waiting

There's nothing like good luck on an overbooked plane to make you feel like the queen of the air. I think that's what's behind the gargantuan prices they charge for first class. The air france flight was stuffed, but, through some action of the universe, I ended up with an empty seat next to me. Since I was on the aisle, it meant I could misbehave in the most space imperialist way ever.

Toward the end of the flight I realized that there was a massive woman in the seat in front of me. Her row was full. If I had compassion, if I were, like, all Franciscan about it, I would have offered her my seat and taken hers. It would have relieved both her and her seat partners who were squeezed through the cracks. But, of course, I didn't. I was afraid I'd offend her. Maybe next time.

I was watching a fascinating french drama called "Bellamy" with Gerard Depardieu as a Maigrait-like detective on vacation who runs into a murderer. Part way through the stews announced that since about 35% of the people in the back couldn't get video, they were going to have to reset the whole system. I continued wathcing and felt soooo special, but, blip! They finally did turn off the system. When they finally got it going again about 1/2hr later, half the moives were ungettable. Fortunately, Bellamy was not one of them.

More re: the dinner at the historico place. It was, of course, swell. There was a table sporting three asian businessmen types. We were seated in the corner, and when the waiter came up to them, one of them pointed at me and said something, and the waiter turned around and looked and said something and then they all gabled and looked our way from time to time. What was it? My gorgeous looks? Did they think I was Goldie Hawn? Or did I have chocolate from a forgotten ice cream bar on my cheeks? It will ever be a mystery, but I took a picture of them for future reference.

And now I await himself who got stuck with yet ANOTHER cancelled Aer Lingus flight. Only this time the airline put up all 300 displaced passengers at a hotel for the night. It meant a missed conneciton in the AM, so he didn't leave Dublin until 1.30PM their time. I don't think I'll tell him about mine.

As the clock on the wall at the historico restaurant points out, it is now quittin' time for this blog.

Hasta manana, chicas....

The end is near

Yesterday was blurrish. It had something to do with walking voer to the palace and standing in line between a nest of tourists from Mother Russia who were mighty amusing with their kerchiefs and sausages and vodka. (OKOKOK, so it's a sleazy stereotype and not a bit of it true, but I couldn't resist.) They were Russian tourists, though and speaking with that pile driver cadence of theirs that always amuses. Interesting ting is that there were about ten of them, but never all in the line at one time. Quelle civilized. One or two would serve as placeholders and the other drifted around the palace plaza.

I finally walked into a shop! Since I'm not known for shopping on vacay, this was quite a feat, but we were going to a snazzy historico restaurant for dinner and I suddenly felt uncertain about my dress up outfit. So I headed over to a side street in Puerto del Sol. Sat. Late afternoon. One girl, leaning against a lamppost, looked like a hooker- heavy make up, short tight skirt, leather. Then another. Then- at final count, almost 15 within a fwe block area. Two were being busted by cops, but they ingnored the others. Is it legal here??? So I went into a cool store and bought a little dressy number. And got in line behind a group of three ladies who looked like they were getting ready to go to work on the street. Apparently I have the taste of a prostitute when it comes to clothes.

AQnd speaking of bathrooms- there were only two stalls in the ladies' room at the palace. One was taken up by a mom potty training here kid (come on honey, you can push and make the poop come out!) and the other one by a woman who was READING for god's sake! I could see the shadow of the book on the floor! There oughtta be a law.

Dinner was marvy. I had chix in almond sauce and salad, D had veal steak and fires...

Historico restaurant was recommended by David's Spaniard friend. Oldest restaurant in the western hemisphere- in continuous operation since like 1762 or something. Small rooms and old platters.

Gotta go. They're calling my plane.

More later.

Smooches

In the temple of...

I can hardly wait to show you the pix I took last PM at the Templo de Debod- a real live b´gosh 2000+ year old Egyptian temple that was saved from the rising waters of Lake Nassar when they built the Aswan Dam...

We ate early (7PMish) and headed out to the park where the Temple was at around 8.30 Lots of Madrilenos (love that word. It has a ring that Jamestownenos could never reach) strolling and lounging on the grass and a guy was playing jazz sax on the sidewalk. Magique. Waited an hour for sunset and then the temple, which was impressive to begin with, began transforming with lights. And (as any shutterbug will tell you at the drop of a hat) it´s all about the lights baby.

We began the day at the Prado. I (not to put too fine a point on it) HATED it! I loathed the collection almost entirely. Call me a philistine, but it totally left me cold and claustrophobic! Got out of there ASAP, and left D to lyricize over it all. I headed a few blocks away to Caixa Forum which had a restrospective (1904-1915) of a fauvist I´d never heard of. But he made me smile. He bathed me in light and color and ideas. Now he was someone I could love.

One of the things I love here are the human statues. These folks are all over, Paris, New York, etc., but the ones here in Spain seem to be a special breed. Incredibly elaborate. And- they feel no need to hold still for more than a coupla minutes at a time! Ah, espana!!!

The rest of the day was standard tourist stuff. Sat in Retiro, the Central Park of Madrid. Got a few really good shots of a guy on some kind of new high tech pogo sticks. Of statues. Of trees and water. Ate a coupla times, though my total calorie intake per day is really low... Shopped in a bookstore (first shopping I´ve done here at all...), walked, internetted, yadayadayada...

More as life progresses....

Madrid

The train ride here was incredibly easy to arrange. Got the tix ahead on the web (including the seat assignments) and just showed up at the station in time. Comfy ride all the way... Yahoo.

Easy metro, too, and got to the hotel quickly. It´s a funky apartmento place. Hotwire gave it 4 stars. Apparently their reviewer was on crack when he did it. The place is clean, quiet, comfortable, but I think a 2.5 star rating would have covered it adequately. They change the sheets (they proudly announce) once a week...

Headed off to a bonsai exhibit at the botanical gardens immediately. Apparently the former President collected the suckers and loaned them to the gardens for the publico to enjoy. Which we did. I liked the 2 little forests the best. What would George Bush have donated? Cacti? Bushes? Ummmm- donated???

The gardens themselves were pretty impressive, too. I mentioned to D that our back yard would be mirroring the general plan in about 2 years. Oddly enough he was skeptical.

I´d been dying to go to Sofia Reina, the modern art museum with all things conceptual art-wise. After wandering the first and the 4th floors, I was ready to drop the whole expedition. Bad biennial stuff. Third floor picked up considerably with a Juan Munoz exhibit which I liked a lot, and the 2nd wasn´t too bad either. Oddñly enough, I wasn´t able to find Picasso´s Guernica, which is supposed to hold pride of place there. No signs and nobody gave me a plan of the place... I wouild have been too tired to enjoy it, perhaps.

For those who don´t keep up with such things, last PM was the final of the European Club final in Rome. Barcelona v Manchester United (D´s favorite team and, usually, mine, though this time I rooted for Barca...). So we hit a restaurant stufffed with fans and rooted our teams on to (in my case) victory. D, of course, was in the minority, but there were some Brit tourists and a waiter who was being contrary to the wishes of his countrymen... Now Madrilenos have no love for Barca... Madrid Real would be the Yankees to Barcas Red Sox. Imagine, then, if this were the world series (which it is in a way) and the Yankees were playing ummmmm Toronto. A) Who cares? B) Does national pride beat repugnance at the Yankees winning anything???

Our street is true backpackerville. Lots of hostels nearby and liveliness all around. Bookstores and bars. Cool. This is also known as the Literary area cause of all the, like, writers, etc. who hung out and worked here. Also jazz central and I intend to make use of that in the next coupla days.

More as life progresses.

My pix will have to wait since we have no wifi at the hotel and I´m using a computer pùblico...

Last call

I'd love to be terribly clever in this last dispatch from Barcelona, but my brian is fuddled, I'm tired and a littl tipsy, and so I'll be pedestrian about it all.

AM sunny warm and clear. After eye-opener orange juice, we split up til noon. Himself went to catch the funicular to Moutn Juiac, and I headed over to the Ramblas to finally get into the Catalan Cultural Center where I'd been eying the photo exhibit teasers. They were closed yesterday, but, they noted, they'[d be opened at 10AM today. I arrived at 10.5. "Sorry. We don't open til 11." Only an American, she implied, would take the word of a sign as to opening times.

Fortunatley, I had my Bus Turistico pass in hand and jumped on the blue line to whirl around the city and up the mountainside to the Botanical gardens, olympic stadium, etc. Met D, walk my feet to nubs in the National Catalan Art Museum and and and. You had to have been there.

Tonight we headed out to what turned out to be the most miraculous dinner in the universe. As we got off the train, a girl stumbled and pitched into David, and he, relexively stuck his hand in his front pocket where he carries his wallet only to run into- her exiting paw!!! Empty. Good for him. Of course, he was in his usual state of denial. Could have been a mistake. Right. everyone ends up with their hand in someone else's front pocket when they're jostled against them.

Now to sleep. Sorry for the truncated jounral... Off to madrid early tomorrow AM....

How to tell it all?

Himself arrived straight from Italy late in the afternoon and after a siesta, the games began with a drink on the Ramblas where we downed a sherry (him) and an unidentified red vino (me). We were headed for a eaterie we were assured by the tourist book was a hidden gem. A Paraguayan steak house that believed in slabs of dead animals and little else. By god, they were right.

It had to have been the best beef I've tasted in years. Mine was beef con pimentos, which was not, as I expected, beef with those red thingys all over it. It was beef in peppercorn sauce. David chose the beef in gorgonzola creme. You could hear those arteries harding as we ate. But it was worth every moment. I chose the "Sangre del Toro" wine over some feeble objections on David's part. But I told him he could choose his own, since my world fave has always been Hungarian "Bull's Blood". Thank god I'm a carnivore. This stuff was grand. D, astonished at my good taste (I choose to assume that was why he looked that way), fell to his knees in delight.

Am I being too dizzy and uncritical of the Catalan capitol? Sue me. Life is sweet after all those weeks of terror.

I couldn't sleep well last PM. Apparently the revenge of the be-hooved. I peeked out the window as I always do when I wake up and halleluia! Photo ops on the hoof (so to speak. Emergeth here a bovine theme???) There is an unassuming industrial looking building catty corner from the hotel. By day, you'd never notice it. But by night- it's Brisas del Caribe disco and who knows what all. I was mighty glad for all the nighttime shooting I've done in the past six months. It taught me how to blast away at our neighbors without getting too frustrated. It was all probably very innocent, but being of the cynical persuasion, I layered meanings on the scantily clad babes, guys hanging out and the most fascinating female bouncer I've ever seen. She had to be a bounceer by her stance and her camos....

Anyway, woke up with a start at well past nine this AM and after breakfast in a local pastry joint where an old Cuban woman mistook us for Parisians (?!?) headed toward the ultimate tourist site- Sagrada de Familia (I think). It's a fascinating church, in the process of being built for 125 years. The inside isn't even beginning to be done. It's mostly facade. But I suddenly realized that this is what it must have been for the people of Paris during the endless construction of Notre Dame, etc. We're not used to glacial construction timetables, in spite of the big dig....

Then- ah paradise. I hopped on a Bus Turistico, which is unlimited hop on hop off for 2 days. I've never stooped to tourist buses, but this one was recommended by a native who has used it occasionally to explore her own city. Whadda ride! The only disadvantage was that it showed me way too many thing to see over the next 36 hours. Do we need to return? You can't do Barcelona in four days! Duhhhhh.

Last stop before landing in the hotel for blogging and siesta was the Bouqueria- a giant food market with hanging slabs of flesh, mounds of fresh veg and nuts and fruit, etc. Although half he stalls were closed by the time I got there, I still shot pix dizzy with color and excitement....

And on the way home, some exciting new shots of the smokestacks against blue skies...

And now to sleep...

Dizzy

Holy shit- if it ain't one thing it's another. For those of you who don't know, I was so nervous or whatever when I left home that I neglected to put the key in the lock box for the kitty sitter. Thank god I brought this computer with me. Due to that and some ultra cool friends in Jamestown the crisis was remedied and I can continue to be my irresponsible self...

Now. Where was I?

I did drop off until 9PM last night and strolled out for my first dinner in Spain. As usual, I headed in the opposite direction of the restaurants which began about 4 doors down. But I found myself in a magic land with a few tiny eateries and chose for my initiation to Spanish food- El Rincon de Kababs! The falafel was marvelous, and because they dropped a heap of french fries on top of the salad, I have a great idea for a new recipe. Salad with crispy french fries! Watch for it at a dinner near you.

I gotta say, I'm a pretty lucky tourist. Even with the wrong turn, I ended up in a festive section of town and got to see some neato sculptures, etc. I thought of the historical society as I passed a museum of industrial artifacts including a full sized lighthouse light... Will go back in daylight tomorrow, maybe.

Today I headed out for food around 11AM. After buying my bottled water at an Islamic meat market (you'll begin to see a theme emerging here...) I noted "Generation 2009"-an art exhibit by the young and the hot housed in an old church. It was (yahoo!) free. It was astounding. The quality of the work was unbelieveable. Ask to see my program when I rerturn. After seeing too many high end museum biennials with the imagination of retarded gnats, I have to tell you, this was heartstopping!

Hit the notorious Rambles after a quick sammie down a side street. Luck holding, I arrived at the opera house just in time for the tour in English! It's the 2nd largest opera house in Europe, I was stunned to learn, and very "bourgeoise", the guide assured us, in decoration. I think he was using it in the Victorian, non-hipster sense of the word...

Saw a pickpocketing in one street. Unfortunately for the miscreant, he chose a big ol' boy from Texas to pick on, and Tex began a hollerin' and a howlin' "Policia! Policia!!!" and punched the little sucker in the gut. And I didn't have my camera ready. I'll never make a photojournalist...

Also saw two of the most amazing Scottish tourists on La Ramblas. I know they were Scottish by their tattoos and accents. They were men, sporting open shirts. They were both shaved bald, and had hugehuge bellies (also hairless) to match their heads. Astonishing. Where the hell is my camera when I need it?

The human statues were out in force, and I, of course, was supporting them with donations for taking their pix. I loved the little green leprochaun (sue me I don't know how to spell it). He was a dwarf making use of his natural talents.

I'm becoming obsessed with the smokestacks across the street. I know the Freudians among you will think they know why, but I am just dizzy with their perfect symmetry and how they change with the sky and the angle. Perfect simple objects in space. Better than sculptures.

Check out http://picasaweb.google.com/tapit1/Barcelona2?authkey=Gv1sRgCMiN3fPX663gnwE# for todays pix

Now it's back in the hotel for a siesta. Sr. Kaiser is due in here in about an hour...

Sweet

I am in my 7th floor room in Barcelona. There's a park across the street with young Barcelenos scampering around, sophisticates sauntering in all directions and me, staring out the window at the mountains, the funicula that begins just a few blocks from here and careens up the mountain side and a breathtaking trio of smokestacks. It took a little adjusting, but I am now settled in typing on my new miraclemini computer.

I am only semi comatose due to the fact that I was too excited to sleep on the first flight and the other two were puddle jumpers. I actually and in fact did make the first Aer Euro flight from Madrid to Barca, so since I was 1.5 hours ahead of schedule, I gave myself permission to dawdle in the Barcelona airport which is totally waaaaay more sophisticated than Logan,let me tell you. Couldn't eat much. Nauseated like I was when I got too jet lagged in Paris once. I did go out of my way top stay ultra hydrated, though, and as a result I can accurately report on the conditions of every bathroom in the airports. I woke up at 7AM on Friday, took a 2 hour nap at most on plane one and maybe 1/2 each on the next two flights. Due to a seating mix up, a handsome young stew gently woke me out of a sound snooze (was I snoring) and asked if I needed a wheelchair.

Barcelona is already knocking me out... Took the bus from the airport to Placa Espana and caught a cab from there by pointing to the sentence I needed in the guide book and handing the cabbie the hotel card that I'd made. He was amused, but got me here for a gallant price.

Time for nightnight.... I'll probly wake up just in time for a fashionable continental dinner- 9PM.

And so it goes...

Got a somber call yesterday from David, who's now in Sienna. He has lost his ATM card. It hasn't been used and nothing else is missing, so he either neglected to take it from a bankmachine when he was done or he just misplaced it... He instantly called the Bank of Newport to alert them to cancel it. They are sending out the replacement (with pin, they say) UPS today and I should get it before I leave tomorrow. Apparently they will not let anyone come to the bank to pick it up.

If it doesn't arrive in time we do have a plan B, involving D's madmoney (which I didn't know existed), three of my debit cards and a partridge in a pear tree. Of course most things can go on credit cards, but we do need cash for taxis, treats on the street, etc.

Re: taxis. My popped foot isn't getting any better in spite of industrial strength naproxen, a foot bandage thingy, etc. I had considered bowing out, but just got off the phone with himself who said this isn't an option. Hence the need for more taxi money than usual. I'm considering a cane, too, which could double as a pickpocket swatter if need be.

On the bright side, I've been unbelieveably organized. Made a pefect packing list Tues. PM, packed most everything I need last night, and am in the process of printing out all the travel docs I need today. I have a lot of them already, but I need to make photocopies of the passport, debit cards, etc. and print out the list of "to do's", and full hotel information I've been collecting for the last month... as well as my cards with the hotel address that I'll be giving out to the taxi dancers...

I got a couple of Madrid guidebooks at the library, but they seemed off. The color was old process, which was the first tip off, and one of them was written before Franco croaked! So I continue last minute research and practice my Spanish from a Rick Steve's phrase book, which includes such handy phrases as "Please slow down or I'll throw up!" (Si no va mas despacio, voy a vomir) and "Sorry for the mess" (Perdone el desorden.) So I'm good to go, as we Americans say...

I checked some street style websites to see what folks are wearing on the streets of the two big cities, and I find they're just about like everywhere else, so, except for maybe getting another skirt, no new purchases are necessary...

It's off to Newport for last minute errands now.

Stay tuned

Slowly, excitement

So I'm slowly getting more and more jazzed about this trip. I'm reading guidebooks and websites, and am consciously staying away from the negative stuff. I yanked out a Rick Steve's phrase book and am polishing my first most critical words when I hit Barcelona. "To this address, please..." at which point I will flourish an attractively-printed paper with the hotel info printed on it. Sort of like the card the deaf mute gives you on the subway to solicit donations. I also find that I have great difficulty remembering to pronounce "V"s as "D" and "s" as "th". But with my typical determination, I should succeed. Now I know how the Japanese feel when they try to navigate "R's" and "L's" over here.

Trekked on over to Eastern Sports first thing this AM to buy my neck pouch, preferably with fabric covered cable in which to carry my plastic and a copy of my passport while I'm there. Had a long conversation with a perky 20something blond salesgirl about the right one to buy, and she said she didn't much go for my plan A, as it tends to be too obvious and uncomfortable. "Buy this little pouch that goes inside your pants," she earnestly advised. "I found by trial and error it's the best." I was hesitant. I'm not generally in favor of stuffing things down my pants that will increase my already noticeable girth, but the pouch was ultra thin and when she was gone, I tried it on. After all, I'll only be putting 2 or three items in there at most. So now I'm set pouchwise.

Tonight, while I was watching "The Apprentice- UK" (OKOKOK, I've been a little at loose ends today) I made out my packing list. I'm determined to stick with a carry on and a tote bag for this trip, so I have a pretty clear idea of what I need. I checked the ten day forecast for Barcelona, and it seems to be in the mid 70s all week, with only one day of rain forecast- Sunday- my first full day there. So light layering will work. It will be about 10 degrees higheer and much wetter in Madrid, but that only means to add an umbrella.

David called from Siena, which, he assures me, is a sculpture paradise. His stay in the mountain castle (which was actually more like a mansion- que lastima) was fab, of course, but the riding is tougher than he anticipated.

Secret places

OK. So there's only one thing I can do about the giant set of nerves I get by reading the "Barcelona is the king of pickpocket towns" postings on travel websites. And that would be- stop! I get it. I get it! The deed is done and I'm committed to the Catalan capitol. And I'm not a total ditz when it comes to travel. If I carry my camera, a notebook and pen, a book, some cash, and a debit card when I go out for the day, I'm good to go. And I can stash the debit card in my ample bosom... If I lose them (not my bosoms...), c'est la vie. I do, after all, photocopy everything critical before I leave. Then forget it.

That said, here's how the trip is shaping up. A tripadvisor.com pal has tipped me off to some good photo shooting sites in Madrid including a little-hyped spot called Templo del Debod. This is an milleniums-old Egyptian temple that was saved, intact, when Egypt build the Aswan Dam and then shipped to Spain to thank the archeologists who helped out with it. Sweet. I've also come across a rug weaver who still does things the old way, with tree trunks for loom frames.

Of course art galleries and museums and eateries still top the hit list, and people watching, of course, (perhaps catch a few purse snatchings on film) and building gawking. Add to that L'Herboristeria del Rei which has been around for centuries selling all kinds of exotic herbs and spices, Gaudi world, the Poble Espanyol which is a sort of fake Spanish village with replicas of famous buildings around the country, and the Opera House and my days are full...

More as things progress....

En el inicio

And that, children, means "In the beginning"...

David and I decided to spread our European wings and instead of bathing in Paris this year, we dithered between hitting good ol' London or exploring urban Spain as a Springtime treat. It was touch and go for a while, but as the New England gloom descended in March, Spanish websites screamed our names.

Right. Barcleona and Madrid. 4 days each. End of May.

D left today for his bicycle tour in Tuscany. I follow next week to Barcelona where we will have a joyous reunion, racing in slow mo through a field of daisies (ummmmmm-wrong movie)- or whereI will hurl myself into his arms from the staircase, and we'll smooch passionately to the sound of castanets- Theoretically.

We booked the hotels, got plane and train tickets and purchased pocket sized guides for each city. Ready or not...

HOwever- into each trip some panic must fall, and the first of ours was Aer Lingus. Now I have fond memories of this priest-blessed airline from my experiences on it 25 years ago. Deep seats. Cold Guiness. Lovely blankets and stews with accents that would melt butter... However. They have apparently changed with the times. A couple of months after the reservations were confirmed, they canceled my flight and had nothing suitable to replace it. (Wouldn't you like to come in a day later? We won't pay for the hotel, but it will mean you don't have to sleep in airport chairs all night. I would not. May I speak to the ticket agent or supervisor who could help me with this? No. We don't allow that.) I ended up cancelling and rebooking with Air France. Two weeks later, Aer Lingus pulled the same trick with David's return flight. Only they agreed to pay for his Dublin hotel while he waited for his next day out flight. So I get home on the 31st, while he arrives on the 1st. Quelle drag. So far, though, Air France holds steady...

The second pain was the hotel in Barcelona. It has, for the most part, great web reviews. Hotwire (loathesome outfit that it is, but that's another story)gave it 3.5 stars. It seemed to be perfect. It still seems to be perfect. Except for one small item. It's in the red light disctrict. The guide book assures me that the district is changing, but, ummmm, better be a little careful about rambling around at night. (See http://www.blogonlyapartments.com/el-raval-barcelona/) OHMIGOD. I have been downing prilosec like crazy and trying not to kill myself here.

I did originally write a really greusome worst case scenario here, but it was too scary to leave on this blog- especially in my first post. What's the probable worst thing that would happen to me? Someone will steral my camera and what cash I'm carrying with me- never much. Things are beginning to look up.

A friend was kind enough to contact a Barcelonan friend of hers to ask him what he thought. Not bad, he said, if you go out in the daytime. It could be OK otherwise, too. Most people have no problems. As a matter of fact, the people on a couple of reveiws sites give it high marks and didn't mention the fear factor at all. So it's just me getting old that's doing this. Hey, I spent a night in a whorehouse in Jackson Mississippi one time and lived to tell (endlessly- just ask me) the tale. Dangerous and amusing.

Enough with predictable vacations! On with adventure! On with life!!! Ole!!!