A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall (Olèrdola, Sitges, Barcelona Airport, Valencia)

You may note by the bracketed destinations that today's post covers more than one day, dear reader. It spans the last full day with Matt's Produce Tours and a dreaded transit day. As an aside, if you like a food and wine tour with excellent company, check out Matt's itineraries. We're off to Tuscany next year with him.

Our hometown for the week.

It was free time after breakfast with a planned trip to the local Roman ruins. Jayne opted out of visiting the ruins on the premise that she'd seen ruins before, in no specific order and not limited to, England, France, Switzerland, Slovenia, Croatia, Italy and most specifically and unsurprisingly, Rome. What did the Romans ever do for us? She remained at the hacienda and continued her chat with our children who are still in Australia. I opted for the ruins.

Wild alyssum.

The first stop was to the communal recycling bins in town. Staying within the confines of the National Park means disposing of all rubbish generated. Olèrdola was obviously preparing for some sort of bullfighting festival. There were a number of people sporting matador capes, a bin full of swords with which to depose the bull and a couple of people wearing bull costumes with horned head pieces. Anything to pass the time until the bars open I guess.

The remnant ruins were on a hilltop outside the town. I realised on arrival that the belltower we could see from the hacienda was a part of the ruins. Entry cost was €5 and walletless, Tim spotted me entry. Champion. 

Part of the entry to the ruins.

Map in hand, we commenced the walk up the hill toward the church, obviously a part of the later Roman Empire. The inside was sparse and I imagine the walls were once covered with frescoes. Now it contained an altar and a number of pews. 

The church on the hill.

Outside in the grounds were burial sites. The graves were not deep because the soil on top of the hill is shallow, barely covering the limestone. I doubt the bodies were left in the graves for long but there was no indication of what might have happened to the bones. However, Romans often used ossuaries after cremation or decomposition of the bodies.

Graves in the church grounds.

The other areas of ruin were unremarkable. There was no grand wall or amphitheatre, just low walls or depressions in the limestone with a cursory explanation. Evidence of the local wild pig population abounded and not just in areas that had been dug over. Aromatic would be the more polite way to describe it.

The hacienda from the Roman ruins.

Heading back to the house, a few of us opted to walk from the nearby village. While it provided some much needed exercise and an opportunity to take photographs back toward the ruins, it meant we missed out on the cooking class.

Looking back to the church on the hill.

An old watchtower at the nearby village.

We returned to find Jayne, Mick and some of the others aproned and up to their elbows in preparation. Our light lunch today was stuffed squid, baked fish on potato with a sauce, anchovies with pickled onion, razor clams and a side dish of white beans and chorizo. Really, I'm over-simplifying the menu. It was amazing. And that was, apparently, a light lunch.

Anchovies and pickled onion.

Tuna and avocado bites.

The sauce for the fish.

The fish.

Stuffed squid.

The white bean mix.

A few of our number drifted off for a quick nanna nap prior to dinner in Sitges, but not before a group photo. Vivero was the destination and we arrived for an Aperol Spritz around sunset. Sadly the weather was uncooperative, but the spritz and the rooftop bar overlooking the beach were lovely.

A farewell photo after the 'light' lunch.

Downstairs in the restaurant, we enjoyed tapas (of course) and then mains of seafood rice or sea bass followed by lava cake. There may also have been some wine consumed.

Sitges by night.

A church near the restaurant.

Back at the hacienda it was time for last drinks and some more packing before tomorrow's departure. I had one beer and retired. Others, well, next morning at breakfast, let's say you could tell who partied on.

Dinner at Vivero.

Packing was finalised next morning and then we were in the van with the first group heading for the airport at 8:45am. We bid farewell to Matt, Raylee, Kristin and Tim at the airport and picked up our hire car which we will keep for the remainder of the trip.

The processes at Europcar could do with some refinement. You are required to head into the terminal to complete the paperwork there, then go back to the carpark and collect the key. It sounds fine in theory, except the guy who hands out the keys went m.i.a. When he returned, he was in no rush to engage with clients. Out to the back room, adjusting the air con, checking the computer screen and finally, he morosely acknowledged our presence.

The 12 year old girl who served me at the first counter, was more efficient but dismissive of my choice of car. She informed me to drive from Valencia to Madrid required a much larger engine than the 1.2 litre - my car of choice. A larger engine would cope much better she scolded. What absolute bullshit. I hire a small car because of the narrow roads in older areas.

In the car, I discovered that the USB cables I bought with us to connect our phones, don't work because Europe has already upgraded their cars to USB C. Excellent. Not. Out came the powerpack to keep the phone charged and use Waze because the navigation system in the car speaks Spanish (until Jayne somehow changed it to German. Still not helpful) and wanted us to detour away from the toll roads. It was like being in Sydney, except you still had to stop and pay at a toll booth.

We received a road warning at one point, informing us the road we were on was closed and there were no alternate routes. The sky was black and the rain commenced about 45 minutes into the drive and continued for the next 2 hours, with intermittent lightning cracking across the sky. There was a slight pause as we arrived at the hotel. The news that night reported mass storm events and flooding across a vast area of Spain from Alicanté to Valencia and up towards Barcelona. And that brings us to today's title A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall, yes I'm aware it's a Dylan song but the Bryan Ferry version is superior - and I'm generally not one for cover versions.

The rain recommenced after a brief hiatus. We were tired anyway and opted to eat in. Thankfully, my travel agent and I had discussed a luxury stay after completing two tours and had booked The Level - we'd refer to it as the Executive Floor back home. We had a quiet, comfortable lounge to repair to where we enjoyed tapas and maybe a glass of wine before retiring for the night.

Tomorrow's weather doesn't look a lot better so we might not be moving far from the hotel room. However after 6 weeks on the road a day off won't hurt.

Until next time.

Kokomo (Barcelona - Sitges)

After the excitement of last night's thunderstorm, the morning presented a cloudless blue sky. I still needed to negotiate with the banks to get some cash. Google suggested Sabadell was a no fee bank and there was one about a block away. Breakfast and cash were the order of the day. Of course Google was wrong, the withdrawal fee was €6,95 so it was back to Caixa and their €4,50 charge. Thankfully Macquarie does not charge any overseas fees. Cashed up, we went breakfast.

We had a choice of two different places for breakfast. One had no vacant tables so we headed to the other. The pastries were excellent, the coffee was OK. Back at the hotel, we finalised our packing and called home.

A random flower.

About 1pm, we went down to reception to finalise our checkout and headed out into the sun to drag our bags the four blocks to the station. The bus to Sitges was scheduled to leave at 1:30pm according to the online timetable and 1:20pm by the timetable at the bus shelter. We intended to arrive in plenty of time, just in case. 

At 1:10pm the bus was already waiting with a long line of people attempting to get on. Unlike our reconnaissance trip, it was a suburban bus, not a coach. I stowed our bags underneath and rejoined the line with Jayne. The €4,95 per person was way cheaper than the estimated €80 Uber fee.

We scored the last two seats next to each other, aside from the back row. The overhead luggage racks were narrow so our backpacks had to be nursed. There were 5 stops before we left the city but the bus was already full so we stopped at two only.

The windows couldn't be opened and the temperature inside the bus continued to climb as the oxygen level dived. We started to sweat. People were clearly uncomfortable. Finally the bus driver turned on the air conditioning to the cheers of the young girls seated across the aisle.

Sagrada Familia with the cranes removed.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful. We arrived at the Parc Can Robert and used Google maps to locate the meeting point at Sitges station. Sort of. The first attempt walked us under the railway bridge away form the train line. Certain this wasn't correct, I stopped and reprogrammed the map. It, unsurprisingly did an about face and walked us back to near where we had started, except it was across the street.

Up the incline we dragged our bags. I looked ahead to see where we might be meeting. Nothing stood out. Across the railway lines was the ticket office. We were on the wrong side of the tracks. There was an underground passage to the other side but it meant lugging the bags down the two flights of stairs. Happily there was an escalator on the other side.

Out we emerged and there was a magical sight. Umbrellas. That meant beer. Jayne grabbed a table and I went inside to buy a couple of beers. It was hot and we had dragged the bags up and down Sitges, but we had found our meeting spot. While at the bar, I met our first fellow traveller, Tim. Some of the others were across the road waiting; not us, it was beer o'clock.

Cal Mingo

The day bed.

The two Matts arrived in separate transporters and we loaded luggage and ourselves and settled in for the 20 minute drive to Cal Mingo, a lovely hacienda in the middle of the Parc del Garraf. There are 12 of us plus the two Matts. Matt Dillow is the owner of the Deck Café and Gartelmann Winery in the Hunter Valley.

The pool.

Rooms were allocated, unpacking completed, the property reconnoîtred and at twilight, we gathered around the long tables in the portico to be welcomed and get to know our fellow food and wine lovers. A glass of bubbles accompanied our ice breakers to try to learn each others' names prior to enjoying a sumptuous spanish style barbecued chicken dinner. The dessert was a dramatic transformation of a vanilla sorbet into a lethal vodka slushie that would have made Bryan Brown and Tom Cruise proud on the set of Cocktail. Which brings me to todays' title, Kokomo was the theme song from Cocktail and was specifically written for the movie.

Looking from the pool to the house.

It was some time after this, that the curated playlist of music elicited all our combined vocal and choreographic prowess, prompting our hosts, Matt and Matt, to declare no group's first night had been so out there.  

A reading nook.

I know we went to bed because that is where I woke up.

Until tomorrow.

Run to Me (Barcelona)

Welcome to our last full day in Barcelona, dear reader. Unusually, the day dawned with cloud and the prospect of the rain. As it was our last day, we decided to take a more relaxed approach to the tourist life. Not just because of the weather, but also due to Jayne's blistered left heel. A Google search of chemists that are open on Sunday - it's a Catholic country, not a lot happens on Sunday, aside from church, allegedly - located one across the Plaça de Catalunya. Off we went.

We had remarked on the structure being erected in Plaça de Catalunya on several occasions throughout the week, expecting a concert or the like. No, dear reader, no. Once again we happened upon a footrace. Hence today's title, Run to Me by the Bee Gees. Come on sing it with me.

In Berlin last year, it was the half marathon. This year it was some 10km race. We turned the corner towards the Plaça and were confronted with thousands of people in running gear, some red faced, many sweating, medals in hand or dangling from their neck. Had Danté known of this phenomenon, there would have been a tenth circle of hell.

Safely negotiating the sweating, banana eating crowd, we found the chemist and commenced discussions with the brand new junior to purchase some strapping tape. There followed a linguistic dance that resulted in us purchasing something I wasn't sure was going to meet our needs.

The three dragons castle.

Back in the hotel, we examined the "extreme" padded plasters and knew they weren't going to measure up. An improvised pad was placed underneath the plaster and a series of bandaids over the top to keep it in place. Shoes on we walked down towards the Arc to where we had seen a potential breakfast location. The potential was realised in the sense that we did eat breakfast there, but not in that it wasn't great. The coffee was good, again, the pastries, not so much.

The park entrance.

One of the greenhouses.

The clouds had threatened to rain on our parade all the way down to the Arc but held off. We made the Parc de la Ciutadella and headed straight for the greenhouses that had been spruiked about on the Hop on-Hop off bus. There was no doubting the spectacular nature of the buildings themselves. As for the plants inside. Meh. A lot of banana trees and monsterios and a few bromeliads. Nothing special.

No idea, but pretty.

A bromeliad.

We continued our ramble and discovered a memorial to LGBTQI+ people with a bed of the largest begonias I've ever seen. 

Giant begonias.

The Catalan memorial.

There were a lot of people in the park, many trying to make money by attracting the Monk Parrots and providing tourists with a photo opportunity. 

Monk Parrots.

The Barcelona zoo was at one end of the park. It also contained a children's playground, a lake with row boats, a rotunda (where dance classes were happening) and a ginormous fountain. In terms of plants it was not so interesting.

The clouds were building up so we thought it best to turn for home. The rain commenced before we had reached the exit gates. Thankfully the rain was patchy and light and had stopped before we returned to the hotel. We arranged for a slightly later checkout to work in with our bus departure time and returned to our room.

Artwork in the park.

I ventured out between rain showers to withdraw some cash. Much like Croatia, the bank charges are extortionate. The first bank I went to charged €7 to withdraw money. Back home I Googled the cheapest option and set out again. It was dark now and the outside ATM had a man begging in front of it. There was an ATM inside the foyer and next to it was someone sleeping on the floor. Given all the stories I'd heard about Barcelona, I wasn't willing to risk it and returned home cashless.

We returned to Ciutat Comtal for our last meal because we knew it would be good. We weren't disappointed. Before dinner, I gave another bank a try. To withdraw €200 they were going to charge $412AUD. According to my bank the exchange rate had €200 equalling $358. No deal.

We almost made the hotel before the rain started again. A glass of red at the bar was going to be our nightcap. The bar, however, was closed for a private function. The thunderstorm had obviously driven the rooftop bar function inside.

Undeterred, I grabbed my umbrella and went in search of a Super Mercat. There was one at the end of the street. I selected a bottle of red with a bit age on it for €10,95. At the checkout the guy keyed in €16,95. I pointed to the price tag. He said, "reserva". I pointed to the price tag again. He repeated the price. I said "no" and he said "put back". I'm pretty certain he understood my next two words in English as I walked out the door followed by a string of Spanish I did not understand.

Around the corner I went to another supermarket and sourced a bottle of Nero D'avola for less than €9. Unfortunately the clouds opened and the thunderstorm arrived. My jeans were soaked from the knees down by the time I had walked the half block home.

We finished the night with the red but without the regular gelato.

Until tomorrow.

Beware, it is a transit day.

Bad Case of Loving you (Barcelona)

Well, dear reader, for those of you who are long standing devotées of this blog, you will know that we've spent some unhappy holiday time in hospitals, not of our own volition. Hence today's title Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor Doctor) by the late great Robert Palmer.

Today, however, we were seeking out a hospital upon recommendation of our Concierge. This is St Pau Recinte Modernista, also known as the old hospital, an Art Nouveau site, built from 1902 till 1930 and continuing to provide medical care and research facilities to the people of Barcelona until 2009. It is not a big ticket item in the must see Barcelona brochures but it should be.

The entrance to the hospital.

Underneath the Admin building.

It was built in a direct line to Sagrada Familia, linked by, you guessed it, Avenue de Gaudi, but it is the work of another landmark Catalan architect, Montaner. We had glimpsed this amazing edifice on the Hop-on Hop-off bus and decided to make this our morning focus, being careful to use the hotel wifi to book our online ticket time slot before we departed for breakfast en route. An added bonus was the option of a self-guided tour with a paper map instead of having to deal with the joys of audio devices. Although I have since reset my Apple ID so I can now download Apps.

Gardens to the right.

A restored ward.

The hospital is a complex of 12 pavilions, 8 of which have been restored and are open to the public. Today we tend to expect hospitals to be functional and cutting edge, and clearly this one was that. However, it is also beautiful. A work of art. From the turrets and the ceramic tiled rooves to the interior tiled ceilings, denoting the different buildings and the gardens for their healing power. The complex was testament to an holistic approach to medicine. I wonder how that would work today?

So colourful.

Coloured domes everywhere.

The underground tunnels, white tiles connected all the pavillions. Each pavillion was dedicated to a separate area of medical treatment. Of course, being a Catholic country, the genders were kept apart. There were statues on every building, denoting its dedication to a saint. Should medicine and prayer fail, the complex was in a direct sight of Sagrada Familia.

Next stop, the Sagrada.

The ceiling in the stairwell of the admin building.

As amazing as the hospital wards were, the administration building was next level. It's probably not a surprise that the bureaucrats get the best work environment. Sorry, my cynicism just bubbled to the surface. Walking into the foyer was like entering a cathedral. There was an automatic intake of breath and an awe inspired hush. The ceiling, the staircase ... it could never, would never be built today and that in itself is a shame. We have lost the concept of beauty and enjoyment in a functional world that focuses on profit and cutting costs. There was more ... let the pictures tell the story.

The ceiling in admin.

One end of the great room.

The other end.

Leaving the hospital and its magnificence behind, we charted our course for the Arc de Triomf. We had seen it from the bus yesterday and while it was not up to Parisienne standards, it dominated the area and acted as a gateway to the Parc de la Ciutadella. It was another hot sunny day and quite humid. Hydration was an issue so we paused for a beer. Across the square was an outdoor gym. Excellent. Drinks and entertainment. We regathered our energy while watching others exhaust theirs.

We continued our walk to the Arc. Like most other major attractions, it was quite crowded. The area beyond the Arc, Passeig de Lluís Companys, was populated with prefabricated stalls all selling books. Again similar to the stall along the Seine in Paris, except these ones were larger and provided protection from the elements for the stall holder. They had a similar arrangement in the Passeig de Gracia.

Arc de Triomf.

By this point we were feeling the impact of walking in the heat and decided to save the exploration of the park until tomorrow and walked back to the hotel to rest before dinner.

Passeig de Lluís Companys.

It was time to abandon tapas for paella. We located a restaurant just around the corner from the hotel and selected an inside table as the weather looked like it could turn. It was the most expensive of the dinners we've had so far and probably the most disappointing. Eating out, unless you can get a local recommendation, is proving a little hit and miss. Our meals at Ciutat Comtal have been excellent and we will return there tomorrow for our final meal in Barcelona.

Not so disappointing was the gelato we had before returning to the hotel.

The Mirador Torre Glòries from a distance.

Before retiring we went up to the rooftop bar to take a couple of night shots, expecting the Sagrada Familia to be it up. Alas no. No lights on the famous Cathedral.

Plaça de Catalunya.

Until tomorrow.