Bye Spain

As I prepare to say hasta luego to España again, I also say it to,

the stores that do an excellent job of coming up with a name that lets you know exactly what they sell,

and those that spent no time on it at all,

and those that did give it a shot but perhaps it could use a little refining.

The signs that show that Americans aren’t the only ones who don’t know how to use apostrophes.

The fact that when you really love escape rooms and you really also love your dog, there are places that can relieve you of the agony of having to live without one or the other for a couple of hours.

A city that has so much to offer, you need more than a 360-degree view to see it. Hasta la proxima.

 

Barcelona Day 2

I went for another run this morning, this time down to the beach, and it occurred to me that I don’t really ever run. So my legs are very sore, but the good kind of sore. 

For the first time this entire trip, it was rainy most of the day. This part of Spain is suffering from a severe drought, and it desperately needs the rain. This is a picture of a dam up in the mountains near here where I was wandering around with Robert. If you click on it, you can see that the reservoir is extremely low and the river that is supposed to feed the reservoir is completely dry. 

A couple of years ago, I was on the Plaza Real in Barcelona and some tourists were craning their necks to take pictures of something up in a palm tree, which turned out to be a couple of bright green parakeets chirping away and making everyone happy. My apartment at the time was next to a big park; I noticed that the park was full of those birds and thought that if those tourists really wanted some good parakeet pictures to post, they should just walk over to the park and point their camera in any direction. Then just today I read that they are, according to one travel website “cute” and “noisy” (the birds, not the tourists), but according to actual information are an invasive species that kills trees and destroys the nests of other birds, and anyone in Spain with a hunting license is authorized to shoot them (again, the birds). But of course, not in parks or plazas, which is where most of the 20,000+ of them live. 

On every trip I’ve ever made to Europe, I’ve noticed that local people constantly consume alcohol over the course of the day. These aren’t loud obnoxious young people, it’s just something that’s quietly part of daily life. This is a picture of two guys in Tarragona at 8:30 in the morning with a cup of coffee and two very large shots each of two different kinds of liquor, which they poured into their coffee. I’m sure they do this most mornings as a way to perk up the beginning of their day. But imagine if you had a friend who drank two shots every morning to get the day started. 

I mentioned this to my Spanish friend Robert, and he agreed, saying that it had never really registered with him, but that it’s true. It’s just accepted as a normal part of life here, but if anyone exhibited that behavior in the US, it would be cause for concern. Just different cultural norms.

Tomorrow is my last day here after more than three weeks, so I have to cram a lot into it because I may never be back here, except that if the past is any predictor of the future I’ll probably be back next year.

 

Barcelona Again

I was feeling particularly triumphant today, so I went for an early morning run past the Arc de Triunfo. And by “early morning” I mean around 10:00 because, you know, Spain.

Exploring Roman artifacts in Spain seems to have accidentally become a thread running through this trip, something I continued here in Barcelona. I took a college class in the history of Spain last year (I know you would feel awkward asking, so I’ll just come out and say I got an A; they’re not allowed to give out A+’s). As a result, I have a lot of context for this and on the recommendation of the professor visited the three original columns from the Roman temple in Barcelona, built around the 1st century, A.D.* They’ve been covered up, built around and used as decorations over the years but in the 19th century someone realized that they were actually part of Augustus’s temple and they’ve been protected ever since. And I know a lot about Augustus now, so it was pretty great to see them.

But they’re still in someone’s building, so finding them isn’t that easy. Inside this doorway there’s a tiny sign that says “Roman columns this way” with an arrow. They don’t have the most prominent stage, but at least they didn’t get dismantled and turned into planters.

And then, the Barcelona history museum, which has actual Roman streets and buildings still more or less intact from 2,000 years ago. There was a habit of building new things over old things for many hundreds of years, so if you dig down far enough, you’ll find the past, and part of the actual Roman town is on display about 15 feet below existing street level. In all seriousness, having learned a lot about Spain’s history, this opportunity to wander around Roman streets, stores, houses, etc. was pretty amazing. 

Around the fourth century, there was a little turbulence in the area (thanks, Visigoths!), so the Romans wanted to fortify the walls protecting Barcelona. They could have cut stones from existing quarries, but then someone thought “Hey, we have a lot of stone lying around here that we’re not using, let’s also use that.” So as they built the wall, they supplemented what they dragged in with stuff that was already there. Which brings us to this. If you were a rich Roman and when you died you were so popular that your family paid someone to carve a stone version of your face to put on your grave, how would you feel to know that a couple hundred years later someone would grab it to stick in a crevice in the new city wall? Cause that’s what happened and that’s where these heads were pried out of. 

*Anyone paying attention will have noticed that this is around the same century that the lighthouse in A Coruña and the aqueduct in Tarragona were built. Those Romans were pretty busy in the 1st and 2nd centuries AD.

Tarragona 3

Today we had a lot of territory to cover in the mountains west of Tarragona . . . 

. . . so Robert and I met for a very sensible breakfast, then fueled by an almost toxic combination of caffeine and sugar, we took off.

First stop Siurana, which is a place I would never have found had I not known someone with insider knowledge. This place is hanging off a cliff, and it is known as the last Muslim stronghold in Spain (don’t get me started, I took a Spanish history class), but now it’s popular in the summer and there are two restaurants and about 10 vacation homes. 

It’s very beautiful and among the rocks is one with a small depression about the size of a horse hoof that comes with a story. The Islamic queen, surrounded by Christian troops, mounted her horse with a plan to ride over the cliff to her death. Knowing that the horse wouldn’t jump off a cliff, she blindfolded him and had him gallop to the edge. But the horse sensed that something wasn’t right so he stopped suddenly at the edge, leaving the imprint in the rock and throwing the princess over the cliff to her death. So both the princess and the horse got what they wanted, which I’m going to call a happy ending. 

But no more time to waste on this, next stop is a hard-core Catalonian restaurant for lunch. It’s a hole in the wall that has no indication that it’s a restaurant, and they put a bottle of water and a bottle of wine on the table – help yourself. I ordered in Spanish, somewhat sheepishly because of my inability to speak Catalan, but the owner was charitable. 

Then off to the bodegas of Priorat, the wine country. We stopped at two wineries, explored the operations and drank zero wine. 

Next stop, an old monastery with an interesting story. Back in the day after the Muslims were kicked out, the church in the area was immensely wealthy (because they collected “rent” from all of the neighboring cities) and they built a monastery where monks could live a solitary life of contemplation so that the common people who paid the “rents” would be saved. You may have heard that monks live alone in “cells.” We got to walk through one of those cells. It was like a luxury condo, if luxury condos had existed 700 years ago. It had a living room, dining room, reading room, three terraced gardens, a fountain on an outdoor patio, fireplace, bedroom and more. There was a full-time cook, all the wine they wanted, and seclusion in the mountains. Really, it’s no mystery why, when the people in the towns figured out what was going on, they dismantled the whole place and burned it to the ground. After which the government used tax money to reconstruct the whole thing as a national park. 

But no time to focus on that; we headed back down a winding road out of the mountains to Vila Seca where I said a said a sad goodbye to Robert and caught a train back to Barcelona. Whew.

Tarragona 2

I had an afternoon free and just needed a place to stay overnight in Tarragona, so I booked a cheap place on a small square. I have stayed in some pretty horrible places in my life, including a room in Costa Rica where the “bathroom” was a hole in a concrete floor, but in recent years I have become accustomed to much nicer accommodations. This place in Tarragona was a two-star hotel. 

The room was tiny and the towels were thin and rough (I should say the “towel was thin and rough”), there was no soap in the shower, but this was my view. My view of the painting on the wall above my bed, which was the only part of the room not finished in 70’s style wood paneling.

This was my view out the window, but at least I had a window, which is probably how the place got the second star. I only raise all of this as an observation of what a snob I’ve become in my old age.

Speaking of old age, this traditional dance happened last night on the main street of Tarragona. You might notice that the “dancers” aren’t doing much dancing, but this tradition is hundreds of years old, the dance is all very tightly choreographed and it means a lot to the people doing it.

Then I met up with my friend Robert, who took me on a guided tour of Tarragona, including all the
historic sites and a rooftop terrace that serves wine, so it was a very successful tour. On the way up in the elevator, another couple made some small talk with us and on the way out the guy said he hoped Robert and I had a nice holiday together in Tarragona. The fact that he didn’t think I was too old for Robert made my day.

Afterward, we drove to a Roman aqueduct out in the middle of nowhere that was just amazing. Can you imagine in the first century AD that the emperor (Augustus) decided to live in Tarragona and told his guys that he wanted running water. It was straightforward to dig a trench in the mountains to bring water toward the city, but then they hit a valley and they said “OK, we’ll just build an aqueduct here so that the water can keep on running down smoothly into town.” This thing is enormous and just perfect. If you look closely you can see a person at the very top, which gives you a sense of the scale. It blows my mind.

Tarragona

After two trains, one bus, one taxi and one plane, I’ve arrived in Tarragona. 

Another day, another Roman structure. This amphitheater, which could hold 15,000 people, is from the second century A.D., so not as old as yesterday’s lighthouse, but the owners clearly haven’t kept the property up nearly as well. Also unlike the lighthouse, a lot of people died here, either in gladiator contests or as victims of whichever conquerors happened to be taking over Spain at any given time. There was also an entire church built over it at one point. But now it’s a UNESCO world heritage site.

Even though I was at an ocean this morning and this evening, they were two different oceans (technically an ocean and a sea), and the evening one was so much warmer that as soon as I checked into my crappy 2-star hotel I walked down to the beach and went into the water.

Then I walked around town for a while and at 9:00 realized that all I’d consumed all day was a bag of peanuts and three cups of coffee, so I stopped all other activities, ate some food and am now calling it a day.

A Coruña Day 2

Today I walked through what yesterday was a cold, windy, gray ghost town and found blue skies, warm weather, cafes full of people who all looked super contento, kids playing in the parks, and people lounging on the beach. I don’t know where yesterday’s A Coruña went, but I don’t have time to find out because I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.

I took advantage of A Coruña’s improved attitude by walking several miles to (and up) the Tower of Hercules, a lighthouse built by the Romans in the First Century AD, when they were in charge of Spain (and most of Europe). It’s the oldest known lighthouse from the Roman Empire. 

It was modernized somewhat in the 1700’s but it is fundamentally still the original, so it had good bones, as they say. I’m sure when Gaius Sevio Lupo finished this thing he probably said something like “well this lighthouse isn’t going anywhere anytime soon,” (but in Latin of course), and he was right. It’s still here 2,000 years later. 

I was at that point also pretty much at the end of Spain, which looks like this.

Then tonight, dinner at a fantastic restaurant that I made a reservation for a month ago because that’s how you have to do it at this place. They recommended the tasting menu, which is 9 or 10 “courses” of small plates and the food was amazing. Not sure I would come to A Coruña just for this, but if I were anywhere near here again I would definitely come back to this place.

Up tomorrow at 6 am to (hopefully) find a taxi and then a train that can get me back to Santiago de Compostela and to the airport in time for my afternoon flight. I thought this wasn’t something I had to plan out ahead of time and by this time tomorrow I’ll know if I thought right.

A Coruña

I never was particularly partial to the Catholic church, but when I discovered that one of the most famous cathedrals in the world is willing to swing a 100-lb. piece of smoking metal over a crowd of worshippers at 40 m.p.h. for $500.00, I decided it was worth another look. And I was correct, there is at least one pretty great thing about the Catholic church.

As for A Coruña, the only corner of Spain I hadn’t yet visited, it’s a place where the sea and wind continually buffet you, the place is full of office and apartment buildings, it rains 160 days each year and even when the sun is out it still kind of feels like it’s raining (it’s hard to explain).

I’ve gone from the land of kind angels guiding a solid stone boat across two oceans to a place that will toughen you up if you can handle it. And it’s full of contradictions. A commercial fishing center, yet when I ordered seafood for lunch the waiter confidentially advised me against it, telling me I’d be disappointed. A beach town, but the beach is right next to a major road that is lined with huge buildings. It makes me appreciate things that are what they say they are, like the restaurant down the street from my apartment called “Burritos and Cookies” does actually only sell burritos and cookies.

But all in all, there’s a very different vibe here than Barcelona, which has stores like “Happy Socks”
and “Mutt Bookshop,” compared to this.

Even the street signs are slightly threatening.

Tomorrow I’ll walk over the to the Tower of Hercules and see if a monument left by the Romans after their bloody conquest of Spain can brighten the mood a little.

Santiago de Compostela

As much as I dislike the idea of obtaining actual information that might affect my perception of things, I signed up for a walking tour of Santiago de Compostela today and learned:

1. My estimate yesterday that I probably arrived here along with “hundreds” of other pilgrims was slightly off. Yesterday alone, 1,976 people arrived and requested an official certificate of having walked the Camino, and that doesn’t include people like me who didn’t get my passport stamped along the way. In high season, it’s not unusual for them to issue close to 4,000 every day and last year about a half million people got a certificate.

2. The ornate front of the cathedral is more or less a façade because during the time of baroque architecture, the church decided that the front of the cathedral wasn’t fancy enough, so they hired an architect to make it a little spiffier, resulting in the current look. The old one is mostly still there behind the new one.

3. The church liked their new look and feel so much that they wanted views from every direction to seem just perfect. One side of the church faced an apartment building, which didn’t provide great optics, so they built a wall directly in front of the apartment building with fake windows and doors to match the rest of the look and feel of the plaza. No word on how the residents felt about that.

I also shared some of my knowledge with the tour group. The tour leader (who was very nice) explained how the so-called “Catholic Kings” Ferdinand and Isabella thought the pilgrims weren’t being adequately cared for, so they built a huge hospital in Santiago de Compostela where everyone could get free health care. In an effort to build bridges of communication with our neighbors in other countries, I commented that Ferdinand and Isabella also expelled all of the Jews and Muslims from Spain, revoked their citizenship and seized their property. “Yes,” she said, “we do have a bit of a complicated history.”

Along the way, the tour guide showed us a convent and said that the nuns sell cakes and cookies baked according to traditional recipes hundreds of years old. Having made a Tarta de Santiago myself, I decided to put theirs to the test.

There was a dark entryway with no sign of life (shown at right). 

I was about to leave and noticed a tiny doorbell next to a shuttered window that had bars over it, appearing kind of like a prison to us, but I guess it looks like a store to nuns. I rang the bell, the shutter squeaked open and a little nun (sorry, she was actually little) asked what I wanted. I asked for a slice of a Tarta de Santiago; she reappeared with my cake and slid it through the bars. 

My approach was somewhat different than theirs (this is a picture of my cake and their slice). Not to judge, but while theirs clearly has a better chance of getting you eternal redemption, I think I win on presentation. And they seem to like sugar way more than I do. 

Anyway, you may have heard that the cathedral here has a huge swinging incense burner that weighs 120 pounds and hits 40 m.p.h. when it gets going. Because it is a place of worship, they only use it three occasions – on Fridays, on holy holidays, and when anyone from the public shows up and pays $500 to see it swing. Our tour leader has connections with church staff, who told her off the record that someone paid for morning mass tomorrow. I know where I’ll be.

Bike Ride Day 6 - Calda de Reis to Santiago de Compostela

This was the last day of my ride, and I successfully made it to Santiago de Compostela without any flat tires, broken chains or major injuries over the course of 6 days.

Despite the fact that the town I left from this morning has maybe three streets, this is what I did trying to find the correct way out. Perhaps the coffee wasn’t as strong as it seemed.

I arrived here along with several hundred pilgrims. Scenes like this along the way weren’t typical, but it did happen from time to time. A guy I bought a cold drink from told me that the crowds are much larger in the spring and fall than they are now. But even with these groups, people were very nice to me when I rang my little bell coming up behind them. “Buen Camino” they would call out to me, over and over and over again as they scampered out of the way and I left them in a cloud of dust.

And here’s the payoff, the cathedral of St. James. There were lots of people resting on the ground, heads on their backpacks or taking group pictures holding their fingers in the shape of a “V” or some other gang symbols with which I’m not familiar. Some of them have been walking for many weeks to get here. During the last six days I passed lots of people along the way changing clothes, rubbing ointment on their blistered feet, conducting animated video calls with loved ones on speaker, trying to get a good cell signal, etc. and they always seemed to be pretty chipper.

The Camino itself is a mixed bag. There are probably thousands of ways to take the “Camino” across France, Spain and Portugal, and the settings are wildly varied, from forest and oceanfront paths to village and city streets and highways. I understand the appeal of walking it, but I would be way too impatient.

Tomorrow is a free day in Santiago and then off to the rugged northwestern coast of Spain. But before I leave, do I want a commemorative statuette, shot glass, or tattoo?