Here’s what you want to see. It is Very rare and when you see it you want to go in there and give them money. It is an oasis, a refuge, a retreat from the cloud of smoke that hangs over the city since every person virtually everywhere, except in these restaurants and maybe at the bank, is smoking.
Yesterday I had a tapas snack at a ‘prohibit fumar’ which was lovely. The experience of today’s meal was a total joy.
This is the place and in the lower right corner is the intersection. Forget addresses. The numbers make no sense What So Ever as I learned in my outing to find a bookstore.
More of these irresistible buildings. I was thinking this might be what Havana could have looked like if they had maintained their buildings for the last 60 years.
Anya dressed up in some Princess gear she got as a treat from the Bazaar Chino next door to our apartment.
I went out in the evening to pick up a little snack and brought back from the pub at the corner, this fabulous potato salad that I hope to make. It’s basic potato salad with Greek olives, capers, small par-boiled carrots, maybe a very little celery and/or onion, and then some strongly flavored oily canned tuna stired in. YUM!
April 2
Most of us in LA know at least a little Spanish and can recognize the sounds and simple expressions anyway. Here in Barcelona you don’t know if you don’t understand because they are speaking that BarTHElona accent or because you don’t know the vocabulary or you don’t understand because they are not speaking Spanish!
Catalan is the first language in Barcelona. It was one of those Quebec-style revolts that has ended in favor of the non-national language.
This is a good example of the differences, the first sentences being in Catalan and the second in Spanish.
We were in dire need of a good city map. The Lonely Planet guide has them all, everything is there, but sooo smaaall I Can’t Read It. So while the kids spent the day at the Science Museum for children, I went wandering in search of a map.
Yikes, this is some building but the sign for the program was most unnerving.
All the grand boulevards in this part of town are shaped like this one – with the corners cut off creating a giant octagon (hey Rome! It’s an Octagon!)…
I should mention that all these corners are controlled by signals. Pedestrians pay attention to the signals to the extent that ‘green’ means that your side has the right-of-way and ‘red’ means the other side does. So if it’s red to you and no car is coming, you can go.
People aren’t dodging in and out of traffic like NYNY though. Nor are they waiting-waiting watching grass grow like in Germany.
…many having some lovely decoration in the center.
This is Our neighborhood, called L’Eixample (The Extension, not The Example), was designed in the 1860s as a suburb to the city, built on a nice modern grid and became the home of the middle class. It’s a great scenic central place to stay assming you are friends with the subway.
It is also home to the most renouned Modernista buildings including Gaudi’s masterpieces, more to follow.
More, looking down another lovely avenue.
Speaking of lovely, let’s talk about trash. It seemed on every residential street there were at least 4 trash containers the size of a small storage building to collect separately 1) paper products 2) plastic and metal 3) glass 4) garbage.
Everone was doing it and so did we! We had four separate bags in our little kitchen. L&B are well used to it because in Germany they even separate the glass by color and in Germany if you make a mistake and your neighbors see you, you Will be corrected.
There are paragraphs and paragraphs in the guide books describing the construction, materials, symbolism, Gaudi’s original ideas, history, future plans etc etc. It’s a big deal.
This is a view from ‘the other side’ where the carvings were created by Josep Subirachs (I guess Gaudi didn’t leave designs for these details?). LP says it is incredibly controversial…
…’like ’em or loath ’em’ they say. I think it looks like a cathedral as imagined by George Lucas in his Star Wars period. Check out those storm-troopin’ crusaders. This face is The Passion Facade. (I think it has all the stations of the cross?)
I’ve combined pictures from two days:
And here we are at La Sagrada Familia (Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia) and wow it is. Since the sun was just behind the spires I’m not getting much detail in the facade so I pulled out a little example. These carvings cover the building.
Antoni Gaudi spent the last part of his life devoted to this construction and, in the grand tradition of the grand cathedrals of Europe upon which it was modeled, construction has continued for 100 years.
‘They’ are hoping to be done in 2020.
After acquiring maps and a dictionary I headed into the subway to emerge here, at the Parc Joan Miro. This sculpture is called Dona i Ocell (Woman and Bird). You may draw your own conclusions.
In the distance you can see what was once the bullring of Barcelona (Placa de Braus Les Arenes), built in 1900 and now being restored as (I’ll bet you can guess) a Shopping Center! It is really quite beautiful on the outside, with handsome arches made of brick and elegant colorful designs around the top.
Further on, this is the grand intersection of the Placa D’Espanya leading into Montjuic with all the historic museums, parkland and gardens, and grand it is. In the distance is the Museu Nacional D’Art de Catalunya.
April 1
Here we are on one of the legs of our all day journey. It went like this:
10 minutes to walk to the tram from the King’s apartment; 15 minutes to ride to the main train station; plenty of time to shuffle around and to wait; one and a half hours to ride to the outlying airport with the cheap flights; 15 minutes to a shuttle from the train stop to the airport…and then wait for the plane; then ride the plane for two and a half hours; and then in Barcelona – a bus to the subway; a couple of subway rides involving looong walks; and then a short walk to our destination – Mom, Dad, a 6 year old, a 3 1/2 year old, all their miscellanea for one week, and me.
It went off without a hitch and the children actually, and this is true, never lost their cool once – nor did the adults for that matter. How cool is that!?
Upon arrival in the Barcelona airport.
You know I’m thinking about Rome too. I’m lucky Anya is here to occasionally stand in for Rome as in ‘ooow – look at that! would you go stand over there?!’ and ‘owww – there’s a great shot! would you go stand over there?!’.
Anya too likes to look at the results of her efforts!
Speaking of languages – I was now well into the Basque country and despite my rudimentary French and Spanish most of the time unless someone was speaking directly to me I could not recognize a word. I could not even recognize what language it was I was hearing!
It could have been Eskuara, the Basque language which is widely spoken (even aggressively spoken!) or Catalan or any of the other local dialects of French and Spanish, even some Castilian pronunciations on the Mediterranean side. Also there seemed so much sharing of vocabulary between these languages and English, German etc., I was mystified.
Based on shifts in intonation and audience I could hear the shopkeepers switch between languages as naturally as blinking. The people here didn’t look like they had particularly big heads but their language-brains must have developed very early and Very Large.
This guy is pure definitive Basque.
Mushrooms that are in season for just a few weeks and during that time are the specialty at every restaurant. They cut them into chunks and then fry the chunks in a pan deep with sizzling butter. That’s it. Perfection.
Remember how I was going to the shipyard in France for work, fly then to Istanbul to meet Elizabeth, enjoy the glories of Turkey, pick up a Seabourne ship and cruise to fabulous destinations throughout the Aegean ending in Athens where we were going to spend a magnificent few days absorbing culture?
Remember how I worked on these plans for months and how I was going to leave September 12th? Didn’t work out, did it.
So then Elizabeth was NOT going to Turkey and anyway by the time flights were available the yard was grumbling for me to ‘get to the meetings, and now would be good’.
Amazingly enough, for me anyway, without even an hour on the internet, without calling for days to get agent rates, without even a guide book I decided to stay in France, rent a car and visit the Pyrenees.
This is Le Castel Marie-Louise in La Baule, a very elegant resort town just down the road from the very less than elegant shipyard. Usually we stay in shipyard facilities and this time I got to stay in La Boule at the Marie-Louise. Things were looking up.
A friend arranged that I could meet the manager of one of the wineries, L’Union De Producteurs – St Emilion, and he would offer me a tour the next day. Little could I have imagined such a treat.
The every-tourist-has-one shot in St Emilion. This was my one and only accommodation snafu. Sorry, no space available!
I was dawdling around admiring this wonderful area and by the time I’d chosen the exact perfect place to stay – sorry, no space available. Not at the exact perfect place or the next place or the next or the next. It was dark and cold and there was No Space Available.
Everyone was very kind and sent me on to the next place hopeful, but no. Around 9pm one of those classic French Hoteliers, tall, exquisitely groomed, precisely correct yet so excruciatingly charming, this gentleman said he knew a place rather far away and not up to the standards I would be expecting, but was I willing to take it. Oh yes, merci.
Up Up Up I drove in the darkness through country that was getting darker and colder by the mile. When I found the little village called St Alvere, this was the place, lit up and warm and so welcoming. I drove to the door to make sure it was the right place and a sweet couple hurried out smiling and waving me in. By now it was maybe 11pm and what looked like the whole neighborhood had gathered here.
Hungry? asked the sweet woman. Oui. She set me a little table in the corner and the sweet man went into the clearly closed kitchen and a few minutes later came out with the most extraordinary food – an omelet like I never had before or since or could hope to again and fried potatoes and toast and jam. It was beyond a dream.
Then I went to sleep in this tidy but funky Funky room, bathroom down the hall, on a pre-WWI mattress and with linens from the sweet woman’s grandmother’s hope chest.
Meet M. Patrick Foulon (the gentleman in the tie). This man created a day so grand you’d be bored of hearing about it before I was even half done. Here is my thank you note that felt poor beside the richness of the experience:
Dear Monsieur Foulon,
I am home now and want to take this first opportunity to express my most earnest appreciation for your generosity and kindness. Although I enjoyed many wonderful meals during my time in France our lunch together will live in my memory as the most unforgettable. The delicious menu and its complement of perfectly suited wines along with your interesting and delightful commentary made for an entirely perfect afternoon.
Thank you also for the tour of the village, of the vineyards, of the cellars and the extensive and informative wine tasting. There is no doubt that I was treated to the best tour in all of France!
The bottles of wine made it safely to LA. I will carefully choose with whom to share this special gift and I will then take the opportunity to repeat the story of my beautiful day in Saint Emilion.
Fond regards,
As evening came on so did rain. I was basically exhausted by the day’s glories and decided to drive an hour or so and then to stop at the first agreeable looking auberge.
These women exemplify a common experience – you just stop and then you have three new best friends. The ladies were from Belgium. They had spent the last month sunning themselves in Portugal and that day drove through Portugal, through Spain and into France on their way to Belgium the next day. Between them they spoke a dozen languages and we chatted away the evening.
And oh yes, they were smuggling home a Lot of Portuguese wine. They had taken the wine directly from barrels and funneled it into big plastic water jugs. After dinner they poured this wine into water glasses and shared Freely.
The colors and variety of brick made Toulouse feel very warm and there were more bookstores per square foot than anywhere I have ever been.
I was connecting through Toulouse and spent my last night in a lovely old hotel on the main square.
Following are many shots of Le Monument aux Girondins et a la Republique with sections called for example Liberty Breaking the Chains and The Triumph of the Republic.
The only No Smoking sign in all of France.
When you ask for a table in the non-smoking section of a restaurant they simply remove the ashtray – from YOUR table! Since there is no smoking on Air France flights they offer nicotine patches along with the beverage. A non-smoking hotel room? Forget about it. David Sedaris says he lives in France so he can smoke in peace.
I decided to take a closer look at the city of Bordeaux and arrive on a weekend afternoon. I know it’s tough getting in to the historical part of these towns but this was Ridiculous, driving around and around in circles totally frustrated by roadblocks at every turn. What’s With This?
It was Car Free Sunday or some such thing and again I parked waaay out there.
The fortified part of Carcassonne from the road, grape vines in the foreground.
A lot of the masonry has been repaired and all what you need for tourists like flushing toilets have been artfully added. Inside the walls are tourist shops, restaurants and some accommodation. Even though it is plenty touris-ta-fied still you won’t want to miss it if you are nearby.
This was the most complete medieval complex of all in the town of Carcassonne. The fortified part of the town was never destroyed, conquered but not destroyed. The Romans started building in 122 BC. You can look it all up…
Every day for a few hours, this was my view.
As to driving in France and Spain, at least along the Pyrenees, I couldn’t recommend it more highly. The highways are perfect, fast, clean, safe, and the rest stops, particularly in France, are even more perfect. I can’t imagine what it would take to make better rest stops. There are parks for a stroll and play yards for the kids, pristine bathrooms often with showers, decent food in the gas/food/lodging complex, everything.
The streets are also really no problem at all as soon as you learn the one little trick and now I will save you the trouble of having to learn it yourself.
Plan Ahead. You have to study the map very carefully and learn the names of all the little towns leading up to where you want to go and all the bigger towns after where you want to go. The reason is that there is a round-about with five or six or eight roads meeting at every major intersection with the cartoon classic number of signs pointing every which way and as you go around the exact name of your destination will NOT be one of the signs. Take my word for this and study the map.
This was one of the first pictures I ‘shopped’ and it was a turning point in my relationship to photography. This line drawing was exactly what I felt when I clicked the shutter and after messing around on the computer, this-ing and that-ing for who knows how long, and then to get the look, well, with every new picture I tortured my colleagues at work for days! Look at this one Look at This one Look At This One.
No more standing for hours in stinky sweaty darkrooms! Make it how you like it!
Again another great town, Perpiganan.
This page looks like a series of PhotoShop Obsessions.
Here, I liked the colors and the shapes.
Driving now from Gerona, which is close to the Costa Brava, inland a bit through an area of the Pyrenees where volcanos were most recently active and that is now a huge state park. These next few lake pictures are from this area.
Notice all the Judaica in the window. This town had one of the largest and most active Jewish communities during the Middle Ages. The buildings in that part of town are very well preserved and their history noted in the shops and restaurants that now occupy the space.
The Cloisters. It was after this trip that I became obsessed with PhotoShop. Can ya tell?
From street vendors here I had my best meal in Spain.
I got a soft fresh roll from the bakery man and then two slices of yummy sharp cheese from the cheese man and a couple of fresh figs from the fruit man. I jammed the cheese and figs into the roll and waited until the hot roll softened the sharp cheese and the fig juice soaked into the bread and then I ate it.
It cost less than a cup of Starbucks and was as satisfying as a grand meal.
Along the waterfront in Gerona. I liked this town in every respect.
The historic sections of all these medieval towns are, rather obviously, unmanageable by car. You park and walk. Even the best hotels usually cannot provide parking.
I won’t tell another how-I-got-a-great-hotel story but in the end, there I was as the streets darkened, schlepping my bags from a parking garage from what felt like the suburbs back into town. And I started getting a strange and uncomfortable feeling. What’s going on here? Ragged and disheveled youth were lounging in door ways while I sensed ominous sounds around every corner.
How unpleasant I thought, so I must be wrong, and took a more careful look. Oh yeah, what was I thinking. Students. Just a bunch of college kids hanging out to avoid studying. All of a sudden I could see clearly that this was a happin’ little college town and I felt completely at home.
At this point I could have gone to Andorra. It is a country after all.
And it was, literally, down the road a piece but everyone I talked to had the same comment. Going to Andorra is like driving in an hours long traffic jam so you can get to the mall for a frantic sale of second-rate goods.
I gave it a pass and went on to the college town of Gerona in Spain for my first two night stay.
This is an auberge, like a B&B except Mom and Pop often run the best restaurant in town – like the place in St Alvere for example. I didn’t stay here but the look is typical of the area. I went in and said may I have lunch please. The only question they asked was red or white? and then food and wine appeared and I was happy.
Standing on a viewing platform at the Grotte De Niaux. The above picture is looking into the valley, very characteristic of the Pyrenees and this picture is looking into the cave where 13,000 year old paintings are protected, totally intact.
They only allow 10 people at a time to enter and you must be with a tour. Each participant has a flashlight and that is the only light for the whole three hour walk. As I scrambled along trying bravely not to hold up the group by breaking my leg, the guide pointed out the basics of cave tours – stalactites, stalagmites, deep water pools, etc. until, long into the cave and without warning she raised her flashlight for our first glimpse of a cave painting. It really was breathtaking.
The group then played flashlight-follow-the-leader on many paintings in different rooms all with what I am sure are the most fascinating stories. I got most of what I learned from the brochure as the tour was conducted entirely in French.
I must comment about dogs in France.
Say for example you are an aged woman and have tragically lost all those near and dear except for your one beloved grandchild who represents everything in the world that is good and beautiful and you want the world to know your joy and you speak to this child in cooing tones and in the restaurant you give her the best seat and save the tastiest bits from the roast for her delight.
That is how French people treat their dogs.
I loved this town of Foix. It’s a government town, like a state capital I think, with a very well preserved medieval center and plenty of good jobs.
You swing through a place for a night because it’s convenient, not expecting much and then bam, a highlight. Maybe it’s as simple as that of the 20 people I had dealings with, every single one of them was pleasant. I also think it is possible that a place itself can have good vibes and that makes the people pleasant. Or maybe I was feeling pleasant.
For whatever reason, Foix is a pleasant place to visit and a great kickoff point for Cave Man Country (Tarascon sur Ariege).
Every day, twice a day, morning and evening thousands (!) of people line up for a procession around the gardens and through the huge complex ending in the area in front of the Cathedral. Loud speakers Everywhere blare organ music and songs in language after language.
The church organizes nuns and nurses for all who wish to come to Lourdes no matter what the condition of the patient. Everywhere I saw people in wheelchairs, on crutches, with oxygen and hospital drips, being attended by these volunteers.
France in general does not encourage a terribly multi-cultural environment but in Lourdes I saw people from every continent and of every shade and shape who all had such a similar reverential expression that I couldn’t help but appreciate our common face.
The Cathedral at Lourdes.
In the haze of the lower right corner is the sacred healing spring and beside it are spigots where pilgrims wash their hands and fill containers (conveniently sold in the literally hundreds of souvenir shops that line the streets of Lourdes) to take water home to their loved ones.
Candles must be able to provide some deep spiritual satisfaction in people as their use seems so universally ceremonial.
The rap here is that you say a prayer and light a candle and as long as the candle burns your prayer is repeated, carried by the flame and smoke to God and if one prayer is good to get God’s attention, hey, more prayers are better. So why not buy as big a candle as you can afford?
I have traveled to many exotic places in my years and Lourdes is at least as exotic as any.
Pilgrims flood here to be healed. The air was literally electrified with desperate and passionate faith alongside the crassest of commercialism.
I lived for a day in an Ingmar Bergman movie.
I didn’t really like any of my pictures from St Jean Pied de Port although the place was delightful. Too bad about the pix because now I don’t have a story.
On to Lourdes.
My conclusion was this: although Rome is the intellectual and academic capital of Christendom, Lourdes is of-the-people and represents its spiritual heart.
Driving through the most Basque of the countryside, from Bilbao to Pamplona, I was recalling all the stories about the terrorism of Basque separatists.
I saw countless flags and signs touting Basque-ness, bars and clubs and restaurants in the same colors and signs. But for me I felt outsiders were considered beyond worry and welcomed warmly as the tradition of welcoming strangers requires.
So there’s the industrial area housing the museum. Then there’s the residential area that you end up in only by getting lost, and the commercial area with hotels, banks, etc.
I was even glad to spend the night. I stayed in this place and after two nights in auberge it was pretty darn exciting. A bathroom with a Shower! AND a Bath! and a minibar! and a Fireplace and a Sitting Room with Computer Connection to download my Pictures! Oh WOW!
This was my first night in Spain and I was impressed by the dressed-up formality of these workin’ folk and, as I was through most of Spain, surprisingly unimpressed by the food.
A big question before I got there and an easy answer after – is it worth the detour? Yes, it is worth the detour!
Everything you’ve read is true. The town is blue collar top to bottom. The museum is nestled there between the train tracks and the oil refinery. This powerful symbol of – of what? good question – anyway it is a powerful symbol and you are forced to consider the conflict inherent in so much money being put to such use – like seeing a poor town support a magnificent cathedral.
Inside it is as spellbinding as outside and if you get a chance and can daytrip in you won’t be sorry.
That’s me there in the mirror of the blind-turn. What one won’t do for a picture…
I missed taking a shot in St Jean de Luz and San Sebastian because of rain and agitato. It was pouring by the time I hit St Jean de Luz and anyway I had planned to spend the night in the much praised Spanish town of San Sebastian so I decided to move along.
Ah! San Sebastian. Yes the architecture and street scene is memorable but Ah! there is a film festival and the place is mercilessly Packed so I decide to take another hour and drive on to Bilbao.
The last several shots, this one and the next are in towns along the Atlantic coast of the Pyrenees.
The windows and the market man are from Bayonne my favorite of the coast towns, this one and the next are in Biarritz, the ritziest of the seaside resorts.
