James deserves a kick in the backside for that

James is our GPS. He has a British accent but is Spanish in temperament . 

We set off early in the morning drizzle hoping to avoid the traffic on the mountain roads. That paid off and we got to out of the windy bits fairly early. There is a town, and tunnel called Gavin up here. Visibility was poor but the countryside was very picturesque. Every second hillside in Spain has a dun coloured tower or church.

At various stage James had us showing as driving through fields, over cliffs and in rivers (all very fast flowing after the rain). We got very annoyed when he asked us to take the second exit at a roundabout which ended up in a paddock. Patience was getting very thin. Anyway we got back on track heading for Sos Del Rey Catolico. Another hillside town. This one is famous for being very well preserved, and for being the birthplace of Fernando I. He is famous for being king of Aragon, marrying Isabela of Castilla, driving out the moors from Spain and launching Columbus. He probably did other stuff too.

James asked us to turn off a reasonable road and we followed. Whilst I had asked to see Sos, James had decided that we needed to see some of the Cinco Villas. A collection of five towns in the area of historical interest. Unfortunately we did not really have time for this and the road James chose for us was a category 7 road. I know they do not have category 7 roads, but when they do this one, with €500M it should almost qualify. I don't think there was more that ten metres in a row without a pothole.

Yes we drove by some 11th century churches and some lovely looking hilltop villages, yes we managed to almost run over a flock of quail, but we wanted to go to Sos. Well, we got there finally and were in such a state that we switched James off and stuffed him in a backpack whilst we had a buffet breakfast at the parador. Calmed by food we wandered the old town. It was still raining so not totally perfect however the church was excellent. We were shown around by an old guy who obviously loved the place and would get a bit impatient if I did not immediately translate his words of wisdom to Marjan. We could not take photos but it was quite interesting. Particularly the old bits ...circa 950. Sos is mentioned from the 850's and was walled early in the 900's. It was at the front between Catholicism and Islam, hence it's hilltop which dominates all the area around it.

We decided to get going early and beat the rush hour traffic in San Sebastián. James was reasonably mollified and behaved himself. However we kept checking his recommendations against Google Maps. And when Marjan saw how short the drive was from the motorway to Sos, she suggested we give him a kick in the b£#.

The countryside as we started into the Basque Country was spectacular. The motorway headed into this awesome gorge and from there it was green hills and tunnels all the way. We got a bit cocky and James led us in ever decreasing circles till we found our hotel.

A couple of hours of walking in San Senbastian was vey pleasant. We strolled along the la concha promenade in the vizcaya gale, we got a map from a hole in the wall tourist map machine, we climbed Monte Urgull for a lovely view East and West. We wandered the old town among the Manchester United fans here for a game. We even had time for a beer and pintxos (albeit average) in La Plaza La Constitucion.

Headed back to the hotel and dropped down into the bar beneath our hotel where we had some txakoli and more pintxos. This time the pintxos were excellent and the txakoli an interesting accompaniment. By the way, we had enough for a light dinner with the pintxos and txakoli for €12.50. Perhaps that was to make up for the loud Man U. supporters. Nonetheless, take that Barcelona!

Now we are back in our room for some soccer and grandchild skypeing.

Random thoughts of an insomniac

How did we manage travel before? Before mobiles, line, viber, email, Internet, Skype.....I think I have it all covered. Last time in this part of the world I would get a half dozen coins, find a public phone and make my bookings whilst blocking one ear from the road traffic. Not sure if it is better or worse....or just different.

I am not really an insomniac , I have just woken half an hour before the alarm....as I do, and do not want to wake Marjan.

We went out for dinner last night to the place recommended by Manuel, our host. No, he is not from Barcelona. He is from Broto, the village down the valley, and married a local girl. They still think he is foreign with his lowland ways. The place was not open at seven, so we came back. It was very quite and Manuel said  that occupancy closely matched weather predictions. It was going to be quiet for a few days and improve with the weather leading into the weekend.

Went back to the restaurant at 8 and still closed. A bit disappointing as it is Michelin rated. So we went to another recommendation. This time a mum and dad operation. Well dad brought out the menus and wine, mum brough out the soup, a son brought out the mains, mum again for dessert and her sister took our payment. We could not bring ourselves to eat the veal, a local specialty, as we had made friends with some of them. So pork for Marjan, and a local trout for me. And yes Liz we upped the alcohol. The €15 menu del dia included a bottle rather than a glass of wine.

We are planning on adjusting our eating on environmental grounds. We feel that when we fly back to Oz the perturbations in the earth's orbit caused by the shifting position of so much mass could tip global warming into a dangerous phase. Still I might be talking through my hat and we'll just keep enjoying the food.

Spain has always had cafeterias, panaderias, carnicerías, cervecerías and the like. We are now seeing hamburguéserias and sandwicherias. And a talk show host in full flight on the travails of a celebrity said ' era bueno tener ese feedback'. If you do it in a spanish accent it is a scream. Especially so because as I recall Spaniards don't do feedback.

Finally it is nice being out of the major city. We seem to be among the few non-castellano speakers around here. Whereas in Barcelona we were among thousands of other tourists, here most of the tourists are spanish.

I hear Marjan stirring. So we will start up and head off on the road again. 

Talk again from San Sebastián. Looking forward to a Skype date with the grandchild.

The rain in Spain

A restful night at a terrific guest house with a lovely room with views.  In oz you'd pay a heap. We paid $55 a night. We woke to the sound of cow bells and rain. Looked out of our window and our golden mountain had changed.

The rain in Spain might fall mostly on the plain but in Aragon it falls as snow. The guy at our breakfast place said that at this time of year, his favourite, the early mist and rain tends to burn off to sunny afternoons. So rather than go up the mountain to the national park we decided to take the Polo off-road. San Nicolás de Burajuelo called and we came running. Apparently there has been a bridge here for a very long time and it's used by pilgrims crossing from France for the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.

We decided that as it was raining, well only a light drizzle, we would forgo the hike to France and merely do the hour trek up the river. Some great colours and we shared the lowlands with some local cows. 

 After a while it got too narrow for us so we turned back.

We were fairly wet by the time we got back into the car. We turned the heater up to full and headed to the national park proper. We decided we were too wet to keep walking so we had a cocoa at the bar/restaurant at the main car park. The warmth hit the spot. In fact it was so good we followed it up with a picnic lunch in the car. There were no undercover spots fors us to lay out the sumptuous spread of bread, chorizo and cheese. 

By the way if you really want you don't have to leave the car park. The views are magnificent. It ls in a narrow valley with 700m rises either side. This is one of the best parks we have visited and the pictures do not do it justice. I suspect that depending on the light and time of year it would have many different faces. We got the rainy/misty face of autumn.

Rain or no rain we decided to walk. We had some wet weather gear. So walking boots, rain coats and ponchos were added to my t-shirt and to Marjan's ten layers of clothes, hat and gloves and off we set.

Obviously very different to Australia, obviously very beautiful but also very wet. We had actually thought about doing one of the two longish walks when we planned this. The most challenging, would have seen us climb to the top of those hills and follow the valley along the ridge. However, with Marjan's knee still recovering and the snow along the ridge, we decided not to pursue that option. The second option was to keep on this track for about three hours to the end of the valley. An hour in, with the rain getting heavier and our wet weather gear starting to reach its limits we decided to head back after the next waterfall. On the way there we met some more friendly locals.

There was a whole line of them. It was only by the last one that I managed to disentangle the camera from the sodden rain poncho. Finally the waterfall was reached and we turned back.

We were getting wetter by the minute, but there was still plenty to see. At one point we were mesmerized by the leaves falling from the trees around us, at another we stood transfixed as small birds criss-crossed the path in front of us. But the rain just kept getting heavier and our clothes wetter.

Finally made it back to the car started the motor and turned up the heat. We had to sit there a while for the steam to stop fogging the windows. With a little sadness we headed back to Torla. On the way down we met the cows again all across the road. When they sensed the car behind them they quite simply and of their own volition made a single file along the edge of the road to let us pass. Astonishing.

A reviving coffee and muffin, followed by a hot shower has now set us up nicely for a big dinner. Tomorrow we leave this place, hopefully without dropping off the side of one of the many precipices,and hopefully to return again for a longer visit.

Travelling with Marjan sure is fun, even though she does think we are going to die.

If I look we'll die

So it was goodby to Barcelona. A truly lovely city in many ways and one we probably could easily spend a fortnight in and not get bored. Though we had planned to we did not visit a single of the city's museums, not even the chocolate one.

On our way to pick the car we were again targeted by thieves. This time I spotted them and pulled back to separate and they spotted that I spotted them and bailed. That we will not miss.

Got a little Polo and with a sense of trepidation headed out. GPS was not working as the satellite was lost in the underground car park. That got the heart beating. What really got us going was turning into a street only to find we were going against the traffic. Luckily there was no traffic. I blame the stupid system of roads. If the GPS says turn right and you turn right into the right hand lane, you SHOULD be right. Imagine all those rights being left in Melbourne. Anyway, having calmed down we got onto the major roads and out of town without incident. 

Drove past Montserrat which looked awesome from the road. I told Marjan to look, to which she replied "if I look we'll die". She had obviously calmed down enough to talk. That was a good sign. Had an argument with the GPS about the route. I was right but it was chucking a hissy fit and told me I was going to die.

Pretty uneventful till Ainsa which was our lunch stop. Sometime you just get things right. Ainsa is the old capital of the Sobrearbe kingdom. This was amalgamated into the kingdom of Aragon sometime in the 11th century, and of course as you all know Aragon joined Castilla to drive out the Moors during the Reconquista and hence begin the state that became Spain. As you drive in you see the lovely old town at the top of the hill (a not uncommon sight by the way) then as you get closer it becomes just another town in a beautiful mountain settings but we stopped and headed up the hill to the old medieval town. One of the most beautiful towns I have ever visited. 

Lunch in the plaza mayor, we here we had the €15 tapas special, was pretty much on par with the location. We eschewed the beer to appease Liz and had a white wine and a Jerez respectively. The highlight was that only one of the dishes was not a highlight. Walked around the old town to work off some of the food and climbed the bell tower of the 12th century church. Luckily it was only two when the bells went off and I can still hear Marjan if she screams at me. If we had gone at twelve I would require bionic ears.

It was time to head to Torla and into the pirineos (Pyrenees ) proper. The road was narrow and lots of long weekenders were heading the other way. Marjan's jaw set in a horrified scream position and the only words I got out of her when I pointed out the awesomeness of the view were "if I look we'll die". Anyway suffice to say we survived. Well we had another minor incident when the GPS tried to send me up a narrow street with a 15 degree climb. The locals had fun watching me manoeuvre myself back down without incurring an excess on the damage insurance.

Torla, whilst not quite up to Ainsa standard, is also lovely. It has the advantage that the mountains are screamingly magnificent. . Lovely room, comfy bed, will soon succumb to sleep. The last shot is the view from our room as the last rays of the sun hit the top.

After Marjan takes some of my blood pressure meds we will be walking into the valley bordered by those mountains. Good hey!

We have stopped reading the Aussie papers so we are assuming Abbott hasn't already sold the place off to some mates in fancy suits. Still if he has we may just stay right here.

Crime and punishment prior to tapas

We did not sleep well. We slept in. It was a festivo (holiday) and our normal second breakfast place was closed. The Boqueria was also closed. Well not to worry. We found a place with OK coffee, found something for a lunch sandwich at the supermarket and on our way to the second train to Montserrat we found an amazing vending machine with a universal USB charging kit that allows me to charge up the GPS before we get in the car.

The train out to Montserrat was uneventful. Pretty scrappy dorm suburbs and scatchy market orchards. The young man beside me could have done with a shower. Whilst the trip was uneventful, the lack of sleep meant we were both a little unattentive and got off at the wrong stop. Apparently the telerifico and the cremellera head up the mountain from different places. Oh well.  An extra €13 can solve that rather than have to wait an hour for the next tram. So up the telerifico we went. Lovely looking mountains with some cabras ibericas (goats) clinging to the steep slopes. 

We wanted to head further up on the funicular, but the car was full and rather than wait twenty minutes we thought we would walk....well I did. We discovered that Spaniards, or at least catalanes, have discovered exercise. Also that tight gym pants are the proper gear for a walk in the great outdoors. Beware,  Rafael in walking Lycra cannot be too far away.

 About half way Marjan wanted to head back down....I knew better ( in case you're wondering this bit is the crime). We did make it up to the top of the funicular station, but Marjan was quite tired.  I, being manly and macho and all, walked up to the hermitage of St Joan Baptista and San Ofre. Essentially this is a natural cave on the edge of one of the serrated bits of mountain that give the place it's name. Lovely country, great views. Apparently you can see all of Catalunya from the top and every Catalan child is encouraged to sleep overnight and see the sun rise on the Catalan nation. 

The whole Catalan thing is doing me in. I am all for people having self determination, I just find the insidious and constant propaganda a pain. It strike me as less as confident adult and more as whining, insecure teen who reckons independence is emptying out the dishwasher once a week even if the dishes aren't clean. Sorry for the digression but the stuff is everywhere and eventually you respond.

Rode the furnicular back down after a picnic lunch and checked out the abbey, church and associated buildings and views. What is special is where this is. Must have been a bugger getting the materials up here. That black Virgin de Montserrat is apparently a bit of a pilgrimage site and the queue to touch the statue was very long. We don't queue . So we just enjoyed the building.

Back down on the cremellera train this time and back to Barcelona . Somewhere between the main train and our apartment my phone was either lost or stolen (the punishment).  

After a bit of a mope and rest we headed off once more into the night. We had finally finished eating the slab of tuna we bought the first time in la Boqueria so were free to have someone else cook for us. We had been told the lower Born area around Santa Maria del Mar was good for tapas bars. However we never made it. We found this place that looked like it was an old garage and was being used as the smoking extension for a local place and stopped. Some tourists but also some arty looking locals. A beer for me and a cava for Marjan had us forgetting about the evils of pickpockets. We had a few things, but Marjan loved the eggplant and I was in raptures over the morcilla (black pudding sounds so mundane for something that is heaven in a sausage). In the meantime we watched a young woman at the next table (well I watched and Marjan hissed at me) go through about six roll your owns whilst listening to music and reading a book. 

Suitably sated we headed off to a flamenco show at the Palau de Musica Catalana. Of course the fifteen minute walk meant we needed some sustenance, so a nice chocolate in the Palau cafeteria was in order. Proper Spanish chocolate mind. Awesome show with very talented performers. We were probably a little too tired to get the most out of it, but we did enjoy it.

I have very little memory of making our way home, and I believe I actually fell asleep whilst walking up the stairs to the apartment.

The moral of the story...when Marjan says she is tired she is tired and the gods'll get ya if you don't listen.

So we are now catching up. Today (Saturday) we both woke after a pretty solid sleep. The first time since we arrived. Feeling fine when our second breakfast place and La Boqueria were open as usual. Decided to buy some makings for dinner. We then went on an aimless wander through older parts of town in the general direction of Santa Maria Del Mar. We managed to get some American tourist lost by pointing them in the wrong direction. Good one Rafael. Found Sta M. Eventually in a really beautiful part of town. Born is terrific. The streets are incredibly narrow, the shops are lovely, even if the do sell tea (thanks for the tip Keyne), and the general atmosphere is relaxed. Apart from more wandering around little narrow streets we managed to buy a new phone to replace the old one. Wanted it as I still need to book places as we go and street phones are becoming rarer. On our way to lunch we saw a Bimbo van, neither Marjan nor I knew they delivered. 

Lunch was at La Boqueria, we tried to get into Pinotxo, which is world famous, but it was a little crowded. Four deep around the bar. We managed to get a table at another place and more tapas were ordered. The boquerones (fresh anchovies) in vinaigrette were lovely with a cool beer. We actually had a bit of a siesta after lunch. Very spanish.

Same old after lunch. We wandered through some areas of Raval on our way to the waterfront. I had actually thought of coming down here to get a phone. I had read there are some cheap Pakistani phone shops. If by some they meant dozens then yes. A very interesting street, every second shop is offering to fix and unlock phones. From what I understand my stolen phone was probably sold here hours after I lost it. It was a very interesting part of town with lots of immigrants. Quite a few Senagelese as well as the Pakistanis, who by the way have founded a Pakistani workers of Catalunya union.

Really nothing much else to report. We stopped at Taller de Tapas to have a beer and some grilled calamares as an appetizer with another beer. Yummy...I remember the song about the nips getting bigger. On our holidays I suspect it will be us getting bigger

Now to rest before the stress of our first drive tomorrow.

Signs of the underground

This is a bit of a holding post. We are going out to the theatre tonight..well to a flamenco performance at the Palau De Musica Catalana. We loved the building so much we immediately bought tickets to a performance. It was either the flamenco or a spanish guitar concert. We went for the flamenco as the guitar was being performed by a damned Englishman. Anyway neither Marjan, as if, nor I will have time for a blog session tonight. Assume Monserrat was awesome and photos will follow.

So a couple of observations. The first is how much of Barcelona is happening underground. Every second building we enter has basement levels, whenever we walk we see entry/exits for underground car parks, the metro system seems to have tunnelled out significant proportions of the metropolis and on and on. 

What was most interesting though was that the rubbish collection is also underground. We took our rubbish out for the first time yesterday. On the street is a cross between a bollard and a letter box sized metal thingy. It has a trap door and you slide in your rubbish. It apparently uses suction through a series of underground pipes to get the rubbish to a processing site. No trucks at 3am and a tidier city. Apparently London is also playing with this system. Awesome.

What else is under there...who knows but I'd love to see the plans

And this blog is not complete without some photos. I am loving the signs in Barcelona. Many are the same as others around the world, many, to my chagrin, are in English, or even worse Spanglish, but some are a pure joy. Here are a couple I have managed to capture.

What else for the Erotic Museum. By the way it is across Las Ramblas from La Boqueria. Food and sex, who would have thought it!

Just to keep to the sexual theme, we spotted the condom shop opposite a gothic church in the Placa De Pi, a lovely area. The motto is 'for life's' little pleasures'. No size phobias among the Catalans .

And finally on our walk back through the old town last night, this was quite frightening. They get them young! 

Actually it is perhaps best not to laugh too hard. A little further on our walk, there was a young person on the ground, probably drug affected. We were very glad there appeared to be a local adult assisting.

Sitting on the train to Montserrat and had to add that we found a vending machine at the station that sold a universal USB cable. Saves me a trip to find one for the GPS. The Gods are smiling on us.

Love you all, and we enjoy the comments on the blog.

Of Beds and Socks

Spanish beds, or at least those of my limited experience, seem to have been designed by the Grand Inquisitor. They are less instruments of rest and peace than of the battle against heretical sleepers. The mattress is pretty thin for someone whose weight is in three digits ( and not only when measured in pounds, thank you for the kind thought). The pancake slim mattress nests on a bed of slats. Those slats appear to be connected to the side runners by an ingenious arrangement that broke as I was falling asleep last night. So one slat short, on a rice-paper mattress did not make for a restful night.

To make up for matters of sleep we had a chocolate pastry for second breakfast before catching an early tourist bus. Yes folks, the planning paid off.

Our first stop was the Park Guel. Gaudi and Guell had the idea of setting up an English park like suburb, hence the spelling. Spaniard a have an inherent belief in the English ability to organise. After all they fought off the Armada, and even more impressively can queue, something Spaniards in numbers exceeding one (and sometimes less) find all nigh impossible. The residential plan did not take off and now the place is a park you pay to get into. Some interesting stuff with the gatehouse/shop being very 'ginger bread house'. The place is on the side of a hill leading so a bit of climbing. I think I am over Gaudi, though the park itself was a nice change of pace.

To cleanse the visual palette of any gaudy remnants we decided to stop and check out the Reial Monestir De Santa Maria De Pedralbas. The simple gothic was a pleasant relief. Build in the fourteenth century as a country nunnery, it is now in a Barcelona outer suburb with some very expensive looking neighbours. Still an oasis of rest and peace, unlike the bed. By now the lack of sleep was catching up, as were the hillsides. I was most grateful for a pair of wonderful socks, thank you Laura, that kept the feet feeling fine.

We dropped off at Estacion De Sants to pick up Montserrat tickets and check on the car rental. All good and onto Mont Juic via the Teleferico. The Castell  is there to protect the Port of Barcelona. I can just hear the un-Gaudi like architeural instructions. 'Make it big, make it solid, fill it with dirt, give me places to site big guns.......nah don't care what it looks like'. In a way very un-Barcelona. The city seems to have a passion for decorative buildings. Perhaps it is an antidote to the inability to reserve almost any useful open space in the teeming metropolis. The view from Mt Juic brings home how little space there is.

Though we walked less, we climbed more, so socks were important. The first thing I did when I got back to the apartment was to check the bed. The slat is back, but the mattress remains thin. Still, one out of two is better than I normally do. Salud de sunny Spain. Although we gather Catalunya is not Spain....or won't be soon.....or something.