Day 10: Cruising East Along the Northern Coast of Spain

Early this morning, we headed to the Santiago de Compostela train station and rented a car for our long drive to Bilbao. After multiple calls from the states to confirm that the car would indeed be an automatic transmission and that a gps device would be included, we were glad to find everything just as we had asked for, and we headed out of the city easily with blue skies before us.

Driving through the Galician countryside made us feel, corny as it sounds, happy to be alive. Lush, rolling hills dotted with fluffy sheep, idyllic, stone houses with laundry hanging in the sun, and blue skies hung with poofy, white clouds, greeted our every turn. We slipped our flamenco cd (the one we bought on the street in Granada) into the stereo, and snapped along to the music. (Most of today's pictures were taken through the window of a moving car...)

We left Santiago de Compostela at 10am, and after about 4 hours of easy driving along the N-634 (with a 15 minute break for Fanta Limon at a lovely country inn) we found ourselves in the coastal town of Gijon. We picked a crowded cafe in a sunny square for lunch, and sat down to one of the strangest meals we've had yet on this trip. I won't go into detail, but let's just say my first course involved rice and marinara sauce, and Jack's involved mushrooms... many many mushrooms.

It took us (and our gps) a while to figure our way out of Gijon, which gave us our first glimpse of the Cantabrian sea.

Finally moving onwards at around 4:30 pm, we hopped on the A-8 expressway which moved us much more quickly along this beautiful drive. The topography began to change dramatically, and soon, we found ourselves driving through the foothills of some pretty awe-inspiring peaks. I think these are part of the Picos de Europa, a popular national park.







Soon, we noticed that the signs were starting to display a new language, and realized that it was Euskarian, an ancient language dating back to Neolithic times, spoken by the Basque people. It is actually the oldest spoken language in Europe. The mountains also gave way to coastline, which would eventually lead us to the Bay of Biscay.


We finally made it into Bilbao at 7pm in the evening, found our hip hotel without any problem. Just a quick note about our little car... we rented a Citroen C4 which runs on diesel gas- totally awesome! More torque to the engine than a normal transmission, yet, incredibly gas efficient- we drove about 570 kilometers on half a tank of gas!


After resting for a bit, we took the incredibly easy to use and very modern metro to Casca Viejo, old town. As it turns out, very few pintxos (like tapas, but smaller, more like "bites") bars are open late on Tuesdays, so we limited ourselves to two, and nibbled a few pintxos at each. Jack tried the txakoli, which is a light white wine, special to the region, while I opted for the most delicious bottled water I can remember tasting... the Solan de Cabras. It's like drinking liquid crystal.

The dinner was light, but neither one of us was terribly hungry... besides, we had to save our appetites for a big eating kind of day in the Basque country side tomorrow...

Day 9: Hanging with James... St. James, that is.

We woke up bright and early this morning to catch our 9:30 am RyanAir flight from Madrid to Santiago de Compostela, which literally translates to "St. James of the stars." This city is the ultimate destination of a long and arduous walking pilgrimage across northern Spain, beginning at the French border. The story goes that 1200 years ago, a monk followed a constellation of stars to a small village in the Galician countryside and discovered what seemed to be the relics and final resting place of James. As in, the James. The Apostle. The guy that wrote the Book of James in the Bible. A church was built on the site of the tomb, and since then, it has been added upon over the centuries so that today, it stands before you in the main square as a massive, romansque structure, looming ominously against the thickly clouded sky.

As soon as we set foot in town after dropping off our luggage at our small inn, it began to pour sheets... so it is like Seattle! No better time to tour a cathedral than when it's storming outside, so we ran through puddles along the stone-lined streets, through moss covered porticos, and ducked into the church doorway right at noon, just in time for the special, daily mass held for pilgrims who walk the Camino de Santiago.

Although it was not the gleaming, gold glory of the cathedral in Toledo, nor the grand sprawl of the cathedral in Seville, the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela definitely holds the most mystique. All around us, weary pilgrims in their hiking shoes and rain ponchos knelt in silent prayer, sobbed as they were overcome with emotion, or just sat in awe of being in such a holy place.



The mass lasted roughly an hour, and at the end of it, we noticed the priests untying the ropes which held back the mighty, silver incense burner.

Could it be? We'd read that the botafumeiro is only swung 25 times a year, and oh... there it goes! How did we get so lucky? This thing weighs about 120 pounds, and with the incense burning inside of it, it swings in a wide arc through the cathedral, over the heads of the congregants, filling the place with smoke. Ricardo Stevez wrote that this interesting custom began as a way to "counteract the stench of the pilgrims," and in the past, "priests were said to add a pinch of cannibis," to enhance the party like atmosphere of pilgrims having completed their quest.

After the mass ended, we walked around the perimeter of the cathedral and found the tomb of St. James, which holds his remains in a delicate, silver chest.

Back outside, we started to meander the small streets of this enchanting town, which really, in all honestly, is a bit the way I imagine Hogsmeade (from Harry Potter) to be... narrow stone pathways, moss-covered walls, quaint shops and cafes tucked into every nook and cranny. The air was permeated by a pleasant dampness, and the Galic-sounding tunes of a recorder player floated from one corner, while bagpipes droned from another.

We found a tiny little bakery featuring the tarta de Santiago. Realizing that we hadn't eaten all day, (save for a couple of sad, little airport muffins,) we bought a slice of the torta to devour in the doorway. The light, buttery, cake made with almonds gave us a small burst of energy, enabling us to carry on with our explorations.

Lo and behold, the sun came out! We rounded the corner and found a sunny spot in the Praza do Obradoiro, facing the main entrance to the cathedral.

Scattered all across the square were pilgrims arriving from their walk, exhausted, many of them actually finding a dry patch of ground to lie down and catch a nap, or just gaze at the cathedral. We found the stone with the engraved sea shell in the middle of the square, declaring that you have reached your goal! Well, we hadn't but the actual pilgrims had...

By this point, we were both exhausted, cold, wet and still slightly sick, so we headed back to our tiny room at the inn, and pretty much slept till morning. Oh, but first, a stop at a cute, little chocolate shop first... must end the day on a sweet note!

Day 8: Adios Andalucia!

On Easter Sunday, we awoke in our comfortable, modern, no-frills hotel room to a pealing of the church bells in Seville. Christ has risen! Despite all of the Semana Santa experiences we've had, hearing the bells ring was the clearest reminder to me of my salvation and redemption... at once joyous, profound, and eternal. I imagined another believer, perhaps hundreds of years ago, sitting in the church square where I sat that morning, listening to those same bells, and feeling the same gladness.

For breakfast, we walked down to the riverfront and ordered ourselves a plate of churros y chocolate. The chocolate was thick and decadent, and the churros were light and crispy, sort of like the Chinese you-tiao. Funny how every culture seems to have it's own version of fried dough.

It was beautiful sunny day, so we took a leisurely walk along the riverfront, basking in the warm glow upon our vitamin D-deficient, Seattle-ite skin. We paused to watch some men fishing down by the water, and were surprised to see one guy struggling with his line. His buddy came over with a net, and after a bit of splashing, pulled a huge, yellow-scaled fish out of the water. After weighing it and measuring the length, they threw it back into the river.

By noon, it was time for us to make our way to the train station, to catch our fast, AVE train from Seville to Madrid. The Estacion Santa Justa is sparkling and modern, not to mention highly efficient.

Though the train ride was smooth and comfortable, I was unfortunately feeling slightly feverish by the end of it. Luckily, there's no better place to sleep off a fever than a city that you've already visited! We checked into our small pension, both popped a tylenol, and slept off our colds for 3 and a half hours! (Jack had a runny nose.) We felt worlds better when we awoke, and funny thing too... it was time for dinner! For our tapas crawl tonight, we headed to the La Lateina area of Madrid, where one long, narrow street brimmed over with trendy tapas bars. We found three that served up some innovative fare, and I found my new, favorite, Spanish wine- the Rueda, made from verdejo grapes. Yum!

We headed back to the hotel a bit before midnight, in the middle of the city, in the middle of the country, in the middle of our trip. Tomorrow morning, we'll be traveling up to Santiago de Compostela and the Galicia region, in the northwest of Spain. Supposedly, it's green, lush, and rainy there... like Seattle!

Day 7: Sevilla, the City with Soul

Ahhh... Sevilla... there is something really special about this city, something that would make Jack declare it his favorite place so far on this trip... is it the orange trees everywhere, gracing the air with their delicate fragrance? Perhaps the romantic, cobblestone Jewish quarters with cafes and bars tucked into every turn? Maybe the genteel facades of the colorful buildings lining the main avenues? The sunshine gleaming along the beautiful riverfront promenade? Whatever it is, there's something about this city that makes you want to linger, breathe it all in, and walk a little slower.

We left Granada on an 8am bus to Sevilla this morning after a fitful night of sleep... I think I slept a total of 2 hours! The cappucino I had at 6 pm yesterday must have been pretty strong.

Luckily, I slept pretty much the entire bus ride, about 2 hours and 45 minutes, and was ready to go when we arrived in the city. First stop, the cathedral!!

Oops, wrong picture! That's Zara, one of my favorite stores, and it's absence is definitely missed since I've been in Seattle. At four stories high, this Zara was sort of cathedral-like...

But really, here we go. As we neared the cathedral, we saw that the surrounding area was set up for the Easter processional that would be happening later in the evening. Jack read somewhere that each one of these seats in the corded off section cost upwards of 70 euros each!

The cathedral in Seville is the largest in Spain, and the third largest in all of Europe, after St. Peter's in the Vatican, and St. Paul's in London. It was truly impressive. Built on the site of an old Moorish mosque, some of the structure still had signature Moorish details, like the keyhole-shaped doorways, and the irrigation streams in the courtyard. Inside, the high altar gleamed with gold frescoes, and the marble columns arched gracefully over the domed roof.

We climbed the ramps up to the bell tower, and caught some amazing views of the beautiful city.

For lunch we decided to try out a tapas bar that Jack had read about, and were rewarded by a small bit of counterspace right in the doorway, as we nibbled elbow to elbow with well-dressed locals, coming from church.

After lunch, we returned to our hotel so that I could take a 3 hour siesta, before heading out again at 7pm. We strolled across the bridge to the other side of the river, then crossed back again to make our way up to the cathedral.

We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the the Christ-figure platform marching slowly up the steps of the church, as a whole marching band played a mournful processional. From a distance, the high pitched bugles actually sound like human wailing. Behind the processional, women dressed in black mantillas followed somberly, mourning for the Christ, as the scent of candles and incense permeated the air.

We left the scene and turned torwards the cobble stone streets of Barro Santa Cruz, the old Jewish quarter, and though, still full from lunch, we found a quiet little cafe on a remote corner, where we nibbled a few small plates of tapas, as I sucked down yet another Fanta Limon, and Jack had his usual draft cerveza.

At 10:30pm, we headed over to the Casa de la Memoria de Al-Andalus ("House of the Memory of Al-Andalus"), where we had tickets (14 euros) to see the flamenco show. We walked into a lovely courtyard and found some seats along the edge of the square, which had a wooden platform right in the middle.

While planning this trip, one of my most highly anticipated experiences was to see some real flamenco in Sevilla, which is known as the city of soul. What a treat! At 10:30 on the dot, two men strode onto the stage, one a singer, and the other the guitarist, and for the first act, they performed a ballad, which seemed to set the mood for the dancer. At the opening of the next song, a beautiful, petite woman strode danced her way onto the wooden platform, dressed in a narrow, black and purple flamenco dress, edged in pink lace, which flared out below her knees. Her red, patent leather flamenco shoes had thick heels which added pronounced percussion to the clapping and singing of the singer, and the thumping and strumming of the guitarist. We were treated to an hour of incredible artistry, as she twisted and clomped, graceful yet passionate. Her face at times twisted into a fierce and concentrated frown, and other times, the corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, smiling seductively through her thick lashes. I don't think I've ever seen anyone move their feet so fast, especially when she did the quick, stacatto stomping, which seemed almost like a camera trick- you couldn't even really see her feet anymore, they were moving so fast. Other times, during the slower parts, her movements were incredibly graceful, the turning of her wrists and the movement of her hips almost a bit like Hawaiian hula. But always, it was picked back up with a quick clap, into a frenzied, ecstatic state, with all three performers playing off of each other in a complex interchange of duple and triple meter, the two against three rhythms sometimes leaving the listeners to hold their breath, fearing that, oh my goodness... will they end on this cadence together? but they always do.

For the second half of the show, the dancer came back out wearing a white toriodor outfit, complete with a short bolero jacket, and still, the red, patent leather shoes.

Totally worth it. We left the show in awe, singing and clapping our way through the streets. I tried to do a few, quick flamenco steps, and Jack just laughed and shook his head. He says that if I learn flamenco dance, he'll learn flamenco guitar, and then we can put on shows together! Ha! We'll charge... 1 euro.

Day 6: Good Friday in Granada

With a full day in Granada, we decided that we had the luxury of going to sleep last night without setting our alarm clock. All of this traveling must be catching up to us because we ended up sleeping until 11:30 am! Pretty much a full 10 hours! As it turned out, we would need all the energy we could get for this day...

The weather was gray, and a little bit sprinkly, but even so, it didn't detract from the brilliant colors we would find in the city scape of this ancient, university town. The main attraction here is the mighty Alhambra, a magnificent Moorish palace, and the last Muslim stronghold in Europe, until their retreat to the Christians in 1492. Our guide book written by local Seattle favorite Rick Steves, (or Ricardo Stevez, as we've come to call him on this trip) had warned us to buy our tickets online as early as possible as they tend to sell out fast during the Semana Santa, which it happened to be. Luckily, we scored an afternoon visit, with a 7pm admission to the main palace.

This left us the morning (I suppose it was actually early afternoon by the time we woke up and left the hotel room) to explore the cathedral and the Albayzin neighborhood, the old Moorish Quarters above town.

As we meandered around the narrow maze of pedestrian streets surrounding the cathedral, we wandered our way through the bazaars displaying all sorts of colorful textiles, baskets, jewelry and other craftwork.

We finally found our way to the main entrance of the cathedral, and were only allowed to view it from the narthex, since the main hall was closed in preparation for Good Friday. No worries, we didn't really have time to walk through it leisurely anyways, but I was quite taken by the proud, gleaming, marble columns. I happened to snap a shot of the priest in his robes, rushing across the marble, checkered floors.

Back outside, we caught a quick, impromptu show by these flamenco guitar players totally jamming, and having a grand old time. They were so good, we picked up one of their cds, which I'm sure will bring back wonderful memories of our granadian adventures.

We hiked up the hill through the whitewashed Albayzin neighborhood to St. Nicholas plaza, which had this incredible view of the Alhambra in the distance.

We were both getting a little bit wind-whipped and chilled, not to mention starved, so we stopped into a small bar on a quiet plaza that was referenced in our guide book as the place to go for boatloads of fried fish! Yum! Fried octopus could really be the next big thing...

Finally, we made the lush, 20 minute hike up a beautiful, landscaped pathway to the Alhambra. Upon admission, we saw that indeed, tickets had been sold out for the day, and I said a silent "thank you" to Ricardo Stevez... how disappointed would I have been to miss out on all this???

Words and pictures don't really do the Alhambra justice and it's easy to see why this place has captivated artists, writers and composers for centuries... it is such an experience to wander through the airy, open rooms, with the arched, stone windows intricately carved with the achingly beautiful detail of Islamic art and pattern. Every window had a view of the surrounding country side, the lush courtyards, or the gleaming Albayzin, and I was stunned by the domed ceilings, the complicated array of fountains blooming in the courtyards, the abundance and fragrance of the fruit trees and flowers, and the colors of the tiled walls and the domed ceilings. The first time I ever really examined Islamic art was at the Museum of Islamic Art in KL, when we were on our trip to Malaysia a few years ago. Instead of pictures depicting scenes from the Bible as in Christian, religious paintings, Islamic art is based on patterns, the amount of detail and interweaving intricacy is a testament to one's devotion to God. All I can say is, these Moors were very, very devoted.

We were lucky to catch a totally packed minibus back to the city center, which happened to drop us off right along the pathway for the Good Friday procession. What a contrast, to come from soaking in the details of one of the greatest pieces of Muslim architecture, to witnessing this passionately intense, centuries old Catholic tradition, of parading the crucified Christ through the streets to the cathedral. It's definitely a little bit jarring to my Presbyterian, minority, American eyes to see these figures in the parade with the cone shaped hoods, carrying symbols of the cross. I later came to learn that the colors of the hoods represent the different brotherhoods of a particular city.

There were many children in the procession as well, many of them given the job of keeping the candles lit on the blustery night.

After seeing first the Christ-figure, and then the Virgin Mary carried by on elaborate platforms laden with gold and flowers, we decided to beat the crowds, and snagged a table by a window of a local tapas bar, kitty-corner to the cathedral, where we were able to watch the rest of the processional while enjoying a delicious dinner of "modern" tapas.

What an amazing day!

Day 5: Museums in Madrid

We woke up to a sunny, spring day in Madrid, and headed out bright and early to get in some time at the city's world-famous museums.

The walk down Paseo del Prado is lively and colorful... this little skeleton puppet was playing Lalo's Symphony Espanol, with perfect bowing and string changes.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to take pictures inside the Prado, but a good two and a half hours there gave us a chance to absorb the talents of some of Spain's great artists, such as Velazquez, Goya, and El Greco, just to name a few.

Walking down Museum Row, we spotted the Caixa Forum building, a stunning modern structure with a huge floating piece, which caused K, the architect, to stop in her tracks and exclaim, "Wow! Look at the cantalever on that thing!" I loved the living wall along the side.

After lunch, we headed to the Reina Sofia Museum, a modern glass structure housing the city's modern art. I was most interested in viewing "La Guernica," Picasso's reaction to the bombing of the Spanish town Guernica by German bomber planes, testing out new technology, and approved by Franco before the second World War. The destruction at the time was unheard of, and the painting is filled with grotesque yet poignant scenes of death and sorrow, all done in Picasso's signature cubist style.

By 4 in the afternoon, it was time for us to say "adios amigos" to our dear traveling companions of the past 4 days, as they would be heading back to Paris, and we were moving on to Granada, in the south of Spain. We climbed on board a comfortable bus, and relaxed for 5 full hours.


We pulled into Granada at 10:30 pm, starved, and after checking into the hotel, immediately stepped out in search of food. Granada is a fascinating city dominated by moorish influences, and kebab stands abound, so....


lamb kabob bocadillos nourished our weary bodies before we turned in for the evening.