Brussels Layover

Train picnic to Barcelona

How to pack a proper train picnic:

1. Keep all appropriate packing medium from the rest of the trip. This includes plastic bags, small bottles, empty containers - anything that can hold an assortment of food.

2. Visit a grocery store. Though this is an essential part of travelling in my books, this is an important step to amassing supplies.

3. Decide on a menu. Usually something simple and make-ahead, like sandwiches, but can be as basic as a loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, and a piece of fruit.

4. Prepare everything the night before, to make departure quick and painless. Transfer food to better travel containers. Downsize drinks, and pour wine into plastic bottles for less obvious consumption, though this is unnecessary in most of Western European countries. Pack lots of napkins or kleenex, or steal the toilet paper roll from your hotel room. Drain and transfer juicy item to bags and bottles, like fruit or olives. Don't forget utensiles and such, if required, though you can usually improvise, or take a walk to the bar car and acquire some.

5. When hungry, or bored, pull out a sandwich and enjoy!

6. Try to finish most, if not all while on the train - upon arrival, toss trash in the garbage cans on the platform, and feel suddenly lighter in your travel!

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Sevilla-Barcelona picnic:

- cut-up apple and pear chunks
- leftover Tres Molinos red wine in a small water bottle
- Sandwiches: extra chorizo, jamon, fresh manchego and olive oil on crusty buns
- anchovy-stuffed olives, drained and stored in a small water bottle
- assorted goodies from our travels: Antequera cookies, swiss milk chocolate, torrone from Barcelona, candied nuts from Ronda
- mandarines
- orange juice, and water
- expensive, albeit decent, train coffee

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And now for the continuation of the day in Barcelona!

Upon our return to Urbany Hostel Barcelona, we were thrilled to be recognized by the young man at reception from our stay here two weeks ago. We asked him for his suggestions of what to do with our one night left in town. He sent us across town, past La Sagrada Familia, and down Passeig de Gracia, through Placa de Catalunya and down La Rambla. On our walk, Mario and I played a little game of "spot the Gaudi" - searching either for actual Gaudi architecture, or inspired by his work. There's a lot of it, let me tell you. Once in La Rambla area, we began searching for somewhere to snack for the evening, ultimately ending in the Eixclot neighborhood next to the hostel, at a wonderful local place. We sat at a table outside, watching people walking up and down the pedestrian mall, while cars and scooters buzzed by behind us, and the metro rumbled underneath out feet. We shared a bottle of Vinho Tinto and a plate of tapas that tasted like it came out of someone's home kitchen. It was the perfect ending to Spain.

Drinking Sherry in Xeres

Today morphed several times before it became the day that we ended up having, and I think it proved to us that no matter ow experienced we think we are, or how well laid our plans might be, there will always be hiccups.

We started the day earlier than yesterday, wanting take full advantage of the sunlight. I think we didn't realize how short the days would be, even though they are warmer, as the sun rises late and sets early, cutting the visiting time we have short. After tostadas con tomate at our favorite coffee spot(and saviour) in Seville, we hit the road again, this time heading toward Jerez de la Frontera and the white villages. In Jerez, the capital of Sherry-making, we planned to do some serious tasting at Gonzales-Byass, the bodega in charge of Tio Pepe sherry, which I had tried in Granada. We almost didn't make it - in Andalucia, everything is well-marked on highways and in towns, until you get to that last, crucial turn. There there is nothing. No arrow, no sign, no markers indicating the direction, and you are left endlessly looping around a traffic circle, hoping that the name of the street will magically appear on a sign, knowing that it wasn't there before. Luckily, Gonzalez-Byass was bigger than any road sign, and thank goodness too, since that is what got us into town! 

We booked our way onto the next English-language tour, and found out that Gonzalez-Byass is a BIG enterprise. The biggest Sherry producer in the country. And not because they told us on the tour, or relayed through helpful information panels. Nope - we found out when our group boarded the little red train that to tour around the premises! Yikes - it felt like a ride at Disney, if it hadn't have been for all the cobblestone roadways! 

Gonzalez-Byass is an impressive operation - long ago, they discovered the techniques for making good sherry involved letting the product mature in American Oak barrels, under a layer of protection natural yeast, while mixing the younger batches with older ones and vice-versa. How does that work? Well, the year's production to bottled in siphoned from a bottom layer of barrels. An equivalent amount of of wine is removed from a middle layer and poured in to fill the space created. Now, the same amount is removed from the top barrels and added to the middle barrels, and the space created in the top-most layer is filled up with the juices of the year's new crop of grapes. They explain it as freshness blending with maturity, always ensuring a superior product. As a result, all of the wine caves are lined with row upon row of barrels, in piles three-high. It's what creates the iconic barrel photos of Spanish sherry bodegas. It also means that, since the barrels are never truly emptied, some are VERY old. Many have the autographs of famous people who have visited, including Prince Philip, Roger Moore, Ayrton Senna, Steven Spielburg, Omar Sharif and Orson Wells, among others. A lot were Spanish celebrities, including Flamenco singers and bull fighters, that we were unfamiliar with. I could've spend all day studying the writing on the barrels. 

Onwards we went, to a giant cement dome under which were several tasting salons, which all filled up very quickly. Here, we got to try 4 different kinds of sherry, ranging from dry to sweet, using different aging techinques but all the same grapes, paired with 3 tapas. As per usual, Mario preferred the more dry end of the range, while I liked the sweeter ones. Not so sweet as to put them in the same category as dessert wines though, no. These tasted more like a really mellow, really well-balanced port wine. Very good.

We parted ways with Tio Pepe(the bodega's mascot, named for the founder's favorite uncle), and took a little drive through the mountains. Our intent was to drive through the white villages between Jerez and Ronda, which was not that far away. However, mountain driving is slow-going, and even though it was only about 130 km, it could take the better part of 2.5-3 hours, and sunset was already creeping up on us. We got as far as Arcos de la Frontera, perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, with caverns dug into the side of it, when we decide it would make a good last stop. Arcos was the perfect example of how impressive and awe-inspiring the white villages can be, and it was close enough to the main roads to allow for a quick get-away. It also offered a large grocery store where we could get provisions for our train ride back to Barcelona. 

Heading back to Sevilla, map in had, the exits from the highway got more convoluted, and the roadways not clearly marked, and somehow, what should have been a straight-forward approached became an hour's worth of turns and more turns before we found and entrance back into the city. You have to understand, once you head in the wring direction, there is no easy way to u-turn and retrace your steps. Exits pop up on only one side of the highways. Roads are only one way, or separated for miles by a large median. Somehow, we reconnected with a familiar route in the neighborhood of Triana, where we had been for Flamenco the night before, and worked our way through the narrow lanes to the safety of our parking garage. Boy, did it ever feel good to get out of that car at the end of the drive!

Experiences in Sevilla

A day of 3 very distinct experiences.

First, Metropol Parasol: Constructed as part of a great revitalization project in the old center of Sevilla, and received with as much applause as criticism, "the mushrooms" clomped onto the scene in a fairly recent 2011. It was a way to incorporate a central park, permanent market and visual interest into the same small space. The architect charged with the final project designed tree-like structures, large in stature but light in design, growing out of the roof of the market space, built over a sub-terranean museum housing Roman ruins discovered during construction. Above, a catwalk in the branches offers great views of the city and surrounding bridges, while a restaurant and event halls are available for reservation. But it really does look like a big patch of fungus, and close up views from the aerial catwalk show the shoddy work on the laminated wood making up the lattice structure, used to give a lightness to the forms. Mario found the workmanship cheap, and mentioned how it looked old, like something build in the 1950s, not the 2010s. I was inclined to agree.

Second, El Torcal: Needing to get out of the city, we returned to El Torcal for lunch and a walk. Here, erosion has formed the breathtaking structures topping the mountains in this area, a result of layers upon layers of sand and limestone. The visual results resemble anything from stacks of coins to piles of donuts, stone archways and lumpy columns, ribs or cairns or Western Canadian Hoodoos...It is an amusement park for someone who likes to climb, even though his ankle is preventing too much activity. Restricted by daylight hours and previous engagements, we were limited to the short hike, one wonderful hour of prancing around the rock formations, just like the mountain goats that we spotted at one point. The climb in the car up to the site and back down into the valley was just as spectacular, and challenging, especially when you throw in a herd of mountain sheep grazing nearby and leisurely crossing the road...Mario put on his rally car driver hat, and off we went!

Third, Flamenco: Since we had such a wonderful time with Sara at our Paella-making experience through Airbnb, we opted to book another one, this time covering Flamenco, with a dash of tapas and wine thrown in, just for good measure! We met up with Maria, a well-known Flamenco dancer at a little bar in the Flamenco neighborhood of Triana, where she brought us drinks and snacks, and explained to us the origins and history of the art form. Then she hurried off, suitcase in hand, to change for the show. Maria explained to us that she is trying to bring back the traditional way to enjoy Flamenco - in an intimate setting, among friends, and completely improvised. It used to be reserved for family events and gatherings, where people would gather and play music, clap their hands, stomp their feet, dance and sing. As a result of tourists wanting to partake, companies began offering shows, and dinners - which is not necessarily a bad thing. Maria explained how the big, organized Flamenco events are very good, and very professional, but not very intimate, which is what she is aiming for. In the back of this little bar, there are 30 or so chairs crowded into a dark room, around a stage, and she warned us that if she gets really excited during her first dance, she might hit a few people with her shawl, when she spins around and around in time with the guitar.

In contrast with the show in Granada, and the angry/serious face of the dancer there, Maria seemed to bounce between concentration, contentment and pure exhilaration while she performed. The singer was passionate and angry and resentful while singing about broken hearts and barren homes - which we fully understood regardless of the language barrier. The guitarist, quiet and reserved, strummed his guitar with such speed, skill and finesse, I often couldn't see his fingers individually - they became a blur travelling across the cords. And after they finished, and our small group applauded with much gusto and appreciation, Maria rejoins us, stepping out of her role as performer and into her role as dinner company.

Maria took us out the back entrance to the bar, and down the street to a local tavern, well-known to the local Flamenco community and known to the local performers, as well. The walls were covered with photos and signatures of well-known dancers and singers and guitarists, and Maria pointed out several important ones, which elude me right now. We all sat down at a quiet table at the back, and Maria relished in the fact that we were not picky and she could order anything she wanted from the tapas menu. She picked out several local specialties, including crispy goat cheese cigars in rosemary honey, and fried chunks of pickled codfish, and we talked of the show and Flamenco in general, of weather her and at home, and of the food, of course. It was such a wonderful and memorable night and felt so personal that I would suggest anyone coming to Barcelona join in to one of these wonderful events.

Hiking the Sierra Nevada

Overwhelming Alhambra

Visit to the magnificent Alhambra - the Moorish castle and Arab palace set high above the Darro river valley, opposite the "poor" Albaicin and Sacromonte neighborhoods. I don't know that there is any way to properly describe all the gorgeous craftsmanship and details that we saw here, so I think I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Interesting moments to recount:

- How the rooms of the Nasarids' Palace are so well suited to keeping a comfortable temperature in summer, with their marble walls and constantly-flowing fountains, that they are absolutely frigid now, during our late fall visit. Like the lizards and cats roaming around here, Mario and I find the nearest sun patch to lie in upon exiting the palace.

- How the year-round growing weather is so fantastic for the gardens, that we have found gardens filled with rose trees, not rose bushes, and the blooms are often on stems that stretch out for 6+ feet!

- How the mailbox for sending postcards to young future travellers is hidden inside the mouth of a lion in Alhambra.

- How there is also a summer palace up here, and that it is situated about a 25-minute walk from the "winter" palace. Way to flaut your place in society!

- How there are rusty stains in one of the fountains in the hall of the abassadors, alledgedly from the blood splatters of traitor getting killed. Gruesome.

- How there is a restoration project in process to restore the glory of all the gardens that were once here - using myrtle trees, gardeners are creating archways and walls and hedges of green between the Nasarids' Palace and the Generalife Summer Palace. It will take years, and they are constantly working on it, but if what is already done is any indication of the splendor to come, it will be beautiful.


- That Generalife is pronounced Hen-neh-rah-leaf-eh, and not how you think it is pronouced.

- and finally, how Mario's expectations, based on what he saw in a great-architecture-of-the-world book when he was young, were far surpassed, and that the coffee was good, too.

Caves and Flamenco

When we fleshed out the plan for this trip, today was marked for a hike in the area of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Last night, when we followed our host Rafa, down the narrow streets winding up and up and up the hill of Albaicin, finally pulled into the safety of the parking garage, we vowed not to move again until we absolutely had to. That meant changing up the order of things just a little and pushing the hiking back a few days to when we would be travelling out of Granada towards Sevilla. It also meant an extra day for exploring this curious little end of the world.

Rafa, super-excited to have us staying at his place, spouted off a whole list of things that we just HAD to do while in Granada, and I think he left us enough to fill an entire week, so map in hand, we headed out in search of his must-do items in the Albaicin. We started close by, first locating Plaza Larga, the closest square, and stopping for our morning coffee. Here, we tried molletes for the first time - fresh-grated tomato smeared on a toasted roll, served with olive oil and salt. Mario believes that he has found his new favorite breakfast!

Onwards, we climbed higher and higher in the town, eventually emerging from the maze in front of the Monasterio de San Miguel, situated on the very top of the hill. So high, in fact, that its roof was littered with satellite towers! The plaza out front offered fantastic views of the valley, Granada and the Alhambra, but other than that, it was basically a pitstop for campervans and boho vagrants, a common sight in this town.

Back down the hill, we wound our way around the side, into the valley of the Rio Darro, to the neighborhood of Sacromonte, the birthplace of flamenco. Here, in the small hillside caves over looking the Alhambra, gypsy families sang and danced their emotions, creating the moving and passionate art. Here, we were able to visit some of these caves, restored to how they looked long ago. Elsewhere up the hill, other caves are still home to families living in Granada, while still others offer nightly shows of flamenco to small, intimate audiences.

Through all of this exploration, with less-than-spectacular maps with which to guide our way, we inevitably made a few wrong turns. At one point of the climb up to San Miguel, we made a turn down what we thought was an alley, and found ourselves in a private square, face-to-face with a sandy brown dog that seemed to shake his head at us. From this point on, the sandy brown dog became our sort-of spirit guide, "showing" up whenever we made a bad decision or a wrong turn, shaking his head at us. Eventually, he morphed to have the sound effect of the stupid dog in the classic Nintendo game "Duck Hunt", if that rings a bell.

After a rather disappointing lunch of bits and bites and nearby restaurant(where the sandy dog should have suggested otherwise), we spent the afternoon enjoying the sun from the balcony of our comfortable apartment, Mario napping in the loft bed, while I took in the sights and sounds of the outside garden.

This evening, we made a reservation nearby to watch a local flamenco show, and, as it happened, it was the last night of some travelling performers, so the show was extra emotional. The floor-shaking stomps of the dancers' feet were interspersed with the claps of the singers, whose lilting songs mixed perfectly with the harmonies of the violin and Spanish guitar. It was powerful and sad, exciting and angry, and every emotion in between. It was amazing, and a need-to-see to appreciate kind of experience. This was not the type of thing that could be conveyed through photos, or even video. What can I say? It left me completely speechless.

Traveling to Granada

Another travel day for us, this time a little more challenging and adventure-filled. Rather than taking the highways - because that would be EASY - we traveled on the coastal secondary route, curling our way around the cliffs, gazing out at the brilliant blue of the Mediterranean sea, stopping at all the viewpoints. Once we reached Motril, we headed north into the mountains, grazing the edge of the Sierra Nevadas. I directed us through some quaint little hill towns before we headed into the larger city of Granada. Here, our host Rafa led us through the hyper-narrow streets of the old town, barely wide enough for one car, and somehow fitting two, high above the city, level with the great Alhambra palace. As the sun set, we pulled into a tiny garage, headed into a gorgeously-tiny apartment with a hidden garden(called a carmen!), and after a nice walk around the same narrows streets to situate ourselves, we settled in for a quiet night.

Bridges of Ronda

Ronda, Ronda, Ronda - what a day, what a day trip. One of the more visited of the "white villages" in Andalucia, Ronda is known for the 100m gorge that runs between the Old Medina and newer town, and the 3 bridges that cross it. Have this wonderful thing called a rental car this vacation, we decided to get out of Malaga, and take the scenic drive through the mountains to Ronda. The drive out of the city was relatively straight-forward, and once we hit the highway, it was pretty much smooth sailing the whole way. We did make one wrong turn, turning into the small town of Ardales, where we thought the roadway continued, then searching down several dirt roads for the access back to the highway. Eventually, we followed the same route as a tour bus and managed our way back in the right direction.

Ronda is one of those places where you can clearly feel the difference in neighborhoods, and when you've crossed that line from regular to tourists area. We parked far enough out of the center of town that we clearly crossed that line coming in, and made sure we chose a quiet spot for a coffee before starting our adventure. Next to the information centre, we headed into the Plaza del Torros, the oldest and most famous bullfighting ring in Spain. It's curious to see how much distance is put between the bulls and people corralling them, which is very telling of how much anger the animals much already harbour even BEFORE being sent into the rings. Overhead walkways, gates opened with long poles or ropes, gatesways opened via sliding metal bars...these people DO NOT want to come in close vicinity of the bulls! Right now, though, the stables are filled with not bulls, but horses, trained in the art of dressage, and the paddock in used for an equestrian school, when not home to angry, angry bulls.

We toured the museum, admiring the jackets and hats of famous bullfighters, and the mounted heads of famous bulls(which is, admittedly, a little creepy and sad). We also sat in the stands of the ring, and watched as people entered from one side, stoood in awe at the sheer vastness, then ran around with fake horns, or waving a jacket, imitating the fighter and his prey. It made us laugh to see that, in every group, at least one person did this, and honestly, was totally expected. Mario made me do it.

Following the visit, we headed across the bridge to the old medina side of the city, but not before checking out the bridge. Ronda may be a hill-top town built across a 100m deep gorge, but what draws people here are the three tall bridges that cross the gorge. Like most hill-top towns, Ronda was founded here because its high vantage point offered great protection during times of war. Mario pondered on this fact, wondering why people didn't begin to move out and down the mountain since the protection was not longer necessary. He also left me in a plaza while he made his way down the cliffside stairway for better views of the tallest bridge(not true - I volunteered to stay up top and listen to the melody of a far-off accordion).

We traveled in a figure-eight around the medina, first along the left side of town, down a steep slope and across the second bridge, making our way back up through a rose garden-lined terraced park, then along the right side of the medina and back through to the new town. Along the way, we crossed a construction crew digging up the far end of the bridge, accessing some broken pipes, just at the edge of the bridge. They obviously weren't too worried about the strength of the structure below!

Long shadows were making their way across the laneways of Ronda, so we figured it was a good time to start the drive back to Malaga, as we were heading through the mountains, and didn't want to miss out on the vistas due to darkness. We passed through the Sierra de la Nieves National Park, stopping at a mirador(viewpoint)to catch the last waning rays of the sun passing over the mountaintops and into the valley below us.

Back in town, we headed back into the narrow laneways of Malaga to our new favorite spot, El Pimpi, this time going all out and having Spanish-style late dinner. Out on the MASSIVE back patio, we watched the army of waiters efficiently rushing around, serving drinks and snacks to the tables around us, ushering families and couples in and out with great ease. Mario and I enjoyed a platter of the bellota-fed pork products, in season right night, along with simmered pork cheeks and grilled octopus with olive oil, garlic and parsley. Our waiter, noticing how far away we had traveled to enjoy our meal(via my creadit card), offered us glasses of moscatel, a sweetish wine famous in Malaga, to finish off the night. So we sipped, and looked out at the flood-lit Roman theatre, and reminisced of

our travels. Tomorrow, we are off to Granada.

Getting to know Malaga

As per our usual travel habits, we always take a day to first get our bearings in a town, get a feel for the culture and atmosphere, and visit some of the great sights it has to offer. This morning, the call of coffee and pastries drew us out of our nice, cozy apartment overlooking the city, and so once we had fueled up on caffeine and sugar, we continued walking. We headed into the old city, following laneways we had only just glanced upon last night. Curiously, we happened upon a line-up of what seemed like soccer fans, snaking its way from Plaza de la Constitucion. Turns out, there is an upcoming game between the Costa-Rican national team and Malaga C.F., so there is a fan zone set up in the square with the trophies from Euro and the FIFA championships. Also, all these people in line will likely get free tickets to a practice match on Friday night, which I think would have drawn in Mario, too, if we had still been here to attend!

Past the mob of excited fans we ventured, making our way to the other side of town, and the scenic climb up the hill to the Castello de Gibralfaro, the Moorish castle built to protect Malaga. Once filled with soldiers and gorgeous gardens, much like all the Moorish castles in Andalucian, Gibralfaro is, in comparison, a little more barren inside. It reminded me a little of the let-down of the Fort Napoleon in Guadeloupe, though not to such an extent, and it did offer similarly beautiful vistas of the city from above.

We toured the walls, catching views of the Malaga from all angles, then made our way into the centre garden, to learn of the local flora that once filled this area. We also stopped at the cafeteria for some very reasonably-priced wine and tasty snacks.

Insert here a walk down from the castle, where I take Mario to the waterfront for a walk along the Palmeraie. He starts having a panic attack at the sight of so many sunburnt tourists in one place that I have to lead him back into the twisty, turny, alleys of the old town before he calms down again! What an oddball.






Having spotted its multi-domed roof from up in the castle, curiosity got the best of us and we next went to visit the Catedral. Very nicely sculpted, and with more domes than I have ever seen in a church before, the visit was rendered slight less enjoyable due to a rather boring audio-guide, albeit provided in the price of the ticket. When the narrator is 15 minutes deep into an explanation of every single gold-leafed flower carving in a single chapel, and you've got another 7 chapels to go, you know it's time to drop the audio-guide, and go it on your own.

Also included in the price of the ticket was entry into the Palacio del Obispo, the Episcopal palace, now converted into a museum. There was a section of religious pieces, which we had seen enough of in the cathedral, another hall devoted to metal works and African weapons, and a third exhibition on Fernando Ortiz, from Malaga, famous for being one of the best sculptors of religious figures in Spain. And his sculptures WERE amazing - so gorgeous, detailed, and beautiful, with sweeping fabrics and glowing tears. One representation of Jesus had scraped-up knees that were so life-like, I had to look away!

After such a big day, we opted to stop at a Dia grocery store for some food to cook back at the apartment. We stopped en route to enjoying the melodies of a jazz ensemble, performing as part of the Jazz festival happening in Malaga right now, then continued on home.

Train to Sevilla, then Malaga

Not much to report, as today was a travel day. Note-worthy events include:

• successfully ordering coffee in Spanish without an English response
• losing my traveling kitchen knives to an unexpected security check for the Alta Velocidad train to Sevilla

• navigating both OUT of Sevilla and INTO Malaga by car, and reaching our destination with only 1 wrong turn(and NO GPS), and finally
• enjoying an awesomely-delicious dinner of tapas at El Pimpi, a local place on the edge of the old town

Also possibly figuring our how to work the apartment's washer-dryer combo in Spanish, but we'll keep that adventure for tomorrow.