Travelling through Europe again, taking photos of doors and writing in cafes has made me think a lot of our trip through Spain last year (we went in May 2012). We had such a good time, hanging out in Barcelona for a week before heading up to Girona and eating the dinner of our lives at El Celler de Can Roca and then motorcycling around the country through France to Andorra, then Madrid, Cordoba, Seville, Jerez, Gibraltar, Ronda, Granada, Costa del Sol, Valencia and back to Barcelona again. That was before I had a place to keep travel notes and the like, so they’ve been floundering around in my phone and for lack of a better idea I’m just going to post them here, largely unedited. As always, the link to the flickr photo set is at the end of the post.
12-05-03 – 12-05-09 (Barcelona)
Coming from the airport we passed a hillside graveyard and fields and the general unused land around airports, but then the landscape closed in tighter and tighter as we got into Barcelona and then into Barri Gòtic – the Gothic quarter or Old town where what used to be paths hundreds of years ago has now been cemented into streets by years and stone. The taxi driver tried to tell us where our hotel was (we were not in front of it) but not understanding his Catalan, he shrugged and drove us to it down an impossibly small street.
The lock was broken so we called the landlord and waited a while but then the locksmiths broke the spare lock that they brought with them so finally we left them to it and went out to dinner. We were tired so we choose poorly and ended up at something too touristy close to La Rambla (the main street, a wide promenade full of shops and tourists) but it gave us an idea of what to expect.
I loved wandering the labyrinthian neighbourhood, navigating to our street using graffiti on closed security doors and public art in seemingly out of the way squares, and passing jamón shops with legs of ham hanging in windows every 50 metres. On the first day we walked to see Gaudi’s masterpiece, the Sagrada Familia (above) and on the way passed three of his other works – Casa Mila, Casa Amatller, and Casa Batlló. On they way back we passed a restaurant I wanted to check out – Tapas 24 – and we ate pa amb tomate and jamón, croquettes and the best dessert I’ve had in a long time – rolls of chocolate ganache topped with sea salt and olive oil.
We found a cava bar we liked in El Born (the trendy restaurant district near us) called Xampanyet and ended up going there 2 more times, we visited the Boqueria market twice and ate at the Bar Pinotxo. I had made both lunch and dinner reservations at Tickets, planning to cancel one of them but we ate there twice too and tried everything on the menu.
And so our first week in Spain passed this way, feeling easy and comfortable, being amazed at how small and compact and beautiful it was but happy to already have favourites and a familiar routine.
12-05-10 (Barcelona / Girona)
When I first told Matt I wanted to eat at El Celler de Can Roca I explained that it was in Girona, a couple of hours north of Barcelona and he said no problem, he would sort out how to get us there. I assumed there would be a bus or maybe a train but a couple of weeks later he had rented us some motorcycles – a BMW R1200GS for him and a BMW F800ST for me – and planned a little romp around the countryside. Because he likes driving and I like seeing things that turned into the epic adventure that follows but our first leg was pretty short – we picked up the bikes and drove to Girona, checked into our hotel and ordered some surprise dishes off the entirely Catalan menu, and then I went to bed because we had spent a little too long at the mezcal bar the night before and I wanted to be in good shape for dinner.
Then we ate at El Celler de Can Roca. It was the best experience I have ever had in a restaurant and that covers food and service. Afterwards we met the chef and he thanked me for my sensitivity – what I had called “our gushing” about how good everything was earlier in the evening.
12-05-11 (Girona/ Cadaques /France / Andorra)
The next day was a long one. We wanted to ride through the Pyrenees and we had seen on Google Maps that the road through Andorra was a good one. But to get there we first needed to go north along the coast and then through France. So we passed through Figueres (where the Dali museum is meant to be) but didn’t see much of interest there and then I was anxious to be off again because my clutch grip was so stiff and my hand just gave out after too long in stop-and-go traffic.
A small town, Orriol maybe? smelled fantastically like cheese and made me grin and later a low-flying plane crossed over the road above us to land in a field and made me laugh out loud. It’s a bit lonely riding a motorcycle because even when you’re riding with someone you can’t be sure they’re sharing the same experiences and it’s rare that I get to take a photo but on the other hand, it makes you appreciate the moments a bit more and makes you try to remember them for later. There’s a bit of resonance there with my hesitation to get into underwater photography, I think.
Roses, the town where El Bulli used to be, was even more strange than Girona. It was tiny and felt somewhat like Osoyoos, with hills and windy roads and dry scrub and heat..not to mention the run-down go-carting place and crazy mini golf parks. I guess a seaside town is a seaside town is a seaside town.
But that road! We laughed all the way to Cadaques, twisting in and our of beautiful corners, bright yellow broom all over the place (with that particular cellulose smell), catching our first glimpses of the Mediterranean and were still smiling over beers and bacon-cheese sandwiches oceanside when we stopped for lunch. Cadaques is all square white buildings and square blue windows reflecting light off the ocean and Gertrude Stein was right – this is a perfectly cubist village. Cubism was created by Cadaques.
And then we got to ride that road again, inland! Aside from a small stretch of boring highway slab in France, the twisties continued all the way to Andorra. We passed a whole bunch of beach towns with intense azure water, a Castle with a moat, the vineyards of the Languedoc-Rousillon wine region, and then several small medieval towns with towers and walls and meadows and orchards and some beautiful horses grazing as we rode through a river valley. It’s so neat to think that these would have been about a day’s journey between each town and we just whipped by them one after another.
Unfortunately I didn’t realize that the Go Pro camera battery was dead so even when we drove practically through a castle I didn’t pull over to take any photos. We’ll just have to come through here again some day. Approaching Andorra looks so much live Bavaria or BC even (or like a mountainous region, I suppose) but with stone huts and more horses and then suddenly it was all snow and duty free shops. It felt like a mall. The air temperature didn’t drop until we were practically on top of the ski resort, though, but it was pretty glorious. And the road up and down the summit! The switchbacks were so severe that Matt and I were almost facing each other a couple of times. So awe-inspiring, although Andorrans drive like assholes and there were several tracks off into the air so I went slow.
Hard to believe we went from sea level to glacier in the same day, through 3 countries. By far the best day riding of my life.
And then I was ready to be off the bike; I was tired and thirsty and headache-y and my shoulders were quite sore from the ergos on the bike and Matt’s back had been bothering him for hours, but we were almost in Andorra la Vella and then there was another small town, and another, and another and then we were there but there was a river and such a long, drawn out town you never did see but finally we arrived and after 14 hours of riding got ourselves stranded up a steep, narrow dead end. The road was just closed off at the top of a hill so steep that Matt had to back into a corner to turn around and I had to ride up on to and off of the sidewalk, through some bollards and around a car while Matt held my bike and I freaked out because I couldn’t touch the ground. It sucked very badly but eventually we got to our hotel and almost got into a fight with a horrible Italian man who told Matt, “traffic is not bad, you are stupid!!” after honking at us then driving around us and over the median and reversing through the intersection, and the next day Matt came off his bike after breaking too hard from not yielding at a courtesy corner. We hated Andorra as soon as we arrived.
12-05-12 (Andorra / Madrid)
Nothing much to report on the journey down the super slab highway from Andorra to Madrid. It was even more boring than we thought it would be, although in some parts there is interesting scenery – including some that looks for all the world like Utah except for the fields of windmills and periodically placed huge toro silhouettes along the way. I guess they don’t call it the Sierra Nevada in both counties for nothing. Also we met a crazy truck driver near Zaragosa who we had quite a long conversation with while actually exchanging very little information. He was rad though and we watched some Moto GP videos of Rossi on his phone. As Matt says, motorcycle people are motorcycle people no matter where you are. I love how many people wave and smile at us here. Motorcycles just make people happy I think.
Arriving in Madrid was busy but sane. People know how to drive here and there is respect for motorcyclists which is awesome and the city just seems electric with energy. We were surprised that we felt good and had some energy after a shower, beer and food so we decided to walk up to the Reina Sofia museum to see Picasso’s Guernica. This is a painting I have been wanting to see for a very long time and so I was so grateful. It’s one that demands a visit in person to understand the utter immensity of it. It’s enormous and the effect of all those layers and textures of wood just does not come through in photos. His ability to convey emotion like that through form is just such brilliance. I could have sat there for hours.
The museum has several other Dalis, Magrittes, Miros and other famous pieces and we saw quite a few but Matt was getting tired so we didn’t stay too long and then found a nice spot overlooking the city where we could drink our beers before dinner. The light was amazing and the thing that I already love about this city is that there are almost no tourists. It was so nice to just hang out in close proximity to some Spaniards and watch the footy game that was happening down below. Later we tried to go out for dinner on the Calle de la Cava Baja – Madrid’s tapas row and we were astounded at how many people were out milling and eating, streaming out of streets like water. We thought there was an event on but it turned out to just be Saturday night. This city is so ALIVE!! Every bar is packed to the gills and we could hear music and people out partying until almost morning. We were in bed early though – we did 700km AND a museum and that was enough. We’ll have to come back.
We toured the entire Prado today! We were not as impressed with Velasquez’s portraits as I had expected and I’m not a huge fan of Goya but it was good to see the original Las Meninas after seeing so many of Picasso’s studies in Barcelona. Also, I hadn’t realized that there were so many (or any, for that matter) of Hieronymus Bosch’s paintings in Madrid, so it was a real treat to see the Garden of Earthly Delights and 4 others up close. So much crazy detail in those.
We were cooked afterwards but decided it would be better to press on and eat instead of napping. So we had a couple of beers and then headed back to the bottom of the Calle de la Cava Baja where we had been the night before, ready to tuck in.
The first place we went was a chain called Toma Jamón that (obviously) had jamóns hanging all over the place and one ready to slice on a barrel in the doorway. Gin and tonics seem to be the drink of the moment in Madrid – every bar was promoting them, including our hotel – but I had vermuth again (Matt stuck with beer) and we ordered jamón, pulpo gallego (octopus), and gambas (prawns). I tried to order more but the proprietor waved me off with a laugh and then brought me to the counter to show me the prawns – there was a choice between ones the size of my hand or larger. He also brought out an order of tomato bread and small but meaty green olives so I worried that we were going to fill up on our first stop. Matt laughed at me for being up to my elbows in prawn but they were so delicious – meaty and flavourful and not like any prawn I’ve had in recent years. We were pretty full by the time we got to the octopus but we didn’t much care for it anyways. It was thinly sliced on top of thinly sliced potatoes and doused in smoky, meaty-tasting paprika. It was fine as a protein but not good enough to warrant eating my beloved octopuses.
Bar #2 (TxoTolia Pinoteca Madrileño??) was packed but we squished in and Matt got a table while I ordered drinks and scoped out the tapas. I told Matt that there was one of the best looking ones I had seen so far (a fist-sized bomba with potatoes and mushrooms) and one of the grossest (a pile of tiny grey eels – “gulas” – on toast with a lone slice of red pepper for garnish). He told me to get one of each and I stared at him in disbelief for a moment before running to the counter and ordering before either of us changed our minds. Surprisingly, the eels were even better than the bomba that ended up coming warmed with mushroom gravy or the morcilla sausages wrapped in a fried egg on toast and even the Spaniards were shocked since most of them were eating tapas that looked like little cheeseburger sliders.
We were pretty drunk by this point but decided to try one more place. And unfortunately the one we tried one wasn’t very busy or very good but we had some anchovies (tasted as expected) and croquettes (tasted of oil) , some hazelnut ice cream (delicious) and some terrible, bitchy service before stumbling home.
12-05-14 (Madrid / Cordoba)
Even more boring than the last freeway jaunt except for some vineyards and olive trees. It’s pretty cool to smell olive oil in the air though.
So hot. I am melting in my leathers. Matt says him too but I look at his canvas jacket that unzips to practically nothing and think that he just has no idea.
We arrived in Cordoba and parked on the sidewalk, peeled the leathers off and left them in a damp pile on the sidewalk. The hotel was nice but we decided to go out and see the mosque-cathedral immediately instead of waiting until later so we changed and headed out but it was so hot. We were cranky and sweating before we had even made it all the way across the river.
The mosque (way more mosque than cathedral despite the altar in the middle and the various culty chapels around the perimeter) was stunningly beautiful with its rows of candy cane arches and forest of pillars and I was happy that so much of the original remained but I couldn’t help but wish that it had all been preserved. I guess that’s not the way of history though.
For some reason most of the dogs we saw in Cordoba are German Shepherds – all of them with their tongue almost touching the ground. It’s unconscionable. It’s way too hot in this town and the old quarter was full of tourists so we hid out in the hotel room and drained the mini bar until evening. We tried to go to the pool but it was closed so we took a lovely walk around the mosque and old city walls again.
12-05-15 (Cordoba / Seville / Jerez)
More freeway, we hate freeways. And more cows but now there are some garlic farms and many many more olive orchards. The air was full of the smell of them and Matt smelled sherry as well at one point. Sevilla was bigger than expected and apparently had hosted the Olympics at some point as we recognized the infrastructure pieces that seem to accompany them. It’s also much cooler than we expected (32 instead of 38, at least for now) and we’re so grateful but still astounded to see guys walking around in the sun in black suits, or a FUR shop! There are orange trees with fruit on the growing everywhere on the streets and beautiful purple flowering trees that I think must be Jacarandas. We didn’t have much time in Seville, unfortunately, but we headed to Zelai for lunch where we had jamón and manchego cheese (both delicious, but possibly a poor choice to fill up on), patates ali-oli with saffron, tuna tataki and croquettes. Simply prepared, for the most part, but it was some of the best food we’ve had in Spain. For dessert we had a PB & jam pudding with a chocolate top that I thought was pretty good. Driving out of Seville I was so distracted by the incredibly beautiful architecture and wished we were able to stay longer to explore. Gorgeous palace after bull ring after manor houses…even the tourist information booth was in a beautiful building. And then we were back on the freeway with nothing much to look at but at least we were glad of the breeze.
Passed several castles in the afternoon. We seem to be in the part of Spain (mountainous but near enough the coast) that has one on every hilltop. I tried to get Matt to stop several times but I couldn’t get his attention. He’s been trying to ride more and more like a Spaniard which is better for the flow of traffic but means we’re passing dramatically and I’m often left with very little space. Hopefully it will make me a better rider and not just bitter but the heat and angry pressure building meant that I was in a pretty terrible mood when we stopped in Arcos de la Frontera and Matt yelled at me for not knowing where we were. Obviously there is a need for yelling when we’re both wearing earphones but he’s the one with the GPS so the conversation was maybe besides the point. Turns out there’s nothing to see in Arcos so we pressed on, melting.
We had reservations at the Sherry Park hotel which cracked me up for its Britishness but it is apparently the best-rated hotel in Jerez. We must have looked sunburnt, sweaty and miserable (never how we must have smelled!) because the clerk, Kino (who turned out to be awesome) joked with us that riding a moto in this weather, with this gear, is more like riding a sauna with wheels. So true. I would have laughed but all I could managed was a weak smile.
In the room we cranked the AC and drank 2 beers and 2 waters each before hopping in a cool shower. When we felt human again we went down the tho pool and I ordered some fino sherry (Tio Mateo). The bartender free-poured it, filling up my glass and it cost only €1,50. l love this country! Our new friend Kino recommended a little walk into town so we could get some photos and sample some Jerez cuisine (and sherry of course). Lovely man. When I asked about sherry bodegas he asked how much of a rush we were in in the AM because it was day off and he would be happy to take us to some special ones, but we had a big day ahead of us so we sadly had to skip it.
We hadn’t expected anything of Jerez, just a place to sleep and maybe some sherry but we ended up falling in love with it. It has such a character all its own and I can’t help but think that that’s what Barcelona was to be like before all the tourists arrived. The first place we stopped was called Tabanco Plateros and I ordered a palo cortado sherry (which Matt admitted to liking although he still ordered beer for himself) and some delicious fresh cheese – payoyo, I think it was called – with morcilla. The morcilla was hella oily but the flavour was excellent. Same with the plate of green olives that arrived with the sherry. The place was packed and full of excellent energy and an accordion player came by for a while. I could have stayed there for a week butI wanted to see some of the town before dark.
From there we walked through the old town (drunk) and took some photos of the cathedral and the square and the crazy swallows flying and chirping all over the place – feeding, I guess – and the sherry bodegas that are right smack in the middle of the old town. The restaurant Kino had recommended was a gastrobar called Reina something or other and was so adorable. They brought a table outside onto the street patio for us because it was still too hot to eat inside and then a bottle of wine (but no ice and no opener!). Lorenzo our waiter was so clumsy he kept tripping over Matt and stepping on his feet, so we laughed a lot, even more after we got the wine opened.
12-05-16 (Jerez / Gibraltar / Ronda / Granada)
So much wind today! We are tilting at windmills for real as we get buffeted around. And it’s mercifully cold – down as low as 19 degrees today which is a shock after seeing 37 inland. The Rock of Gibraltar was significantly more impressive than we expected; coming down the hill into town we could see it shrouded in mist and all the ships in the harbour, but the “town” is pretty much nonexistent.
The ride from Marbella up to Ronda was SPECTACULAR; cold, warm, cold, warmer, hot, hotter / oceanside, foothills, pine tree scrub, shale, farmland, village / sea level, ~3500 ft, etc. grinning the whole time. And then we got to Ronda, a beautiful little village with the oldest and most beautiful bull ring in Spain and the Medieval bridge through the gorge. We also found a whole bunch of tour buses.
More crazy wind, then some crazy traffic and we were ready to be off the bikes but Granada is super gorgeous once you get up the hill into the old town. And then we saw why so many reviews said the hotel was “tricky to get to” because we were up and down and around on ancient, steep, slippery cobblestones. At one point I was watching to see which way Matt was going to turn and realized that the road only went one way – and the other way was stairs! Our hotel was amazing – a 600 year old manor house on the hill overlooking the Alhambra. It has a decorative pool in the courtyard and lovely wood detailing everywhere and heavy ornate metal latches. Also the parking garage has an elevator so that was pretty cool.
We hadn’t bought our tickets to Alhambra in advance because we weren’t sure which day were were going to arrive but we also knew that it sold out quickly, so we walked down the hill that our hotel was on (in the Albayzín district) and up the hill that the Alhambra was on where the ticket sellers just told us to come early in the morning. It’s a beautiful walk through the gate and gardens though, so it was pleasant enough. For dinner we made the mistake of asking the hotel for a reco and he sent us to a super tourist place whose patio looked out to the Alhambra. It was very lovely and romantic but the food was predictably mediocre.
12-05-19 (Granada / Calahonda)
The hours that we spent waiting in line disappeared pretty quickly once we got inside the grounds of the Alhambra. It was a fortress and a palace through several generations so there are different areas to visit that are interesting in different ways. We say the beautiful rose gardens and fountains with the ancient water delivery systems (turned over roof tiles joined together to form a trough that takes water all over the hill) and the old dungeons and watchtower and then we had a bit of a wait before we could get into the gorgeous Nazarene palaces. I sat Matt in the shade and got him a beer and a jamón sandwich, most of which he ended up feeding to the feral cats (who figured out pretty quickly that we were a good mark).
The palaces are incredibly gorgeous. It’s hard to imagine the work that must have gone into the detailing, where every surface in some of the rooms had been covered. In others, beautiful fountains and pools were the focus, or a quiet garden that looked out onto the town. I’ve been in love with this aesthetic most of my lift and to see it in person was almost overwhelming. I could have spent days in there.
We decided not to stay another night in Granada but instead head out to the coast where we expected it to be cooler, so we got packed up and put the bikes in the elevator. It turned out to be one of our less good ideas because we were hot and tired from walking around Alhambra all day but also because the ancient cobblestones had become slick with oil and heat during the day and were at their absolute worst by mid-afternoon. As the parking garage was at the top of a steep hill, this made is something akin to riding a motorcycle down a ski hill – with cars on it. Matt did okay but my boot slipped while I was balancing on a slick part of the street and I dropped my bike. That made me cranky but even worse was that we changed our plans and just ate at a tourist shop facing Alhambra at the bottom of the hill and for the second time in two days we had a bad meal in Spain.
The drive to the coast was not long and it did mercifully get cooler as we got towards the water. Apparently Spain had been in some kind of heat wave (no shit!) that was almost over as well but it seemed like maybe poor timing now that we were finally at the beach. We stopped in the first hotel in the first town (Calahonda), happy to be off the bikes and out of the heat, then went down to the bar on the beach. We just sat there until the restaurant opened (in the same space as the bar) and thought that we would see a menu but the waiter just brought me more wine and then started bringing us food. There was a lovely salad with smoked salmon followed by a fish casserole (caught right in front of where we were sitting) and some toro (bull) meat. When we were full, we told him and he brought us some fruit and an after-dinner drink. It was so easy and unpretentious and lovely. Also one of the best meals we had the whole trip.
12-05-20 (Calahonda / Benisanó)
As we started riding up the Costa del Sol, two things happened – the “sol” disappeared in the rain and we arrived at the Spain that is familiar to German, French and British holiday-makers – tri-lingual picture menus and huge billboards advertising patio furniture rentals, etc. We had thought that we would just ride up the coast until we found another cute little town to stay in but the roads have been expertly designed to get traffic in and out of these small towns quickly and so you turn off of the super highway onto a smaller one and then onto the road that leads to your town. To get out or even to get to the next town you do the same in reverse. That sucks for motorcycling and the rain isn’t great either so we just kept going until we got to Valencia – the next town that I knew I for sure wanted to visit.
Except that we didn’t stop in Valencia but kept going on to the suburb of Benisanó. The only thing that I wanted to do in Valencia was eat a proper paella (although there are a couple of nice restaurants in that stretch that I would have liked to eat at, had we been able to get in) and so Matt looked up the primo place to eat paella and it turned out that it’s Levante, out in the suburbs. There’s only one hotel in Benisanó – a classy joint that has put a potted plant in front of the 2 Star plaque out front – and so we stayed in it, in a room that felt like the spare room at an estate museum or something. There was a dresser that looked like it had been got at a garage sale and although I think we and the people next to us were probably the only four people staying in the whole place, they had put us right next to each other and the walls were so thin that we could hear the guy yelling at his wife from the shower. But no matter, we were going to have paella for dinner and then we were going to leave so we just needed to find a couple of hours to fill until then and as we had discovered on this trip, beer does a pretty great job of filling an afternoon.
Luckily the paella place was just a few doors down so I went and checked every so often it kept stubbornly being closed. Finally we asked the hotel proprietor and he said in his very limited English that he thought it wasn’t open. That seemed pretty obvious so after a while I asked if we could have paella there in the hotel restaurant and he looked surprised but said he thought they might have some left over from lunch. They did and we ate it while sulking a bit. Later we learned that paella is usually cooked outside over fires made with orange wood and that it’s traditionally made by men who were out working in the fields. For this reason, it’s usually a lunch dish rather than eaten for dinner. Try again tomorrow.
12-05-21 (Benisanó / Peníscola / Barcelona)
Checked out and went and parked ourselves at the cafe next door to Levante. I got crankier and crankier as we filled up on snacks from a suburban Spanish bakery and the paella place never opened. Finally we had to leave and now I will have to come back to this shit town again some day and stay in this shit hotel just to eat paella.
As we rode out of town though we passed orange grove after orange grove and the smell was intoxicating. I always tell people that motorcycles are the best way to travel because you are so connected to the land – the terrain, the climate, the smells – and travelling from Barcelona through Madrid and then Andalusia we passed through the countryside experiencing the things that we would eat at the next town; fields of garlic, olive orchards, orange groves, etc. Some of these things weren’t pleasant (the pig farms in particular) and when we crested a hill outside Valencia and saw a fire filling the sky with black smoke, we prepared to ride fast through it and hold our breaths against the acridness. The opposite thing happened though. It turned out to be a fire in an orange grove and it was the smell of smoky perfume, spicy pot pourri…the smell of our denied paellas cooking on an open fires of orange wood…If it weren’t for the ERT vehicles we may have turned around and rode through it again and again. It didn’t quite make up for not eating paella but that was a pretty amazing experience.
Stopped in Peníscola (another poor Spanish town about to be overrun by sun-seeking tourists) for lunch and had a lovely meal on the beach of cuttlefish, cheese and Albariño before pressing on to Barcelona. So tired and achey now. I actually have bruises on my ass from riding so hard and just desperately wanted to be off the bike but as we were riding through Penedès (cava wine country) I couldn’t help but signal to Matt that I wanted to pull over and buy some. He looked pretty incredulous – we’d been travelling around Spain for weeks with strangely-shaped, un-flexible luggage the size of overnight bags and in every town I had found something that I wanted to buy. Matt would hold it up against his hard case (he had a bigger bike so therefor bigger bags) and tell me I could get the smaller one. About 2/3rds of the way through the trip he threw out some of his underwear to make room for some regional delicacy I couldn’t live without. So in Penedès he told me I could have ONE bottle of wine and that was it, then he went to the bathroom.
The proprietor showed me around his operation, through the cellar and the storeroom and finally told me about each of the different wines. He was doing it in Catalan though, and so when he said that the bottles were €60, €70 and €90 each and I just about died because it was the most expensive cava I had ever seen in my life, he actually meant €6 – €9. I wish I had a truck.
Matt rented us a super posh hotel on the water in Barcelona so we just cruised up to the door and parked our filthy, bug-encrusted bikes on the sidewalk beside the luxury cars and went inside to drink our wine. Wanted to go to Cal Pep but it was closed so ducked out of the rain around the corner in a super cute tapas place that we hadn’t seen yet called Bastaix. We had fava beans with jamón iberico and mint, piquillo peppers with goat cheese and honey, morcilla sausage on toast with roasted apple and cheese, a plate of manchego, and some nice Albariño. For dessert there was that gorgeous chocolate ganache and EVOO and sea salt dessert and more PX (from Alvarez this time) which Matt enjoyed. He seems to be a convert.
We had an unexpected couple of days in Barcelona that we thought were were going to spend along the coast but it was raining and we were tired and the jamón iberico at the hotel was excellent so we laid low and feasted, shopped, planned our next trip – to Northern Spain…
Here are all the photos from our trip: http://www.flickr.com/photos/degan/sets/72157629894497730/