We decided to tackle our biggest day trip today so headed south with our first stop Sarlat; bang smack in the middle of Foie Gras and walnut country and renowned for its concentration of Rennaissance and 17th Century architecture. As a destination Sarlat has itself very well organised to provide for and make the most of the millions of tourists who come here (apart from the rather dysfunctional toilet set up where out of four toilets in the toilet complex, only one would open its door!). It has a very good walking route with an excellent numbered brochure pointing out the interesting buildings and their features.
Nowhere here for a quick, light lunch, but nice to sit at a tablein the shade on the cobblestones outside a tiny café and order a Rose and a Heineken with something which turned out to be a fabulous “wholemeal crepe” with tasty vegetarian filling and a salad which I knew would have lettuce and tomato, but also had white asparagus, cucumber and heaps of lovely crisp radishes!
Leaving Sarlat the countryside here was once again farmed intensively (though always with forest groves) and now with tobacco, asparagus, sunflowers, lots of crops and now and again some fences and cattle! (Absolutely noteworthy!).
We were heading for a drive by of La Roque Gageac looking for cliff side troglodyte and medieval dwellings. Well, of course we didn’t just drive by, we were so amazed we stopped to look and next thing were aboard the boat for a cruise with commentary on the Dordogne. Fantastic.
Sadly we’d missed our chance to visit the nearby Chateax Marqueyssac with its 8 kms topiaries of box hedges, because we needed to get to the Cliffside village of Rocamadour. This village is unreal. Developed as a holy site after miracles happened, it clings to side of a massive gorge. Chateaux on the cliff top with ramparts which offer a panorama over the whole valley and then a sacred walk zig zagging down the cliff face with a shrine to each station of the cross in each zig and zag – really I think if you’re on a pilgrimage to you’re supposed to walk up the path rather than down, but wonderful Gretel had directed us to the top! At the end of the path, half way down the cliff is the sacred site of miracles where six varying sized chapels and churches cling to the rock face. A very impressive and memorable place. 274 steps further down is the village with quaint old buildings selling the usual tourist stuff and a lift to take us back to the top. Too late, the lift was closed.
We survived the ascent, fortified with a drink stop half way up, then homeward bound. A long journey, thunder, lightning, dark and again Gretel’s weird choice of roads, but we made it safe and sound and no counting sheep for sleep.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
June 27 Sunday settle in at St Pardoux
Washday at the Pa today and a quick trip up to the Nontron supermarket for more major supplies including a beaut fresh chicken which we popped in the oven early so that no matter how the day panned out we were set for dinner. Suddenly we found we had time to start thinking about the exploration opportunities this area offers and by 3.30ish we were feeling we could tackle some sightseeing and so headed for nearby Villar to view the limestone caves here.
The Dordogne region is a labyrinth of caves and boasts discoveries of some of the earliest human civilisation. The Grotte de Villars was amazing. A very well structured and presented route through a section of the 13 kilometres of caves had non slip paths created, handrails where necessary and excellent lighting to show up the breath-taking formations, plus an excellent commentary from our French guide who kindly did a second English commentary for us. Stalactites and stalagmites of all shapes and sizes from big fat pillars, to “candlesticks” and “spaghetti”, “curtains” of deposit hanging in folds like draperies, some so fine the light glowed through and further on bear scratching’s and cave drawings from 20,000 years ago!!!!
The Dordogne region also bristles with châteaux and we were near to the Chateaux de Puyguilhem so made that our first. Almost too late to gain entry was great as we felt like we had the whole place to ourselves and really enjoyed a few laughs and quirky photo opportunities in the great hall with its huge fireplace, the huge bedroom with four poster bed and the whopping kitchen with its massive fireplace and table.
Chicken good for dinner and more planning and bee sting bathing.s
The Dordogne region is a labyrinth of caves and boasts discoveries of some of the earliest human civilisation. The Grotte de Villars was amazing. A very well structured and presented route through a section of the 13 kilometres of caves had non slip paths created, handrails where necessary and excellent lighting to show up the breath-taking formations, plus an excellent commentary from our French guide who kindly did a second English commentary for us. Stalactites and stalagmites of all shapes and sizes from big fat pillars, to “candlesticks” and “spaghetti”, “curtains” of deposit hanging in folds like draperies, some so fine the light glowed through and further on bear scratching’s and cave drawings from 20,000 years ago!!!!
The Dordogne region also bristles with châteaux and we were near to the Chateaux de Puyguilhem so made that our first. Almost too late to gain entry was great as we felt like we had the whole place to ourselves and really enjoyed a few laughs and quirky photo opportunities in the great hall with its huge fireplace, the huge bedroom with four poster bed and the whopping kitchen with its massive fireplace and table.
Chicken good for dinner and more planning and bee sting bathing.s
June 26 Saturday Narbonne - St Pardoux Riviere
Thanks to Bruce and Diana who had found the train station in Narbonne and picked us up when our train arrived last night at about 9.00pm. They’d settled in at our Etap Hotel and whizzed us back there to a very welcome cup of tea and munchies. Still a rather average hotel, but inexpensive and cleaner than the last Etap in Menton and well located for getting away smartly for our big day’s travel this morning.
Heading West on a major route through rolling country with grapes, villages on every rise, knoll and vantage point and wind farms on the horizons. We pulled off to the first stop for a stand-up brekkie and fuel up and then on to Carcassonne.
We’d decided to take the time to visit this amazingly restored Medieval City and despite the fact that there is some criticism that the restoration has it all looking a bit too perfect, it is an absolutely captivating spectacle. It’s so much easier to get the feel of medieval life in such a well restored city without having to look at ruins and mentally restore them, though within the walls today the City bulges with tourists and eateries – we found that often the only way you could distinguish where one restaurant finished and the next began was by the different tablecloths and table settings! We found a little patisserie outside the walls where a very elderly, twinkly eyed French baker took pride in crafting us a beaut jambon and fromage roll.
Gretel the GPS was telling us five and a half hours to St Pardoux, so leaving Carcassonne it was Fred at the wheel with head down to tick off the miles. Miles of motorway and several toll gates, increasingly rugged country but easy driving with huge viaducts spanning any steep gorges and all so well treed with wonderful coverings of oak forests.
My turn to drive as we headed into the Dordogne district. Slowly but surely Gretel took us off the main highways and on to minor roads and in fact sometimes we thought make-believe roads, especially when there was grass down the middle. However, we’d chosen to follow her directions, so carried on through fascinating farmland with mown hay, big round bales, crops of grain and walnut groves, all the while with great swathes of oak forests.
And then; St Pardoux here we are! A weir on the river, a quaint stone bridge, past the petanque grounds and clubhouse, then the camping grounds and finally to Liz and Peter’s St Pardoux Cottage. What a wonderful place and how lucky we are to be able to stay here for a week! A stone farm cottage where the full basement once housed the animals (now with a concrete floor and used for laundry and storage) and the upper level housed the farmer and family. Set on a couple of acres of lush pasture sloping up to forest behind there’s a picture book French scene to look out on when the shutters and windows of the bedrooms are flung open.
But, there was no immediate flinging open of shutters and window in our bedroom as a hive of bees had decided that the 20cm wide space between the shutters and the windows was a great place to build their hive! How does one deal with that predicament in France?
On our arrival we’d had a cheery “Bonjour” from a neighbour across the road so he was our first port of call. He had no idea what we were, with much buzzing and miming of flying etc, trying to explain and I think he was feeling a little cautious when dragged into the cottage by a bunch of jabbering, gesticulating kiwis! But he was quickly to the rescue, dashing off to engage our knight in shining armour, the 80 year old, ex-farmer from next door. In no time at all he appeared, clad in his apiarist gear, ladder under one arm, smoking canister in the other hand. Diana and I left it to the blokes and popped into town to stock up with essentials and check out the pizzeria for takeaways for dinner. Meantime, back at the cottage, our wonderful neighbour had brought an empty beehive and placed below the window and teetered at the top of his borer infested ladder with brave Freddie holding the ladder steady for him and for his efforts sustaining an angry beesting right on his eyebrow!!! (photos one day I hope!). Slowly but surely the puffing of the smoke encouraged the bees to move out and eventually we were all at the kitchen table sharing a well-earned drink. A lot of talking but very little comprehension, though I’m sure we managed to convey our gratitude!
Heading West on a major route through rolling country with grapes, villages on every rise, knoll and vantage point and wind farms on the horizons. We pulled off to the first stop for a stand-up brekkie and fuel up and then on to Carcassonne.
We’d decided to take the time to visit this amazingly restored Medieval City and despite the fact that there is some criticism that the restoration has it all looking a bit too perfect, it is an absolutely captivating spectacle. It’s so much easier to get the feel of medieval life in such a well restored city without having to look at ruins and mentally restore them, though within the walls today the City bulges with tourists and eateries – we found that often the only way you could distinguish where one restaurant finished and the next began was by the different tablecloths and table settings! We found a little patisserie outside the walls where a very elderly, twinkly eyed French baker took pride in crafting us a beaut jambon and fromage roll.
Gretel the GPS was telling us five and a half hours to St Pardoux, so leaving Carcassonne it was Fred at the wheel with head down to tick off the miles. Miles of motorway and several toll gates, increasingly rugged country but easy driving with huge viaducts spanning any steep gorges and all so well treed with wonderful coverings of oak forests.
My turn to drive as we headed into the Dordogne district. Slowly but surely Gretel took us off the main highways and on to minor roads and in fact sometimes we thought make-believe roads, especially when there was grass down the middle. However, we’d chosen to follow her directions, so carried on through fascinating farmland with mown hay, big round bales, crops of grain and walnut groves, all the while with great swathes of oak forests.
And then; St Pardoux here we are! A weir on the river, a quaint stone bridge, past the petanque grounds and clubhouse, then the camping grounds and finally to Liz and Peter’s St Pardoux Cottage. What a wonderful place and how lucky we are to be able to stay here for a week! A stone farm cottage where the full basement once housed the animals (now with a concrete floor and used for laundry and storage) and the upper level housed the farmer and family. Set on a couple of acres of lush pasture sloping up to forest behind there’s a picture book French scene to look out on when the shutters and windows of the bedrooms are flung open.
But, there was no immediate flinging open of shutters and window in our bedroom as a hive of bees had decided that the 20cm wide space between the shutters and the windows was a great place to build their hive! How does one deal with that predicament in France?
On our arrival we’d had a cheery “Bonjour” from a neighbour across the road so he was our first port of call. He had no idea what we were, with much buzzing and miming of flying etc, trying to explain and I think he was feeling a little cautious when dragged into the cottage by a bunch of jabbering, gesticulating kiwis! But he was quickly to the rescue, dashing off to engage our knight in shining armour, the 80 year old, ex-farmer from next door. In no time at all he appeared, clad in his apiarist gear, ladder under one arm, smoking canister in the other hand. Diana and I left it to the blokes and popped into town to stock up with essentials and check out the pizzeria for takeaways for dinner. Meantime, back at the cottage, our wonderful neighbour had brought an empty beehive and placed below the window and teetered at the top of his borer infested ladder with brave Freddie holding the ladder steady for him and for his efforts sustaining an angry beesting right on his eyebrow!!! (photos one day I hope!). Slowly but surely the puffing of the smoke encouraged the bees to move out and eventually we were all at the kitchen table sharing a well-earned drink. A lot of talking but very little comprehension, though I’m sure we managed to convey our gratitude!
June 25 Friday Spain back to France
A leisurely start today and after phone calls home we set off to provision for the weekend. A special weekend for Gemma and David with Gemma’s Mum and Dad arriving today and her sister and family plus aunty tomorrow, to celebrate her Mum’s birthday.
Firstly into Rupia for two little loaves of bread plus a big crusty artisan loaf, next the Carnisserie (and this one didn’t specify execucionnerie as well, as some did!) and finally to the “grocers” for the newspaper then off to the market in nearby La Bisbal. En route we passed out best field of sunflowers to date so with great delight snatched the photo opportunity.
The market at La Bispal was absolutely fantastic! Trestles groaned under towering piles of cured meat chunks and slices, with legs of meat hanging like draperies around the stalls, while mountains of fruit and veges glistened and glowed with rainbow colours and a challenging array of varieties (including, to our patriotic delight, some NZ kiwifruit!). Lots of looking, lots of tasting and lots of buying!
Keeping a car even moderately clean with no garage in dry, dusty, rural Spain, is not high on the priority list of locals and we were wondering how Gemma managed to see through her windscreen so, to Gemma and David’s amusement, Fred decided he must repay some of their kindness with a quick car wash which he tackled as soon as we were home.
Next thing Gemma’s Mum and Dad arrived and in no time we were gathered around the table in the shade on the terrace with a magnificent oxtail stew (with tomatoes, bayleaf, wine, onions and mushrooms), fried potatoes, home-made meatballs and rice, plus bread, salad and Cava!! It was so nice to meet Gemma’s parents as we felt like part of their NZ family and were greeted as such despite them having no English and us no Spanish (though we did have good interpreters!)
Then back on the train and goodbye Spain. No Trevi fountain to throw a “come back” coin in here, but Catalonia and the Catalonians we met certainly impressed us.
Firstly into Rupia for two little loaves of bread plus a big crusty artisan loaf, next the Carnisserie (and this one didn’t specify execucionnerie as well, as some did!) and finally to the “grocers” for the newspaper then off to the market in nearby La Bisbal. En route we passed out best field of sunflowers to date so with great delight snatched the photo opportunity.
The market at La Bispal was absolutely fantastic! Trestles groaned under towering piles of cured meat chunks and slices, with legs of meat hanging like draperies around the stalls, while mountains of fruit and veges glistened and glowed with rainbow colours and a challenging array of varieties (including, to our patriotic delight, some NZ kiwifruit!). Lots of looking, lots of tasting and lots of buying!
Keeping a car even moderately clean with no garage in dry, dusty, rural Spain, is not high on the priority list of locals and we were wondering how Gemma managed to see through her windscreen so, to Gemma and David’s amusement, Fred decided he must repay some of their kindness with a quick car wash which he tackled as soon as we were home.
Next thing Gemma’s Mum and Dad arrived and in no time we were gathered around the table in the shade on the terrace with a magnificent oxtail stew (with tomatoes, bayleaf, wine, onions and mushrooms), fried potatoes, home-made meatballs and rice, plus bread, salad and Cava!! It was so nice to meet Gemma’s parents as we felt like part of their NZ family and were greeted as such despite them having no English and us no Spanish (though we did have good interpreters!)
Then back on the train and goodbye Spain. No Trevi fountain to throw a “come back” coin in here, but Catalonia and the Catalonians we met certainly impressed us.
24 June Thurs Exploring ex Rupia
God bless shutters! When did you last sleep in till 11.00 a.m.! I can’t remember when I last slept in that long, but with the darkness of shutters closed and the silence of the day after the party, no one stirred till very late.
Both Gemma and David were on holiday today and wanted to take us sightseeing so we’d suggested a meal at our expense somewhere along the way. After a leisurely start we headed for Pals a delightful medieval hilltop village which new research suggests could be where Christopher Columbus prepared for his trip which discovered America rather than Palo which has always clained fame for this fact. Fascinating detail has been adhered to in the reconstruction here, right through to the “street lights” which were firewood fires lit in metal containers on metal poles. An aperitif (beer or a tasty aromatic white wine) and tapas at a friend’s café was a great start for lunch; my tapas choice a large anchovy/small sardine and Fred’s some cured duck, Mmmmm.
Then for lunch proper, to Calella-de-Palafrugell, a seaside town with 3 tiny bays tucked between rocky outcrops. Here another friend has a Restaurant on the beach. We suggested Gemma and David order for us all and we were very happy with starters of steamed mussels, tasty shrimps and a simple but scrummy tomato, white onion and tuna salad, followed by a Paella made with local rice and brimming with locally caught mussels, shrimps, lobsters, squid and sausages plus a robust stock. Yes, I know sausages sound a weird addition to a seafood paella and yes, we did ask why. The explanation was that this is a traditional village recipe born from the days when there was no refrigeration, so that if Mama had bought sausages for dinner but Papa came in with a good seafood catch, no worries, it all went into the paella and so the dish became common practice. An interesting combination and a distinctively hearty paella. Matched with a beautiful Spanish white wine and positioned so that we could watch the rigid inflatable ferry owners to and from the myriad of craft moored in the Bay, it was a wonderful leisurely Spanish lunch finished with good coffee and then a generously offered complimentary muscatel dessert wine.
After lunch was time to take a walk along the beach above the sunbathers, topless or otherwise, crammed on the coarse, golden sand (reminiscent of Golden Bay sand but not quite as golden). The path lead around the rocky headlands linking the three little bays here on the Costa Brava so that the views unfolded as we walked. It's easy to see why mussells are such a staple seafood here; the craggy rocky coast is perfect for mussell growing and we felt as if at any moment we might spot a smuggler or a pirate hiding amongst the rocks.
Big juicy cactus defy the conditions and flourish amongst the rocks and Gemma told us that once the buds had flowered the fruits were edible, if you can manage to get past the prickles and through the skin. The picturebook villages in each bay are crammed with typical white and terracotta Meditterranena style houses gazing out over a few pine trees and incredibly clean blue sea. This beautiful area is rapidly being "discovered" by tourists and the locals are very concerned to maintain it's prisitine condition and protect it from pollution and litter, so tarriffs are high here.
By the time we reached home again everyone was ready for a late siesta which saw us awake in time to watch the Japan/Denmark World Cup Soccer match with nibbles of bread, ham, salami, hard tasty goats milk cheese and their butcher's yummy pork and mushroom roll.
Both Gemma and David were on holiday today and wanted to take us sightseeing so we’d suggested a meal at our expense somewhere along the way. After a leisurely start we headed for Pals a delightful medieval hilltop village which new research suggests could be where Christopher Columbus prepared for his trip which discovered America rather than Palo which has always clained fame for this fact. Fascinating detail has been adhered to in the reconstruction here, right through to the “street lights” which were firewood fires lit in metal containers on metal poles. An aperitif (beer or a tasty aromatic white wine) and tapas at a friend’s café was a great start for lunch; my tapas choice a large anchovy/small sardine and Fred’s some cured duck, Mmmmm.
Then for lunch proper, to Calella-de-Palafrugell, a seaside town with 3 tiny bays tucked between rocky outcrops. Here another friend has a Restaurant on the beach. We suggested Gemma and David order for us all and we were very happy with starters of steamed mussels, tasty shrimps and a simple but scrummy tomato, white onion and tuna salad, followed by a Paella made with local rice and brimming with locally caught mussels, shrimps, lobsters, squid and sausages plus a robust stock. Yes, I know sausages sound a weird addition to a seafood paella and yes, we did ask why. The explanation was that this is a traditional village recipe born from the days when there was no refrigeration, so that if Mama had bought sausages for dinner but Papa came in with a good seafood catch, no worries, it all went into the paella and so the dish became common practice. An interesting combination and a distinctively hearty paella. Matched with a beautiful Spanish white wine and positioned so that we could watch the rigid inflatable ferry owners to and from the myriad of craft moored in the Bay, it was a wonderful leisurely Spanish lunch finished with good coffee and then a generously offered complimentary muscatel dessert wine.
After lunch was time to take a walk along the beach above the sunbathers, topless or otherwise, crammed on the coarse, golden sand (reminiscent of Golden Bay sand but not quite as golden). The path lead around the rocky headlands linking the three little bays here on the Costa Brava so that the views unfolded as we walked. It's easy to see why mussells are such a staple seafood here; the craggy rocky coast is perfect for mussell growing and we felt as if at any moment we might spot a smuggler or a pirate hiding amongst the rocks.
Big juicy cactus defy the conditions and flourish amongst the rocks and Gemma told us that once the buds had flowered the fruits were edible, if you can manage to get past the prickles and through the skin. The picturebook villages in each bay are crammed with typical white and terracotta Meditterranena style houses gazing out over a few pine trees and incredibly clean blue sea. This beautiful area is rapidly being "discovered" by tourists and the locals are very concerned to maintain it's prisitine condition and protect it from pollution and litter, so tarriffs are high here.
By the time we reached home again everyone was ready for a late siesta which saw us awake in time to watch the Japan/Denmark World Cup Soccer match with nibbles of bread, ham, salami, hard tasty goats milk cheese and their butcher's yummy pork and mushroom roll.
June 23 Wed Barcelona and St Johns Festival
David was working today and Gemma enjoying a day off and preparation for the Festival of St John, Catalonia’s biggest annual festival. Each year this festival celebrates the shortest night of the year and welcomes in summer and the longest day. Communities gather, bringing food for a shared meal (if four of you come, you bring food for six!) which doesn’t start till sundown (9.30ish). There’s a small fee which buys wine for the tables plus generous helpings of their St John’s cake “Coca” , (a cross between bread and Madeira Cake, decorated with glace fruit and pine nuts) which is washed down with Cava. Cava is what we would know as French Champagne (Moet). Same grapes, same terrain, same process, same company; just not allowed to be called champagne since the border shifted between France and Spain! The festival is a great celebration, with fireworks, bonfires (if you’re on the beach or somewhere safe) feasting, drinking, music and dancing till dawn (if you’re still on the go when the dew falls in the morning you’ll grow younger – wait till you see me next!!!).
With a day at our disposal Fred and I headed for Barcelona for a brief look at this exciting City. We also needed to buy tickets to travel back from Spain to Narbonne early on Friday to link up with Bruce and Diana. Thankfully we had Gemma translating with the woman at the ticket office as the only words we could understand were “bloody French” as she explained that we’d need to try for tickets in Barcelona, but that the French rail workers were on strike till Friday morning, which in fact wiped out any train service from Spain to France till Friday lunch time. So, to Barcelona, where after three discussions with the ticket sellers, three times in the queue and a couple of phone conferences with Bruce we were sorted and off to explore the City.
Barcelona is amazing! What a vibrant, energising City! Wide tree lined streets with totally specific cycle lanes and bikes you can buy an annual pass to use! Once again plane trees march architecturally down the streets, but being interspersed with palm trees moves the image from the European cliché, to a much more southern Mediterranean look. Once again it’s a city with history but a city of fascinating shapes and colours. The city was originally laid out thoughtfully and then modernised completely with the refurbishment for the 1992 Olympic Games. 100,000 volunteers gave time and labour in the lead up to the Games; no wonder the City hums with a sense of pride and worth! Apparently one of the biggest challenges now is how to deal with the huge numbers of tourists and visitors attracted here, while still keeping Barcelona a comfortable and pleasant home and workplace for its own residents.
With just a few hours here we opted for a bus tour through the City. Fantastic seats on the open top deck gave us great views and the commentary was fantastic so we managed to cram in many of the sights plus lunch of filled and folded flatbreads cooked on a huge hotplate (four cheese filling for Fred, mozarella and spinach for me) before our time ran out. By this stage one of Fred’s sandals had fallen apart and my need for a haircut was becoming pressing so with a detour through a monster department store we sorted both problems and were back on the train for Rupia (or Flaca actually – the little station nearest to Rupia).
Our timing was ideal with just time to freshen up before heading into the village with our plates, cutlery, glasses and pot luck dish for the celebrations. What a buzz! Every local, man, woman and child was there, plus most of the weekenders who had come up to Rupia for the weekend (tomorrow is a holiday and most people have taken Friday off to make a long weekend). Crackers - mostly bangers, including very big bangers which are now unavailable in NZ- were going off intermittently, most of them let off by the children. The biggest impact ones were let off resoundlingly in the stone “tunnel” made by an arch about 25 feet long over the lane! If you ever come to Spain Dan I really think you should aim to be here 23rd June!
As darkness fell the “pretty” fireworks came out and the littlies had fun with sparklers. As with any pot luck meal there was an amazing variety of dishes and so we were very fortunate to have an opportunity to sample all sorts of wonderful dishes and the coca was yummy and the Cava supreme!
Then the music started and soon everyone was up dancing. No one went home. Parents danced and socialised with babies in front packs, preschoolers were tucked up on the warm stone benches as they fell asleep, the junior school girls danced and cartwheeled on the cobblestones while the bigger girls teased the boys who then terrorised them with crackers.
Dew or no dew, we were home well before dawn though we did need to shut all doors, windows and shutters to keep out the noise of explosions! Gemma and David enjoyed the company and fun considerably longer, leaving at dawn as others were doing a Trinny and Susannah on the barman.
With a day at our disposal Fred and I headed for Barcelona for a brief look at this exciting City. We also needed to buy tickets to travel back from Spain to Narbonne early on Friday to link up with Bruce and Diana. Thankfully we had Gemma translating with the woman at the ticket office as the only words we could understand were “bloody French” as she explained that we’d need to try for tickets in Barcelona, but that the French rail workers were on strike till Friday morning, which in fact wiped out any train service from Spain to France till Friday lunch time. So, to Barcelona, where after three discussions with the ticket sellers, three times in the queue and a couple of phone conferences with Bruce we were sorted and off to explore the City.
Barcelona is amazing! What a vibrant, energising City! Wide tree lined streets with totally specific cycle lanes and bikes you can buy an annual pass to use! Once again plane trees march architecturally down the streets, but being interspersed with palm trees moves the image from the European cliché, to a much more southern Mediterranean look. Once again it’s a city with history but a city of fascinating shapes and colours. The city was originally laid out thoughtfully and then modernised completely with the refurbishment for the 1992 Olympic Games. 100,000 volunteers gave time and labour in the lead up to the Games; no wonder the City hums with a sense of pride and worth! Apparently one of the biggest challenges now is how to deal with the huge numbers of tourists and visitors attracted here, while still keeping Barcelona a comfortable and pleasant home and workplace for its own residents.
With just a few hours here we opted for a bus tour through the City. Fantastic seats on the open top deck gave us great views and the commentary was fantastic so we managed to cram in many of the sights plus lunch of filled and folded flatbreads cooked on a huge hotplate (four cheese filling for Fred, mozarella and spinach for me) before our time ran out. By this stage one of Fred’s sandals had fallen apart and my need for a haircut was becoming pressing so with a detour through a monster department store we sorted both problems and were back on the train for Rupia (or Flaca actually – the little station nearest to Rupia).
Our timing was ideal with just time to freshen up before heading into the village with our plates, cutlery, glasses and pot luck dish for the celebrations. What a buzz! Every local, man, woman and child was there, plus most of the weekenders who had come up to Rupia for the weekend (tomorrow is a holiday and most people have taken Friday off to make a long weekend). Crackers - mostly bangers, including very big bangers which are now unavailable in NZ- were going off intermittently, most of them let off by the children. The biggest impact ones were let off resoundlingly in the stone “tunnel” made by an arch about 25 feet long over the lane! If you ever come to Spain Dan I really think you should aim to be here 23rd June!
As darkness fell the “pretty” fireworks came out and the littlies had fun with sparklers. As with any pot luck meal there was an amazing variety of dishes and so we were very fortunate to have an opportunity to sample all sorts of wonderful dishes and the coca was yummy and the Cava supreme!
Then the music started and soon everyone was up dancing. No one went home. Parents danced and socialised with babies in front packs, preschoolers were tucked up on the warm stone benches as they fell asleep, the junior school girls danced and cartwheeled on the cobblestones while the bigger girls teased the boys who then terrorised them with crackers.
Dew or no dew, we were home well before dawn though we did need to shut all doors, windows and shutters to keep out the noise of explosions! Gemma and David enjoyed the company and fun considerably longer, leaving at dawn as others were doing a Trinny and Susannah on the barman.
June 22 Tuesday Spain here we come
Was it the soothing effect of the lavender that made us sleep like the dead last night? Very good anyway and so we were well refreshed to pack up for the next leg of our adventure, 3 nights in Spain with Gemma and David who had boarded in Nelson with Dan and Andrea for several months in 2008 when they were at NMIT improving their English. Once again we minimised our bits and pieces to a little backpack each and left everything else with Bruce and Diana and the car so that we could travel lightly on the train.
Over to Tarascon, a town of 11,000 on the Rhone. It’s symbol is the Tarascon – ½ fish, ½ animal monster - which apparently terrorised the villagers for years until Saint Martha befriended and tamed it at which stage the villagers promptly killed it anyway! To this day they hold an annual celebration in its honour!!! Very weird.
Anyway; our train duly left from here at 12.45 and we headed South on our best French train to date. 20 minutes to Nimes, 40 to Montpellier, traditional plaster and tile houses, ochre and terracotta colours as the land flattened out in the Languedoc/Rouissillon district. Here vineyards stretched for acres and acres, sheltered by windbreaks of cypress, occasionally interspersed with stone fruit groves, artichoke gardens, kiwifruit and many wind farms. Narbonne, Beziers; on we raced through land which provides the season's earliest French apricots and cherries plus ½ of France’s table wine, though apparently changes are happening here in the wine industry as they move away from the couple of varieties traditionally grown, to a greater variety of more aromatic style wines.
On we went toward the Coast - much of the coastal land here has been developed from mosquito infested marshland to productive land with beautiful family friendly seaside resorts. Here on the Coast, are huge salt farms. Then suddenly train tunnels heralded the approach of the foothills of the Pyrenees and the proximity of the French/Spanish border.
Crossing the border here required a passport check by French police in Cebere, then a check by Spanish police in Portbou, plus an adjustment to the train wheel gauges as the Spanish train tracks have a wider gauge than those in France.
With glimpses of the rocky coast of the Costa Brava we raced on through tiny villages and little towns to our destination, Girona; the nearest centre to Gemma and Davids that we could leave this train.
And there they were to meet us, 8.15 as planned. Looking great; exactly as we remembered them from NZ and so welcoming! Both of them speak such excellent English now but I guess for us the biggest change was with Gemma's English which now is so fluently conversational! Both of them still so full of life and fun, so you can imagine what a cacophony it was driving the 20 minutes to their new home town of Rupia!
Since Christmas Gemma and David have opted for the rural life. David has had a change of genre with his reporting and is very busy with that, plus overseeing a team, but able to do so from home which he finds just great. Meantime Gemma commutes daily by train into Barcleona for her work - two and a half hours each way, but managing that OK. They've let their Barcelona apartment and rent a three bedroom, 2 bathroom, three level apartment in Rupia (an old but beautifully refurbished home). The living, dining and kitchen take up the first floor and all open out on to terraces with wisteria and other climbers tumbling over the pergolas to provide much needed shade and temperature control.Gemma is really enjoying having pots brimming with geraniums, cactus, herbs and flowers here, while in the courtyard on ground level she's created a raised vege garden with some great veges coming into production.
Rupia is a tiny medieval town with ancient stone buildings crowding in on narrow cobbled streets and lanes. It boasts a bar which opens on to the square, a bakery churning out delicious breads and pastries all cooked in a wood fired oven, plus a butchery which has existed there for generations and concocts the most delicious cured, vaccuum packed meats (my favourite was their pork and mushroom roll and Fred's the cured sirloin!). The village has just 200 permanent residents with over half the properties owned by out of towners as holiday homes (weekend escapes from Barcelona often). The bar is the centre of the community offering appertives from midday till 2.00, then opening again about 4.00 after which locals gather for a chat and a drink. Euro 1.50 for a stubbie of beer and Euro 1.50 for a glass of wine. All residents live within a two minute walk of this Placa/Square.
By the time we'd driven home, popped our gear inside and had a quick tour of the premises, the day was at its best with the scorching heat gone and everyone gathering at the bar for a cold refreshing beer. Fred always love sampling different beers so enjoyed David's choices, while I went with their recommendation of wine which was very yummy.
Eventually a relaxed amble the 100 metres home for David to whip up a scrumptious Catalonian chicken dish brimming with the biggest mushrooms you can imagine! Mushrooms are a prized ingredient in Catalonian cuisine and we were lucky enough to enjoy them several times while here. Dinner was at 10.30, which in summer in Spain is pretty standard and makes bedtime around 1.00 and a siesta a good idea!
Over to Tarascon, a town of 11,000 on the Rhone. It’s symbol is the Tarascon – ½ fish, ½ animal monster - which apparently terrorised the villagers for years until Saint Martha befriended and tamed it at which stage the villagers promptly killed it anyway! To this day they hold an annual celebration in its honour!!! Very weird.
Anyway; our train duly left from here at 12.45 and we headed South on our best French train to date. 20 minutes to Nimes, 40 to Montpellier, traditional plaster and tile houses, ochre and terracotta colours as the land flattened out in the Languedoc/Rouissillon district. Here vineyards stretched for acres and acres, sheltered by windbreaks of cypress, occasionally interspersed with stone fruit groves, artichoke gardens, kiwifruit and many wind farms. Narbonne, Beziers; on we raced through land which provides the season's earliest French apricots and cherries plus ½ of France’s table wine, though apparently changes are happening here in the wine industry as they move away from the couple of varieties traditionally grown, to a greater variety of more aromatic style wines.
On we went toward the Coast - much of the coastal land here has been developed from mosquito infested marshland to productive land with beautiful family friendly seaside resorts. Here on the Coast, are huge salt farms. Then suddenly train tunnels heralded the approach of the foothills of the Pyrenees and the proximity of the French/Spanish border.
Crossing the border here required a passport check by French police in Cebere, then a check by Spanish police in Portbou, plus an adjustment to the train wheel gauges as the Spanish train tracks have a wider gauge than those in France.
With glimpses of the rocky coast of the Costa Brava we raced on through tiny villages and little towns to our destination, Girona; the nearest centre to Gemma and Davids that we could leave this train.
And there they were to meet us, 8.15 as planned. Looking great; exactly as we remembered them from NZ and so welcoming! Both of them speak such excellent English now but I guess for us the biggest change was with Gemma's English which now is so fluently conversational! Both of them still so full of life and fun, so you can imagine what a cacophony it was driving the 20 minutes to their new home town of Rupia!
Since Christmas Gemma and David have opted for the rural life. David has had a change of genre with his reporting and is very busy with that, plus overseeing a team, but able to do so from home which he finds just great. Meantime Gemma commutes daily by train into Barcleona for her work - two and a half hours each way, but managing that OK. They've let their Barcelona apartment and rent a three bedroom, 2 bathroom, three level apartment in Rupia (an old but beautifully refurbished home). The living, dining and kitchen take up the first floor and all open out on to terraces with wisteria and other climbers tumbling over the pergolas to provide much needed shade and temperature control.Gemma is really enjoying having pots brimming with geraniums, cactus, herbs and flowers here, while in the courtyard on ground level she's created a raised vege garden with some great veges coming into production.
Rupia is a tiny medieval town with ancient stone buildings crowding in on narrow cobbled streets and lanes. It boasts a bar which opens on to the square, a bakery churning out delicious breads and pastries all cooked in a wood fired oven, plus a butchery which has existed there for generations and concocts the most delicious cured, vaccuum packed meats (my favourite was their pork and mushroom roll and Fred's the cured sirloin!). The village has just 200 permanent residents with over half the properties owned by out of towners as holiday homes (weekend escapes from Barcelona often). The bar is the centre of the community offering appertives from midday till 2.00, then opening again about 4.00 after which locals gather for a chat and a drink. Euro 1.50 for a stubbie of beer and Euro 1.50 for a glass of wine. All residents live within a two minute walk of this Placa/Square.
By the time we'd driven home, popped our gear inside and had a quick tour of the premises, the day was at its best with the scorching heat gone and everyone gathering at the bar for a cold refreshing beer. Fred always love sampling different beers so enjoyed David's choices, while I went with their recommendation of wine which was very yummy.
Eventually a relaxed amble the 100 metres home for David to whip up a scrumptious Catalonian chicken dish brimming with the biggest mushrooms you can imagine! Mushrooms are a prized ingredient in Catalonian cuisine and we were lucky enough to enjoy them several times while here. Dinner was at 10.30, which in summer in Spain is pretty standard and makes bedtime around 1.00 and a siesta a good idea!
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