Travels with The Rayman

After bidding fond adieus to our lovely friends, we jumped in the car, stepped on the peddle and zoomed off down the road toward the Pyrenees mountains.  Our destination was a parador located on a very long dead end road (about 10-12 miles).  While the parador was lovely and our dinner delicious, the drive was spectacular.

There were several ways to get to the parador.  We opted out for the route that took us to the south of France.  And so it was that we were driving along and mentioned that I needed to relieve myself.  We saw a sign that indicated services.  So we took that exit.  And we encountered an unmanned toll gate.  It wanted money.  Euros.  We didn’t have enough euros.  But there was a place to put your credit card.  So, Rayman inserted the credit card.  The machine did not like the card no matter how many and what direction we inserted it.  Oddly, there were no people queuing up behind us.  So, out of desperation, we pressed the big red bulbous button and someone came on in french.  The Rayman was impressive with his french.  He mentioned that he spoke very little french.  The lady switched to english.  After giving her all our credit card info, she said it was not accepted and she just buzzed us though.  Yahoo.  That is when we discovered that we were nowhere.  We turned left, went under the freeway and there was no on ramp.  We turned around and headed back and discovered there was no on ramp there either.  So we headed toward to river.  There was a beautiful river which the road followed but we didn’t see any services.  So, we headed up the hill back toward the direction we had come from sort of and came across a french village with a boulangerie.  OMG.  The croissants.  Best thing we had eaten since we arrived.  In France!!

We got lost in the village of about 300 people, and headed back down the hill to the river.  And with trial and error, we finally found an on-ramp miles and miles down the road.  We clamored onto the toll road and continued on our way…until Rayman asked me to look at the GPS on the phone which I did and that is when we discovered we had missed our turn toward Spain.  So, off the toll road we went and paid $14 euro for the privilege of getting lost and this is when we discovered there was no way to get back on at the same off ramp.  Again.  History repeats itself.   “Luckily” the bill was so high, we could insert paper money and get change.  Unlike the previous encounter with an unmanned machine.

Interesting comments were uttered like, “Where the hell are we?”
“Look, the river is pretty.  If we have to be lost, this is a pretty place to be lost.”
“God, damn it, we’re losing time here.”
“We never would have seen this if we hadn’t messed up.”
“Take this road, I think this will lead to the freeway.”
“ Oh, great, we’re passing over the freeway and we can’t get on.”
“I’m sick of being lost.  What’s wrong with us?”
“Get a grip.”

And on and on.

We finally made our way back to the Espagne” sign and turned toward the mountains.  And then the trip took on a whole new feel.  The mountains were spectacular.  We made very bad time because I was at the wheel and I kept stopping for photos which didn’t even come close to capturing the magnitude of the vistas.  Oh, and we were in search of a money machine so that we could get more euros.   And I had packed two absolutely horrible sandwiches for lunch that we tried to eat.  Too darn dry.

The french side of the mountains are sheer with switchbacks.  7% grades were common.  And then there was a tunnel at the summit which was miles long.  And it dropped us about 1200 feet in elevation so that when we emerged on the spanish side, it was more sloping and completely green.  Almost looked like a rain forest.  And not far from there is where we turned right and headed up a canyon to spend the night at the lonely parador.

We ordered “a leg of lamb” to split for dinner.  The leg of lamb was from a baby lamb.  I have never seen such a small leg.  It was superb.  But small.  And we shared a mint flan than was about 2 inches square with raspberries and chocolate shavings.  Wonderful.  Oh, and we shared a duck salad.  We were hungry and it hit the spot.

Then we walked the stairs to our room and settled in for the night.

Well, it’s been a ride.  And today the last full day in Basque country.  It went so fast.  As usual.  I’m being boring.  Vacations are always like that especially when you’re having a great time.

So, after a leisurely breakfast, Rayman and I decided to take a walk.  On our walk we visited a lizard of unnatural beauty.

We visited mom horse and her colt.

Stopped in to visit some sheep.  See FB.  It’s a video and you know my success rate sucks.

We talked to some true free range chickens.   That’s a video.  Drats.

My, oh, my.  What a great place for walking.  No wonder all those families were out for a stroll on this walking path (for those on the central coast, it’s like Bob Jones Trail only longer).  The kids like me love this kind of thing!!

When we returned it was lunch time and by that I mean 1:30.  We grabbed the clothes off the line as rain was coming.

Okay, I need to interrupt myself at this point.  Two observations.  One is that I pity the poor motorist that encounters mechanical problems or a flat tire because while the infrastructure is great, it does lack one thing.  Shoulders.  The roads don’t have shoulders.  There is no place to pull over.  Anywhere.  Okay.  Almost nowhere.  Don’t know how they cope with that.  And because there are no shoulders, it is also very difficult to turn around if one needed to turn around.  It is for all practical purposes impossible.  So, Spain is without shoulders.  Who knew?  However, they do have a plethora of roundabouts.  So, if you miss a turn or need to make a turn, you can always hold out for a roundabout.  You may go miles out of your way.  But there will be a roundabout right around the bend.

The other observations is that the weather changes on a dime.  We hung out our clothes and took them back in within about an hour because rain was coming.  And the wind.  It too starts and stops on a dime.  One time is was calm when we left for an outing.  We came back.  Plastic lawn chairs were littering the lawn.  The patio umbrella was prone.  A potted plant had blown over.  And the cows were gone!!

We went to lunch as I mentioned earlier.  We arrived and stood in the entrance of the restaurant.  People kept running up and down the stairs.  I thought the bano must be upstairs.  Wrong.  The main dining room was there.  Why people ran up and down remains a mystery.  Anyway, we had not called for reservations so the lady told us to come back at 2:30 which we did.  And had lunch.  Here’s a shot of those stairs.  And Janis.

But I digress in a new and interesting way.

Rayman was banging on all cylinders today.  When Terry got up this morning, Rayman asked him how he was.  “Absolutely wonderful.”, Terry responded.  Rayman, without missing a beat retorted, “Well, we’ll take care of that.”  Then, when we were having coffee while waiting for our table at the restaurant, Terry was “reading” a Basque newspaper.  Soon we were all joining in trying to translate or figure out what the stories were about.  There was a picture of this guy who had jumped in the air holding a ball.  The question before the group was, what sport was this guy playing?”  Allan had his phone with a translation app.  You hover over the words and it translates for you and that how it was figured out that the guy in the air was playing handball.  At this point, Terry asked, “What in the world is handball?”  Rayman immediately replied, “You don’t want to know.”  Snickers around.  Then Allan googled something and found out this.  “The Spanish national handball team is the national handball team of Spain”.  Shocking news.  We had a great time.  Here’s Mr. Funnybones himself.  Looks like the Barcelona police station but it in fact was the restaurant “foyer”.

Now I am not exaggerating when I say that Janis has saved our bacon all week and Allan has not been far behind.  These two linguists did most of the talking, if you get my drift.  Lord knows how many mistakes would have been made if they had not been there helping us out.  (An aside.  Basque is completely different than spanish.  I will show you what I mean in a minute.)  And I am also not exaggerating when I say that Janis and Allan spent a lot of time while we were waiting for our table tackling the Basque menu.  Papers were dug up.  Pens were found.  Translation software was used.  Notes were taken.  No stone went unturned in the quest to decipher the code presented on the menu.  But when it came time to order, I couldn’t figure out which set of words were veal, fish, or fowl.  So I did the only thing I could do.  I sucked my lips together in the center and did my fish impersonation.  The funny thing is, the waitress knew what I meant!!  And then Rayman went into a small panic when wine was ordered and he didn’t hear riojas.  He heart tinga which is basque for riojas.  He seemed upset.  And I learned that if you ask for pimonton (spelling suspect), you could get pepper.  The spanish do not put pepper on the table.  The food is almost bland because of lack of pepper and spice.  And thank you Allan for looking that up!!  Here’s the name of the restaurant.  Spanish on top.  Basque underneath.

Other things happened.  A big party (25 peolple?) presented itself midway through our lunch.  And I volunteered to take a picture.  I was applauded after I counted down, “Uno, dos, tres.”  Snap.  Rayman muttered something about taking away the microphone.  I have no earthly idea what that was about.  This is the table before they arrived.  And that’s my fish dish.

I also don’t think I am overstating anything when I tell you that they could have rolled me out of the place.  A huge tuna salad, a big piece of perfectly cooked hake on potatoes, bread, cake, vino.  All for about $12 euros/person.  Didn’t eat another thing.  I hope I am not betraying anyone’s trust when I mention that a late snack was enjoyed by the others.  We had a lot of leftover chicken.  And ham.   Although I did make an exception for the cause of politeness to polish off the port.

And this is a mask and geranium by the garage of our villa.  Seems entirely suitable to end this portion of this trip with it.

Artwork at the train station.

After flitting all over Barcelona, it was time to hit the trail.  We had booked the high speed train from Barcelona to Madrid, the capital of Espana.  Having taken the high speed TGV t rains in France, we could not resist the thrill of the ride again.

Really, people.  What is all the fuss about in CA re: the high speed train.  It is the only way to go.  Our trip averaged about 300km and that is fast.  No time at all to get from say, LA to SF if we had this service.  And all other modern countries have them.  And Europe is comprised of different countries and yet they still figure out a way politically to provide this service to their citizens.  The farmers in the dell (read San Joaquin valley) are doing everything they can to stop this form of modernity.  Heck they have horses to ride.  Who needs high speed rail?

But I digress.

So, no sooner had we embarked on our train trip then my eyes closed and I slept through most of the trip.  Tried as I might, I could not stay awake.  It was disappointing.  But in my defense, Ali and Bernat kept us going at a wild pace (probably just regular pace by their standards).  And we were up late, late, late at night.  And the apartment we rented was located on a narrow street populated by brick buildings about 5 stories high with cobblestone streets.  On the first floor, there were commercial establishments including bars and restaurants.  So, all night long…noisy revelers reveled.  And we took to tossing and turning in our bed.  So, that train just lulled me to sleep like a baby.  It was a good, delicious sleep.  But by all accounts from the Rayman, I missed some beautiful countryside.  When you leave the city, the landscape emerges and it has a similar look to CA.  Except the trees are different.  Not so many oaks.  Or conifers.  Lots of rolling hills.  Mountains are to the north and we did glimpse snow in the distance.

The trip took a couple of hours.  I think.

I guess I’m getting old because I find much more enjoyment in the countryside.  The cities are teeming.  But it is harder to connect with people.  Thank goodness for Ali and Bernat.  I told them they should start a tourism company.  They gave us an excellent tour.  Fun.  Interesting.  Delicious.  We never would have seen or done half the things we did were it not for them.  In fact, we would never have found that apartment.  We’d still be looking for it.  And the most wonderful of all is that Bernat grew up in Barcelona and Ali is a history teacher, so we got a lot of information that is not in a guide book.  Bueno.  Muy bueno.

Really, if it hadn’t have been for that good looking son of a bitch that ripped us off, it would have been perfect.

Some casual observations about Spain.

The food is not as good as I thought  it would be.  Lots of ham, salamis, egg, bread, anchovies, potato dishes.  And the hours of meals complicates everything.  If you are not willing to eat late, you must settle on tapas and they get old (at least to all those in our group).  I am more adventurous and could continue trying them, but the others including the Rayman are burnt out.  And they are all about the ham.  Here we stand in front of a ham shop.  Two hams hamming it up.  We fit right in!!

The Spanish lifestyle in in direct conflict with the American lifestyle as it concerns food and shopping.  Most establishments, restaurants, shops etc., tend to close from 12:30 to 6:00 p.m. more or less…everywhere.  Well, guess what we do?  Try to go places only to find them all closed.  This introduces a level of frustration to the tourist not steeped in the culture of Spain.  And for us as a group that is certainly true.  We took a tour today with a delightful young woman and her main squeeze and even churches were locked up.  You get the point.  Here is the Rayman at San Sebastian.

What I love about this country is the people in general and the landscape in particular.  The vistas are compelling.  The infrastructure is impressive.  Tunnels, bridges, old stone walls.  Fabulous.  The other thing I notice is all the old stone houses with modern insides.  The latest euro style in the baths and the kitchens.  There are lots and lots of apartments.  Most buildings are at least 4 stories high and many higher.  And that is true is small villages as well as cities.   Check out the stainless steel handrail.  It went on for at least a mile.  The barricades allow people to walk safely.  And catch that sky.  Near San Sebastian.

It stays light here very late.  It is 10:00 p.m. right now and there is ambient light in the sky.  Northern Spain is, well, quite northern.  What a hoot.

We were in San Sebastian today and it was quite quiet in the old section of town given the time of day.  By the time we got back to a small seashore town (7:00 p.m.), people were everywhere.  Young families, old people.  The whole town comes out and visits with each other.  And they walk.  Lots of bicyclists with steel balls.  Roads are narrow and they brave them anyway.  And the bicyclists follow the rules of the road.  They wait with the cars at red lights.  They tend to ride one after another rather than side by side.

We love the countryside.  As a result, we are spending Sat. and Sunday at a parador in the Pyrennes on the way back to Barcelona.   At the end of along road.  Facing a river.  Nothing else around.  I can’t wait.  Not because I want to leave here.  But I am so curious about the location.  It sounds magical.

Rayman is reading at the moment.  We are relaxing after a full day of walking.  We went wine tasting and the winemaker opened his winery to us and our guide and her main squeeze.  They served us bread, anchovies with EVOO and garlic, and a plate of tuna.  They set up a classroom situation for their winery.  You sit and sip.  Very different from us, of course.  And the whole family is engaged in the work.  They happened to be bottling today and the grandfather was putting the bottles on the machine, the machine did the work of corking, wrapping and labeling and the brother moved the bottles into the cases and cases from the machine to the middle of the room.  Mom was there too.  Not really sure what her duties were.  They were a 4th generation family.  Very sweet.    Oh, and the wine maker had great underpants.  See.  Not a great picture.  It is when he raised his arms you could view his purple and lime green boxers (just guessing on that point).  They also matched his sweater.

Then our guides drove us to San Sebastian for a walking tour.  And boy did we walk.  And walk.  And walk.  Stopped for pinxtos?? which is what the Basque call tapas.  Washed it down with sangria.  Then walked some more.  Saw beaches, churches and a lot of closed businesses.  Saw famous people in bronze.  Learned a great deal about the history of the place.  I’m a tired pooch.    We left the house at 8:30 and returned about 7:30.  Wowie, zowie.  Here is a typical street in the old part of San Sebastian.

 

The funniest thing that happened is that the main squeeze,with whom I was riding, got lost on the way back.  Yippee.  Vindicated!!  They get lost too.  That may have made my day.  Heck.  It may have made my week.  Heck it may have made the whole vacation and others like it.  Again, misery loves company.  Can’t say it enough, apparently.

The Guggenheim Museo in Bilbou, Spain has nothing but curves.  A very curvaceous structure that is hard to comprehend in it’s magnificence.  The camera does not capture it.  It as so worth the visit.  What a day.

Curves actually figured prominently in our excursion today.  Each couple ventured out from our villa to “do their own thing.”  Our thing was the Guggenheim.  Then we figured  we would continue on to San Sebastian.  Well.  Nothing ever goes according to plan which begs the question of why we bother to plan?  But we do.

Well, Glenda the GPS was not part of the planning.  She had other ideas.  So, she directed us to exit 117.  Only exit 117 was closed.  As in non-existent any more.  So, when we passed 117 she started “recalculating”.   So annoying that we turned her off.  Then we figured out that the museo was on the river and the river was downhill from the freeway so we got of the freeway and plowed downhill curving all the way.  When it appeared we were lost, we decided to “pooh it”.  This concept comes the book The Tao of Pooh.  Great book.  Read it if you haven’t.  It’s about applying the concept of Tao to Winnie the Pooh.  Winnie and her friends couldn’t find the lake, so they decided to stop looking for it.  As soon as they did that, they found the lake.  And so it was for us.  We found the Guggenheim.

Really, people, if you haven’t been to the Guggenheim in Spain, plan a trip.  You will be blown away.  What genius on display.  Inside and out.  Up and down.  Backwards and forwards.  Everything is curved.  Nothing is straight.  Things echo.  Things emit light.  Things change all the time.  There’s even an echo chamber…and it’s not the kind we have at home with our Faux News friends.  Curved steel walls that looked like wood.  Inside, if you made noises, which of course, I did, they would echo.  Rayman even joined in!!

 

But I digress.

After visiting the Guggenheim, we walked along the river to the old part of Bilbou.  Had a delightful time there.  Didn’t get robbed.  Noticed a few really interesting things.  They have a train service that runs along the river.  Light rail.  And they planted clover or some kind of green plant all long and between the tracks.  Rayman thought it was a defunct operation.  No siree.  Very smart of them because it softened the look and made it cooler, temperature wise.  We also saw a couple dancing in the street, so to speak.  Very fun and spontaneous.  I’ll try to download the video.

We met a woman and her husband from the States.  Not sure where they were from.  How we met was, we saw a purse sitting on a bench in the Guggenheim.  Rayman went off to find Museo personnel to collect the purse while I guarded it.  The owner of said purse, arrived with hand on heart.  And that’s how we met.  We told her our sad tale of being robbed.  He suggested a gun might have come in handy.  That’s when I knew we would not becoming fast friends.  Anyway.  Good samaritans here.  They were very appreciative.

 

We then proceeded to leave Bilbou by again poohing it.  And we found our way out.  We then headed toward San Sebastian and decided to drive toward the coast away from the freeway we were on.  Fabulous coastline.  Reminded us of Highway 1 but with overbuilding.  The CA Coastal Commission has really done us all a big favor.

But, again, I digress.

Short version is, we arrived back at the villa and Janis and Terry beat us back and she had paella on the way.  Table was set.  She is way cool.  Allan and Dorothy texted to say that we should eat without them.  So we did!!  Muy bueno.  But there was enough so that when the Bucks returned, we welcomed with dinner and drinks and a good time was had by all.  Another fabulous day with curves, roundabouts and stories of how all of us got lost.  Multiple times.  Ah, misery loves company!!

p.s.  Terry came up with a great idea.  Program GPS devices so that when things don’t go right, they say, “Oh, oh.”  We embellished the idea.  “Why didn’t you listen to me?”  “You are a dumbshit.”  “Go back, stupid.”  “Ha, ha.  Fooled you.”  You get the idea.  Too funny.

 

Well, today is our last Thursday in Spain.  And for the occasion, Rayman and I planned to cook dinner for the group thereby reducing windshield time and walking time dramatically.

Menu de Day

Roast organic chicken stuffed with lemon
Bread Salad
Roasted potatoes and garlic cloves cooked in olive oil and butter
Fresh boiled asparagus
Ice cream
Vino

And what was really interesting is that we planned to do all the cooking on the wood stove in the kitchen.  So, Rayman gathered the pre-cut wood, the matches and some paper.  A fire was started.  Successfully.  You can smell it in the house.  I brought the chicken to toom temperature for even cooking.  There were two chickens as there are 6 of us and the chickens were small to our way of thinking.  The bread salad involved plumping the raisins (the recipe called for currants but we were lucky to find raisins).  Toasting the pine nuts.  Slicing a spring onion.  Washing the frisee.  Sauting the onion and garlic.

The potatoes were cut up and slathered in olive oil and a few teaspoons of butter just to guild the lily.  Oh, and unpeeled cloves of garlic were tossed in.

The owner of the house told us the fire would take about an hour’s lead time.  So we did that, lighting it about 3:30.  And then we popped the potatoes and chickens into the oven at 4:30.  I kept saying, “Rayman, I don’t smell the chicken.”  He would go to the stove and check the fire.  Yep, the fire was burning.  The top of stove was hot, hot, hot.  Well, then.  They must be cooking.  This conversation was repeated about three times.  “Rayman, I don’t smell the chicken cooking.”  Rayman replied, “Maybe we can’t smell it because it is well sealed.”  “Rayman, I still can’t smell the chicken.”  The reply was, “Well, it must be cooking.  That fire is raging.”

We didn’t want to open the door, because the temp dropped 50 degrees (at least )when we put the stuff in to the oven.  Well.  Finally, we decided we had better check.  The chicken and potatoes had been in about an hour.  They weren’t stone cold.  But they sure as heck weren’t cooked.  So, Terry, the engineer by training, came in and he and Rayman discussed possibilities.  I found the owner’s phone number and called him.  The conversation was not going well, what with his spanish and my english.  I implored Janis to speak with him.  She did.  Then we got somewhere.  The fire had been started in the right place (there were two possibilities).  So, Rayman decided to crank the heat up.  He fed the furnace 3 pine cones, and 3 more logs. Voila.  The chicken started to make sounds, crackling sounds.  We were on our way.

We let the food cook about an hour more.  When I took it out, meat was falling on the drumstick bone.  (who ever came up with the vernacular, drumstick?)

But I digress.

I baked the bread part of the bread salad while the chickens rested.  The asparagus was cooked on top of the wood stove.  We kept things warm by having them just on or near the top of the stove.  And it all came together.  A minor miracle since none of us had any experience in wood stove cooking.

No matter which way it went, this was going to be the blog material.  We had a 50-50 chance.  Oh, and we sat down to the table at 7:30 or so.  Gives new meaning to the idea of slow food.

The other thing that happened was we as a group had not been our for a meal together all week.  It was on the radar that we would do so tomorrow.  So instead of playing Parchese, scrabble, bridge or some other game, the Packers and the Bucks researched restaurants in the area on their electronic devices.  I was all wrapped up in mine too because I was trying to figure out how the post a darm video on my blog.  Without success.  So, there was much conversation about many things.  And we all concluded that it is very difficult to eat in Spain unless you eat tapas early or eat dinner late.  Not much in between.  Websites were consulted, TripAdvisor was asked.  At one point, Dorothy found that someone from Santa Maria, CA had visited and critiqued one of the restaurants right down the street.  “Can you imagine?”, she said.  Then she read the glowing comments.  Terry said, “Well, just remember, they are from Santa Maria.”  I think the way it was resolved is that calls will be made in the morning to ascertain if 1.  the restaurant is open on Fridays.  2.  Do they serve lunch at lunch time?  3.  Is lunch more than tapas?  4.  What hours do they serve lunch?  5.  What is on the menu?  This with language differences.

What could possibly go wrong?

In the event that things do go wrong, there is plenty of leftover chicken, some leftover bread salad, some leftover asparagus, two chicken carcasses, and a myriad of other things we will have to throw away since we are leaving on Saturday.  Just saying.

 

p.s.  The pictures at the top.  Janis at the sink.  The food before dinner.  Rayman and I in front of the mountains about 5 minutes apart.  The weather and clouds change here in a nano second.  Don’t like the weather.  Wait 5 minutes.  And that was the point of our pictures!!