flying home

It's been a great trip. I fly out in a few hours. It'll be a lot easier writing the stories and adding photos when I get home. I spent last night here at Stefan's, and had a nice dinner at a little cafe a couple of blocks away near the train station. The place is called Stazione and served a great 1/2 liter dunkel beer. I had a delicious tomato soup with a huge dollop of cream and a basil garnish, followed by a gorgonzola penne dish with a nice mixed salad on the side. I should have stuck with the tiramisu, but the waitress talked me into a special combination of the tiramisu, creme brulee, and neoploitan ice cream. Too much, but delicious.

The night before, I stayed in a little town in France called La Petite Pierre - "The Little Peter." Heh. There were a few hotels, but none looked particularly interesting, so I cruised around town until I saw a "zimmer frei" sign - "room to rent."  I stopped and found the sweet lady who owns the place. We talked in German and when she found I was American, she told me all about her children in America, and the fact she can't communicate with her daughter-in-law because she doesn't speak English. After so many weeks of language challenges, I know the problem. She pointed to the building next door and said I could have it for 42 Euros a night. Yeah, the whole house. Two bedrooms, kitchen, lounge, bath, the whole house, for 42 Euros a night. Not bad. It started raining after I moved in, but I went into town for dinner any way. I found a place called The Lion of Gold and met a Belgian couple outside. They are both motorcyclists, he on a BMW GS, she on a BMW S. We hit it off and spent the next few hours eating, drinking, and talking motorcycles. Dinner was superb. I had an amazing fish pate appetizer, and a delicious salmon and potato plate in a cream sauce. Desert was indescribable. Really, I don't know what it was, but it tasted great. Some kind of creamy blocks that were between ice cream and yoghurt, with little pieces of fruit mixed in. I think they were berries or grapes, but at that point, I didn't care, it was so good. I may have to make a return trip to find out. Not a bad way to wind down a trip.

Chatel, France

7-9-10 OK, at some point I’ll fill in the blanks. For now, it’s important I leave clues to the rest of the stories…

Edit Bordeaux – cheese cellar for buffets… red button is for the alarm, not lights…

Central Massif, and the national parks of France are cool… Col de Sarenne above the Alpe d’Huez is better than the A d’H, but a much rougher & narrower road.

Places to picnic – bee heaven in my helmet & jacket, picking snacks from the wild cherry trees, feet dangling in streams, wooden bridges, and naps wherever I have to, including a town bench.  Swimming at Choranche les Bains under the town buildings in the gorge.

People I’ve met – the Poles (one a giant on a  FJR, the other on a VFR800) on a work trip from Poland to Paris in 2 days, plus a few extra days in the Alps, the slow but nice Norwegian(BMW R!2RT), the Dutch trio on GoldWings with music, Nicky the Aussie blonde*** working at the CB Hotel in Val d’I.,

Grenoble – the YH, nice place with a bar and a big back yard with game space… later (10pm) in the old city, the film festival of shorts (the old man carrying a pistol everywhere in advance of suicide, the Asian artist who used her blood in her art til she faded away with the ink…

Chatel – Dinner at Le Fiacre… In the background, stupid 80’s girl band pop and bad disco music, and Stayin’ Alive, with a pizza and great beer (Leffe) in an Alps chateau building. Desert was a delicious 3 little bowls of sorbet, crème, and brulee, with a tasse of café. A man on a horse rode by on the sidewalk while I ate on the terrace. It almost seemed normal.

In the central square at Chatel, a trio of guys took the stage at 9pm for a free concert of French songs. Good performers, they played barefoot, and switched off between 2 guitars, a snare drum, and a one-string washtub bass. A fun time for the 150 or so children and adults in the audience.

Wild animals I’ve seen – yesterday, near the top of the Col de l’Iseran (the 3^rd highest road in Europe at a measly 2770m,) I saw a bunch of marmots. Cool looking critters, fast and furry rodents. I’ve seen 2 deer, one in Austria, the other in Spain. Some snakes - one stayed in the road long enough to film (which is probably lost.) And of course, birds. I think the ubiquitous “we’re going extinct” bird is some kind of dove. I’ve also seen some snowy egrets, many hawks or falcons, and some large black and white birds.  I think they’re too small to be marabou storks, but they look similar. And they build huge nests on top of narrow outcrops – such as telephone poles and church steeples.

Oh, and just to check if anyone is still reading this, the first person to email me gets a free 6-pack of beer.

6July Oviedo, Spain

Back to mountain twisties, and it sure feels good. There is a stunning range of mountains that runs East-West across Northern Spain not far from the coast. Some peaks are almost 3000 meters high, and there are snow patches even in early July. I’ve been winding my way up and down the mountains.

Fiorella

Bilbao Guggenheim

San Sebastian sand and jetty, almost arrested 1978

Hossegor guys – Thibault Vanvincq, Julian, Basil , Raoul(Sebastian)

Illegal turn in front of 2 moto cops who just looked at me like I was a stupid tourist.

Remind me to fill in the blanks…

A Coruna

Oh dear. I’m losing track of this trip. So much is happening so fast, and I haven’t had a chance to keep up with it. A Coruna was great. I met an old guy at a place called “Friends of the Museums of Galicia”. We talked for a long time and he poured a fine glass of wine at the bar behind the stage.  The place is a little venue for concerts, lectures, shows, etc. Paco retired a few years ago from banking, and now he travels and keeps up with the arts. Nice guy.

While cruising the little alleys of the old town, I found a curio shop. The owner explained what all the stone structures are that I’d seen along the way. There are literally thousands of horreos in Galicia. They are actually storage silos for crops, and the stone stilts keep pests away. Originally, the top was capped with a carved rooster as a symbol of fertility, but Christians replaced them with crosses, which makes the horreos look like raised coffins, but there is nothing religious about them.

Wandering on, I passed a church that was emanating music. I looked inside and there was a group of perhaps 12 people, and it looked like they were auditioning for a man. The next person to sing was a guy who was probably 35 years old, and he started singing with a powerful tenor voice. It took a few moments to realize he was singing “On the Street Where You Live.” The words were in English, but it was obvious he doesn’t know how to speak English at all. Very strange.

That evening, I had dinner at Pablo’s, probably the nicest place in A Coruna. I had to wait till 9pm for them to open. That’s standard for Spain – if you get hungry at 6pm or 7, forget trying to eat at a restaurant. It’s bizarre that Spain is so regimented in its dining customs. Breakfast is only café and perhaps a bollo (pastry), if you’re lucky, but bars are open all the time if you want to smoke with a beer. At Pablo’s, I was the only person in the place the whole time, possibly because Spain was playing Portugal in the World Cup at the time. FWIW, the lobster croquettes and monkfish with crayfish and potatoes in a cream sauce were the second most expensive meal I’ve had on the trip (40E), but far from the 2^nd best meal. The homemade ice cream with a quince sauce and almond brittle was delicious, though.

Time to Catch Up

About that Mass – yes, the incense burner is massive, probably more than 50lbs of silver, and they do swing it almost to the ceiling of a very high cathedral. Impressive. And it’s filled with smoking frankincense. The ceremony was also impressive with lots of ritual, and the priest was a good orator, even though I understood almost nothing of what he said.

I’ve been badmouthing the Spanish and Portuguese coastline as too developed and too crowded. Well, I found the antidote. Galicia. The northwestern state of Spain is magnificent. Heck, all of northwestern Spain is magnificent, including Asturias and Cantabria. I zigzagged in and out of the fjords/sounds of Galicia and found wonderful places to spend more time. The coast is rugged and beautiful, with big stands of pine trees and ferns, interspersed with little hamlets of great old stonework. For a vacation spot, Muros ain’t too bad. It’s big enough for a little culture, but with very few tourists. And the beaches around the town are stunningly beautiful. If Muros is too crowded for you, just north of there is a little place called Ancoradoiro. It’s only a few buildings, but there are a couple of hotels and campgrounds, and one hotel owner told me the place has been written up in a surf magazine. OK. Further on, I was winding my way through some very pretty back roads when I came around a bend and saw a beach off in the far distance. I also saw white water peeling down the coast. Whoops! That’s a wave! I thought surely the road must go by it, but instead, the road took a turn up an inland valley. I found a little road that headed off towards the beach and took it. I felt like the early explorers of surf in the 50’s and 60’s when I rode through some farmer’s driveway, and an old woman gave me a WTF look, but I was stoked to be on the track of good surf. I haven’t had much luck with surf on this trip, seeing a lot of potential but not much quality. This could be it. I made a few more turns through pastures and fields. (BTW, Spanish cowshit stinks. Yeah, all cowshit stinks, but Spanish cowshit _really_ stinks. BAD! Maybe it’s revenge for all the bullfights, but it reeks.) Any way, I finally found my way to the beach, and of course, it’s a known surf spot. It had a really nice parking area with new toilets and water fountains and showers. I asked a couple of guys who were walking up to the beach and they said it gets really good there, but it was bad today. Harumpf. It was a bit windy and mushy, but it was still better than anything else I’d seen in Portugal or Spain, and the name of the place is Praia de Trabo.

A Great Meal!

Intoxicated, yes. I will not use that profanity that was posted a while back to describe my condition now. Intoxicated is a far better description. It has the air of captivation by beauty, by wonder and awe. And it only took 3 glasses with 3 different courses of food. It started with a white Entre Deux Mers that was very nice. Soft on the palate, but interesting, too. It went with a cheese salad. Little chunks of a variety of cheeses on a bed of lettuce with a dressing and spices. I have no idea what it all was, but it was delicious. Since I am in the city of Bordeaux, I had to drink a glass of the local specialty, so the 2nd course started with a glass of red Bordeaux wine. The entree was a bowl of salmon and potato chunks, drenched in young Gouda cheese, with some herbs and spices thrown in. Wow. Superb. Then the capper - a glass of cognac and desert. Desert was a creme similar to a creme brulee, but this wasn't burned. It came with a topping of whipped cream and a little glass of liquid caramel sauce on the side. Holy moly. I'm feeling soooooo good right now. Life definitely is better when the sustenance that gets you through the day is truly delicious.  I am so glad to be back in France. ;-)
Oh, by the way, the restaurant is named Baud & Millet. It specializes in great cheese dishes, and it's across the street from my hotel, so you don't have to worry about how I got back to my room without crashing. OTOH, the neighborhood is so dodgy, you have to ring a bell for them to let you in. (I say "them", but the  only person I saw was Olivia, the waitress/maitre'/busboy. She, btw, was born in Brittany, spent 10 years in Montreal, and studied food service before moving to Bordeaux.)

Santiago to A Coruna

 
OK, I'll have to come back and fill this in because I don't have enough time to write it all, but suffice it to say - it was another great day!

The rest of 6-29… 1^st Catholic mass I've ever attended (& that will take a book in itself), Muros as a vacation spot - (hell, the whole coast from Muros north is my idea of a perfect vacation spot), Ancoradoiro surfspot/camping, idyllic picnic of bread,cheese,jam,apple,water overlooking Fisterra & Corcubion, Praia de Trabo experience, A Coruna – Paco and the Friends of Muse., horreos, lack of music except “On the Street Where You Live” in church by a guy who doesn't speak English but can sing incredibly well.  Clues You’re on the Right Track photo piece.

I know, dropping hints like that is bad practice, but it'll have to do for now. I gotta go see Fiorella. ;-)

Santiago de Campostela

6-29-10 Had a nice morning coffee yesterday with Bonnie, a school nurse from Turlock. She just did the pilgrimage to Santiago de Campostela. She started in France and walked more than 120 miles in stages. She says the trail often goes through wilderness, which I find amazing and refreshing, considering how long people have been doing it, and how long merchants have been setting up shop along the trail. She pointed me to the Seminario Menor, the Pilgrim’s Hostel, which is where I’m typing this. 200 beds, mostly in huge dorms, but I paid a few extra Euros (17) for a private room.  Spartan, but very nice. It reminds me of the New Camaldoli Hermitage on the Central California coast, especially considering the route I took to get here. I skirted the coast of Northern Spain, and in many places it looks very similar to central California. The rocky outcroppings with so many pocket beaches reminded me of Carmel. It’s more densely populated, though. There are communities all along the fjords, and the only real wilderness is on the exposed coastline, but it still beautiful. I’m off to see the cathedral now. Bonnie says they swing a giant incense burner during mass.  By giant, she meant it hangs from the ceiling of the cathedral and is massive. I wonder what they burn – myrrh, perhaps?

The Seminario:

 The Cathedral:

Looking toward Fisterra: