cheese Platter from our Thanksgiving celebration
cheese Platter from our Thanksgiving celebration
"Hello beautıful lady where are you from? Why you walk away you break my heart...
You lıke carpets?"
I ıgnore the young teenager who is posted on the side of the road and continue uphill.
I have been here two full days now-so I know the drill. I dont take it personally.
I just cant see myself carting a carpet home-even if I did have the money.
**Note-You may notice some missing punctuation as I am attempting to use a Turkish keyboard**
After I got up the nerve to venture out I have found Turkey to be very enjoyable-even a bit magical at times.
Yesterday (Friday) I went on a tour of the Aya Sofya, a Christian church truned Mosque turned museum built by Emperor Justinian in around 527 AD. It was on the sight of two previous, much older churches going as far back as the 300s!
When I got to the ticket line a tour guide wanted me to hire him at only 40 Lira. I told him I couldn't afford it but if he could find some more people to share I would do it. He found a couple from Ireland(lots of Irish people here-dont ask me) and we set off. The tour was worth it. He was officially liscensed by the museum and had a masters degree in religion. He also spoke Turkish, English and Russian!
The Aya Sofya was one of the most beautiful and unusual churches I have ever seen. It was a fascinating mix of both Christian and Muslim architecture and art. Our guide told us that the Ottomans did not destroy the golden Christian mosaics when they conquered Istanbul-they just covered them with plaster. In the 1970s a group of students from the US spent almost a year painstakingly uncovering the works of art.
I have also seen the Basilica Cistern. It is an atmospheric underground well that was used in ancient times to provide fresh water for the Sultan and the palaces. I wandered around in the cool depths for at least an hour, trying to perfect my low-light picture taking techniques and getting dripped on. Pretty cool.
This afternoon I went to the Topkapi Palace. Me and about 6 million other people.
It was a huge complex consisting of four courtyards starting with the sultans publics areas where he received other kings and potentates and moving further and further into the private places where only the royal family and the Eunichs were allowed. The gardens were shady and cool. Manicured beds of flowers lined the paths and fountains were everywhere. At the end, where the Sultan had his private apartments, the gardens end in a sweeping view of the Bosporus.
The food here has been mediocre with the exception of one delicious meal that I had yesterday. It was at a small cafe about two block up from the Blue Mosque called the Rumeli Cafe. The dish was called Islim Kabapi and it was marinated lamb chunks wrapped in grilled eggplant with a wonderful spicy tomato sauce. Incredible!
The city is really magical at night. As in most of Europe entire families are out walking and visiting until around midnight. Little kids play soccer, women talk and men smoke these huge water pipes with apple flavored tobacco. They tried to talk me into trying the pipe but I declined.
Overall I have found Istanbul to be a great experience. The people are an intriguing mix of conservative religious people and modern Europeans. One night I saw, through the window at a restaurant, two sets of women waiting at a tram stop: Three dressed in full black Burkahs with the veil over their faces and three young women in miniskirts and jewelry going to the disco. Thats Turkey for you!
Well here I am in Turkey.
I have to admit that I was a little bit nervous coming
to a Muslim country-not speaking the language and unsure of my welcome.
I told myself over and over-"You can do this-just keep going"
Turkish airlines was modern and very organized. The flight over was uncrowded and they served a decent lunch. But once the wheels touched down I had to get up my courage.
Part of the challenge-especially at the end of my trip when my money is a bit tight- is to not take the easy way out-ie. taking taxis and eating tourist food.
I bought my Visa stamp ($20.00 in US) and then waited in line for customs.
One thing I have noticed about this entire area-from Spain to Turkey- is that you have to be fairly aggressive. If you let one person move ahead of you then 20 will push into that space. Everybody elbows for space and you have to guard yours. When crossing the roads do as the locals do-jump out into the road and trust that the cars will stop. I have taken to watching locals and going when they go-allowing for them to get hit first if they didnt judge it correctly.
After customs I wandered around the sleek, open space of the airport until I found an ATM machine. The dollar is pretty weak against the Euro right now and it is the same with the Turkish Lira.
My first taste of the good old Turkish hard sell came soon after this. First-when it says Tourist Information that often means "Let me sell you my cousins transportation service-only 50 Lira!" It took some wrangling to get the location of the light rail station I had read about in my guide book out of the guy.
The light rail system runs from the airport through the modern part of town-ending before you get to the old Sultanahmet neighborhood. Once I got of the rail line I was supposed to cross over a major street, go two blocks and there would be a tram station. Well I must have come out the wrong end or something because that was not what I found. I found a huge 6 lane highway. I wandered for a while looking for a place to cross but found none.
I went up and down. It was VERY HOT. Once again I was so happy to only have my tiny suitcase and my camera backpack. I bought some bottled water and drank it as I walked.
One thing that is really different about Turkey-there are NO signs in English as there were in Italy and Spain. Although they use a version of the same alphabet we do there are many unusual letters(ş,ç,ö,ü,ğ) which make figuring things out harder for an American. NOBODY speaks any English outside of the tourist hotels, and as you can imagine my Turkish skills leave something to be desired.
I had learned hello(Merhaba) and please(lütfen). I tried those two words out on kids on the train-I am not sure if they worked because the kids just stared at me like I had three heads.
My new strategy was to try any retail store that was staffed by young people-figuring they might have learned some English. Finally I found one guy who knew enough to point out the tram station to me. Once I figured out how to buy the tickets, and how to use the entry machine, taking the tram was easy. It dropped me off about three blocks from my hotel. I was very pleased with myself-instead of 50 Lira I spent only 3 Lira!
Needless to say I recovered in my luxuriously comfortable hotel room, absorbing the airconditioning, watching CNN and trying out all the cool little soaps in the shower.
Later that night I ventured out to get some dinner. About two blocks from the hotel I glanced up and saw an English Pub on the corner. Leaning out the window were a man and a woman from Ireland. They cheerfully invited me to come inside and have a beer.
It turned out to be great time. We sat and chatted for at least three hours. I ordered a club sandwich-which turned out to have not only ham and cheese but also hard boiled eggs and pickles in it. The beer was a little expensive but cold.
The couples names were John and Carolyn Healey from Northern Ireland. We talked about Turkey-they gave me their take and advice as they were just finishing their trip- and we compared notes on the people passing below our window.
**Note-I saw alot of women in Turkey dressed from head to toe in scarves and gowns. Several were wearing the hijab- a long black robe with a full face veil. It looks awful hot in there and rather confining. I must admit it bothers me to see them-although I am trying to keep an open mind about their feelings or choices**
John Healey, it turns out, owns a B&B in county Armaugh and Carolyn is a school administrator. We talked at length about the war, about the Troubles in Ireland and about how times had changed-social life being a bit slower and more formal when they were young than it is for their 15 year old son now. Thus it was that on my first night in Turkey I learned more about Ireland and its politics than anything else. Still I had a great time.
Istanbul is a city where cats roam around like sultans. People feed the street cats who lounge at the restaurants and many carpet shops have pet cats who live there.
One more thing- I have already been asked out by two Turkish men- one of them my waiter at the pub who noticed we were talking about some scantilly clad young girls at the tram stop going to the local disco. "You lıke to go to dısco tonıght?" He was very polite and later brought us some turkish delight candies that he had bought on the street. I don't have to tell you I didn't go to the disco. I don't think the Turks are ready for my dancing.
Man is it hot in this city...
I arrived in the Eternal city yesterday about 5:30 pm after spending the morning touring the ruins at Pompeii.
I have to say, when you travel in Italy(even more than in Spain), have a cavalier attitude about transportation connections. Sometimes buses just decide not to show up this hour, etc. It took me, and a large group of other tourists, forever to get down the side of the mountain in Sorrento to the train station.
**The night before(July 16th) I was on a full bus at around 11:00 pm. It was supposed to be leaving at 11pm but the bus driver hung out on the sidewalk talking to his friend and smoking for another 20 minutes. Attempts to say something-not by me- were met with blank looks**
.
Pompeii was a sight I had looked foward to for a long time. I expected something very different than what I saw. For one thing it is not very well organized. At every intersection there is a traffic jam of confused tourists trying to figure out the cryptic map they give out. I had my Rick Steves guide book, which was a little better. Unfortunately his guide was set up as a tour. About halfway through, at what he called "the best preserved house", I hit a snag. The house he mentioned was closed. Directions kind 
of went sour from there. Second thing is(and I know this is a bit morbid) there are not very many victims. I only saw three. I expected the carbon molds of people who were caught in the ash from Vesuvius. Apparently most of these are in a museum in Naples
To be fair part of the problem was that it was unbearably hot out. That certainly colors your view of things. I did eventually(with a rowdy group of intrepid Brits) find the brothel. What this says about our priorities I don't know. It was small but interesting. The little bed stalls looked so small that you would have to be a yoga master to get in them. Above the doors there were "colorful" (ie graphic) depictions of available options. All the tourists(including yours truly) snapped away at these.
After this visit I sat in a shady little cafe, which some enterprising owner had named "Little paradise" and ate two lemon ices. Lemon ices can be a religious experience under the right circumstances I can tell you.
I settled into my hostel in Rome later that day. The room is cheap, and reflects
that price, but I slept okay last night. The airconditioner only has one speed- HIGH. It's either 45 degrees in there or 95. So I bundled up the blanket.
The toilet, located across the hall, decides when it wants to flush. Maybe yes. Okay now I don't feel like it. It's pretty clean though.
The next day(really today- Wednesday the 18th) I got up at 5:30 am to take care of my ablutions and make it to the line at the Vatican museum early. I arrived at around 7 am, after being sidetracked by a beautiful early morning light flooding the collonades at St. Peters. There were already about 30 people in line. I soon began to chat with my fellow waiters. I met Javier(fm Spain) and Edmund(fm Peru) and got to practice my Spanish again. I also met a whole family(parents and four boys with BLOND hair) from Holland. Everyone shared breakfast food and chatted. Attempts to slyly move into the front part of the line by late-comers were rebuffed vigourously.
The Vatican museum was crowded in some points, but I went to the main art gallery I wanted to see, first. I had it almost all to myself- just me and Carravagio or me and Fra Filipe- Wow! And you could take non- flash pictures! Uncle Phil I LOVE my little 50mm 1.8 fast lens...
This picture is a close-up of a Caravaggio painting showing Christ being lowered from the cross-see the incredible play of light and shadow- and the bright white in contrast with the red. The brightness of the white was achieved using a poisinous resin!
Eventually , after some interesting sculptures and funeral sarcophagi, I decided to skip all the way to the end and the Sistine Chapel. It was still packed when I got there but I managed to find a seat along the outside edge and using a detailed guide book I had purchased at the beginning I went through everything, frame by frame. It was the most incredible frescoe work I have ever seen. The whole ceiling and Last Judgement wall had recently been completely cleaned(apparently they were so covered in soot from candles and oils that you could barely see things). The colors that Michaelangelo used were so vivid. The figures along the edges three dimensional. I stayed for at least an hour until the ache in my neck overcame the urge to stare in awe at the ceiling.
After that I went to see Saint Peters Basilica- the largest Christian church in the world. On the floor as you come in there are markers showing, in order of size stretching out toward the altar at the other end, where other huge cathedrals would fit inside St. Peters. I saw Toledo and Seville and the Basilica in Washington DC.
The light inside the church is beautiful and accentuates the marble statuary and the gold along the ceiling. I saw the famous Pietà by Michaelangelo. I stood under the dome pondering the miracle of the architecture. Here is a picture of me at St. Peters.
On my way out I saw one of the Swiss guard heading off to his post with a briefcase. I'm not sure if the snapshot turned out though I did get to see the changing of the guard on my way out.
Tommorrow I head out for Turkey! It will be interesting. I'm not sure about the internet cafès there but I'm sure I'll figure it out. So far, with a few blunders, I have managed to get by.
I miss you all. It sure will be nice to get back to the people who love me...and my angry cat.
PS to Petes people- Katie the people in Italy talk just as forcefully as you and Pete- though of course Italians aren't quite as beautiful as you guys are. Start making the iced tea soon- I've only got a few more days to go.
I arrived in the Eternal city yesterday about 5:30 pm after spending the morning touring the ruins at Pompeii.
I have to say, when you travel in Italy(even more than in Spain), have a cavalier attitude about transportation connections. Sometimes buses just decide not to show up this hour, etc. It took me, and a large group of other tourists, forever to get down the side of the mountain in Sorrento to the train station.
**The night before(July 16th) I was on a full bus at around 11:00 pm. It was supposed to be leaving at 11pm but the bus driver hung out on the sidewalk talking to his friend and smoking for another 20 minutes. Attempts to say something-not by me- were met with blank looks**
.
Pompeii was a sight I had looked foward to for a long time. I expected something very different than what I saw. For one thing it is not very well organized. At every intersection there is a traffic jam of confused tourists trying to figure out the cryptic map they give out. I had my Rick Steves guide book, which was a little better. Unfortunately his guide was set up as a tour. About halfway through, at what he called "the best preserved house", I hit a snag. The house he mentioned was closed. Directions kind 
of went sour from there. Second thing is(and I know this is a bit morbid) there are not very many victims. I only saw three. I expected the carbon molds of people who were caught in the ash from Vesuvius. Apparently most of these are in a museum in NaplesTo be fair part of the problem was that it was unbearably hot out. That certainly colors your view of things. I did eventually(with a rowdy group of intrepid Brits) find the brothel. What this says about our priorities I don't know. It was small but interesting. The little bed stalls looked so small that you would have to be a yoga master to get in them. Above the doors there were "colorful" (ie graphic) depictions of available options. All the tourists(including yours truly) snapped away at these.
After this visit I sat in a shady little cafe, which some enterprising owner had named "Little paradise" and ate two lemon ices. Lemon ices can be a religious experience under the right circumstances I can tell you.
I settled into my hostel in Rome later that day. The room is cheap, and reflects
that price, but I slept okay last night. The airconditioner only has one speed- HIGH. It's either 45 degrees in there or 95. So I bundled up the blanket.The toilet, located across the hall, decides when it wants to flush. Maybe yes. Okay now I don't feel like it. It's pretty clean though.
The next day(really today- Wednesday the 18th) I got up at 5:30 am to take care of my ablutions and make it to the line at the Vatican museum early. I arrived at around 7 am, after being sidetracked by a beautiful early morning light flooding the collonades at St. Peters. There were already about 30 people in line. I soon began to chat with my fellow waiters. I met Javier(fm Spain) and Edmund(fm Peru) and got to practice my Spanish again. I also met a whole family(parents and four boys with BLOND hair) from Holland. Everyone shared breakfast food and chatted. Attempts to slyly move into the front part of the line by late-comers were rebuffed vigourously.
The Vatican museum was crowded in some points, but I went to the main art gallery I wanted to see, first. I had it almost all to myself- just me and Carravagio or me and Fra Filipe- Wow! And you could take non- flash pictures! Uncle Phil I LOVE my little 50mm 1.8 fast lens...
This picture is a close-up of a Caravaggio painting showing Christ being lowered from the cross-see the incredible play of light and shadow- and the bright white in contrast with the red. The brightness of the white was achieved using a poisinous resin!
Eventually , after some interesting sculptures and funeral sarcophagi, I decided to skip all the way to the end and the Sistine Chapel. It was still packed when I got there but I managed to find a seat along the outside edge and using a detailed guide book I had purchased at the beginning I went through everything, frame by frame. It was the most incredible frescoe work I have ever seen. The whole ceiling and Last Judgement wall had recently been completely cleaned(apparently they were so covered in soot from candles and oils that you could barely see things). The colors that Michaelangelo used were so vivid. The figures along the edges three dimensional. I stayed for at least an hour until the ache in my neck overcame the urge to stare in awe at the ceiling.
After that I went to see Saint Peters Basilica- the largest Christian church in the world. On the floor as you come in there are markers showing, in order of size stretching out toward the altar at the other end, where other huge cathedrals would fit inside St. Peters. I saw Toledo and Seville and the Basilica in Washington DC.
The light inside the church is beautiful and accentuates the marble statuary and the gold along the ceiling. I saw the famous Pietà by Michaelangelo. I stood under the dome pondering the miracle of the architecture. Here is a picture of me at St. Peters.
On my way out I saw one of the Swiss guard heading off to his post with a briefcase. I'm not sure if the snapshot turned out though I did get to see the changing of the guard on my way out.
Tommorrow I head out for Turkey! It will be interesting. I'm not sure about the internet cafès there but I'm sure I'll figure it out. So far, with a few blunders, I have managed to get by.
I miss you all. It sure will be nice to get back to the people who love me...and my angry cat.
PS to Petes people- Katie the people in Italy talk just as forcefully as you and Pete- though of course Italians aren't quite as beautiful as you guys are. Start making the iced tea soon- I've only got a few more days to go.
I am in a VERY HIP internet cafe(ie they have a dj every night, a bar, internet connections and everything is stainless steel and neon). I'm not sure I am hip enough for this place but oh well...
My clothes are washed, dried until they are fluffy and carefully folded for minimum wrinkles. I have a beer and life is good. If Mike, or Elizabeth were here it would be even better.
In the last few days I stayed in Florence, Sienna and Assisi. These pictures are from the cathedral in Sienna.
I have to say that had I the trip to plan again I would plan more days in each and less cities. Each place had its wonderful things. I'm glad I went but after traveling 10.5 hours yesterday I was exhausted. and cranky...and sweaty...yuck.
By the time I got to Sorrento(on the Amalfi coast south of Naples) it was 10:30pm.
I was sooooo tired that I just wanted to scream. I couldn't seem to get through to Expedia. Then I did and they gave me three wrong numbers for my hotel. After a frustrating hour trying to get through from the noisy train station I finally bargained a cab driver down from 45 euros to 35. My hotel is about 20 minutes outside the city in the hills. Wait til you see the pictures.
Just a few things about the last few days. Florence was big and noisy but I liked it. I stayed in a former monastery on a beautiful square just down from the Duomo ( cathedral). The first night I went up on the public bus to a huge hill overlooking
the city. My goal was to see a cool church up there but I didn't make it in time. I did meet a really nice family from North Carolina. They rode up with me and we climbed the hill, waiting for the sunset.
At about 5 minutes until sunset about 30 Russian amateur photographers showed up and tried to muscles their way in where we had staked out our place along the railing. I used my limited russian skills to hold them back. And my elbows. We all got some great shots of Florence at sunset. And plenty of Gelato.
I also splurged on a guided tour of the Uffizzi gallery of Art. This turned out to be worth all the money I spent. Our guide, Molly, looked alot like Elizabeths sister in law Katie, but shorter. She had pHd in Rennaissance Studies and was fascinating. It's always incredible to see paintings up close that you have seen on tv all your life. Molly guided us through the awakening of the art from the flat 2 dimensional medieval paintings of Fra Angelico(who I had seen in another museum earlier that day because I love frescoes) to the exuberance of Botticelli's Birth of Venus. I forgot all about my sore feet. And she hooked us up with a great Gelato connection. I had "crostata" flavor-tastes like whipped creamy strawberry pie!
Sienna was nice, but Assisi was amazing. I wish I could have added another day.
There is a spiritual air that I have seen nowhere else. Franciscan monks and the sisters of St. Claire riding the buses. Pilgrim playing guitars and singing loudly while they approached the Basilica of St. Francis. I saw where Francis is buried and lit a candle.Assisi after dark is really magical. I walked up to the main public square for dinner. Every corner there was a stunning view of the tuscan valley below the town.
At the little Trattoria that I picked I was invited by Frank and Carol from Boston to join them for dinner. We spent a fascinating hour talking about history and religion and the war. Every time I get a little lonely I seem to meet someone nice.
Really cool.
I will try to get more pics up but alot of computers don't want to download them.
I will be going to Pompeii and then Rome tommorow.
Will update soon.
Hi Magic! Hi everybody at Petes diner- hey Tracey and Peanut!
Bongiorno from beautiful Italy...
I have been in Italy for about a week now.
On the 10th I flew from Madrid to Venice.
From the airport you must walk through a long, outdoor walkway
to the dock where you pick up the local water taxi.
I am sure Mom and Dad remember this. You chug along, engines loudly grinding away,
slamming into pier after pier. Finally they pull up to Piazza San Marco.
Its a pretty awe inspiring sight. Walking up the dock and down past vendors, the Piazza opens up in front of you. The Doge's Palace dominates the right side, followed by the incredible Basilica San Marco.
On the left a huge bell tower soars up into the sky.
The opening is flanked by two tall pedestals with statues of St. Christopher and the winged lion of the Venetian republic.
The Piazza is about two football fields long in all. Across from the Basilica the square stretches out, blanqueted by pigeons and laughing tourists. It is lined by a long arcade with shops and three outdoor cafes that play music at night.
My hotel was only a few blocks away, down a back street and over a little canal.
The hotel Riva is small but has lots of atmosphere. My room was all the way on the
top floor-which means lugging your suitcase or tired tourist feet up many flights of stairs as they didn't have an elevator. My room was very comfortable. It had an incredible view looking out over the canals where gondoliers glided past, singing and chatting back and forth. It didn't have airconditioning but the fan proved to work fine. Here is the view fm my window.
Venice is hard to describe with only words. There is an atmosphere there. It has so much history. Even the tourist hordes(and I do mean hordes) couldn't ruin things.
I would get out early in the morning just as the sights opened, take a little nap when it got hot and crowded, and then go out for dinner in the cool of the evening.
The clocktower has an elevator to the top. I went up there toward the end of my
first day. A storm rolled in, fast and furious. As the wind began to howl around us everyone began to laugh and scream. I waited for the huge bells to ring. Wow!
The Second day I went through the Doge's palace. The Doge was elected by the powerful people in Venice. They controlled a huge amount of power but were restricted to the palace and could not leave without the councils permission.At one point I saw the little side passageway that the Doge used to go from the palace to the Basilica for Mass.
The Basilica was probably the most impressive church I have ever seen. I stood in the entrance, gazing up at the gold-leaf mosiac ceilings with my mouth gaping open, for at least 10 minutes. The entire interior is covered in mosiacs like this.
The floor was done in marble mosiacs that sloped down toward the center of the building, apparently because the supports under the edges of the building are stronger. I saw the stunning golden altarpiece, encrusted with rubies and sapphires. Then I went up to the top where a small museum explained the construction and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking Piazza San Marco. Huge bronze horses(actually copies as the real ones were inside to protect them) dominated the front entrance staring down at the line of tired, sweaty tourists. I stayed and watched the clocktower across the way change over.
The food in Venice was very good but seriously expensive. After my first meal
turned out to be much more than I had thought it would be I began to economize. Still I never came close to being hungry. I went to several markets. The picture here is some fruit that is actually made of Marzipan(almond paste). So real looking. I ate my final meal canalside at sunset just down from the Ponte Vecchio. Pretty incredible!
Hola, Que Tal?
As you can tell by the lack of accents I am writing this from outside Spain.
I am by now in Sienna. Sometimes on the road the schedule gets a little hectic and it is hard to find an internet connection. So here's some catch-up.
I'M ON MY OWN!
Our CIA group got to Madrid's Barajas Airport at around 2:30pm. I left the group and dodged my way through the crowd, asking for directions in broken Spanish, until I found the "left luggage" department. They have lockers there, in which after some confusion, I managed to leave all the extra accumulated stuff(ie bottles of wine, olive oil, Serrano ham, extra clothes the CIA trip required) in a long term locker until I get back.
I took several different subway trains to the Atocha train station for my trip to Seville. My new, lighter luggage was a real God-send while trying to negotiate all this I can tell you.
After taking the AVE (ah-bay) high speed train to Seville, I picked up my incredibly ugly rental car which I dubbed "El Feo" or the ugly one.
I drove through the Andulucian countryside as the sun started to go down, and finally reached the beautiful, white-washed hill town of Arcos de la Frontera.
This little town was way up on a high hill top with a sweeping view of the valley floor below. As its name implies it was part of a string of fortified towns along the border which kept the Moors( arab invaders from Africa) from sweeping further north and conquering the rest of Spain.
I drove up the unbelievably narrow streets (with literally 3 or 4" on either side of my little car at some points) and finally found a hill-top parking lot. I managed to squeeze in a spot and went to my hotel.
The first night I stayed in a smaller, less expensive hotel. The staff were friendly and the room adequate. I struck up a friendship with the waiter/batender named Manuelo. Quite the personality. He tried out his fledgling English on me and I struggled along gamely in Spanish.
I wandered down the hill and found a little, local restaurant still open. Noisy
locals, their kids running around ducking beneath tables and rowdy grown-ups even at this late hour, were enjoying the night. I managed to find a seat at the end of the little bar. I wondered if that was a little unusual for a woman in Spain to be at the bar but had no choice as the place was full. A rather surly bartender took my food and drink order and I watched the local men chat-up two young women sitting at a table. Quite alot of flirting going on.
The next day I checked into my splurge hotel- the Parador in Arcos. Paradors are historic inns regulated by the government. While I waited for my room to be ready I went out to the broad, flagstone patio to enjoy the panoramic view. There I met a group of Brits who apparently lived in southern Spain part of the year. I got a coke and a lively conversation ensued. I absorbed all the advice and information I could.
This is one thing I have noticed is that I meet a lot of English-speakers and that really helps stave off loneliness.
The room at the Parador was fantastic. Strong hot shower. Fluffy pillow. Great air-conditioning. Ahhhhhh....
I spent the afternoon wandering around the backstreets of Arcos. Not alot of tourists. A little outdoor cafe or pastry shop around each bend. Fantastic.
I stopped to buy a pen and ink drawing by a local artist. I met an American family from Oregon who insisted on buying my beer. They gave me wonderful tips on Florence as they had just come from a week in tuscany.
I capped of my wonderful day with a dinner at the Parador dining room with a view of the valley. They bring you Manzanilla sherry and tapas. I had some Cava and a light salad with white beans and artichokes. Quite good.
Arcos was a wonderful choice. Unfortunately, as I was leaving town, inching s-l-o-w-l-y around corners on my way down hill, two local people impatiently tail-gating El Feo, I bumped a corner. Apparently this happens all the time. They have these ancient Roman post built into the corners because people are always bumping into buildings. I was pretty upset though.
Because of this accident, which made a 5 " dent in the back passenger door I decided to spend the morning looking for a repair shop to fix the dent. I was hoping it would be an easy fix. Apparently not. When I finally found an open repair place, after three tries, they said it would take at least two days for parts to arrive.
Oh well. By this time I decided to just go back to Seville, instead of going down to Gibraltar as I had planned, and turn in the car.
I ended up having to pay for the accident up front, in cash. I had thought they would go through my insurance but no. I called my wonderful parents and my mother came to the rescue, transfering some extra money into my bank account.
By the time I got back to Madrid that night, after having a loud argument(in Spanish) with a cab driver over the fare he had agreed on and then changed, I finally stumbled into my bed. Travel doesn't alwasy go the way you want it to.
Que sera, sera.
I flew out early the next morning to Venice.
As you can tell by the lack of accents I am writing this from outside Spain.
I am by now in Sienna. Sometimes on the road the schedule gets a little hectic and it is hard to find an internet connection. So here's some catch-up.
I'M ON MY OWN!
Our CIA group got to Madrid's Barajas Airport at around 2:30pm. I left the group and dodged my way through the crowd, asking for directions in broken Spanish, until I found the "left luggage" department. They have lockers there, in which after some confusion, I managed to leave all the extra accumulated stuff(ie bottles of wine, olive oil, Serrano ham, extra clothes the CIA trip required) in a long term locker until I get back.
I took several different subway trains to the Atocha train station for my trip to Seville. My new, lighter luggage was a real God-send while trying to negotiate all this I can tell you.
After taking the AVE (ah-bay) high speed train to Seville, I picked up my incredibly ugly rental car which I dubbed "El Feo" or the ugly one.
I drove through the Andulucian countryside as the sun started to go down, and finally reached the beautiful, white-washed hill town of Arcos de la Frontera.
This little town was way up on a high hill top with a sweeping view of the valley floor below. As its name implies it was part of a string of fortified towns along the border which kept the Moors( arab invaders from Africa) from sweeping further north and conquering the rest of Spain.I drove up the unbelievably narrow streets (with literally 3 or 4" on either side of my little car at some points) and finally found a hill-top parking lot. I managed to squeeze in a spot and went to my hotel.
The first night I stayed in a smaller, less expensive hotel. The staff were friendly and the room adequate. I struck up a friendship with the waiter/batender named Manuelo. Quite the personality. He tried out his fledgling English on me and I struggled along gamely in Spanish.
I wandered down the hill and found a little, local restaurant still open. Noisy
locals, their kids running around ducking beneath tables and rowdy grown-ups even at this late hour, were enjoying the night. I managed to find a seat at the end of the little bar. I wondered if that was a little unusual for a woman in Spain to be at the bar but had no choice as the place was full. A rather surly bartender took my food and drink order and I watched the local men chat-up two young women sitting at a table. Quite alot of flirting going on.
The next day I checked into my splurge hotel- the Parador in Arcos. Paradors are historic inns regulated by the government. While I waited for my room to be ready I went out to the broad, flagstone patio to enjoy the panoramic view. There I met a group of Brits who apparently lived in southern Spain part of the year. I got a coke and a lively conversation ensued. I absorbed all the advice and information I could.
This is one thing I have noticed is that I meet a lot of English-speakers and that really helps stave off loneliness.
The room at the Parador was fantastic. Strong hot shower. Fluffy pillow. Great air-conditioning. Ahhhhhh....
I spent the afternoon wandering around the backstreets of Arcos. Not alot of tourists. A little outdoor cafe or pastry shop around each bend. Fantastic.
I stopped to buy a pen and ink drawing by a local artist. I met an American family from Oregon who insisted on buying my beer. They gave me wonderful tips on Florence as they had just come from a week in tuscany.
I capped of my wonderful day with a dinner at the Parador dining room with a view of the valley. They bring you Manzanilla sherry and tapas. I had some Cava and a light salad with white beans and artichokes. Quite good.
Arcos was a wonderful choice. Unfortunately, as I was leaving town, inching s-l-o-w-l-y around corners on my way down hill, two local people impatiently tail-gating El Feo, I bumped a corner. Apparently this happens all the time. They have these ancient Roman post built into the corners because people are always bumping into buildings. I was pretty upset though.
Because of this accident, which made a 5 " dent in the back passenger door I decided to spend the morning looking for a repair shop to fix the dent. I was hoping it would be an easy fix. Apparently not. When I finally found an open repair place, after three tries, they said it would take at least two days for parts to arrive.
Oh well. By this time I decided to just go back to Seville, instead of going down to Gibraltar as I had planned, and turn in the car.
I ended up having to pay for the accident up front, in cash. I had thought they would go through my insurance but no. I called my wonderful parents and my mother came to the rescue, transfering some extra money into my bank account.
By the time I got back to Madrid that night, after having a loud argument(in Spanish) with a cab driver over the fare he had agreed on and then changed, I finally stumbled into my bed. Travel doesn't alwasy go the way you want it to.
Que sera, sera.
I flew out early the next morning to Venice.
Hey everybody!
I thought I´d put up a short entry to try and catch up on this blog.
I left my group from school yesterday and drove to Arcos de La Frontera in the south of Spain. After I take about 3,000 more photos I will update with a blog on Arcos,etc.
After Barcelona we went to San Sebastian along the north coast in Basque country.
It is incredible; one of the most picturesque places I have ever been. It is situated on a crescent shaped bay called La Concha (a Shell). There are bright white sailboats moored in the harbour, an old town area with a maze of tapas bars and shops and a huge statue of Jesus looks over the whole town from a mountain above.
The town is called Donostia in the Basque language. Everybody here speaks Spanish, though not much English,but Chef Encabo (who is from this area) has been trying to teach us a few words of Vasco (Basque language). Spain has several official languages: Castillian (classic Spanish), Vasco, Catalunyan. I know there is another one but I can´t remember it. There are many different dialects so things sound very different even in Castillian
In Donostia we had the chance to cook in a Basque Cooking Society. While these private clubs are usually the province of the local men, to give them a place to be masters of the kitchen away from the prying eyes of the women, they allowed us to bring in fresh products from the local market and cook a dinner
On our second day in Donostia we left early on the bus to go to a small town called Irún for a festival. The festival celebrates a battle that was fought against the French, which the locals won.
Irún is Chef Encabo´s home town so we got to meet his mother, brothers, and extended family. We arrived into town just after the parade had started. We were told to dress in white and given red hankerchiefs to tie around our necks. Suitably dressed, we marched through the town toward the sounds of cheering and gunshots.
The scene we came upon was like something out of a movie. The parade route, a broad street lined with balconies tumbling down a hill into the main square below, was packed with local people. An army of local men, with a woman on horseback to lead
each neighborhood unit, were marching down the street to the cheers of there relatives on the side, occassionally firing off blank shots into the air. There were thousands of them. Eventually they all arrived in the main town square, where a General on a white horse waited to give the signal.
When the general slashed down with his sword everyone shot their guns off at once and cannons boomed across the town. Pretty impressive.
Then we went to a small local bakery for a quick bathroom break and some luscious, buttery pastries. Finally we got back on the bus and headed out to a cider party on the mountain above the town.
Apparently during this festival no cars are allowed up the mountain. Chef had to arrange for a special pass for our bus. In order to get it we had to fill the bus(we are only 16 people) with locals, so Chef´s family plus some random people who jumped on rode up the mountain with us, chattering loudly in Spanish. Lots of teasing and laughing went on. It got even louder when we came back down after all the cider.
At the top of the mountain there was a little church/restaurant and cider tents set up everywhere. We took pictures from the vista point and then drank the local brew, a tangy/sour fermented cider, with the Encabo family. Everyone was so friendly. As the cider flowed( you are supposed to pour it from a great height to airrate it)our Spanish language skills got better. Or maybe we just thought they did. At any rate people seeme to understand what we were saying and by the end everyone had struck up friendships.
After the festival we went to a local Cider house/restaurant. The area grows alot of apples. The restaurant was way up on hill and was rustically charming.
Inside the main dining area was lined with long communal tables and benches. Everyone sat together. Platters came out and each person ate directly off the platter with their fellow diners. There were no plates, just forks and long baguettes which we used push our food around and sop up the juices. We had a delicious grilled Hake dish and chargrilled steak.
In between each course everyone (and I mean everyone) would get up and tramp into the back where huge barrels of Sidra(cider) lined the cellar. A man would open the tap on the side of the barrel and people would catch the drink in there glass, lining up one after the other with the goal being not to spill any on the floor. We went from barrel to barrel. I guess there is supposed to be a difference between the taste of each barrel but I never noticed any. The cider began to taste better and better however. The food, some of the best I have had in Spain, was perfect. Our hosts were friendly and boisterous.
It was a great day.
Since then we have gone to many places including Vallodolid,Burgos (with a beautiful cathedral that I didn´t get to see because we arrived so late) and finally Segovia.
In Vallodolid, which was the capitol of Spain before Madrid we met our two guides from the local Spanish language and culture institute Fundación de la Lengua Española Ángel and Ada (some of the nicest people we have met and very professional), who showed us around the country for the next few days.
We went to wineries (including a fascinating wine museum at Dinastia Vivanco winery), artisanal cheese makers, huge ham factories and bakeries. But the most interesting night was one of the last that we spent in a tiny village called Cigales, with a famous local musician, eating dinner in a cave!
The man´s name is Paco Díaz. He and his wife have created a local museum with the most amazing collection of instruments from Spain and all over the world - most of which Paco can play perfectly.
Apparently in this area of the country many families dig large underground caves into the side of hills. It looks alot like something out of Lord of the Rings. I expected Hobbits to come out any minute. Tiny doors line the side of the hills and chimneys poke their heads up in random places.
We entered Paco´s cave, descending down a steep set of stairs into a beautiful white stucco apartment. The cave had a large dining room, two small kitchens with wood burning fireplaces and a bedroom. The only thing it didn´t have was a bathroom, but having to use the "open-air facilities" only added to the ambiance.
Paco (who is not a chef but made some of the most delicious food we have had)made many grilled dishes like chorizo and other sausages and the local red wine was passed around in a special vessel called a porron. You tip your head back and pour the wine through the spout into your mouth. This went over really well. Every one relaxed.
Eventually we sang songs while Paco played and his wife plied us with more food. We sang Beso Me Mucho loudly. Chef Encabo sang for us with his impressive tenor voice.
We had a blast.
Ángel and Ada had also set up a special ritual for us to experience. It´s called a Quemada. Paco and Chef took out a large eathenware bowl, filling it with a thick coffee flavored drink, which they lit on fire. The lights were turned out, while Paco played the local bagpipes, and Chef poured the flaming liquid from up high.
Ángel read from a scroll along with Alex (one of our students)about a night of witches and goblins, etc. Melodramatic but pretty cool.
Hello to Jean Morris.
Leslie
I thought I´d put up a short entry to try and catch up on this blog.
I left my group from school yesterday and drove to Arcos de La Frontera in the south of Spain. After I take about 3,000 more photos I will update with a blog on Arcos,etc.
After Barcelona we went to San Sebastian along the north coast in Basque country.
It is incredible; one of the most picturesque places I have ever been. It is situated on a crescent shaped bay called La Concha (a Shell). There are bright white sailboats moored in the harbour, an old town area with a maze of tapas bars and shops and a huge statue of Jesus looks over the whole town from a mountain above.
The town is called Donostia in the Basque language. Everybody here speaks Spanish, though not much English,but Chef Encabo (who is from this area) has been trying to teach us a few words of Vasco (Basque language). Spain has several official languages: Castillian (classic Spanish), Vasco, Catalunyan. I know there is another one but I can´t remember it. There are many different dialects so things sound very different even in Castillian
In Donostia we had the chance to cook in a Basque Cooking Society. While these private clubs are usually the province of the local men, to give them a place to be masters of the kitchen away from the prying eyes of the women, they allowed us to bring in fresh products from the local market and cook a dinner
On our second day in Donostia we left early on the bus to go to a small town called Irún for a festival. The festival celebrates a battle that was fought against the French, which the locals won.
Irún is Chef Encabo´s home town so we got to meet his mother, brothers, and extended family. We arrived into town just after the parade had started. We were told to dress in white and given red hankerchiefs to tie around our necks. Suitably dressed, we marched through the town toward the sounds of cheering and gunshots.
The scene we came upon was like something out of a movie. The parade route, a broad street lined with balconies tumbling down a hill into the main square below, was packed with local people. An army of local men, with a woman on horseback to lead
each neighborhood unit, were marching down the street to the cheers of there relatives on the side, occassionally firing off blank shots into the air. There were thousands of them. Eventually they all arrived in the main town square, where a General on a white horse waited to give the signal.
When the general slashed down with his sword everyone shot their guns off at once and cannons boomed across the town. Pretty impressive.
Then we went to a small local bakery for a quick bathroom break and some luscious, buttery pastries. Finally we got back on the bus and headed out to a cider party on the mountain above the town.
Apparently during this festival no cars are allowed up the mountain. Chef had to arrange for a special pass for our bus. In order to get it we had to fill the bus(we are only 16 people) with locals, so Chef´s family plus some random people who jumped on rode up the mountain with us, chattering loudly in Spanish. Lots of teasing and laughing went on. It got even louder when we came back down after all the cider.
At the top of the mountain there was a little church/restaurant and cider tents set up everywhere. We took pictures from the vista point and then drank the local brew, a tangy/sour fermented cider, with the Encabo family. Everyone was so friendly. As the cider flowed( you are supposed to pour it from a great height to airrate it)our Spanish language skills got better. Or maybe we just thought they did. At any rate people seeme to understand what we were saying and by the end everyone had struck up friendships.
After the festival we went to a local Cider house/restaurant. The area grows alot of apples. The restaurant was way up on hill and was rustically charming.
Inside the main dining area was lined with long communal tables and benches. Everyone sat together. Platters came out and each person ate directly off the platter with their fellow diners. There were no plates, just forks and long baguettes which we used push our food around and sop up the juices. We had a delicious grilled Hake dish and chargrilled steak.
In between each course everyone (and I mean everyone) would get up and tramp into the back where huge barrels of Sidra(cider) lined the cellar. A man would open the tap on the side of the barrel and people would catch the drink in there glass, lining up one after the other with the goal being not to spill any on the floor. We went from barrel to barrel. I guess there is supposed to be a difference between the taste of each barrel but I never noticed any. The cider began to taste better and better however. The food, some of the best I have had in Spain, was perfect. Our hosts were friendly and boisterous.
It was a great day.
Since then we have gone to many places including Vallodolid,Burgos (with a beautiful cathedral that I didn´t get to see because we arrived so late) and finally Segovia.
In Vallodolid, which was the capitol of Spain before Madrid we met our two guides from the local Spanish language and culture institute Fundación de la Lengua Española Ángel and Ada (some of the nicest people we have met and very professional), who showed us around the country for the next few days.
We went to wineries (including a fascinating wine museum at Dinastia Vivanco winery), artisanal cheese makers, huge ham factories and bakeries. But the most interesting night was one of the last that we spent in a tiny village called Cigales, with a famous local musician, eating dinner in a cave!
The man´s name is Paco Díaz. He and his wife have created a local museum with the most amazing collection of instruments from Spain and all over the world - most of which Paco can play perfectly.
Apparently in this area of the country many families dig large underground caves into the side of hills. It looks alot like something out of Lord of the Rings. I expected Hobbits to come out any minute. Tiny doors line the side of the hills and chimneys poke their heads up in random places.
We entered Paco´s cave, descending down a steep set of stairs into a beautiful white stucco apartment. The cave had a large dining room, two small kitchens with wood burning fireplaces and a bedroom. The only thing it didn´t have was a bathroom, but having to use the "open-air facilities" only added to the ambiance.
Paco (who is not a chef but made some of the most delicious food we have had)made many grilled dishes like chorizo and other sausages and the local red wine was passed around in a special vessel called a porron. You tip your head back and pour the wine through the spout into your mouth. This went over really well. Every one relaxed.
Eventually we sang songs while Paco played and his wife plied us with more food. We sang Beso Me Mucho loudly. Chef Encabo sang for us with his impressive tenor voice.
We had a blast.
Ángel and Ada had also set up a special ritual for us to experience. It´s called a Quemada. Paco and Chef took out a large eathenware bowl, filling it with a thick coffee flavored drink, which they lit on fire. The lights were turned out, while Paco played the local bagpipes, and Chef poured the flaming liquid from up high.
Ángel read from a scroll along with Alex (one of our students)about a night of witches and goblins, etc. Melodramatic but pretty cool.
Hello to Jean Morris.
Leslie
Hey eveybody...We just left Barcelona yesterday and arrived in San Sebastian so I thought I´d write a little about the Catalunyan capitol.
We arrived by bus after along trip from Valencia.
Our hotel was wonderful and right in the middle of all the action...or at least close enough to take the bus with no problems.
The first thing we did was head down to the Gothic Quarter ( the old ancient Roman town and cathedral) and wander around on a bit of an orientation tour.
Chef showed us many tapas places. The streets wandered like a crazy maze, all cobblestone with narrow sidewalks. Ocassionally you´d catch a view of the cathedral looming over the rooftops.
Eventually we split up and I went with the girls in our group to a small restaurant (Italian food). I know, I know but sometimes you just crave something other than ham and marinated sardines.
It was actually great. I had some fantastic Gnochi.
We had a blast, talking and laughing at each other but we were all tired from the long trip and went back to the hotel after.
The next day we started with a walking tour of the old Gothic quarter and the Ramblas(a famous walkway lined with outdoor shops and markets). We were led by a guide named Lola. We wandered through alleyways, stopping to duck into old mansions to see how they lived in the past. Lola showed us all those things I would never have understood. At one point we walked into the courtyard and a set of circular steps led up to a stone palace door. Apparently this was were Columbus came, with his retinue of "Indians" and gold plunder, to an audience with the King and Queen of Spain after discovering the new world.
Just down the lane we saw the history museum. Lola bent down, pointing to a window in the cellar, to show us the unearthed Roman city that the town was built over. You could tour the underground ruins and I promised myself I would.
Eventually we joined the milling crowd on the Ramblas. It is a wide cobblestone pedestrain boulevard, with traffic wizzing by on both sides, divided into several areas such as flowers, pets etc. We saw the Boqueria market, where we would cook later on that night. Chef gave us some free time and we packed into a small cafe and ordered bocadillos(sandwiches) and drinks.
After our tour we took the bus out to Parque Guell. The park started as a housing project back around the turn of the century. Señor Guell was a wealthy patron of the famous achitect Antoní Gaudí. They had made grand plans for a beautiful community, with a central park and plaza, and an open air market. Originally they shot for 60 homes(Gaudí did not want to design the homes, just the public areas) but they only ended up with three. So they abandoned the project. Later it was turned into a public park.
Gaudí´s architecture is based on his love for nature. He never had any straight lines. His buildings, and the furniture and wrought iron that he also designed, have flowing and dramatic lines. It was a little much for the people of his time..but it sure is beautiful now.
After the park we went to see Gaudí´s final work, the incredible Sagrada Familia cathedral. It was something I had looked foward to for a long time. By the time we arrived the church was packed with tourists. Our tour guide had told us that Gaudí had died while construction had only been underway for a short while. He was hit by a tram-apparently he looked so grubby from working that people thought he was a bum- nobody recognized him as the famous architect and he died in a paupers hospital. The completion depended on donated funds (the pope authorized the building but would not fund it) so construction continued only when enough money could be found. Supposedly next year they would be finished with the roof.
We entered the Cathedral through the Nativity facade (the only one Gaudí actually did himself). It is pretty incredible. The interior resembles huge 5 or 6 story high palm trees. When it is finished light will filter through the leaves on the ceiling. There is beautiful stained glass. Describing it seems impossible. It was everything I expected. The only down side was that a huge portion of the inside was covered in scaffolding, and the noise from the construction was bad. Think if I come back in 20 years it will be finished?
Then we took a brief tour up to the top of Mont Juic...Where the olympic stadium is. The views were breathtaking and we wandered around, eating lemon ices and taking pictures.
After Gaudí we had free time. Then we all gathered at La Boquería Market. We met Chef Juan, who runs a small cooking school at the top of the market. He walked us around, showing us all the unusual local ingredients, and talking in excited Spanish.
We stowed our stuff upstairs in the kitchen/theatre and Chef Encabo split us into 3 person teams, giving us each 30 Euros to shop in the market.
We ran around like we were on a quiz show. My meager Spanish skills were put to the test in a very noisy and challenging place. Have to say I did pretty well!
Everyone piled back into the small kitchen and Chef Juan demonstrated a few classic dishes. After that we all got to use the local ingredients to make our own dinner.
What chaos...
It turned out wonderful. We had to wear long pants and closed toed shoes. I ruined my khakis earlier in the day(sat down on a big thing of pidgeon stuff) so I had to wear my nice pants and dress shoes. Man did my feet hurt by the time we started cooking. But once we started I almost forgot my feet. We had a blast.
Our team made a salad with Frisee, honey glazed pears, sliced baguette with melted local sheeps milk cheese and toasted walnuts. Everyones meal turned out fantastic.
It was really late but we all left happy and satisfied. Its always nice to get your hands into things.
PS. While in Barcelona we also went to the Chocolate Museum and visited Oriol Balaguer a well known pastry chef who specializes in unusual flavors(like olive oil, pop rocks and corn nuts) in his truffles and beautiful presentation. Here are some pics.
PPS. I have a confession to make..We had one full day off in Barcelona...I went to Plaza Catalunya and there I saw a Hard Rock Cafe...Boy was that Cheeseburger and iced tea good!
We arrived by bus after along trip from Valencia.
Our hotel was wonderful and right in the middle of all the action...or at least close enough to take the bus with no problems.
The first thing we did was head down to the Gothic Quarter ( the old ancient Roman town and cathedral) and wander around on a bit of an orientation tour.
Chef showed us many tapas places. The streets wandered like a crazy maze, all cobblestone with narrow sidewalks. Ocassionally you´d catch a view of the cathedral looming over the rooftops.
Eventually we split up and I went with the girls in our group to a small restaurant (Italian food). I know, I know but sometimes you just crave something other than ham and marinated sardines.
It was actually great. I had some fantastic Gnochi.
We had a blast, talking and laughing at each other but we were all tired from the long trip and went back to the hotel after.
The next day we started with a walking tour of the old Gothic quarter and the Ramblas(a famous walkway lined with outdoor shops and markets). We were led by a guide named Lola. We wandered through alleyways, stopping to duck into old mansions to see how they lived in the past. Lola showed us all those things I would never have understood. At one point we walked into the courtyard and a set of circular steps led up to a stone palace door. Apparently this was were Columbus came, with his retinue of "Indians" and gold plunder, to an audience with the King and Queen of Spain after discovering the new world.
Just down the lane we saw the history museum. Lola bent down, pointing to a window in the cellar, to show us the unearthed Roman city that the town was built over. You could tour the underground ruins and I promised myself I would.
Eventually we joined the milling crowd on the Ramblas. It is a wide cobblestone pedestrain boulevard, with traffic wizzing by on both sides, divided into several areas such as flowers, pets etc. We saw the Boqueria market, where we would cook later on that night. Chef gave us some free time and we packed into a small cafe and ordered bocadillos(sandwiches) and drinks.
After our tour we took the bus out to Parque Guell. The park started as a housing project back around the turn of the century. Señor Guell was a wealthy patron of the famous achitect Antoní Gaudí. They had made grand plans for a beautiful community, with a central park and plaza, and an open air market. Originally they shot for 60 homes(Gaudí did not want to design the homes, just the public areas) but they only ended up with three. So they abandoned the project. Later it was turned into a public park.
Gaudí´s architecture is based on his love for nature. He never had any straight lines. His buildings, and the furniture and wrought iron that he also designed, have flowing and dramatic lines. It was a little much for the people of his time..but it sure is beautiful now.
After the park we went to see Gaudí´s final work, the incredible Sagrada Familia cathedral. It was something I had looked foward to for a long time. By the time we arrived the church was packed with tourists. Our tour guide had told us that Gaudí had died while construction had only been underway for a short while. He was hit by a tram-apparently he looked so grubby from working that people thought he was a bum- nobody recognized him as the famous architect and he died in a paupers hospital. The completion depended on donated funds (the pope authorized the building but would not fund it) so construction continued only when enough money could be found. Supposedly next year they would be finished with the roof.
We entered the Cathedral through the Nativity facade (the only one Gaudí actually did himself). It is pretty incredible. The interior resembles huge 5 or 6 story high palm trees. When it is finished light will filter through the leaves on the ceiling. There is beautiful stained glass. Describing it seems impossible. It was everything I expected. The only down side was that a huge portion of the inside was covered in scaffolding, and the noise from the construction was bad. Think if I come back in 20 years it will be finished?
Then we took a brief tour up to the top of Mont Juic...Where the olympic stadium is. The views were breathtaking and we wandered around, eating lemon ices and taking pictures.
After Gaudí we had free time. Then we all gathered at La Boquería Market. We met Chef Juan, who runs a small cooking school at the top of the market. He walked us around, showing us all the unusual local ingredients, and talking in excited Spanish.
We stowed our stuff upstairs in the kitchen/theatre and Chef Encabo split us into 3 person teams, giving us each 30 Euros to shop in the market.
We ran around like we were on a quiz show. My meager Spanish skills were put to the test in a very noisy and challenging place. Have to say I did pretty well!
Everyone piled back into the small kitchen and Chef Juan demonstrated a few classic dishes. After that we all got to use the local ingredients to make our own dinner.
What chaos...
It turned out wonderful. We had to wear long pants and closed toed shoes. I ruined my khakis earlier in the day(sat down on a big thing of pidgeon stuff) so I had to wear my nice pants and dress shoes. Man did my feet hurt by the time we started cooking. But once we started I almost forgot my feet. We had a blast.
Our team made a salad with Frisee, honey glazed pears, sliced baguette with melted local sheeps milk cheese and toasted walnuts. Everyones meal turned out fantastic.
It was really late but we all left happy and satisfied. Its always nice to get your hands into things.
PS. While in Barcelona we also went to the Chocolate Museum and visited Oriol Balaguer a well known pastry chef who specializes in unusual flavors(like olive oil, pop rocks and corn nuts) in his truffles and beautiful presentation. Here are some pics.
PPS. I have a confession to make..We had one full day off in Barcelona...I went to Plaza Catalunya and there I saw a Hard Rock Cafe...Boy was that Cheeseburger and iced tea good!
