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.

Love is the drug (Canberra)

Today, my dear reader, Canberra reminded us that Australia does, in fact, have more than 3 seasons and winter is a thing. Even if it was just a subtle nudge. The westerly winds didn't help at all and tomorrow morning is supposed to drop to zero. I don't remember the last time I experienced that ... perhaps Beijing in another life.

And so, what to do in the national capital? Another museum? Art gallery? Cruise the lake? Nope. Wine tasting. If you are looking for a modern day challenge, try organising four wine tastings across the Canberra Wine Region, that includes lunch. Everything must be pre-booked, which means estimating travel times, as well as how long a tasting might last. It would have been easy to just pick Murrumbateman and do four wineries there, but that was no challenge. So we start in Murrumbateman, head to Gundaroo for a tasting with lunch, and finish up in Majura on the outskirts of Canberra. Sit, back, pour a glass of something nice and read on.

There's that museum again.

There are so many wineries to choose from in the Canberra Wine Region, most of them in NSW. Internet research kept throwing forward about eight or so. After some reading and cross referencing, I came down to four, although one was because we are members of their Hunter establishment. In hindsight, perhaps I should have stayed with the original 5, but distances and a relatively unknown area, made me conservative. Ah, dear reader I laughed as I wrote that. I wonder if it will survive editing.

Bike art. Any winery with this style is a winner.

Here's a life lesson, my loyal reader - don't use Google Maps' time estimates of travel that are taken at variance with your time of expected travel - they can be significantly disparate. As I learned. 45 minutes easily becomes 30. As a result, we were 30 minutes early to our first appointment - a combination of time shifting Google and breakfast not lasting as long as anticipated, due to an insipid cup of long black. 

My morning coffee is an existential experience and, it appears, making one is more complex than quantum physics, otherwise there would be less variability. I consider it a personal challenge to procure a decent coffee while travelling. Jayne has given up and mostly opts for hot chocolate. The coffee, this morning, resembled coffee, in that it was black-ish and warm and served in a cup. It had neither crema nor flavour. Like deliberately singing off-key, it takes talent to destroy a long black. Half a cup of hot water and a double shot of coffee. I suspect this morning's coffee was constructed 'Starbuck's' style: coffee first and then water. Philistines!

First stop

I digress. Unusual I  know. Since retirement, my mind tends to wander. Where was I? Oh, yes, wineries. Our first stop was Shaw Wines. The 'net reviews rate the wines and experience well, but the god of wine, James Halliday, only gives them 4 stars. Harsh. Anyway. They were most welcoming, despite our early arrival. Tastings are so civilised these days; sit down tables, individual service. It appears Covid was good for something. Have I mentioned that before?

The view from our table.

We enjoyed their wines. Just about the whole suite and would certainly recommend a visit. They have a great set up, the staff are friendly and knowledgeable, the view is beautiful. What more could you want? A wine club? Funny you should ask, they have one of those too. I may or may not have joined.  OK, I joined. We were both quite taken by the experience. Jayne remarked about the excellent start to the day as we walked to the car, with a dozen bottles in my arms. "It can only go downhill from here," I quipped.

Our next stop was Clonakilla, the only winery in the Canberra region, to make it into the Top 50 Wineries of Australia. I'm not sure how the rating system works, whether a winery opts in or out, or whether you need to present so many wines, but it is a thing and is easily discovered on the web. That rating is what brought us there. That rating is what made us leave disappointed.

Random shot from Mayfield to break up the words

Last year's fires ravaged much of the east coast of Australia and one side effect, putting aside the obvious devastation at so many levels, was widespread smoke taint to the grape crops. Many wineries across the country were unable to produce wines made from their own grapes and imported grape juice from the few unaffected areas. Clonakilla produced a Viognier from Eden and a Chardonnay from Tasmania. Neither came home with us. Nor did either of their straight Shiraz; we found these wines underwhelming in bouquet and taste. We did purchase the signature wine, the Shiraz-Viognier blend, but, in essence, it was a sympathy purchase. We were rather underwhelmed by the whole experience here, after really looking forward to it. Once again it proves that taste in wine is really a personal choice.

On to Gundog and lunch at their (reasonably) new cellar door and next door restaurant collaboration. Does that sentence even make sense? Normally I wouldn't have stopped here, but I was keen to see the restaurant. So, yeah nah. The wines are good, but I know that already, I've already sampled some from this year's tasting packs and other orders. The food from the restaurant ... yeah, but, I didn't need the wine tasting experience to go with it and probably would have enjoyed the long-lunch experience better. That said, the tasting room is great and the open fire most welcome on a blustery day, and we bought a few bottles. Despite being a member, I didn't know they made a Rutherglen Muscat. But, I do now. Yum!

The last stop for the day was Mt Majura Wines, but we were waaaay ahead of schedule and decided to take the scenic route via Bungendore. We thought we might wander the town and see what there is to see. Not a lot, as it turns out, so on to the winery.

Mt Majura is interesting. It's on slice of limestone - champagne country, dry wines. Apparently it was a sheep farm. No, really. Oh, yeah, Canberra was a sheep farm (now it just attempts to create sheep). And then some CSIRO dude comes along and suggests to the owner it would be a great vineyard. "You can guess the rest". Hence the title of today's post, Roxy Music circa 1975. How cool was Bryan Ferry back in the day?

Random flower to break up my ranting

Sorry, where was I? Um, the wine tasting at Mt Majura. Another sit down tasting with a charcuterie plate with individual attention. The garlic infused feta was excellent and the manchego was pretty good too. However, food alters the taste of wine on the palate and tasting wine without food makes me very picky about what I might buy. I enjoyed the plate but they probably lost potential purchases because my palate was flavoured. In the past, the wines I've purchased at the end of the day when my palate would have have been most jaded, turned out to be totally excellent because I was super judgemental.

So, here I go for a rant. Ok, I'm old. I get it. And it's not like young people don't know stuff, but, like, I know stuff too and they are unable to interact, if you take them off script. One of my superpowers has been to engage in conversation at my table while also taking in fragments of conversations around me. Should anything interesting pique my attention then I'd hone in. I didn't need to use my superpower to hear the same spiel from our host at every table. I understand the "industry" perspective, but back in the day (yeah, yeah) we'd go to a winery and speak to the winemaker or someone closely associated with the winery, or somebody passionate about wine, not an hospitality worker. 

That bloody museum again

Anyone can learn a script - look at the PM, and it appears this is what Canberra operates on. From the overpaid, overblown politicians down to the, I suspect, underpaid guides at the museums and even the staff at the wineries. It is faux life. But that's Canberra too I suspect. I'm not having a shot at the staff at any winery. They were lovely and welcoming and everything they should be, but where is authentic? What is that my astute reader, Canberra? Oh, I see, yes, Canberra is not authentic. 

And on that note, I shall step down from my soap box until tomorrow. You see my dear reader, I too lack authenticity, I am writing this a day after it occurred and the events of today have somewhat coloured my words. That or the bottle of Grüner Veltliner I have been drinking in the delightful afternoon sun. Time will tell.

Until tomorrow.