Tiny Bubbles (Catalonia - Sparkling Wine day)

There were a few dusty heads around the breakfast table the next morning as we prepared for our first full day of touring. The two Matts had a beautiful breakfast prepared, fresh croissants and baguettes from the local bakery, muesli, yoghurts and fresh fruit.

Today was denoted as a sparkling wine day for obvious reasons, dear reader. It also inspired today's title Tiny Bubbles by Don Ho from 1966. I wasn't sure I'd heard this song before but it came bubbling to the surface of my memory when I played it. Enjoy. Or not.

We climbed into the vans at the scheduled 9:15am and set a course for Llopart Winery. As you know, I am wine snob. Even more so when it comes to sparkling wine, there is only one champagne. My expectations for the day were therefore not particularly high. Perhaps that's harsh, I was looking forward to the day, the jury was still out on the sparkling wine.

Random flower.  Probably a weed.

First stop was Llopart winery where we met Roger, a tour de force in his own right. He was very passionate about his work and even more so about Llopart wines. The family has been making wine on the site since 1385 and sparkling wine since 1887. Spain, like all other countries, was forced to stop using the word champagne to denote their sparkling wine in the 1970s. From that point on it became cava, so named because of their use of the underground limestone caves to store wine.

Welcome to Llopart.

The view from the winery across to Montserrat was breathtaking. Montserrat dominates the skyline and captivates you as soon as you see it.

Montserrat.

Llopart was not happy with the regulation of the use of the word 'cava' and came up with their own appellation, Corpinnat. At 600,000 bottles per year they are a boutique winery compared to some of the behemoths in Catalonia. Corpinnat age their wines for longer, grapes must be handpicked and the vineyard must be organic. Interestingly, they only press the grapes to 70% of their mass, whereas most wineries go down to 50%.

The cellar.

Roger toured us through the winery and provided several lessons in organic farming, viticulture and the entire wine making process. I'm not sure what regulations are tied to the production of cava but the end product, stamped with the Corpinnat, appellation is exceptional.

I wish I had a garage like this.

Wine tasting is quite different in Spain. The tasting pour can be the equivalent of half a glass. Luckily we were being chauffeured. We tried three different wines, all brut nature, as in no added sugar. Jayne preferred the rosé and I preferred the vintage that had spent extra time on lees. Such a pity it is not available in Australia. I purchased two bottles for around $90 AUD. You'd be hard pressed (see what I did there?) buying champagne for that price.

Our Llopart tasting.

Our next stop was Freixenet Winery, a well known cava producer, available at Dan Murphy's at home. In comparison to Llopart's 600,000 bottle production, last year Freixenet produced over 100 million. We had a tour of the winery and their cellars and we were treated to a tasting of four wines, matched with cured meats.

What's with the vintage cars?

The meats were a hit and perfectly matched to the wines, but the wine quality was no match for Llopart imho.

Empty bottles for show.

We departed, without making another purchase, and headed for the winery restaurant, adjacent to the tasting house. Here we enjoyed a three course lunch, featuring local dishes including baked eggplant, egg and foie omelette, beef and mushroom or fish hotpot, baked chocolate tart and sorbet with fresh fruit compote. 

Empty casks.

After breakfast, two tastings with cheese and charcuterie plates and lunch, we piled back into our transport to return to our hacienda for drinks and snacks if anyone could fit them in. The night was less exuberant than the first evening as we sensibly decided we needed to pace ourselves if we were going to make it through the week ahead. That's not to say that we went teetotal - some lovely local wines were consumed but it was a much earlier conclusion and the recycling the next day did not take nearly as long.

Sunset from the villa.

Until tomorrow.

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.

Rio Bound (Barcelona)

After yesterday's culture and architectural overload, dear reader, we decided today should be a little slower paced. Although it still included Gaudi. How could it not? Everywhere you look there are waves or fragments of colour. As usual, I am getting ahead of myself.

Warning - all the pictures are from Parc Güell and are not necessarily near the appropriate text reference.

And the song? Yes, curiously Rio Bound is played between the commentary on the Hop-on Hop-off bus. When you spend five hours plugged into the commentary it gets into your head. It's by Jeremy Sherman, have a listen.

We wandered away from the main plaça to find a café for breakfast. We ended up at Café de la Francesca, another chain. Their coffee was OK at the last place but the croissant was woeful. Today we split a toastie and had an espresso. Good coffee, reasonable toastie. While there, I attempted to download tickets for the hop on-hop off bus.

There are two such buses in Spain, the 'official' one and an obviously Spanish, bus turistic, not official. The routes cover much the same area unless you are after a cable car ride up the mountain, in which case you can use the latter. The official Hop on-Hop off bus, which we opted for, does land you near the cable car at the port, although it calls it a funicular. Now I've seen a few funiculars in my time (😉) and it is definitely a cable car.

A monk parrot at home.

My e-sim from Simcorner has been woeful since we arrived in Spain. It takes nothing for the speeds to slow down to snail pace. I'm going back to Holafly on the next trip. Maybe even before this trip concludes. The process over breakfast went like this: click on the App, put down the phone and wait for the page to load. Complete details on the page and click next. Put the phone down and wait for the page to load. Eventually I decided it might be better to be outside.

Gaudi house #3, the museum.

It was only marginally quicker and we needed to stop every few minutes to load the next page. Finally our 24 hour tickets arrived, with enough time to cover both routes and we set out for the pick up point which was near the second of the two Gaudi houses.

Barcelona's twin towers.

As it eventuated, the expected travel time was around 2 and half hours on each route. Traffic dependent, of course. We spoke to the attendant at the green route stop and he recommended walking around the corner and taking the orange route first. It had more stops and if you were to get on and off a few times it would take most of the day. This was more of an orienting excursion and we weren't planning on getting off, but we followed his advice.

The curved seating.

We were peacefully waiting at the orange stop with another couple when we were invaded by three American couples who disregarded that we were there first when the bus arrived. They pushed on and assumed the last vacant seats. I crouched in the vacant pram/wheelchair bay and Jayne stood in the aisle with some other late comers. The signage in the bus clearly stated, 'no standing'. Fortunately the next stop was the Sagrada Familia which cleared most of the bus, including the arrogant seat usurpers.

The curved seating and tower.

The orange route did indeed occupy the full two and half hours and I can assure you that seats became less comfortable as we travelled on. The commentary, which has been most informative on the Big Bus (not operating in Barcelona), made the offerings here look thin. We passed a number of significant buildings which were largely ignored - we still have no idea what they were. However, it did allow us to see around the beach area and pinpoint a few places we will visit in coming days.

The exit point. Hallelujah.

Returning to our original starting point, we walked around the corner to see a bus waiting at the green route stop. No time for a beer, we boarded and discussed the afternoon. The two major attractions were Parc Güell and the St Pau Recinte Modernista. Given St Pau was closer to home, we opted to drive by, impressive as it is, and continue on to the Parc. Unsurprisingly, it is a Gaudi design.

The gingerbread house.

The green route map shows the drop-off point on the edge of the park. Yeah nah. It was probably a 15 minute walk up a cliff face. Ok, a really, really steep street. We walked off the footpath to get around all the wheezing smokers. Did you know, dear reader, that smoking is bad for your health? This news is yet to make it to Switzerland, Slovenia, Croatia or Spain.

The Laundry Room portico.

It was nearing 4 pm by this stage and I mistakenly believed park entrance was free. Nope. Like every other attraction (gross exaggeration), the entry tickets are timed in 30 minute brackets. Jayne spoke to a man who was assisting people (sort of). Yes, tickets are required for entry. They must be purchased online. Now there was some important information I could have used earlier in the day. Entry tickets, basic, no audio guide, €13,50 each. We received a discount because we're old.

You can see the Sagrada from the park.

So, as multiple tour groups came and entered the park, which apparently limits how many people can be there in any one time slot, I once again played the excruciating waiting game with my e-sim to purchase the tickets online. Eventually, I secured a 4:30pm time slot but we decided to see how rigidly they were enforcing the time limits. They weren't and waved us straight in so we headed for the QR code sign to download the park walking map. Right next to the sign was another sign that pointed you towards, among other amenities, the Ticket Office! Let's get this straight - tickets could only be purchased online because you needed the tickets to get access to the ticket office? 

Hibiscus in the Austria Garden.

We squinted closely at the map to try to decide how best to navigate the various focal points - it was not very helpful so we decided to download the map. The QR code you were directed to was not a map but an App for Parc Güell. Another brilliant piece of misdirection. On another sign, well hidden from the one extolling you to download here for a great experience, was the QR code for the map of the park.

The pillars in the Hypostyle.

As we walked past the Gaudi house (number three) containing the museum, The App finally downloaded and provided a better map, at least with discernible information on it. The park itself was unremarkable except for its Gaudi houses and other structures. At this point, dear reader, I believe I reached peak Gaudi. It was inevitable. Despite his calming curves and waves, his gingerbread house, and fragments of reflected colour, the battle with the internet and crowds had washed over me like a tsunami. I was done. But not before we explored the last of the park. I wanted my money's worth. And a beer. Sadly there was none to be had behind the walls of Parc Güell.

The ceiling of the Hypostyle.

The view back across the city was quite spectacular and would certainly be a marvel at night. We walked the paths and climbed higher to see, well nothing, there was a building up there but it was not open to the public. We ticked off the list of attractions (not in order):the salamander fountain, the hypostyle room with its sloping pillars, the serpentine bench overlooking Barcelona, the Austria gardens and the laundry room portico. Done. That's it. No more Gaudi for me.

The salamander/dragon. People erased.

We exited the park between the gingerbread houses and looked for a sign back to the bus. Nope. Nothing. We walked up to the next gate. Back down there and turn left, we were told. At least we were heading downhill. Ah, an intersection and then another that was not calculated into the 'turn left' advice. However, we made the bus stop in time to watch not one, but two buses pull away from the kerb and stop in a traffic jam.

The grand staircase. There were a couple of people in my shot.

The next bus was only minutes away and when we alighted, it was most definitely beer time. It had been a long day. We were hot and tired and the beer was most welcome. My verdict on the park? Overpriced, overrated, overcrowded and over Gaudi.

Safely on the outside.

We had tapas for dinner, now there's a surprise, not as good as Ciutat Comtal but we stood no chance of getting in there.

Until next time.