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Adéu, Barcelona!

We woke up to our last day in Spain, a little concerned about some local activities. You see, when we booked the trip I neglected to account for the one-year anniversary of 2017’s Catalan seperatist resolution that resulted in a crackdown of enforcement from Madrid and the flight of prominent local politicians. There were a multiple of demonstrations planned for the day, and we had no intention of getting caught up in any shenanigans (especially as English-speaking tourists, who tend to be targets whenever things get out of hand).

With that in mind, we were very focused on catching a cab to the train station and making it to the airport as soon as possible Fortunately, most demonstrations weren’t scheduled to start until after noon, but when I stepped out to grab some cash for a cab, I noticed a couple of things: 1) police were already shutting down and cordoning off the main street where our hotel was located; 2) all of the ATMs within walkable distance of our hotel were “out of service”; presumably, the authorities had emptied them of cash the previous night to make sure they wouldn’t be ripe targets. It was time to scram.

Unfortunately, it was taking me longer to find an ATM than it would have taken to simply walk to the nearby train station, and it was only getting later in morning. With that in mind, we simply checked out without grabbing breakfast and high-tailed it to Estacio de Franca with our bags. Once we deciphered the train schedule and made our transfer to the airport line, we could breath easier, but it wasn’t until we also made it past security and passport control that we were able to grab our first bite to eat that day. Airport food is still airport food, unfortunately, the world over (except, perhaps, in San Francisco).

Someone was happy to find some hot food, though, after our first few attempts struck out. We were *not* going to descend the point of ordering from Burger King, I tell you! Once we had sufficient calories, we sat back and enjoyed the view from the international terminal. After such a hectic morning, it felt nice to simply rest for a bit.

Our flight to Montreal was… not great. It seemed like Air Canada service just got worse and worse with each flight we took. This one involved a broken entertainment system, coffee spilled onto my lap by the stewardess, haughty service staff that slept half the flight.

When we got into Montreal, we simply ordered food from a nearby Italian restaurant and slept to catch the next morning’s early flight. Montreal is one of my personal favorite cities, so we’ll schedule a future trip with a dedicated visit in mind.

And that was it! We landed at LAX mid-morning the next day, took the shuttle home, and picked up the kids from school. It was a fantastic trip, and we’re still coming to terms with all we did (this writeup helps).

This seems like as good a place as any to share some notes about traveling to Spain. We had a great trip, but there are some things I’d adjust about our schedule, and if you plan on traveling to the Iberian, keep these in mind:

  • Madrid is a city with lots of interesting things to see (museums, the palace), but the people aren’t as friendly, outgoing, or hospitable as you’ll find elsewhere. We spent two full days in Madrid, and were able to cover quite a bit. While there’s other museums I’d like to see there, I’m not sure I’d schedule much more time.
  • Denia and Barcelona were the two stops that I’d highly recommend to fellow readers. Barcelona is worth its reputation and then some. Denia, on the other hand, doesn’t have a huge reputation but really should. I never would have heard of it if we didn’t have to take the ferry to get to Ibiza. It’s such a great blend of casual culture and relaxing coastal town; it’s easily on my list of top Europe destinations.
  • Spain is not all “spanish”. Basque and Catalan regions are highly unique and very proud of their independence, which extends to different languages and cuisines. They’re both worth checking out.
  • One of my favorite parts of our trip was how much we were able to mix up travel modes (plane, train, boat). It’s fun to see more of the countryside when you take slower trains, too. And if you’re on the Mediterranean, traveling between islands, but not taking the boat, what are you really doing?
  • I did end up feeling a little rushed. We scheduled three nights in Madrid, and three nights in Barcelona. We had two nights in Denia and Ibiza, and only one night in Alicante. If I had to do it over again, I’d pay a little extra for flights with shorter layovers (as much as I love you, Canada) and spend the extra day or two in Denia and Barcelona.
  • Ibiza is actually a really neat island even if you aren’t hopping from nightclub and nightclub. Boats and beaches a-plenty!

 

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Onwards, Across the Sea!

We woke up to our last day in Ibiza. Today, we needed to cross the Mediterranean from Ibiza to Barcelona, an eight-hour boat ride by ferry. It was a *gorgeous* morning, though, and after our taxi ride I snapped a few quick last pictures of a very photogenic island.

The above picture is looking northeast as we board our boat. I also caught a picture of the old castle as we cruised out of the harbor; very pretty; I ended up using it as the main header photo of this website.

I was initially concerned, given the rough ride we had a few days ago. Turns out, I needn’t have worried. Two things were working in our favor: a much smoother sea, and a *much* bigger, steadier boat. This was closer in size to a cruise ship than the smaller catamaran we took from Denia. Good thing, too, because this ride would be four times as long! Lots of comfortable sleep ahead of us; and you can tell someone came prepared for the experience.

Ironically, that 8 EUR cruise ship blanket Mercy has on her lap would prove to be one of the most memorable (and comfortable) mementos of our travel.

The morning sun off our bow as we headed north was gorgeous. When you’re out on the Mediterranean like this, it’s fun (with maybe a little awe) to imagine thousands of years of Roman ships, Christian apostles, and Phoenician traders struggling across the very same waters. The Mediterranean is a lot bigger than it might look on a map!

Between napping, listening to podcasts, reading a few hundreds pages of an art history textbook, and grabbing the occasional snack, eight hours passed by pretty fast. Before we knew it, you could see Barcelona approaching in the distance. With the evening sun setting just over the hills, the lighting for the approach was spectacular. It was hard to take too many pictures.

Here’s another one, as we got closer to the porch and the sunlight became even more vividly gold in shade.

In Barcelona, we were staying at the Exe Laietana Palace, right on Laietana and nearby the Metro stop Jaume I. I had chosen this location for the great neighborhoods, El Born and Barrio Gothic, to which it was adjacent; both were safer, more casual, and less touristy than options closer to the main drag of Las Ramblas, which is quite possibly the pickpocket capital of the world. We still had great access to transportation, and a number of attractions were within easy walking distance, too.

That night we enjoyed a fantastic meal at Restaurante Senyor Parellada, just around the corner from our hotel. (Note the interesting spelling of “senyor”; we’re definitely in Catalan territory now!) The meal was reasonably priced, but absolutely amazing (my grilled whitefish was to die for; Mercy’s salmon equally tasty). The interior was very charming, too; Barcelona has a unique blend of Modernista, belle epoque, and whimsical (almost surrealist) decoration styles. Instantly recognizable anywhere, and very fun.

We walked back to our hotel after dinner, stopping at a grocery store to grab a little ice cream and to stock our hotel fridge with the usual snacks (jamon, cheese, etc.) that had saved our bacon so many times before. And prepared ourselves for a couple of crazy days in Barcelona!

 

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The Boat to Ibiza

The weather was still somewhat cloudy and promising some storms when we woke up on Wednesday morning. Fortunately, a freshly rain-washed town and some gorgeous morning light facilitated some great photos of the town castle a block inland from our hotel.

I took advantage of the opportunity to take a panorama shot from our third-floor hotel balcony before we checked out. See how many Denia landmarks you can spot in 270 degrees!

Having cleaned up and checked out, we had quite a bit of time before our ferry left the terminal at 5PM. We walked around the marina a bit and enjoyed seeing the coast in broad daylight, for once.

Eventually, we settled in at a restaurant near the ferry terminal to enjoy a substantial afternoon brunch of mussels, three different ways. All fresh: first cooked with with olive oil and onions; second, broiled in white wine and paprika, and third… Well, here’s a picture.

That tasty little dish, as we’d learn when we re-encountered it in Barcelona, is “tiger mussels.” At first, we had no idea how it was prepared–it seemed almost like deviled eggs, but with mussels. Later, we’d learn the following recipe: 1) remove cooked mussels from shells; 2) slice mussel meat and mix with cream, a little cheese, and sliced mushrooms; 3) ladle back into shell and cover with breadcrumbs; 4) fry in olive oil and serve on the shell. Oh my. Oh me oh my. One of our new favorite dishes, and quite possibly the best preparation of mussels we’ve had (and we *love* us some mussels anyways, no matter how plain).

After our meal, it was time to board the ferry! This sizable catamaran would take us on the two-hour trip to Ibiza. It looks big, but with some of the stormy waves we were working through, and the shallow hull draft-to-inertia ratio of a sizable catamaran, it got pretty rough at times. A number of people in our first-class area got quite sick–and believe me, hearing other people heave is the worst part. Nonetheless, we made a speedy trip out to the islands.

When we approached the islands, the clouds started to break over rocky lighthouses. We entered port to a beautiful scene in the evening sun.

Ibiza is an interesting island. Renown for its party-central status and a multitude of nightclubs, it’s still an interesting Mediterranean destination in it’s own right. We were staying in the *city* of Ibiza (it shares its name with the island itself), which featured the main port, our target nightclub (Pasha), a great beach cove, our hotel, a neat castle, and charming old-town, all within walkable (or a cheap taxi fare’s) distance of each other.

Our hotel in Ibiza (the city) was another Eurostars, this one brand new, half a block from the beach, and nestled against the rocky hill topped by Ibiza’s own millenia-old anti-pirate castle. After a long boat ride and an even longer nap, though, we were afraid we once again would have difficulty locating an open kitchen. (Ibiza, even though it’s a party-hard kind of town, still stops serving food at most establishments around midnight.) Fortunately for us, the establishment Prince (just on the other side of the beach) was still serving a variety of simple but tasty dishes–so we refueled on smoked salmon, jamon bocadillos, and wine. The lady was pleased, which meant I was, too.

After a late dinner, it was time–around 12:30 AM–to hit the nightclubs. We were aiming for the infamous Pasha establishment, and that evening’s performance (“Cocoon”, featuring several prominent discoteca DJs and lots of EDM) didn’t disappoint. We danced for hours. Even I had fun. Despite where this picture was taken from, shot for context, we were right up in front for the whole night.

Of course, I’m pretty sure 90% of the crowd was high on some combination of ecstasy, alcohol, and pheromones. You can tell something’s going on when I’m one of the better dancers in the room. We headed back to our hotel around 3AM, after a fantastic night of laughing at each other’s moves on the dance floor.

 

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Up the Coast by Tram

As much as we loved Alicante, we were only scheduled to stay there one night before we headed north to Denia. Our hotel was conveniently right across the street from the local market, so we grabbed some snacks for the tram.

A word about the tram: this isn’t high speed rail. In fact, the original horse-drawn train line between Alicante and Denia was one of the older rail corridors in Spain. It’s been continually updated every few decades since it was first operational in 1893, and is nearly complete with the latest upgrade to electric tram cars. It’s a lazy trip up the coast, winding around each nook and climbing alongside each beautiful beach.

It starts out as an urban tram from the beachfront in Alicante where we had walked yesterday, before crawling up through each small coastal town.

This is a really neat tram, and today’s journey, while slow (it would take us three hours to go 75 kilometers, compared to two-and-a-half hours to travel the 360 kilometer distance from Madrid to Alicante the previous day), was something I was really looking forward to.

The views sure didn’t disappoint. At times, we were looking down from our railcar into deep, vivid Mediterranean blue water.

Beautiful beaches, small towns built upon 2,500-year-old Phoenecian settlements with 1,500-year-old Roman bridges and aquaducts… Quite a few gorgeous sites, even if a substantial portion are densely populated with timeshares for British expats.

As we rolled further north through the dry, Mediterranean coast, more and more towns moved further up the increasingly-rocky cliffs. Quite a beautiful scene.

Our tram stopped early, in the scenic town of Calp, while we switched to the bus that would take us the rest of the way to Denia. (The remaining rail was still being upgraded to support the new electric trains.) Calp is an interesting, larger town that–while full of towering timeshare and apartment buildings–reminds me a bit of Rio de Janeiro for the way that it builds out along an isthmus to a rocky point in the sea. Very pretty.

A really interesting transformation took place as we crested the mountain before descending into Denia. The side of the road became regularly blanketed with orange groves and sugar cane, and the landscape in general was significantly greener this close to Valencia. Once the bus dropped us off in Denia, it was a short walk down another scenic marina promenade to our hotel, the Posada del Mar.

How do I begin to describe this place? How about starting with this: when you walk into the lobby, you see in front of the staircase the original stones from the inn first built in the year 1300. They’ve done an amazing job renovating around the ruins (including extracting a number of artifacts for subsequent display on the walls and in floor casings).

Every detail of the interior was amazing, from the wooden banisters and artwork on the stucco walls to the wrought-iron railings. But even that paled in comparison to our room when we walked in the door (complete with Norah Jones playing on the TV when we turned the power on), overlooking the marina. Even the bed was a gorgeous four-poster with curtains, and thankfully not the split-twins we’d pessimistically come to expect in half our Iberian rooms.

That night, smack in the center of Costa Blanca, there was only one meal we wanted to chase: we hunted down the best paella we could find. The result: Ca Pepa Teresa, where a monstrously-big vat of rice and seafood combined with a great bottle of white wine to produce one heck of a memorable meal–even if we came in second place against the French couple next to our table in the time-honored Mediterranean game of “who can shell the shellfish most quickly and neatly with nothing but knife and fork.”

After our meal, we wandered back down Denia’s main street, Calle Marques de Campo. One interesting note: We were definitely in Catalan culture now, with a variety of religious references and subtle differences in common language terms. It was a very scenic night, and after a tasty nightcap of mojitos at our hotel’s bar, we hit the sack pretty hard.

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HIGH-SPEED RAIL; or, how to get yelled at by old embittered spanish ladies

Our last day in Madrid! Sad. We were greatly enjoying our time in Spain thus far. But before we go: one last morning-light picture of the block from our hotel.

Today’s itinerary called for us to take the high-speed rail from Madrid to Alicante, a mid-sized town on the Mediterranean coast. More tasty fun with maps!

We stuffed our bags, checked out, and took a cab to one of the main train stations in Madrid, Puerta de Atocha. Very nice indoors, with a greenhouse-like interior plaza to enjoy while we waited for our platform to be announced.

And here’s our train! SQUEE for high-speed rail!

And now to shoot across La Mancha (yup, that one) at hundreds of kilometers per hour! Looks like the windmills have changed a bit at some point in the past few hundred years.

And now for a brief interlude.

Turns out our seats were in the “silent car,” and we weren’t even sitting in the same row. Quelle horreur! Fortunately, we were able to switch with the lady sitting next to me. Unfortunately, after we exchanged a few brief “so glad we’re sitting together” whispers, the older lady who had been sitting next to Mercy stepped over to our seats, put her face a foot-and-a-half away from mine, and proceeded to tell us:

“THIS IS EL COCHE SILENCIO! SEE!?” she pointed at the headrest sign right over my ear. “YOU MUST BE QUIET! YOU CANNOT TALK! IT IS FORBIDDEN!”

I’m not making these words up. And she’s yelling this in a voice approximately three times louder than our whispers.

In the meantime, a half-dozen other people in the car have cellphones going off, are holding phone conversations, listening to music. But clearly I digress.

When we finally arrived in Alicante (and it was a peaceful, quiet ride after that), it was a short walk from the main train station to the hotel, Eurostars Lucentum. Eurostars turns out to be a nice chain of respectable, higher-end business-class hotels located across most of Western Europe (we’d stay at another one in Ibiza, though we did notice a few engineering issues here and there in both locations…) After our usual unpack-and-nap routine, we took a stroll down the conveniently-close promenade. It was a very nice smaller-town break after Madrid, and much more like Portugal, from the outdoor landscaping to the tiled sidewalks.

It doesn’t have the royal palace. It doesn’t have the Prado. It doesn’t have Madrid’s bustling size or fantastic Metro. But you know what Alicante has that Madrid doesn’t? Here’s a clue.

Alicante is, of course, right on the coast, and it’s a beautiful place. Like most old towns (and I mean OLD; our hotel here is named after the original Carthaginian settlement, Lucentum, from 230BC), this old place is built around a disorganized huddle of old-town streets. The old town itself sits at the base of a rocky outcropping, typically topped by a castle that was used to scout and defend against pirates for thousands of years. We’d see this pattern again in Denia, Ibiza, and even Barcelona itself.

Despite it’s contrast to Madrid, it’s not to say that Alicante doesn’t have it’s fair share of public art. We spotted several neat sculptures on our walk along the marina to the beach, including this charmer who (we’re still not sure) might be holding either a surfboard or large tuna.

One of my favorites was this sculpture, which reminded me of the dodecahedron from the city of Digitopolis in The Phantom Tollbooth.

A few moments later, we finally made it to the beach. Despite the fact that it was technically shoulder season, the place was absolutely packed with Brits getting in a few last days of sun before heading back to winter in auld cloud-saturated Brittainia. (Dear god, I’ve seen enough arrogant, overweight, and speedo-sporting old English men–and women–to last several lifetimes.)

Walking back up the inside of the promenade, there were plenty more tiled mosaics in the ground to admire as we made our way to dinner.

Dinner that night was pizza at an outstanding Italian establishment, Sale e Pepe. (The northern half of Spain’s eastern coast has a strong Italian influence.) What a place! Great, authentic pizza, served by a jovial Italian family who refuses to speak Spanish (“English or Italian only in here!”), and right in the shadow of the local cathedral. Great food, great wine, and fantastic limoncello. We could have stayed here for days.

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Might as well stop in Canada, eh?

Our flight from Toronto to Madrid wouldn’t leave until late afternoon, so we took the express train downtown to see some sights. First stop: some tasty poutin! Smoke’s Poutinerie serves several dozen varieties, from the traditional to Mercy’s favorite, a Thanksgiving variation with stuffing, turkey, and gravy.

From there, we took a stroll down to the lake shore, which just happened to pass by the Blue Jay’s stadium and the CN Tower, the main highlight of Toronto’s skyline.

From there we could look out over Lake Ontario and see… well, not quite New York, but it was still a pretty view. Usually is when you’re with a pretty lady!

On our way back to the train station, we stumbled upon a really neat railroad park and museum. Built around an old turntable, there’s lots of old train engines, cars, and even a small-scale ride-able train that does seasonal runs around the block. (Don’t mind the pudgy guy in the blue shirt, he’s just here for the machines.)

Here’s a Google Earth overhead of the park, complete with rail outlines to make sure Papa’s paying attention:

After that, we jumped back onto the airport express train to board our overnight flight to Madrid. It was a surprisingly sunny and walkable day for Canada, but we were about to head to a place that’s much sunnier…

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Up, Up, and Away!

Here we go! After dropping off the kids the last time for a couple of weeks, Mercy and I picked up our bags and hopped on the handy Super Shuttle to LAX. After a busy morning getting ready we grabbed a bite and captured the launch of our trip with a quick picture!

Our first flight to Toronto was pleasant and uneventful. Historically, we’ve had good experiences with Air Canada (though that would change later this trip; more on that later…), and the new individual entertainment system they’ve installed since we last took them makes long flights relatively painless. Mercy even found a new HBO show to get hooked to (Succession; she says it’s great).

Of course, we’re still heading east (even if it is just to Toronto first), so we hit the sack pretty hard when we got in. Airport hotel dinner (nothing remarkable), followed by lots of ZZZs. That’s it for the first day!