Tierra de Tortugas

SUMMER 2016: Bilbao

 

After a fine stay in tiny and pastoral Santillana del Mar, we board another comfortable bus and make our way to the Basque Lands. We pass through more dramatic scenery, over Spain’s excellent highways, and through a few tunnels.

 

As we get closer to Bilbao, the road signs have added that distinctive and unique Basque language, called Euskara. According to linguists, it is unrelated to any other language in the world, and is the only one in southern Europe not ‘corrupted’ by contact with Latin.

  

And then we’re in Bilbao, a city that has re-invented itself, that not long ago was known as an industrial wasteland but is now one of the choicest places in Europe to visit. Over the first month of our summer trip, this will be the only place Carolyn and I have ever been before, and we’re glad to be back for another look. (See our 2011 blog.)

 

The apartment that Carolyn found online is beyond our expectations. It has a fine modern and clean layout, with full kitchen and two bedrooms, nicely separated. It’s an ideal layout for Carolyn and me and for my sister Elyse who’s traveling with us. We throw open the windows and step onto a balcony overlooking the busy street life and tumble of languages six floors below. 

 

  

 

 

Another balcony overlooks the Ría Nervión, with an ancient gothic church on the opposite bank. Beyond the church lies Bilbao’s ‘Casco Viejo,’ the medieval old quarter. The city’s busy central Mercado hugs the riverbank, next to the church. We’ll enjoy coffee and pintxos most mornings in the Mercado and wander those narrow streets and alleys most evenings, reading menus posted outside the many restaurants and deciding which is best for that night’s dinner. It’s a happy dilemma.

 
 Bilbao is one of our favorite cities in the world. Actually, we have a lot of favorite cities, but Bilbao is near the top. It’s been a few years since we were here last, and the Casco Viejo calls. We arrived in the early afternoon, our bags are stowed in the apartment, and we’re ready to walk those streets again.

There’s so much to see and experience while exploring these narrow byways. From ancient buildings and plazas, to good food and drink, to street jugglers and musicians (including a one-man-band from Ecuador!); it takes time to fully absorb the rhythm of this place. Even little kids are fascinated. 

 

  

And look! There’s another Desigual store! Who could have guessed!?

 

In the morning we walk the broad esplanade along the curving river, beginning under tall trees at the Plaza de Arenal by the bridge. At the Arenal, it seems like half the town is enjoying a Zumba session, led by a buff young crew. We pass a portly gent (could be the Mayor, for all we know) being interviewed; he doesn’t look like he’ll be joining the Zumba session. 

 

We walk onward, passing the old Bilbao and the new, along the curve of the river. This is where the city reveals itself gently, much as a slowly spinning interpretive dancer unwinding a veil, through the banal and the beautiful, the solid and purposeful reminders of the city’s classical past now challenged by modernist buildings, playful sculpture, and the sweeping Santiago Calatrava pedestrian bridge that arcs across the sky. After decades of pollution and decline, this has now become one of the world’s finest urban walks.

 

 

And, after crossing the Calatrava bridge, we come soon enough to the city’s most famous attraction, Frank Gehry’s sprawling modernist Museo Guggenheim. It’s part world-class museum and part massive fish-scaled sculpture paying homage to the city’s past as a fishing port, meanwhile embracing a major traffic bridge supported by a huge red support tower that punctuates the sculpture like an exclamation mark. There’s a giant bronze spider called ‘Maman’ (Mother, in French) by Louise Bourgeois standing nearby on the river front. And the flower-covered ‘Puppy’ (locally called ‘El Poop’) by Jeff Koons graces the street side entry. The whole thing is framed by the arc of the river bank on one side, and by the city on the other.

 

 

By the time we get to the ‘Goog’ we’re happily hungry, and lunch at fine museum cafes is one of life’s great pleasures. We score a table with an excellent view over a nearby park and the river and enjoy a round of pintxos and sangria before taking on the museum.  

 

Upon entering the Guggenheim, the feeling is cathedral-like. It’s a massive, soaring space of complex and indefinable structure. Towering shapes allow the light to angle inward through a stick maze of beams and columns, patterning the floor. It’s a massive and enterable sculpture, enclosing artwork of importance.

 

We begin the Guggenheim with an elevator ride to the top and work our way down. The top floor contains an extensive collection of works entitled ‘L’Ecole de Paris,’ devoted to telling the story of the evolution of modern art through the interactions of a remarkable assemblage of daring and creative artists that Peggy Guggenheim was fortunate to know, and collect. (My sister Elyse has been reading Peggy’s steamy autobiography and is filling us in.) There’s a lot to know about that festering and fertile collection of artists, and the story is well told by the exhibit; after a lifetime of collecting these works, Peggy Guggenheim had the needed pieces to tell it. (But, sorry, no pictures are allowed in the exhibit.)

The middle floor displays works from various artists of a later period, including more of the often painful and obscure work of Louise Bourgeois. I don’t care for what I see here; but if some art is meant to challenge us, she does it well.

And the main floor contains tons (literally!) of massive work in rusted steel by Frank Stella. His huge curving maze-like slabs invite us to explore their inner spaces, to feel the volumes and his perspectives. This is a permanent installation that we recall from our last visit, but it still draws us in. It’s also viewable as a vast abstraction from a second floor look-over.

Another large room is given over to Andy Warhol’s “Shadows,” a long and repeating series of studies representing the various moods of color.

 

Sometime after Peggy’s death in 1978, the Guggenheim Foundation was looking for a city willing to build a world-class museum to showcase her extensive collection. Bilbao came up with a bold plan and 100 million dollars to meet the challenge, and the Museo opened in September of 1997. It was a one-time opportunity for the city to ‘go big,’ to showcase and connect all the city’s many assets. And Bilbao’s massive investment in the museum, plus all the related infrastructure, appears to have paid off handsomely. It’s a valuable lesson in inspired design for other cities desperate for a make-over.

 

Another big part of the city’s new look includes a gorgeous and efficient tramway that whisks us quickly and quietly to most parts of the center city. Tickets are easily available at each stop, and it’s a comfortable way to get around that will also get you and your baggage to the bus and train stations.

 

And let’s not forgo a ride on the good old funicular that takes us up from the river bank for a grand view over the city. There’s a fine and shady park at the top where we can look down on that graceful curve of the river, with Frank Gehry’s shiny and playful ‘candy wrapper’ of a Museum stretching along the bank below.

 

 

 

 

  

 

And yet another day finds us at Bilbao’s very good Museo de Bellas Artes, enjoying a wander through centuries of fine Spanish and Basque art. At the entryway, my sister Elyse makes the acquaintance of an ‘emerging’ artist. (He’s so lifelike, I half expect him to groan at that quip.) Some of the older paintings of Bilbao, like Luis Paret’s ‘Vista de El Arenal de Bilbao’ (1783-1784) give an especially interesting historical perspective to our visit.

 

 

 

Other fine works include more of Joaquin Sorolla, plus some views of Basque life, and an especially touching stark and terrible painting by Ricardo Baroja entitled ‘Vuelven al Pueblo, 1938’ (‘Homecoming, 1938’), as refugees of the Spanish Civll War return to the ruins of their homes.

 

 

 

 

On another floor, works in progress drape over low tables begging to be touched – and maybe modified or added to, in some way? This is not a stuffy place that only glorifies the past. 

 

Further evidence is found in a large and well-juxtaposed display of recent works by many of the finest contemporary artists.

 

 

And a quick stop at the museum store can get you one of those very cool Bilbao umbrellas hanging from the ceiling.

 

Bilbao is a very cosmopolitan city with a wide variety of cultural attractions, fine coffee shops, and a new stadium with a good fútbol team. It’s easy to enjoy fine and full days here, hearty dinners in the evening with good local wines, and late night walks along the river bank as street lights play over the water.

  

  

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been a very good reunion with our old friend Bilbao, and we’ve also loved just hanging out in one of the nicest and most conveniently located apartments we’ve ever scored on any of our trips. But the road – or at least, our more-or-less schedule – calls to us and we must obey. Our next stop will be in nearby and excellent San Sebastián. — PRW

SUMMER 2016: Cantabria

Santillana del Mar is a tourist town. It’s the kind of place most North Americans (like us) have never heard of, yet it attracts a goodly number of Euro-tourists in the know. It’s a perfectly preserved Medieval jewel of a tourist town with only about 1,000 residents, and it’s filled with fantastic picture opportunities, plus plenty of great dining. 

 

  

 

 

 

And sure, it all now looks far more precious than it ever did to the average peasant back in feudal times, plus there’s no horse and donkey manure clogging the pedestrianized streets nor all those odors assaulting the nostrils of visiting foodies and wine gulpers. Very few among us would really want to return to the days when, as Thomas Hobbes famously said, ‘…life was nasty, brutish, and short.’ And while Santillana del Mar is (maybe thankfully) lacking in ‘authenticity,’ it more than delivers a high degree of charm and quiet ambiance.

We’re here for a few days in a small comfortable two-story, two bedroom apartment just beyond the compact historic zone. Right outside our windows there are inspiring views over the green and fertile Cantabrian countryside.

 

In the near distance we see well-kept tile-roofed farm houses with backyard gardens, and on the hilltop just beyond is the site of those famous Altamira cave paintings – only two kilometers away. We’ll be hiking up that verdant hillside in the morning. So far, it’s all a big change from the urban life and sophistication of Oviedo.

The local joke is that Santillana del Mar is neither holy (Santi), flat (llana), nor by the sea (del Mar). It’s actually about 17 kilometers from the Bay of Biscay, perched on a hill in a beautiful pastoral setting. We have no idea where the name came from, but it really doesn’t matter.  A wander through these ancient and well-worn cobblestone streets is a fine diversion from most weighty topics.

 

ALTAMIRA

The cave paintings of Altamira are some of the most famous in the world, important artifacts that have been written about for years. And now it’s hard to believe they’re just a short and pleasant walk from our lodgings. We enjoy a simple breakfast, stuff water bottles and umbrellas into a day-pack, and set out on the trek. We pass a few well-tended homes and a lady working in her large garden, then the sidewalk yields to a paved and tree-lined pathway overlooking pastoral scenes in the valley below. A few curious cows check our progress along the way.

 

 

 

It all just seems too easy, as if we haven’t earned the right to this visit, as if it really should be harder to get to such an important archaeological site. But well, why suffer if we don’t have to?

 

We knew before arrival that the actual original cave has been closed to the hordes of tourists to protect the original drawings from damage, and that we were going to be seeing a very high-quality  reproduction of the cave instead. That was OK with us, and the experience was all we could have hoped for. The well-presented and detailed reproductions of paintings and drawings fully allowed us to appreciate the work of this talented group of artists who managed to record many of the wonders of their world in a bold and graceful style that would honor the walls of almost any modern art museum.

I managed to capture a few pictures before someone told me photos were not allowed in the cave, and I only share them here to encourage your own future visit to this remarkable site. It’s worth the effort to see what fine work the more artistic of our so-called ‘primitive’ ancestors were capable of. I had never really appreciated that fact until this visit. And the extensive museum does an outstanding job of putting it all into context.

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Upon our return down the hill, we find a suitable place for dinner with, of course, a fine bottle of local-vintage Cantabrian red wine. A bit of poetry on the label provides us good thoughts to ponder over dinner:

“That work and love for the land may always give something good to share.”

   

And some writing on the wall of the tavern brings more good thoughts to the evening;

“In the most remote corner, you’ll surely find a fiesta, but don’t forget the cider nor someone to dance with.”

 

 

COMILLAS

We decided to catch a local bus to nearby Comillas because we read there was something called the Capricho de Gaudí that was worth visiting. Having seen several fantastical works by Antoni Gaudí in Barcelona, we were curious about this piece – one of the few of his designs outside of Catalunya. We meandered through the gorgeous streets of Comillas searching for the Capricho while soaking up the charm and beauty of this tiny seaside town.

 

 

El Capricho

 As we finally arrived at the tree-shrouded entry to the Capricho we were expecting something on the order of a small, but significant, art-piece maybe set in a park or a cemetery. We paid the entry fee and walked onward through the trees to a clearing. What we got was a full-on, two-story fantasy of a mini-castle that looked like it was designed by a wildly eccentric architect, and paid for by a wealthy madman. And, like much of his work in Barcelona, that’s pretty much the history of it.

 

Probably every truly important Architect has been something of an obsessive, attentive to the smallest of details. Some have even designed the (usually quite uncomfortable) furniture to enhance every room of the building. At his Capricho, Gaudí was all of the above. 

 

 

  

 

 

  

Antoni Gaudí was surely one of the most impressive and vision-driven showmen of his age, and capable of convincing wealthy patrons to fund his icon-shattering works. It’s also mind-twisting to realize he was doing most of this stuff back in the late 1800s. He had broken with the norm early on, and was far ahead of his time. 

But was he an influential visionary who molded the architecture of the future? Should we, could we, think of Walt Disney’s 1950s fantasies of Disneyland (really based on the castle of ‘mad king’ Ludwig in Bavaria), or rather the dope-enhanced works of many 1960s communes? I can’t vouch for Disney, but I clearly recall several communard buddies hard at work back in those halcyon days of rebellion, with well-thumbed volumes of Gaudí in hand.

And, as I’ve done considerable passive solar design work myself, I could especially respect the way he wrapped the heavy stone-walled Capricho around a large and delicate sunroom. The owner of this building was likely the only person in the whole ancient stone village of Comillas who spent very much of each sodden winter being warm.

 

 

 There’s a bronze statue of Gaudí himself sitting on a stone bench in the southern courtyard, his intense eyes contemplating his astounding work. He created so many surprises and fine photo opportunities, he deserves a bit of rest from his efforts. And for anyone with a particular interest in his work, this one makes for a rewarding visit. 

 

Afterwards we strolled the old streets of Comillas to the port where a woman in bronze looks over the sea, awaiting the fishing fleet’s safe return. There’s an appealing beach and a very small harbor with a long history; today only a few boats are tied to docks in the tiny protected harbor, as rusted cannons face seaward. The tide is out, and you can see rocks through the water on the bottom of the harbor just below the boats.

 

 

We turned from the harbor and walked back to catch the afternoon bus. There was just enough time for a round of very cold and refreshing brews at a little bar called the Casablanca, a fine reminder of our favorite watering hole of the same name, far away, back in Kino Bay, Sonora, Mexico.

 

And now it was time to move onward yet again, to the Basque Lands. And we’ll write about that astounding experience in our next blog. — PRW

SUMMER 2016: Galicia — Oviedo and the train to Torrelavega

Our four-month trip began in a small and charming city that’s not on the ’tourist radar’ screen. Unpretentious Pontevedra, with a friendly population of around 60,000, had been an absolute delight. Our next stop was the must-see attraction and pilgrim-magnet of Santiago de Compostela, indisputably one of the main reasons to take the northern route across Spain. And besides the ’tourist trail,’ there are vista hikes to various hilltops plus attractive walks through backstreets to see how the local residents live. But three days of crowds and tourist shops (and more than a few beggars who appear to make their living off the pilgrims) was sufficient for us. It was also time to visit a larger city and partake of a different aspect of Spanish life.

Our next stop was Oviedo (pop. 210,000), in the Principality of Asturias. Due to rough terrain and tough inhabitants, this northern coastal area was the only part of the Iberian peninsula that was never conquered by the Moors. In honor of this proud heritage, every Spanish King is also known as the Principe de Asturias (Prince of Asturias). There is no more purely Spanish place than Asturias. At least according to Asturianos. 

We prefer trains, but a large comfortable ALSA bus to Oviedo is much more direct. We settled aboard for a rainy morning trip on Spain’s superb highway system as the lush green countryside passed by our windows. Eucalyptus tree plots became a common sight, along with a few logging trucks.

  

 

As we crossed the border into Asturias, the landscape changed. We entered a land of tall mountains and deep canyons to replace the rolling Galician countryside. It was easy to understand how these people managed to remain isolated from the Moors and the rest of Spain.

 

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 In Oviedo we stayed at the clean and modest Hotel Carreño, on a quiet street in an ideal location, right between the bus and train stations – and next to the pedestrianized heart of town. (The cost: $46.00/night.) We dragged our bags just a block from the bus station and settled in to good rooms before exploring the city.

One of our first finds was truly ‘girl heaven’ in the form of a Desigual store, as Carolyn and Elyse disappeared into the racks for some serious contemplation. (A Desigual dress found in Barcelona a few years ago is the only piece of clothing I’ve ever demanded that Carolyn buy for herself. I was helpless after seeing her in it.)

 

But soon the fever briefly abated, and we entered a large shopping complex nearby for another round. Over the next several days each of us would remark at how stylish the women are in Oviedo. They’re certainly surrounded by fashionista opportunities.

 

 

By day, there’s much to explore in the heart of Oviedo, an inner city of fine older buildings, lush parks and green areas, and plentiful opportunities for a quick cafe con leche or a light lunch before ending the day with an excellent dinner and a bottle of good Asturiano red wine. The sun sets late in the European summer, and at night the streets of old Oviedo are beautiful in the rain. Every evening, trails of light on rain-painted stone just beg to be experienced, as we return, late, to the hotel. 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

Oviedo is a city of ancient stone sculpture and large modern bronze statuary. There are numerous bronzes gracing the broad Campo de San Francisco park in the center of town and in many plazas and major intersections. They range from simple busts of locally important people to huge eye-catching works in prominent locales, and there’s a small statue of the cartoon character ‘Mafalda’ sitting on a park bench. 

 

 

 

 

But we spent some time in search of one sculpture in particular: the well-known and life-size (as in ‘short’) statue of Woody Allen. He became captivated by Oviedo while here filming several scenes from his 2008 flick “Vicky Cristina Barcelona,” and the city had him bronzed. I walked right beside him pitching my best ideas for his next movie, but he seemed uninterested. Ah well, it’s Hollywood’s loss….

The plaque at Woody’s feet carries a passage from his acceptance speech when receiving the Prince of Asturias Prize in 2002: “Oviedo is a delicious city, exotic, beautiful, clean, agreeable, tranquil and pedestrianized. It’s as if it could not belong to this world, as if it could not exist….Oviedo is like a fairy tale.” 

 

While still on the ‘Woody trail,’ we searched out a place called La Corrada del Obispo, in the square of the same name; it appeared in a dining scene in the movie. But as far as we could tell, it’s become a great rambling bar called ‘Per Se,’ yet still filled with the same comfy overstuffed chairs, mirrors, and antique tables. We ordered a couple of caipirinhas and a mojito and settled in to enjoy the ambiance before returning to our hotel, once again through romantically rain-splattered nighttime streets.

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Throughout this entire part of Spain, it’s difficult to escape the Camino de Santiago, the Way of St James. And in Oviedo we find more shiny bronze scallop shells embedded in the pavement to mark the famous Pathway. But these have special meaning here, as the Oviedo Cathedral is recognized as the beginning of the oldest route of them all to Santiago de Compostela, established long before the French route became popular. This earliest pathway is known as the Camino Primitivo, or Original Route. 

 
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The tri-city area of Oviedo, Avilés, and Gijón, with a combined population of around 600,000, is one of the main industrial and economic powerhouses of the entire country, with Oviedo at the center. It’s a population that also supports the arts, giving us a needed ‘culture-up’ experience.

 

  The Museo de Bellas Artes met our needs for a fine art wander, and we spent a nice afternoon out of the rain exploring the rambling facility. They have a fine collection of Spanish and Asturiano artists, including one of my favorites, Joaquin Sorolla. His dramatic compositions and suggestive brush strokes are an inspiration. Plus there are many good examples of the classics: Goya, El Greco, Veronese, and a guy named Picasso.

 

 

 

 

  

 And a night at the symphony is another of the many offerings of this great city. We saw a listing for a simple lute concert, and lined up for tickets. But somehow we ended up at a performance by the Orquesta Sinfonia del Principado de Asturias (OSPA) in the very impressive Teatro de Principe Felipe. And the evening’s fine offering of Mussorgsky, Piazzola, and Tchaikovsky was guest-conducted by David Lockington(!), formerly of the New Mexico Symphony Orchestra. We were more than a bit surprised. And very pleased. I took no pics during the concert, but did get the final bow. (And we never did figure out what happened with that lute concert.)

 

 

After the symphony concert we passed a friendly-looking neighborhood tavern near the hotel and stopped in for a ‘caña:’ a local draft beer. The usual local suspects were crowding the bar, a young lady was singing and twisting to a cumbia beat, and a man came over to share a joke with us. (Two Spanish guys are trying to talk to an English-speaking guy with no success. Later, one says to the other, “You can see the importance of learning a another language.” The other guy says, “Why? It didn’t do him any good!”) It was a great last-night experience in Oviedo.

 
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And how is Asturias doing in the economic sphere these days? An article in La Nueva España, probably the area’s most widely-read newspaper, says foreign investment in the Province is up 67% over last year, and Asturias ranks 8th in the nation, with Aragón and Andalucia showing the nation’s largest gains.

On our trip so far, we have not seen the large demonstrations and encampments we encountered in 2011. Like the rest of Spain, Asturias is still recovering slowly from the world-wide economic recession and shows a slight increase of 1.5% this year in family income. The median net annual income per person in Asturias now stands at €11,427. The median for all of Spain is now at €10, 419.

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So for several splendid days we ate well and drank well and enjoyed all the advantages a sophisticated city has to offer. And then it was time to leave the ancient Principality of Asturias behind. 

At Oviedo’s classic old train station we bought tickets (€14.30 each) on the narrow-gauge FEVE train that winds through picturesque back country, mountain valleys, and quiet villages to Torrelavega, in Cantabria. It was an excellent choice. 

 

  

 

 

  

 

After skirting some industrial areas near Gijón, we were soon into a passage through a Cantabrian countryside from out of the past. We wound through quiet pastures and rural towns, along tumbling mountain streams and a bit of the rugged coast, only rarely contacting any highways. It was a memorable trans-Cantabrian trip, a picturesque travelogue on rails that stopped at every small town along the way and undoubtedly took longer than a bus ride. But for us, the journey is the destination, and time was not important. It’s not clear to me why this trip is not on any of those ‘Best of…’ lists, and I’d highly recommend it to any adventurous traveler or train buff.

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But all good things must end, and we were soon enough at the city of Torrelavega where we bid the train goodbye. We’d planned to enjoy a quick lunch before proceeding to Santillana del Mar. But we found ourselves under the guiding hand of an uber-helpful lady and could only escape by ducking into a nearby cab. After the ride, however, we finally got a hearty bowl of fabada, a local specialty, and yet another fine memory of our passage through northern Spain.  

 

Up next: Santillana del Mar, the Altamira cave paintings, and surprising seaside Comillas. — PRW

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SOME TRAVEL TIPS

 

 

A multi-adaptable plug  equipped with a USB slot, is a handy item for the serious traveler. It’s well-engineered and fits snuggly into European recessed 220 outlets. Buy one at El Corte Ingles, a chain of large department stores found in many Spanish cities and you can leave that bag of adaptors at home. It does NOT convert 220 to 110, however. But many devices – like our MacBook Airs and Carolyn’s iPad – charge on either 110 or 220 (it’s written on your charger).

Leave your 110 volt appliances and converters at home. Most rentals provide a 220 volt hair dryer, or just buy 220 volt dryers, curlers, etc, at stores along the way. They’re not expensive.

For hotel and rental bookings, Carolyn goes to Booking.com or Homeaway.com a day or so beforehand to find comfortable rooms and apartments (no, we don’t have everything booked ahead!). Her criteria: close to the heart of the city or to good public transport, good price, great online reviews. She finds plenty of good lodging, often at ‘business hotels,’ which in certain parts of the world (like the Balkans) have the advantage of English-speaking desk staff.

SUMMER 2016: Galicia: Vigo, Pontevedra, Santiago

The cruise we booked was 13 days long, with a scheduled stop in Le Havre, and ending at Southampton; but we were leaving early. When the ship docked in Vigo, Spain after ten days, we disembarked. It’s a pattern we tend to follow, since the main point of a cruise, for us, is transportation (with an interesting island or two along the way). On our first cruise ever, from San Diego to Santiago, Chile, we left the ship at Callao, the grimy port city for Lima, and spent two months in the Andes. It’s not a problem to leave early, but the cruise lines want to know ahead of time, and we got no price break for leaving early.

(BTW: We enjoyed being greeted daily by Josephine, our cheerful Philippine cabin attendant, the helpful all-Indian dining room staff, and Allie, the perky Ukrainian cocktail waitress. Yet working on a cruise ship can be a bit of a mixed bag – it’s hard work but not all bad. And certainly it’s an opportunity for many young people to see the world and escape poverty. For more info, here are a few links:

http://work.chron.com/average-salary-cruise-ship-workers-1932.html

http://www.cruisejunkie.com/ot.html

http://www.cruiselawnews.com/2013/01/articles/crew-news/life-below-deck-4-what-passengers-dont-know-the-cruise-lines-wont-tell-them/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BP0R3yeaSE

And, the very entertaining, “How to get Fired from a Cruise Line:”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0XOWFO9W9w)

From Vigo, in the Rías Baixas region, we’ll begin our summer in the intriguing provinces of Galicia, Asturias, and Cantabria, along the northern tier of Spain until we reach the French border. Then we’ll pass into southern France along the north side of the Pyrenees and continue meandering toward Provence where we’ve rented a house north of Marseilles. We’ll take a month to get there.  

Vigo is on the south shore of a long narrow ría, or inlet, that provides good protection from the open sea and excellent yachting opportunities. The western Galician coast is indented with numerous rias that over the centuries have made it a natural location for fishing, shipping, and smuggling.

Vigo has figured in maritime history, both historical and fictional. The Ría de Vigo was the site of an important battle in the early years of the War of Spanish Succession; in 1702 a combined English and Dutch fleet defeated a French and Spanish fleet in these waters, which caused the Portuguese King Peter I to cancel his French alliance and join the allies. Also, in Jules Verne’s novel Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, the recovery of sunken treasure from the battle is where Captain Nemo got the fortune he used to build his fantastic submarine.

These rías, under the ’neutral’ Franco Government, were also important as a resupply area for German submarines and ships during WW II. And if you like conspiracy theories, Vigo is the port where Hitler boarded a U-boat for the passage to Argentina after escaping the ruins of Berlin and flying to Barcelona(!).

Today Vigo is the largest fishing port in Europe and an important export base for the nearby PSA Peugeot Citroën automobile factory, as well as canned fish, granite, and wood. But we were headed somewhere a little less ‘industrial.’ 

 

PONTEVEDRA

Shortly after the heavy dock lines were well secured, we dragged our bags down the gangway for a last look at the odd sight of a gleaming white ship towering over the old port building.  

The cruise was over. It was time to stash my roll-up sports coat and tie – the ‘monkey suit’ I drag around for dress-up gigs – and hit the road. I can do the chameleon thing when needed, but a rolling bag and backpack is my normal habitat. It was time for Carolyn and me, and my sister Elyse, to bid goodbye to the luxury of cruise ship travel and to the port of Vigo.

 

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It was about a kilometer through city streets to the Renfe station where we caught a sleek modern train (the trains of Europe should be the envy of every American) that took us through a lush Galician countrywide to the small riverine city of Pontevedra. 

  

 

Carolyn had booked us into four nights at a modest hotel on the edge of the winding and pedestrianized streets of the city’s Medieval quarter. We were able to split a nice room with two sleeping areas and it cost about US$25 a head per night. It was an excellent choice. 

From our quiet 8th floor room in the Hotel Rías Bajas, we have a view of the ‘anthill’ of pedestrians far below. Peering down into these streets conjured visions of its ancient Gaelic past, as they’re the ones who colonized these shores. This place was old even before Columbus’ flagship, the Santa Maria, was built here. After stowing our bags, it was time to explore the narrow historic streets below.

 

Our first encounter was with Galego, the intriguing and challenging language of Galicia. Despite eradication efforts by the criminal Franco regime, Galego is still very much alive, along with other regional tongues. In fact, ATMs all over Spain offer service in seven to eight languages, and four of them (Castellano, Catalán, Galego, and Euzkadi) are from Spain. 

 

 

Next up, a visit to a cavern-like ‘sidrería’ for some fermented local apple cider. This tasty drink is a source of pride here and at festivals throughout the region. A special kind of dispenser is used to ‘shoot’ it into your tilted glass, and downing a few of these is the mark of a true Gallego. But it’s an acquired taste, and we found the rich local red wines more to our liking. 

 

Galicia is well-known as the endpoint of the many pilgrimage routes that culminate at the famous large cathedral in nearby Santiago de Compostela. Any route can be considered a pilgrim’s path, and many who walk ‘The Way’ start at their own front door to create their own path. While most pilgrims (including five friends of ours) travel on the famous ‘French’ route which traverses the Pyrenees, Pontevedra is a major stopover on the lesser-known ‘Portuguese route,’ beginning at the Cathedral in Lisbon, or the one in Porto. Energetic pilgrims, along with the many scallop shell route markers, were a common site on our wanderings through the ancient streets of Pontevedra. 

 

But our own daily pilgrimages were more devoted to treks well-spent exploring the town, and ending in splendid evening meals (with vegetables!) and usually a bottle of good Galician red wine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The two-person staff at ‘El Puchero’ (our favorite restaurant) made us feel more than welcome! And speaking of fine red wine, the three of us managed to polish off a bottle almost every night.

 

 

Pontevedra has many things to offer, including an impressive fine arts museum featuring artists from Galicia and other parts of the world. It was a good place to escape during a rainy afternoon (the northern provinces of Galicia, Asturias, and Cantabria get twice the rain as most of Spain. Apparently, ‘The rain in Spain does not stay mainly in the plain.’).

  

We were especially entertained by an artist and caricaturist who took the name of ‘Catalão.’ He had the ability and good humor to extract the essence of his subjects.

 

A visit to the Mercado, and its lively fishmongers, is another fine escape on a rainy spring day. There’s such a wide array of seafood available, plus excellent cheeses and vegetables, it’s hard to imagine Galicians ever lacking for something good to eat.

 

 

We should mention visiting the most advanced laundromat we’ve ever seen – near the University, of course. They sell no soap or other such products because it’s all dispensed automatically, in the proper portions, in each machine. And there’s far less mess for the owners to clean up, so the facility is more pleasant for the customers.

 

The washing machines use only enough water to get the job done, and the high-velocity spin cycle removes most of it so the dryers stop sooner, saving time and energy. Welcome to the future of clean clothing. 

 And on our last night in the charming little town of Pontevedra, we had a few drinks while enjoying a jazz trio in an intimate second-floor club. Life on the road can be good, indeed. 

 

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SANTIAGO

Another short ride on Spain’s modern and sophisticated Renfe train system took us through more lush and fertile Galician countryside to the pilgrimage center of Santiago de Compostela.

 

Shortly after stashing our bags at the hotel we were greeted by a smiling monk happily traveling the nearby Camino de Santiago. He may have felt a special warmth toward us, or he may have simply been delighted that the end of the trail, the Cathedral itself, was finally very near. 

  

  As for us, we were intrigued by the prospect of yet another of Spain’s many ancient cities to explore. We trekked onward to the monk’s destination, following the final leg of the famous trail of scallop shells posted on walls and in the pavement, and deep into a warren of winding streets that were first trod by pilgrims around 800 AD. They were doing this same walk almost 700 years before Columbus got lost and stumbled onto a continent that had already been discovered by millions of people. Whether you’re a religious pilgrim or only a curious visitor, the very thought of that depth of history gives one pause.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And soon, right there before us, stood the enormous pile of carefully crafted stone that has drawn millions of pilgrims over the past 1,300 years and now draws about 250,000 annually.

This is where the remains of St James were found in 814 AD (according to legend!) by a hermit following a guiding star. It has long been one of the three most important Catholic pilgrimage sites, after Jerusalem and Rome. We were lucky to be there in mid-May when it was only moderately crowded, and before the largest hordes descend in July and August. (See ‘The Way,’ a 2002 film with Emilio Estevez.) We found easy access to the Cathedral and had only a short wait in any line. We also opted for the 6:00 p.m. ‘roof top’ tour that offers a grand vista over the entire city. But it can be, at times, unsettling if prone to vertigo.

  

The Cathedral is currently under massive repair and cleaning to remove centuries of lichen and other plant growth that is slowly eating away the stone. Large sections of scaffolding and screening now cover one of the towers, although the results of cleaning can be seen in the one which has been finished. Still, there’s a long way to go, and the work is expected to last until 2021.

 

Seemingly every stone of the Cathedral is invested with symbolism, and numerous vendors are willing to provide the full ‘pilgrim kit’ of staff, shell, and gourd.

 

 

But it can all be a bit much after a time. Fortunately there are plenty of taverns to slake one’s thirst for, if not religious joy, at least alternative pleasures. 

  

We had only planned a three-day stop as we prefer less well-known locales; and soon it was time to leave the delights of Galicia behind. Early on our final morning, we tossed our bags into a cab and caught the bus for Oviedo, our next adventure, in the Principality of Asturias. —PRW