Finito

Moorish baths, Granada

We left the city of Granada mid afternoon. I had sampled its beauty and now saw it in a new light. We had met a delightful couple from Switzerland and exchanged cards. He was Belgian and bought and sold wine and she was from Singapore originally. We met wonderful people every day on our trip, both locals and those on vacation.

We had to wait until 1:30 to gain entrance to the wondrous Alhambra and it had greatly compressed our day, a day in which we needed to get back to Madrid in order to return our car. We took off on the A-4 highway north, a much more modern and somewhat less scenic route than the one in which we had traveled south days before.

Not a lot to recall about this journey. We were pushing it, grinding to get back at a decent hour. We passed a sign for the town Voldemora, which Leslie called the town that must not be named.

We stopped on the road and met a wonderful man in the middle of nowhere selling fruit at a closed petrol station. Needed a pee, but thanks to the siesta, it was all shut up tight. We explained to him that we had no siesta in America and he was incredulous. "No siesta?" he said, disbelieving. Bought some nice fruit and he gave us tastes of his sweet melons, which were great there as well as everywhere else we went in Spain.

We were hoping not to get lost on the way back like we did on the way down but of course we eventually did, going the wrong way a couple of times in a southern Madrid tunnel. Righted our ship after a few frantic minutes and back on our way.

We finally made our way to the airport and after returning the car (we didn't put that dent on it, it was already there) took the metro a stop or two back to a different hotel in Barajas, The Clement. It was nicer than the Ibis. I was tired but Leslie said hey, last night in Madrid, we are going partying so we rode the trains back to Sol and found our way back to the Mercado de San Miguel.

We walked and ate and drank and just sucked in as much of the city as we could. Madrid is really a fabulous place and I don't see how one could tire there. Definitely one of my favorite big cities in the world.

The next day we walked around Barajas, stopping at a cafe for a cafe con leche and churro.

Leslie went to the market to shop for a few provisions. She also went to a candy store that also purportedly sold the best olives around and learned about the choicest picks from the shop owner. I took a picture. She said that an old woman came in to the store while she was there, to tell the shopkeeper to be careful, someone was taking pictures outside.

My spanish is a little better than hers is but this morning she went it alone and did fine. I walked to the plaza and sat on the quiet bench, digging the tranquil peace. An old man came and sat beside me and we went through the pictures of his family he kept in a tattered billfold, his deceased wife and smiling grandchildren. He was disappointed when we finally left but it was time to boogie.

One thing that I think that I would be remiss not to mention is that I saw a lot of women in hijabs walking around, all over Spain, speaking spanish, perfectly integrated. No hint of radicalism, like a lutheran dowager in the states congregating with a methodist. These people have lived together for a very long time and it seems quite seamlessly and without problems of any kind.

We got on a puddle jumper to Barcelona, a short trip. Barcelona is the capitol of Catalunya and has been since the 12th century. Barcelona is not Spain, it is Catalunya. The language is different, the people are different. There is a large separatist movement ascending, we saw a lot of provincial flags hanging from balconies. The people of the province are sore because they were always an autonomous people and in modern Spain they are producing much and subsidizing much of the rest of the country, much like we do here in California.

Franco forbid the speaking of Catalan and did everything he could to rub out the separate culture. He moved people in from other areas of Spain, much like the chinese have done in Tibet. Barcelona is an urbane, sophisticated metropolis, renowned for its spacey modern and art nouveau architecture.

Leslie managed to get us a five hundred dollar a night Hilton on the Diagonal for a little over a hundred dollars for our two nights there. We found a great restaurant the first night, Dry, an expert cocktail and culinary joint. I had an icy kumquat margarita and she did something with gin, cardoman and ginger and then a pisco sour. We dined on a terrine of fois gras with a sauterne gélee and a pesto burrata plate, the best we had on the whole trip.

An aging drag queen flower seller, a neighborhood fixture, came to our table and sang an aria. Delightful evening. We found a cool antique shop and exchanged cards with the owner. Managed to get lost once again.

The next day we decided to do something we never do, take a double decker bus tour, try to get the bearings of the city. Unfortunately the drivers were on strike and for two two hour periods of the day there was no service so we were never able to get off the bus and explore.

The bus trip was a total drag. Besides the Gaudi stuff, it was mostly uninteresting, the audio was not synched probably, the stops were not primed for photography. We are not good tour people, too headstrong to be roped in to anybody else's agenda.

La Pedrera

I am a classical person by nature and the baroque was much more interesting to me than the newer parts. Prefer the dolphins and gargoyles myself. Many fine buildings were razed for the advent of the new modernism and it is a bit of a shame. There is something vaguely self congratulatory about modernism, and I think that its proponents overestimate its value and import. But maybe that is just me.

Here is a frieze Leslie spotted of bats, of which we saw many in Barcelona.

I looked over at one point and saw my wife dozing off. I was starting to fade as well. The most interesting thing, we both agreed, was the enormous and inflamed nose on the older gentleman sitting on the seat in front of us, a nose so big and imposing it could have its own zip code. I resisted the impulse to snap a picture.

You can probably tell that Barcelona was not really my favorite place to visit. It was interesting but it was a big city, different though than Madrid, people seemed slightly cooler, less friendly and stuck in that protective bubble that city people the world over wrap themselves in.

Catalan is a curiosity but my heart is in the south, in Andalucia. I do not see a need to ever return. It goes without saying that they probably won't miss me either. It is a neat city, I call it Paris without the hostility but still not exactly my bag.

The Sagrada Familia is required viewing and so we did.

Gaudi was a brilliant designer and mathematician. I suppose that he should be looked at not necessarily as a revolutionary but a product of a continuum of expression in a land that has been constructing powerful architectural marvels for the last several thousand years or so.

The basement has original drawings and moquettes for this continual work in progress. I took a ton of pictures and look forward to processing them in the weeks and months to come.

With this I think I will put this blog journal to bed. It has gone on entirely too long and I am sure that many of you are bored to tears. Thanks to you for following our wonderful journey. We caught our flights and made it safely home and all is well. Adios.