In San Francisco (Barcelona)

Well, dear reader, we have made it. This is the 500th post on my travel blog. What a momentous occasion. Just to make it even more special, it is all about architect and favourite Barcelona son, Antoni Gaudi. And perhaps a surprise as well. I mean how much Gaudi can one absorb? Quite a lot, apparently.

Two of the three Gaudi houses are within walking distance of the hotel. Perhaps I should clarify that, for people who don't walk as far as we do. The houses are within a 10-15 minute walk of our hotel, straight up the flat of Passeig de Graçia. There are, of course, many levels of ticket entry to the houses, with the top levels gaining access to extra areas. 

Casa Batlló.

Our Concierge chose gold level for us with entry at 9:30am. Once again, we deferred breakfast for touristing and were lined up at the door in our correct line at 9:25am. The exterior of the Casa Batlló is immediately recognised as Gaudi's work if you are familiar with the Sagrada Familia. It's all curves and waves and colours.

Inside we were issued with our tablets and audio guides, just to make juggling the camera a little more difficult. Then we were whisked into some subterranean, darkened room with a rotating floor. Sorry, the only picture I snapped didn't work out. I'm still not sure what it was about but I think it was to transition from the outside to inside the Gaudi world of creative interpretation of nature.

The internal void looking up.

Then we were back into the light and mingling with the hoi polloi and the endless selfie crowd. To access the rooms of the 6 storey house, you needed to climb a staircase. Circular, but not as tight as a lighthouse. The bannister was curved timber, sculpted to fit your hand. It is modelled on the backbone of a whale. I think. There was a lot to take in.

The staircase.

The rooms of the house covered all floors, including the roof. As expected nature and its curves and waves played a significant part in the entire design. The tablet, when pointed about the rooms provided pictures of the rooms as they would have been - furnished without people taking selfies.

The view to Passeig de Garçia.

There was a central space/void from the ground floor to the roof that acted as conduit for light to the lower parts of the building as well as providing a method of cooling. The glass was frosted with mollusc shapes and the colours represented the blues of the Mediterranean, ranging from a pale pastel all the way through to a deep cobalt.

The shelter in the courtyard.

There was a courtyard with a curved, covered area to sit out of the blistering Barcelona sun while supervising the children. Two areas either side of the door had skylights to admit light to the lower floors. The building contained areas where the 'Gaudi' arches were visible. These are a recurring element in his designs.

The arches.

The rooftop chimneys sat at the end of a dragon's tail. Well, salamander, in this part of the world. With the usual cross dominating the skyline.

There were a couple of displays as well. One that featured an interpretation of the house taking it back to its natural heritage. They were video displays and quite fascinating. The other display purported to be a look into the mind of Gaudi. It was a 360° sight and sound immersion extravaganza.  (Have you ever tried acid, dear reader?) There are some still pictures below; sadly my video did not work, but at times it felt, at times, like you were flying.

Inside the architect's mind.

Neurons firing perhaps?

The entire house, as with all his work, is created in fragments from nature. In this case, as mentioned, it is the theme of the sea and its creatures and wave patterns. The waves extended to the ceilings of some of the rooms.

It was all quite fascinating and my summary really doesn't do justice to the creation or convey its history.

In between houses, we had a little time to kill and opted to have breakfast. If that is what you call an espresso and a substandard croissant. It was nice to sit for a while and watch the foot traffic move up and down the passeig, or walk if you don't read Catalan. Which reminds me ... all that talk around the 'Yes' referendum a while back ... you know, it's time to move on, just get over it, it's been 200 years etc etc. I'm here to tell you (again), Europe hasn't gotten over it and they may appear united, but are clearly not. Just ask Barcelona FC fans and Real Madrid supporters.

Barcelona is Catalan first and Spanish second. Catalan backed the Hapsburgs and lost, sometime around 1700. Have they forgotten? Not a chance. Maybe about the Hapsburgs but not the fact that were forced to become part of Spain. We found the same attitude in Germany in 2023 - Austrian versus Bavarian versus Aschaffenburger... get it wrong and you have deeply offended the locals.

Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, the second Gaudi house, Casa Milá. It's about two blocks further up on the other side of the street. It is, unmistakably Gaudi. Or is it gaudy? Unhappily the English word, gaudy, was in use for hundreds of years before Antoni Gaudi began creating his masterpieces. Moving on ...

We found the entrance; signage is not a strong point of the Spanish. Sadly we were caught with a bus group, the sort who like individual selfies in front of the same thing. We dutifully stood in line and then a man appeared to inform us we were waiting for the elevator and could take the stairs if we desired. Quickly I headed in his direction with Jayne behind me. Unfortunately I did not hear the phrase, "it is six floors". Jayne tells me it was repeated several times.

Casa Milá.

Into the stairwell and up and up and up, in what seemed like an endless climb. Given it is an 8 storey building and I had no idea where the rooms were that we visiting, the stairs went on forever. There were, if my memory is correct, four flights to every floor. It was most unGaudi, a geometric repetition. Waiting for the lift was probably a better option. Ah, well.

The ribs in the attic.

This house was based not so much on the sea, but on the nature of the land and air. Motifs and murals of flowers, a door based on the wing of a Monarch Butterfly. The attic with its ribbed structure and the rooftop with its Star Wars like guardians were standout features. Interestingly from the rooftop you could also see Sagrada Familia.

The butterfly door.

The storm troopers with Sagrada in the background.

In a landmark design there was also an underground carpark. Initially built as one dwelling it was then divided into a number of apartments.

The ground floor mural.

After being amazed by Gaudi's use of form and colour, we headed towards the old town of Barcelona. Nearby was the Palau de la Musica, an unassuming building from the outside and another suggestion from the Concierge.

We have visited many houses of opera, some stating they were based on Palais Garnier in Paris and most fail to live up to its exacting standards. While there are many levels of comparison and Paris still comes out in front, the Palau is magnificent. Really, I have no words. The pictures won't catch all the colour or the scope but it are better than any words I have.

Tuning the piano for tonight's performance.

The ceiling.

Pillars on the verandah.

After being stunned by the Palau and an impromptu performance from a Franciscan monk who sang (I Left my Heart) In San Francisco to the rousing applause of his all American tour group, we walked the short distance to the old town. 

Part of the old town.

Plaça del Rei

It's a familiar story here, the forces that dominated changed the look and use of buildings. There is little left of the old wall and the Barcelona Cathedral (yes, another one) dominates one part of the town. The €9 entry fee kept our feet moving.

The unentered Cathedral.

Back up towards our hotel we walked through the Plaça de Catalunya. They were setting up for a concert of some sort, staging and seats and so on. The two fountains at the top end of the plaça were functioning, but none of the others were. There were pigeons everywhere in numbers I've never seen before. Aside from that, it's the usual sort of place where the tourists and the scammers congregate. People pushing flowers, people in strange attire doing weird things to attract attention and ask for money. Not somewhere I'd be rushing to experience again.

Too many to count.

Then it was time to change for dinner and find some good tapas. No challenge in Barcelona. Before this we checked out where we would be catching the bus to our next destination, Sitges, because trackwork has closed the direct rail line. On the way back to dinner we came across a pro-Palestine demonstration.

After dinner we enjoyed our first gelato in Barcelona. 5 stars from us - we will be back.

Until next time.

Rules of the road (Hà Nôi, Vietnam)

Hello again my dear reader. Today is day three in Hà Nôi. The weather has been relatively mild, top temperatures of around 27° and 70% humidity and the occasional light sprinkling of rain. It certainly hasn't stopped us getting out and about.

Breakfast this morning was in the main room, the one we weren't able to access yesterday. The offerings were the same and we double dosed our coffee today which provided a much better outcome.

The first part of today's expedition is to Uncle Ho's mausoleum and then to the Temple of Literature, via Train Street. Before we set out, Jayne decided to clarify the dress code for the a visit to the mausoleum and museum. She had three-quarter pants on and I was wearing shorts. Following the discussion we repaired to our room and changed into long pants. Jeans are not the fashion in this weather but must be endured lest we be locked out of the mausoleum. I don't understand what Uncle Ho has against knees and ankles. Unless you are some sort of fetishist, they can hardly be considered attractive or sexual.

Before taking our leave of the concierge, ever the optimist, Jayne inquired about changing her pillow for a firmer one from the hotel pillow menu. "Certainly, Madame. Which pillow would you like?" "The excel please and the my room number is...." "574, Madame. I remember your details from yesterday."  Clearly, the concierge staff quickly get to know who the trouble makers are.

Once again we stepped out into the rule-defying, death-defying, anarchic, chaotic Hà Nôi traffic. Even understanding how it works, it is not something to be trifled with or taken for granted. Motorbikes or scooters as they are referred to here, are in plague proportions, think food delivery drivers in Sydney. And they demonstrate as much respect for the road rules. One way streets are not. Scooters will come at you from any direction. Traffic lights appear to be mere suggestions only but have timers to show how long before the next change. The scooter riders pay no attention and weave in and out of cross traffic to continue their journey. The footpath or sidewalk is not either. It is a place to park your scooter or ride your scooter if the road is too crowded or a place to sit on stools and talk, drink and eat. And smoke. There are a lot of smokers beecause Uncle Ho was a smoker and "he is our father figure so we must follow his lead".

Yes, this is a footpath. At a major intersection.

Obviously the traffic inspired today's title. An absolute classic from 1962 by the late Tony Bennett, one of the best crooners in the industry. Enjoy. This is the sort of music I was brought up on. Cheers Dad.

Bravely we press on while attempting to ignore the persistent calls from the cyclo drivers and taxis that cruise beside you as you walk. Both make offers that remind you of paedophiles and kidnappers in B-grade movies. Side-stepping the fan and straw hat hawkers is also a thing.

Without warning, we arrive at Train Street. Literally without warning. It crosses a major road, maybe 6 lanes wide, no lights, no gates, no warning signs. Interesting. There is no such thing as WHS here and maybe that's not a bad thing - certainly the pendulum has swung too far the other way in Australia. However, I expected some sort of signage to say that a very large train passes across this major road.

WHS? Ah, not here.

The tourist area of Train Street is closed. There is a barricade which I assume is removed before the train arrives. It clearly states: STOP. NO ACCESS. In fact, the Train Street experience is actually banned by the government. Standing next to the sign is a woman who offers to take us to the other side of the barricade to enjoy a coffee and wait for the train. Yeah, nah. We push on.

Not too close to the bedroom.

The Mausoleum is located in an area that also contains the Botanic Gardens, the Presidential Palace, a museum and the one-pillar temple. It is quite vast and can be entered from a number of different streets. We arrived at one entrance to be pointed to another further down the street by a guard dressed in black. No worries, we continue on in the sun, agreeing to find a shady spot to sit for a while once inside the 'zone'.

Rather imposing.

As we arrive at the entry point, the couple in front of us, in shorts and ankle socks, is turned away. We exchanged glances, maybe our concierge gave us the good oil. Down to the security checkpoint. My backpack was x-rayed and we walked through the metal detector, safely into the park. The streets are decorated with flower boxes and are extremely wide. They need to be to cater for the military parades.

The sign in the background says no photos.

The Mausoleum stands out from its surrounds. I snapped a couple of photos under the watchful eye of a soldier in white dress uniform. Then we headed for the shade, avoiding the "no chewing gum" signs that are more prolific than the scavenging sparrows that inhabit every bush, shrub and tree.

Self-explanatory.

While Jayne read the map to get our orientation, I wandered around the immediate area. There was not a lot of signage. Indeed, there were not that many visitors. The souvenir shops were open and there were a few small tour groups being led by the nose, sorry flag, around the various sights. That will be us soon enough. Today we are enjoying our freedom.

Rested and re-hydrated, we turned our attention to the museum. Again, a building that dominates the immediate area. After being momentarily distracted by a squirrel (what a fluffy tail), we headed for the walkway around the building. We followed the signs that directed us to the main door and ticket office. Curiously we ended up right back where we started. The ticket office was closed. As was the museum. We later learned, it, like most museums in Hà Nôi, is closed on Monday and Friday, which is not what the notice board stated in the tourist shop area. 

Cute and fluffy.

Ah well, another Mont Saint Michel moment. Do you remember that, dear reader? Does your memory stretch back to 2011? May 1, in fact. Mont Saint Michel in France is closed for ONE day of the year. May 1. The day we visited. Much like today it had its benefits, there were no crowds. Although we have both suffered the stupidity of wearing long pants for no purpose. The concierge has failed. She should have told us the museum was closed. Instead, ill-informed, we trudged way across the city. As it turns out, we will be able to see the museum and mausoleum with our tour group later in the week, so all is not lost.

We checked out the (unimpressive) single pillar temple. Jayne described it as a one-beam temple. Not really said I. Checks notes, oh, one-pillar. Whatever.

The one-pillar temple. Buzz buzz.

Despite our unsuccessful attempt to see the monuments to the founding father, we continued onto the Temple of Literature which happily was open. The temple, built in the 11th century, is actually dedicated to Confucius, and housed Vietnam's first national university until the 18th century. Located in the middle of a busy quarter of Hà Nôi, the gardens, pools, pavilions and shrines are set out behind high stone walls, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and contemplation that celebrates wisdom, virtue and intellectual pursuits.

Arty shot from one area of the Temple gardens to another.

There are halls of stelae, stone slabs that record the Doctors and their academic achievements as well as shrines where offerings are made to scholars and sages. The stelae looked remarkably like headstones and were set atop stone turtles - the symbol of wisdom and knowledge in many Asian countries. The turtle not the headstone.

I wonder if ACU is planning to do this?

After this oasis of calm had been explored, we re-entered the chaos of Hà Nôi's streets to wander through the craft area with its array of shops, all selling similarly garish artworks, as we made our way back to our hotel in the heat and humidity. Time for a rest before tonight's food tour with Sinh. He was recommended by Glenn - cheers, excellent recommendation.

The king's walkway to the main gate. Students and common people to the left and right please.

We met Sinh in the foyer of the historic part of the hotel and set off at 4:30. We had been warned by Sinh (and Glenn) not to eat lunch. Good advice. We wandered down to the lake and across to the old town, Sinh providing commentary on the way about various sights and linking them with the history of Hà Nôi.

The food was divine. Small shops that sell the one dish. No booking. Turn up and eat the speciality, the recipe of which has been passed down through the family. We began with fried rice flour pancake. It was wrapped in rice paper with green salad leaves and dipped in a mixture of fish sauce and lemon juice spiced with chilli. Absolutely delicious.

Bánh Xèo (I think)

The next dish, as you can see from the photo, was also delicious. Probably too much, which is why one plate is completely empty. Two dishes, one pork, the other chicken, mixed with wood ear mushroom wrapped in rice paper and steamed. Again a dipping sauce based around fish sauce.

Bánh Cûon

Then it was time for pho. No need for an explanation. Noodles, meat, green leaves, carrot, papaya and crunchy onion and garlic. And the soup of course. Yum.

Pho.

The 'main course' was charred pork belly, noodles, leaves, green mango in a broth. By this time we were both struggling to finish what was in front of us, despite not having eaten since breakfast. This was the dish that was famously enjoyed by former US President Barack Obama when he visited Hà Nôi. Good choice, there was nothing to fault here and it was washed down with the local Hà Nôi beer.

Bún Cha

The next stop was dessert. Well, two actually. The first was sticky rice balls stuffed with mung bean in ginger syrup, topped with peanuts. Interesting and probably not for me. The texture is very glutinous and chewy. The syrup is refreshing. It is certainly a collision of flavours and textures.  The second dessert (sorry, no picture) was ice cream with rice that had been cooked with pandanus leaves to make it green, topped with fresh coconut and fried coconut flakes. This was more to my liking but I had already eaten way too much.

Ché Nuoc.

There was one more stop to make to sample the "best spring rolls in Hà Nôi" but neither Jayne nor I could eat another bite. They are just small spring rolls, assured Sinh, but when I saw the size the answer was obvious. No thank you. We turned toward the hotel and waddled home to bed. 

What an excellent experience. We saw the old city after dark and it is a very different experience. The roads are still deadly, but the night changes the feel. There are more tourists out wandering around looking for food or shopping and the cleaners appear after a particular time when the shopkeepers are permitted to put the rubbish out for daily collection.

Back home in our room I checked my watch to see that we had walked over 15 km. And it felt like it. Time for a shower, lots of water and some blogging before bed.

Until tomorrow.