't see there during our two-hour visit.

Royal Palace

Dean found us seated outside the museum about 5:30. The other  thing in Madrid I wanted to see was the Royal Palace, and they had free entry at 6:00 so we took a cap across town to the Palace. When we got there, we discovered a huge line that snaked through the plaza between the Palace and the Cathedral. We stood in line for about 10 minutes to see how quickly it was moving... and it would have taken us probably another 30 minutes to get in the door. I wasn't willing to commit that kind of time to it, so we moved on.

We walked to the nearby park where the Egyptian Templo de Debod is - although it's actually a bit more of a hike than I expected. The park was lively, as people started to gather in anticipation of the sunset. The line to enter the temple was long - well, not long by palace standards - so we didn't go in. Gywen sat down on a bench while Dean, Barry, and I explored the park further. We stopped to look over the city to the west and take some pictures with the Palace and Cathedral in the background.

At Parque de Oeste near Teplo de Debod.

We decided to sit for a cool drink, so Barry went back to retrieve Gywen. As we sat outside the little cafe next to the park, we watched countless people and their dogs go in and out of the park and we decided we must have seen every dog in the city. As the sun set, we walked back through the park and took photos of the temple before walking to Plaza de España and Dean's car.

View toward Plaza de Espa from the cafe.

Fountain behind Templo de Depod at dusk.

Templo de Debod sunset

Dean drove us to a different neighborhood for dinner, to an area popular with locals. The restaurant we originally planned to patronize didn't have room for us, so we picked a different spot down the street. We had a nice variety of some typical Spanish dishes, and it was quite good. After dinner, around 11, Dean drove us all back to Torrijos. As we approached home, we passed the neighboring town of Novés and got to see their festival fireworks from the road. They were really quite impressive -  on par with those in Torrijos, although I don't think I am supposed to say that. We arrived home close to midnight and quickly fell into bed. I remember sleeping pretty soundly until the music from the festival woke us up around 4:15.

Non-Chronological Blog Post: FC Barcelona Game, etc.

At Camp Nuo, ready for a game.

It's Sunday. We intended to leave Torrijos at 6:45 this morning for our return to Barcelona. I set an alarm for about 6:00 before going to bed around 1:00. This morning I heard Gywen moving around and I decided I should look at the time. Unfortunately, my phone had shut down for some unknown reason. After holding in the power button for about 15 seconds it fired up, but it took a while to boot and "authenticating 1 of 1," whatever that means. When the phone finally worked it was 6:23. We jumped up and quickly got ready, and we were on the road at 6:56.

Similar to Indiana, Spain is in the wrong time zone geographically. Bless Dean's heart for driving us to Madrid in the dark. We arrived in the heart of the city at dawn and pulled up to Atocha Station at 7:5 - shortly before the Police closed the nearby streets for some bicycle event. Dean saw us inside and we said our goodbyes before going through security and finding our platform. Boarding was easy, and we were in our seats by 8:11 for the 8:30 departure.

As we were pulling out, we got basic breakfast sandwiches and coffee from the train's cafe car. We snoozed some and then I finished writing the last blog post just as we pulled into the station in Barcelona.

Today's big event was the FC Barcelona match against Las Palmas. In Sants train station, we found an official FC Barcelona shop so Barry and I went in to get the things we would need to be properly outfitted for the game. We each got a shirt and I got a hat, plus we loaded up on other things including a magnet, keychain, drawstring backpack, and souvenir mini soccer balls. There was a lot of other cool stuff, but we had to stop - they got enough of our money. Now wiht an additional bag of stuff to carry, we made our way to the Metro and on to Plaça Catalunya and the final few blocks to NH Hotel Centro.

Our rooms were ready early, so we checked in at about 12:30 and went upstairs to change into our new FC Barça gear. Then it was off to lunch before the game. The famous bar Els Quatre Gats is nearby, so we walked there and got seated at a table in the bar. We ordered a few tapas and drinks just like people have been doing there since 1897, including Gaudí, Picasso, Casas, and everyone else famous from Barcelona.

Soon it was time to take the Metro back past Sants to the stop nearest Camp Nuo stadium for the game. This game was nearly 50% of the impetus behind this entire trip, and was the event around which all of our other travel plans were made. It would fulfill a dream of seeing Lionel Messi - arguably the world's greatest active player, who is currently scoring a goal every 60 minutes on average - play in person. The energy in the stadium (which seats nearly 100,000) was bound to be electric. Sure, it was a low-stakes game versus a team that hasn't beaten them since the 1980s, but today is the day of the controversial, illegal, non-binding vote for Catalan Independence. Through the years, FC Barcelona has come to represent Catalan pride and the independence movement. The crowd would no doubt be fired up and chanting "votarem" along with other cheers and anthems promoting to desire for democracy and independence. We had our new gear and our tickets for row 3. We were ready.

Fans waiting to get in.

The gates were to open at 2:45 for the 4:15 Kickoff. We arrived at 3:15, exactly according to plan, and were surprised to find the gates to the stadium still closed. We joined the thousands of other people waiting calmly and patiently in the street, watching a steady stream of guys go pee on the nearby wall as we waited. Pun intended, I guess. Time passed and we began to remark on how strange it was that they hadn't opened the gates yet. Eventually, after wondering aloud, a Swedish couple next to use told us that English language media was reporting that the game wasn't happening. There was no mention of any problems on the FC Barcelona website or and of the local media, as far as we could determine. As this conversation unfolded, Dean began to text me with information confirming our fears: we would not be seeing a game today. A possibility was raised that the came would be postponed until tomorrow, but the truth won out as the most likely scenario - even in the total absence of any communication from stadium or team officials or police on-site. The game was to be played "behind closed doors," with no fans in the stadium, announced publicly 20 minutes before Kickoff, but not announced to the assembled fans at the stadium gate.

Needless to say, this was a huge disappointment. With no announcement, there was no cue for the crowd to disburse. A few people began wandering away, and after seeing a policeman drive up on a motorcycle I approached him for confirmation about what was going on. He was super friendly and seemed empathetic as he told me the game was going on today, but without spectators. We began the slow walk back up the hill to the Metro and rode in silence back to the hotel. Once there, we had no plan. But the concierge told us that a nearby Irish Pub was television the game so we finally decided to walk over there after Gywen offered to buy us drinks. We watched the second half of the game with the gathered faithful and watched Barcelona score three goals to win 3-0. Messi scored two, and I really was emotional both times he scored, knowing that we could have - should have - been there watching live. We may never have that chance again.

We walked back to the hotel after the game, past Plaça Catalunya, noting the eight police vans lined up in waiting in front of the pub, and five more in the Plaça, where TV satellite trucks were lined up, too many to count. A big screen was assembled, on which people were being interviewed in Catalan. We rested at the hotel before heading out to LA Rambla to grab dinner at the first place we saw. (I tried "mountain style" paella - not bad.)

Back here in the room, I can see on TV news channels in Spanish, Catalan, French, and Arabic that there are thousands of people now gathered in the Plaça, just under 500 meters from where I safely sit, but there is no English-language news to tell us what's actually going on. Bits of news gleaned from Twitter, foreign-language television, and online sources tell me that the police tried violently to stop voting at several locations today, injuring at least 844 people. It's an unfortunate and ridiculous situation, which I have vented about on Facebook.

It's now way past bedtime, and we've got a long day tomorrow. Hoping it will be a better day.

Return to Spain

I started this post on the train Wednesday morning, but then vacation got in the way of writing. Now it’s Friday evening and we’re taking a break from the festival in Torrijos, so I’ll write some more.

Wednesday morning was nice, because we didn’t have to get out of bed quite so quickly, and we didn’t necessarily need to rush to leave. After showering and packing up most of our stuff, Barry and I walked to the grocery store to grab some things for breakfast. We went around the corner to the post office to mail something, then back to the apartment. We had a nice breakfast of fruit, yogurt, cheese, little French sausages, and the bread we purchased Tuesday in Cucugnan. (Delicious!) We also made some coffee to help us through the day. I called a taxi which arrived promptly at 10:30 as requested, and we took a short, stuffy ride to the train station. I checked in with Europcar to make sure everything had been in order with the car, and we had a short wait before the train arrived.

We climbed on board and had a much easier time stashing our bags before the train pulled out of the station. We had some nice mountain views on the first part of the trip just south of Perpignan. The stop in Barcelona looked familiar. We traveled down the coast a while to Tarragona before heading across the countryside toward Madrid. Along the way we saw a very arid landscape with a mixture of white rocky cliffs, irrigated fields, quirky red hills, shallow valleys with more farming and natural vegetation, quaint small towns, industrial areas, and cargo transport infrastructure. Every time we went trough a tunnel my ears popped. We made lunch out of our remaining fruit, cheese, and yummy bread, along with some olive tapenade Gywen bought Tuesday at one of the wineries.

We switched trains in Madrid, wandering around a bit looking lost, because the signage wasn’t fantastic. About an hour later we were on the train to Toledo, and after about half an hour on that train we arrived. Toledo was impressive from the start, with some interesting buildings visible from the train platform and the station itself was beautiful, covered in colorful tiles. Our good friend Dean was waiting for us there and it was wonderful greeting him for the first time in ten years. He had come directly from work in his small car, so a few minutes later his husband Antonio showed up with the larger car so we could fit all of us and our bags. Barry went with Dean while Gywen and I rode with Antonio past the stunning city walls and around to the other side of the Medieval capital for the views from across the river. We stopped for a drink while overlooking the river and the city there, before heading into the center of the old city….

Toledo view.

I tell you – there has been no time to blog. Here I am again on Sunday morning, writing on the train back to Barcelona. We’re zipping through the countryside seeing interesting flat-topped hills, olive trees, distant mountains, and overcast skies. I just woke up from a little nap and I hope I can get this post finished and at least start the next one.

Me and Gywen waiting for the car parkers
in Zocodover.

Wednesday evening Dean and Antonio walked us through historic Toledo on the most level route they could navigate for us, beginning at the Zocodover market area. We passed shops on our way to Santa Iglesia Cathedral, Cardinal’s Palace, and City Hall then walked through part of the Jewish Quarter before passing through some former convents that have been re-purposed as University buildings. We finally arrived at a restaurant for dinner which was in a dormer abbey. Our table was in a private space downstairs, a small corner of the cellar with an arched brick ceiling. We feasted on a meal of multiple small dishes, culminating with some delicious venison from the nearby mountains.

Marzipan replica of a building facade,
in a shop along the streets of Toledo.

View of the church in Torrijos, from the apartment balcony,
just before the fireworks.

After dinner we drove to Torrijos, where Dean and Antonio live. Antonio’s family owns an apartment building there. They have a nice apartment on the third floor, his sister Carmen lives downstairs with her family, and an Aunt occupies another apartment. They keep a recently renovated apartment on the fourth floor for Antonio’s parents in case they ever need it, and this apartment was given over to us for our stay. They haven’t managed to install an elevator yet, so we carried the bags all the way up and got settled in. Gywen went to bed but we stayed up to watch the midnight fireworks from the apartment balcony. We arrived during the annual Torrijos festival Le Sementera, a celebration of the harvest that lasts for five days. This was the night for fireworks, and the town put on quite a fantastic show. I’m not sure Barry agreed, but I thought they were every bit as good as the fireworks in Barcelona although without the beach setting. The fireworks were constant – no breaks in the action like we have in small town American displays – and there were frequently as many as 6-8 rockets exploding at once. The show included some cool spiral fireworks and some very colorful ones, as well as quite a few that had secondary explosions of thick, poofy sparkles. It was quite a satisfying “welcome” to small-town Spain. We fell into bed shortly after the fireworks, although the local party went on well into the night, as evidenced by the music we could hear most of the night from inside the apartment.

And thus concludes Wednesday’s post. We went through some pretty tree-covered mountains and grape-filled valleys as we approached the coast. We are now approaching Sants Station in Barcelona.