Seville

Day 1 Seville was a most of the day sleep in but we roused ourselves for 'going to Seville reason #1' an evening Flamenco show. It didn't disappoint, even if the 'tapas and show' deal took a good gouge at the bank card. Two nights later we went elsewhere for the show only and paid about a quarter, €36. The mix of guitar, dance and singing is thrilling and hard to do any justice to in a description. Both venues were small the second with an audience of just 60, seated on three sides around a wooden platform in a gorgeous old high ceiling room. A guitarist, a male vocalist and a male and female dancer. Each piece might last 20 minute or so and go something like this: the guitarist and male singer might wander out and seat themselves at the four old chairs at back of stage, without too much looking like chair sitting it their thing. The guitar is tuned and a few notes are plucked. The notes become more organised and the singer makes an appreciative sound or two, with the odd finger click. (They can click and clap to great effect.) Then the guitar might sweep into some caressing strums, with the singer calling encouragement then lifting his head and singing in a curious, yearning voice, in some archaic sounding language. The door then swings back stage and in marches a tall slim man. He faces the other two, clicks his fngers then stamps his foot with a sharp crack, then again and again. He lifts his hands and rotates on his feet, now producing a driving stamping rhythm. The singer claps hard and the guitar is in full flight. On stage marches the female dancer in full length bright dress with billowing ruffles on the lower rim. With calls of encouragement she turns, twists and arches her body, rotates and winds her wrists and clicking hands, building to a crescendo of foot stamping that ultimately explodes into a flambouyant conclusion. A brief moment held then away again, sometimes into a repeat of the wall of sound as guitar, feet and hand claps drive out the rhythm, sometimes into something subdued, delicate and sweet, or mournful. The music and dance ebb and flow until spent, with one some or all members exiting the stage back door. A minute or two silence then one or more of them reappear, as if having reconsidered the decision to depart. A bit of sitting about as a new musical conversation starts, but different in its tone and overall feel, coming together in due course and in its own way. The items are apparently traditional pieces, thematic in nature but expressed so personally and intimately. The impact of the music and dancing, in full cry, is quite unbelievable. Being this close one is sitting within the circle of a gypsy troup cavorting under the night sky, or so it seems. By day, from the hotel, Seville looks a bit nothing, low rise orange tiled houses baking in the sn. But that is misleading the town centre is as packed and old as anywhere, including many items from its historical past including the largest gothic building in Spain and the Alcazar palace, a seat of Royal power from the 12th century through to today, reflecting Spain's turbulent history in its own history of construction and reconstruction. The Arabic and Christian occupations have left an ornate, impossibly ornate complex of buildings housing many fabulous treasures. Away from the palace life at everyday street level is also something, with its tightly packed streets, plazas and alleys in an incomprehensible jumble we thought. Anyway it's hot hot hot, 43 degrees one day for example and we wore ourselves out trolling the streets, while beating a regular retreat to any of the zillions of bars and walkway cafes selling tapas and cold drinks. The people watching was tops, an unceasing procession of all types. But we couldn't hack a whole day out so our time mostly involved a morning then an evening cab ride into the city centre, with a bed crash in between. For one of our 5 days there we went to Jerez, via private driver. Getting to like these guys, this time a gleaming black S class Merc. They do black sedans over here and it has merit. Road cars rule, many in hatchback style but not a 4WD in sight. That must be what good motorways do to your car fleet? Anyway Jerez is south towards the coast, and gave its name to the English corruption of the Arabic pronunciation of the town : Sherry! We visited a sherry bodega and saw two wished for things. Firstly a 'solera', being a lineup of barrels where the wine for bottling is extracted from the last barrel but not all is taken, with that barrel then topped up by the previous older barrel and so on, to the final and oldest barrel which is topped up by the current vintage. This means the bottled wine has a contribution from every earlier vintage in the solera - we saw soleras dating back the early 1920's. My next desire as to see the 'flor', a cap of mould that overs the surface of a fino sherry as it ages in barrel. The flor ferments the wine to almost zero sugar, while excluding oxygen from reaching it, producing that remarkable delicate style of 'flor fino'. These wines age in barrels in cool gloomy stone built cellars, heady with the musty smell of the wine, barrels and cellar mold. Cherished desire #3 was to drink a chilled glass of Manzanilla (a salty, breezy flor fino produced near the coast) somewhere appropriate in Jerez and alongside some fresh grilled sardines, olives and goat cheese. Mission accomplished. Mission report: unforgettable, to be repeated, at home. Even Shanti, long disinterested in fino, is now a fan. Horses also feature in this region. There are equestrian schools, horse statues and posters, events, and also horses in the streets often pulling buggies for tourists to view the city from. It made me wonder how the equine culture relates to flamenco with the stamping, haughty arched back and lifted head postures of the dancers. Both are magnificent and brimming with attitude.

To Portugal

The Portugal leg of our trip has just finished. It started in effect with a train trip from San Sebastion to Leon, still within Spain, from where we would collect our car for the drive into Portugal.  The train was a regional one so slower, with a 5 1/2 hour trip through wooded hills and then inland plains, with periodic towns some industrial, others the picturesque tightly packed tile roofed towns we are seeing elsewhere in the country.  Individual homes don't dot the landscape it's either rural or town, period. The train carriage was a different experience to 'turista class' out of Barcelona. Most notably it absolutely stank of garlic. The smell came in waves as nearby digestive systems settled whatever the hell they had consumed for breakfast, then someone opened their packed lunch and mon dieu the eyes almost started watering.  Anyway onwards and upwards so on arrival at Leon late afternoon we walked out into their most awesome old town centre and joined the many having a bite and a glass, at street side. 

The evening proved entertaining as football team Real Madrid had won a significant game and the town came out to celebrate mostly I think in the plaza beside our hotel. Singing, drums, chanting, fireworks, motorbikes revving engines to complement the drumming, and the occasional police siren whoop presumably if someone was going overboard. It subsided in the wee hours but we were not left without entertainment for long as in the morning there was a religious procession, fortuously in our plaza!  It was at least a civilised hour so we headed out into it to enjoy the noise and crowds. A platform presumably with the Virgin Mary  and carried by many black suit and tie wearing men, was preceded by a small band, then followed with members of the church in regalia and an extensive brass band. The different sections of the band seemed to have a mind of their own but their music came together in due course and gave a rousing sound for the townspeople to follow after. 

The town was very crowded Sunday morning with people well dressed, kiddies likewise. The town is renowned for its 13th century Cathedral, which we visited and then walked around in the afternoon. Again crowded, but which only enhanced the place seeing the level of interest it generated.  I'm not surprised; the cathedral was one of the best we have seen, just mind boggling in its scale, lavish detail and remarkable history spanning eight centuries or so.  Immediately around the base of the cathedral the streets and plazas were some of the oldest looking and most fascinating areas, with their centuries old paved streets and walls. While in the cathedral some thunder came over and boomed around the interior, to underline its magnificence!
From Leon we drove into Portugal, to a town called Vila Real,our longest drive. The motorways are so good they just eat the miles up even though drivers routinely speed on them, big time, which only increased once we passed into Portugal. No border post, you just drove through it as if nothing was there. Hello Portugal. The Spanish side was mostly grain growing plains, then a hilly border area and hilly and rocky it has stayed since, but with plenty of vegetation so it's not too dry. So Portugal is rocky, seemingly a more rural, rougher and poorer version of Spain; but less urbane and polished also, so interesting. The Vila Real hotel made the stopover worthwhile. The hotel sits on the edge of a river gorge, effectively hanging over it so we could look down about 100m from our balcony. To our great delight there was a swallow sunbathing on our balcony, which shuffled to its feet and departed, to join the many others floating and twisting around the hotel front. Probably the best viewing we have ever had and two species to boot. I must say they are one of our favourites, so wild and free and masters of the air. Ones heart catches a brief ride each time one rockets close by. With one of the best balconies we have had to watch from we spent a lazy rest of the day, then headed off into the countryside in the car, the following day. We found the Douro River which we would be visiting again in a couple of days. It is steep rocky valley system and we marvelled at the terraced vineyards clinging to the hillsides, often with stone walls holding up each line of vines. We wanted to drive into one of the occasional small villages we encountered, as we drove the narrow often walled hillside roads. 'There will be vehicle access and an open plaza in the middle' we presumed, so we drove in via the tiny one vehicle street we came upon. However as it tightened further I stopped and got out, wondering what was just ahead. What was ahead was that the rough cobbled road with equally rough two story stone houses leaning over it dropped very steeply and without warning tightening to less than vehicle width. A trap! Back at the car a dog had appeared at a window grate right beside the vehicle and was going apoplectic, plus a woman had emerged from a house to stand beside the car and stare at it and us. Not unfriendly but not much help either. So we thought 'this isn't going to work out'and with difficulty inched the car backwards until a multi point turn was just possible, and head back out the same way hoping there was no other traffic about. Visit a local village on a steep Douro hillside: Tick. The GPS got us home where we selected the more predictable activity of G&T drinking and swallow watching, on the balcony! The next day we drove into Porto itself, the coastal city where the mouth of the Douro river is its ancient port. Earlier occupation of the city by the Moors has left its stamp on the old city, with ceramic tiles forming panels on many walls including external. Picture a very old church, but with ceramic tile fascades, usually patterned and often in blue. We spend many hours trolling the old city centering around the river, it's prominent iron bridge, the now retired port wine barges moored to the side and the Port wine company premises (Taylor's, Croft, Graham's etc) prominantly signed. The stacked into stories, stone walled, ceramic tiled and orange tiled buildings at waterside and up the steep banks either side are a picturesque backdrop to the river, as a centuries old inland trade route. A highlight was having dinner in a steep side street cafe, where small cement terraces had been added beside the doorway to hold several small tables and chairs. But don't push your chair back, the edge is right beside you. I ate grilled sardines; whole, ungutted, quite large sardines grilled over coals then drizzled with olive oil, a bit of garlic and some small boiled potatoes. A glass of 'green' wine being a fresh dry white wine with a slight fizz, and all was well. Shanti the complete coward had something more recognisable. Our final Porto day was a solid one that involved a small group tour into the Douro valley, then two flights getting us into Seville around 1.30 am, where I was so weary hot and thirsty it seemed a good idea to shower then sit in bed and drink both cans of very cold lager from the mini bar. Consequently its now the following afternoon and Shanti is still asleep. But back to the steep sided valleys of the Douro river and its tributaries, which are bounded by mountains and therefore have an isolated climate, along with their slate, shale and granite substrates. Extensive vineyards cover many slopes, usually small holdings owned by families residing in the villages dotted around. They typically sell their grape harvest to wine makers including those who manufacture Port wine. This area has a very distinctive wine culture with about 100 local grape varieties and very old, distinctive vinification practises including the previous transportation of wine barrels down the Douro to Porto, in the absence of earlier roadways. Now there are trains and a couple of trucking routes. The companies where the Port is finished and shipped abroad therefore receive their partly finished product, in Porto, which explains their large premises there. We loved the area and its wine culture but were particularly struck by the sheer magnitude of the labour involved in growing the grapes. Terraces are cut by hand into (often) the rock, stone is crushed to provide a substrate for the wines to grow in, and stone walls hold each row up particularly on the steeper slopes. The villagers are largely grape growers or local service providers; hardly any person is not involved in some way with the industry. One factor that underlined this unique location is that the underlying rock strata has a bedding plane that is tilted vertically, meaning that the slates and shales (which split in a single plane) enable the grapes to vertically penetrate the rock itself rather than the rock obstructing their root growth. We had a bit of a lunch treat at a riverside Michelin starred restaurant, as part of the visit. Timber balcony at water level, warm breezes fluttering the white canvas umbrellas, formal service and a flow of superb dishes and local wines - table wines are made here not just Port wines. Then another vineyard visit on a very steep hillside and finally a boat cruise in an old wooden longboat in the manner of the craft that used to trade up and down the river. A memorable day then a bit of reality in the form of the two flights etc that now have us in Seville. Sxx

Leyre to San Sebastian

Today we visited two monasteries in the mountains. The first was high above a tiny stone buildings village, via a winding road that climbed to the abandoned monastery which was built into a natural recess in a rock wall. Quite sizeably, two levels and a wonderful labyrinths of rooms  and courtyards, including recessed chapels cut into the rock and its own natural spring. Everything built in stone, so cool and silent. A deep sense of quietness, as if the centuries of the monks occupation had sunk into its very bones. Former abbots were buried there under stone slabs. One where I could read a date was 1650 or thereabouts.  We then drove higher to the top of the ridge where the monastery was relocated and is in use today. Views of the snow clad Pyrannees.

It's spring here and the drive up was through superb mixed forest and many wild flowers. We stopped often and Shanti was in her element!  In fact the whole region is changing as we are closer to the mountains with plenty of rainfall, green fields and clean streams and rivers.

Then we drove to our accommodation in the hills near a tiny town called Yesa. It's a working monastery, Monasterio de Leyre, with one section converted to accommodation and the rest of it a fenced off monastery including yet another fabulous old church, this one more a cathedral on account of its size.  Surrounded by forest and with nearby rock walls soaring above it.  Visitors are permitted to enter the church several times a day when the monks chant their prayers. About 15 monks entered the church and we listened to about 35 minutes of gregorian chanting. This order is know for its daily rituals being based around singing, in Latin, with a small amount of spoken words.  Between these communal times in the church the monks retreat into their silent cloistered world. 

I recorded a brief clip of their singing.  With the reverberating acoustics of the high vaulted ceiling and the monks single voice then all voices singing, we were saturated in their music. Mesmerising.

Hello,

Since last writing we have completed two bunny hops, both by car; to La Rioja and then San Sebastion on the northern coast.

La Rioja is the uppermost part of a valley system that heads to the mediteranean, becoming very broad and flat by then. That was the arid plain we travelled out of Barcelona on.  But in La Rioja the valley is just starting out, with mountains on both sides and the valley floor also crinkled with hills. There is evidence of some rainfall and it is green, but not lush. Vineyards start abruptly and are packed in, mile after mile of them, usually small plots forming a mosaic pattern as far as you can see. Typically small land owners squeeze their vineyards into any space available, avoiding only the rock outcrops, stream beds and other non usable ground.  The vines are usually well separated bushes not much bigger than a rose bush but with old gnarly bases. (Unirrigated hence that approach.)  Other crops are around too; Olives as always often in the corners of a property, Walnuts, Hazelnuts, Almonds, Cherries  and Figs. The towns are generally small and houses packed into a clump, often on a hilltop in which case they are usually fortified with a wall and with a central cathedral. Many are beautifully preserved medieval towns - we stayed in one- La Guardia. Massive wooden entrance gate, orange roof tiled double story houses with narrow streets, some vehicular many not, and small plazas. 

On arrival we headed into the town centre.  Sunday afternoon and packed with people, eating and drinking at the bars and restaurants which were prolific. Football supporters from a club were there in club colors, marching noisily between bars, behind two trumpeters and a drum making a fearsome racket like you might expect at a bullfight.  A cello and double base were playing in another plaza.  The odd couple stood and did a few ballroom style twirls.  We eventually found a seat, not easy, and had some nibbles and a drink. Very nice.

The next day we drove to Haro home of many Rioja  wine producers.  Like Champagne they typicall source grapes from many growers and plots, them assemble the wines in their central facility, fronted, in the case of the big names, by beautiful retail outlets. We visited three names we know so well and had the thrill of sipping a favourite (La Rioja Alta) on a balcony overlooking their bird filled gardens.  We also visited the exceptional, extravagant hotel built on the Bodegas Marques de Riscal, drinking their wine again on an outside balcony but this time 5 star service and nibbles. The building is covered in curved sheets of titanium and is simply unbelievable. I put a photo on Flickr.

Day 3 Rioja we drove into the surrounding hills visiting several villages, and botanised at roadside, to good effect. The hills are forested with oak and other broad leaved  species, with many wildflowers in any clearings or wherever the forest did not extend. We recognised many of the plants as they are part of the alpine gardening world (Shanti in particular) is familiar with. How awesome to see them in their natural habitat and at such a good time of the year.

The next stage of travel bought us to San Sebastián, possibly the most perfect city in the world - it's beach is often regarded as the best city beach in Europe and the rest is just as good.  A circular bay with a golden sandy beach, an old township fronting that beach and the hills behind, great shopping and of course the centre of Basque culture including their Pintxos bars, which are everywhere.  Natural beauty, a wonderful swimming beach, warm but not hot climate, an outdoor culture with loads of people enjoying themselves downtown and every amenity you could want.  Not to mention at least a couple of cigar shops selling Havana cigars for well less than we can get them.   By early afternoon the Pintxos bars are doing a roaring trade with their offerings lined up on their bars, customers crowding the doorways and outdoor seats invariably with a glass of wine and talking flat out.  Extravagant double kiss greeting of anyone they meet and know, except men greeting men which involves backslapping and maybe a bit of a hug. 

Bilbao is only an hour away and we treated ourselves to a bit of luxury in the form of a private car trip there and back and our own guide to the Guggenheim Museum and later on a walk through the old town.  The car pleased me mightily being a big black Merc and we felt very regal being driven even if we did look like road kill in our grotty travellers clothes, jandals and sun hats. Hopefully the driver, in a black suit and tie, thought we were eccentric millionaires, although less likely so after our modest tip at the end.   He drove, home in particular, like a bat out of hell, but you would hardly notice it in the car and on the good highways.  Of the Guggenheim it's hard to know what to say about it.  The place is exceptional from first sight to last and everything in between.  A drenching in genius architecture and mind blowing art displays. 

We are currently wrapping it up in San Sebastián, having spent the day downtown walking the beach and paddling the water, a bit of shopping for SD and a Pintxos stop.  Walked there and back so an hours exercise, not total slobs.  Tonight we have booked at an underground restaurant, as many are, for a final sample of Basque cuisine.  Putting on weight - '5 months gone' is how Shanti describes herself. 'Titty piggie' would be my self descriptor!

Hope you are all well at home. Spain might seem exotic but funnily enough much as we enjoy the experience it only serves to remind us of you all and of our home! 

Lots of love

S&S xx

Spain; Barcelona to Zaragoza

Hello from Barcelona. After a wonderful 4 days in London we taxied, trained then flew to Barcelona. What a different world. We are in a very central area, the streets pumping with people, stalls, markets, shops and tapas bars galore. Very noisy and colourful. The markets in particular are a revelation with the incredible diversity of foods, arranged in spectacular displays and with throngs of people pushing past. We cruised the place for several hours sampling some of the food and drink then finished with a further bite is a great little restaurant. Now in bed (7.30 pm) having had enough for a day that had a 6 pm start and plenty of scrambling between venues. One very cool moment was we had arranged to be picked up at B airport for a private transfer to the hotel. A v well dressed gentlemen met us at the airport gate and took us out to his large, brightly polished black Mercedes for a a very luxurious trip into the city. Hotel quite nice but down a very narrow alley that leaves the Main Street. Some fairly noisy customers in the alleys around here already teeing off for the night, so probably another night wearing earplugs, after the very noisy place we had in London. Traffic, partying, yahooing, etc most of the night. But also the wonderful sound of St Pauls cathedral bells chiming on the hour. 
L Hello again, we are on the move and currently in the mountain village of Jaca ('Haaka'), in the Pyranees mountains, very close to the French border. Snails are even appearing in the menu!.

We left Barcelona on a 300 km/hr fast train to the city of Zaragoza, then drove ourselves today (yikes!) to Jaca.  Getting hot, now in the thirties.  

What to say about Barcelona? It's a powerhouse of people and places, an assault on the mind and senses. Have a look at the Gaudi cathedral called 'La Segrada Familia.' It is monumental in scale and as tall as any cathedral, but insanely designed and crammed with exceptional features and minute detail. Truly a dream made real and the product of obsessed brilliance. What an experience walking around it with thousands of others all shaking their heads and marvelling at it. We also walked elsewhere through Roman ruins on which now sits a building where Royals greeted Columbus after his first trip to the new world. A section of the Roman town has been excavated below ground level for you to descend to and walk through, under lights. Otherwise Barcelona is crammed buildings, milling crowds, plazas and tapas bar in every direction.

Zaragoza also has a fabulous cathedral with large plazas around it, plus an excavated Roman amphitheatre that you can walk or drive around.  We stayed on the edge of the plaza looking at the cathedral and the throngs visiting it.  Yet another incredible lunch, with plenty of cold while wine, and then our first siesta, if crashing after far too much lunch is a 'siesta'. That's probably exactly what it is!  The cathedral district is populated with swifts, quite a large version with long narrow scythe shaped wings and a fast wheeling flight that seems to slice the air.  Fittingly their call is a thin, high pitched, almost demonic little shriek as they tear around at rooftop level. We often heard their sharp calls and looked up for the briefest glimpse of a band of them passing high above. Such a wild little creature living a life apart in their rooftop landscape.  Now in Jaca they are gone, probably without the monumental buildings to live around, replaced by lower buildings and the smaller, seemingly more domesticated swallow. 

How good to see the mountains today after the dry flat and dusty lowlands. Not mountains like we are familiar with but more dry, weathered and angular.  The look of the vegetation continues to be very arid and the soil poor, as it has seemed everywhere.  Scrubby pine plantations, bare earth and rocky ground. Patches of vines and olives also some occasional paddocks of grain, but nothing very verdant. No wonder bread, olive oil and wine seems to feature everywhere!  Plenty of derelict stone buildings litter the landscape if you feel like buying a bit of a do up?

We are both well and into the swing of it. Doing enough but not too much is an issue. It's hard resting when you are surrounded eg in Jaca by the most fascinating old town, but it's also draining and the engine starts to run out of gas. Conclusions on Spain so far: there is not enough time to do more than scratch the surface and you can only eat and drink so much in one day!

Love from us both,

S&S