Making up Spanish in Laguardia, San Vincente de la Sonsierra, and Briones: Friday, Aug. 23rd

Last night was rough. I had a sore throat yesterday, and was hot and cold and up and down all night (and we hadn't even been drinking, if someone was trying to read between the lines there.) Maybe it was the two-hour siesta. Didn't take one of those today, so we'll see how tonight goes. Also, to attempt to prove Rosie wrong that it was dehydration, I drank a lot of water, which definitely helped, even if dehydration wasn't the root cause. But a bleak, chilly morning was a slow start to our day. (Though there was a giant bull in the distance.)

We had an 11am appointment in San Vincente de la Sonsierra, at an adorably small winery called Miguel Marino. Our tour group was just six people, and it was a "large" tour for our hostess. 

Miguel Sr. had been working in the wine exporting business, but wanted to start his own, so found some vineyards to buy in 1993. The vines were between 20 to 60 years old, and he started using them for his wines. 

What impressed me about Marino wines was the times they were aged. A crianza needs 18 months in a barrel - there's were two years. A reserva is required to have two years, theirs had three, and so forth, making their wines better aged than the typical Riojas. 

Miguel Jr. was also fun to hear about as well. He was the experimentalist, with different varieties of grape growing out front of the fermentation warehouse. He was also trying Hungarian oak, which gives a toasty flavor to the wines. The Rioja D.O.C., which regulates what can be called a Rioja, is the oldest and strictest such organization in Spain. Clearly, Miguel Jr.'s wines don't have this official seal. 

While looking at these experimental vines, we learned some of the tricks for the vineyards. Roses at planted at the end of each row as indicators. Firstly, the color indicates the type of grape (red being Tempranillo in this case) and, secondly, as an indicator for disease because fungus will take down the rose about two weeks before the vines succumb, enough time to act. They also grow grass between the vines to increase the competition and force the grape roots further down. 

Besides Miguel Jr., most of the winery is traditional with an extra emphasis on quality. They sort out "purgatory" grapes to make into wine that isn't for sale, just for friends and family. In 1997, that was 30% - a bad year for grapes, but they got award-winning wine with their selectivity. This year is looking like another bad year: not a lot of snow, but very cold winter, cool and wet spring, and what will be a late harvest. 

They, like the other vineyards, sort out the worst grapes to give to others to make grappa or "orujo." The other grapes are put mostly whole, which is unusual, into the fermentation tanks. Only about 10% are crushed to be the starter for the fermenting. 

This first fermenting takes twice as long as if all the grapes were crushed, and during that entire 3 weeks period the "cap", where all of the seeds and skins pile up on top of the juice, needs to be kept wet to keep from rotting, so they stir it frequently.

The juice mash is pressed, with the more concentrated final juice separated from the earlier juice that just "cried" from the tanks to be mixed as desired later. Then juice goes back in to do the malolactic fermentation, then comes out as wine. 

The barrels it goes into for aging have been sanitized by burning a candle in them then pressure washed. They use the barrels for three years, with six uses a piece. Each wine is rotated through barrels inversely with the age of the vine -  younger (50-year-old) vines are put in the 2-year-old barrels and the 80-year-old vines are in the new barrels at the beginning. They are rotated through the barrels, and when moved, the bottom of the barrel, with its sediments, is taken out and turned into "fondos de barrica", this wine that I can't find anywhere on the Internet, because the guide mentioned that they used egg whites somehow to congeal the sediments or whatever else egg white might be used for in a wine-making process. (That's why I didn't understand either.) Because of this, Miguel Marino doesn't filter their wine at all, just let's gravity do the work. It is also why they have to be more patient. 

She brought us in to the even chillier wine cellar, which was underneath a grass roof to help with the temperature and humidity (which is programmed at 70% so the barrels don't dry out and the wine doesn't evaporate). They commissioned barrels that were a "medium toast" made of both American and French oak - "AFF."

They, like all the wineries we've visited, use natural cork. Because the wine can be aged for up to 20 more years (if kept in a cool, humid place), the cork can help it breathe. We also learned that if the cork has the wine soaked up into it, or the cork smells like cork and not like wine, the cork has gotten stale (or whatever the word may be) and the wine quality has suffered. 

At Marqués de Riscal yesterday, we noticed that the magnum (1.5 liter) bottles were selling for more than double the regular bottles, even though they are just double the size. This is because there is less oxygen in the bottle per liter of wine, so the wine can stay less oxidized. The corks and bottles (which are darker to prevent the light from changing the wine) are more expensive as well! We saw magnums and double magnums and triple magnums and one that I think she said was 37 liters (though that doesn't make sense in my head).

After the tour, we tried three wines she had selected: a "young vine" wine from the vines planted in '93, a crianza, and a reserva. Then, we asked to try a fondo, since that was recommended to us by Rosie's parents, and another couple asked to try one of Miguel Jr.'s wines. So we tried 5 types then left with 6 bottles of just one type - the fondos. They don't export it, so we took matters into our own hands. 

We were recommended Casa Toni in a neighboring town for a meal, so we drove across the Ebro River to San Vicente de la Sonsierra. We parked quickly so we could just wander and find the restaurant, which wasn't what we were expecting. Lots of patrons were at the bar, but the restaurant in the back was deserted. 

With enough confused looks and "donde est restaurante" attempts, a hostess took us next door to "Toni Traditonal" were a few other families were lunching.

While it wasn't the modern place we were expecting, we ate well and enjoyed the camaraderie of the place. We had paella and gazpacho (a delicious one - creamy with a hint of melon, similar to what they gave us at Amelibia, but in a big bowl instead of a small cup). Then, had some beef cheek, which was incredibly rich, served with French fries and gravy, and neither of us could finish. I found out later that our 12€ meal included a dessert and wine, but we didn't take advantage of that. 

While we were there, only one waitress was in the dining room. She moved like a whirlwind, so service was slow but never came to a complete stop. There were clearly some regulars - one guy got served a half-finished bottle of wine with a napkin wrapped around it. Maybe his bottle from yesterday? Another guy was greeting people and keeping the mood light. A few different people coming in helped clear and set the tables, and then there were the two kids eating their lunch at Mom's restaurant. A cute (if windowless) environment. 

We walked down a few alleys, but didn't explore too much. We did drive the car down to the river, with the new bridge (for cars) and the medieval bridge (for pictures).

This afternoon, as we had checked into our cute hotel, we asked our Spanish-speaking innkeeper about bodegas to see this afternoon. She called one called Daniel Puras, and we had an appointment for 4:30. 

We scoped it out first with the car, then returned the car to the hotel and hiked back up into Briones. We managed to find it again (with no map, just Rosie's sense of direction) and were two minutes late. But the door was locked!

It seemed deserted, so we poked around it for five minutes until our hostess showed up. And began prattling at us in Spanish. We clearly hadn't booked an English tour. 

We did some creative interpretation of what she was saying, and she did the same for us. We decided to skip the tour, though we got to see the fermentation tanks, since we were on the metal grating right above them, and go straight to the wine tasting. While we tasted, we attempted to ask questions like "uno anõs, quantos botellas?" The number 9000 seemed agreeable, so this bodega was even smaller than Miguel Marino if so! We have gone from 30 million to 10 million to 40,000 to 9,000. I don't think we can get much smaller!

She served us some cheese from the area, which we have no idea what type, but it was hard and white and had some holes and delicious. And not Manchego. We had a completely unaged Tempranillo and a crianza, with the typical 18 month aging.

We bought some of the crianza, which we then got to carry around the town of Briones when we got a map and explored. The "little English" that the woman spoke at the tourist info center was much more that the tour guide, so we learned there was a free museum in the plaza as well as different points on the map we could visit. 

The museum was hilarious in our lack of understanding of Spanish. It had historical house furnishings and tools, from wool spinning to bassinets to "colandor"s (colanders!) and more. We walked through all of it, and I just appreciated where they kept their chickens. 

Rosie walked us around the village, pointing out casas and other buildings that didn't even have plaques on them. There were some cute arches, and an awesome spiral staircase to the top of some ruins overlooking the surrounding valleys (but still lower than the church steeple!)

Oh, it also got warmer and the sun came out! We finished our walk back on the side of the town with our hotel, and an exercise playground. It motivated us to do my Jazzercise squat routine to Pink's "Try," during which some old Spanish gentlemen probably thought we were crazy. 

It was a steep downhill to get back to the hotel, where we read in the sun, then took just a short (20-40 minute) nap before heading back info town for dinner. 

It is a Friday night, so we expected things to be hopping, but it was really just people drinking and casually watching Bilbao play "OSA" or something like that. 

We went to the only restaurant which wasn't a hotel that we found, which our guide at Miguel Marino had also mentioned. It was deserted. But it was 9:30! That's dinnertime!

Apparently, according to the guy serving us and Rosie's translation of what he said, people would be eating out tomorrow night, but not tonight. We got the best service we've had yet, with two waiters and zero other customers. We got a peppers and sardine dish (soaked in olive oil, which we sopped up with bread) then shrimp in garlic sauce (which we sopped up with more bread), then our cod "Briones-style", with more of the oil and peppers and other toppings. Don't worry, we sopped that stuff up with our bread too. It was all very tasty. 

We wanted to find a hopping bar to get a drink at, but we found a mostly dead bar to get an ice cream sandwich in instead. The soccer game was still playing, but all of the patrons left at 11:30, so we left as well. Not a crazy party city, Briones. 

Sips and Bites in Logroño to Laguardia: Thurs., Aug. 22nd

We were going to have time to sit in the park and read a bit this morning, but a potential theme of this trip is not getting up any earlier than absolutely necessary. So we checked out of our hotel at 11 to get to our wine tour at noon. Our car was fine, and my navigating wasn't too bad, except for when I switched the hotel and the winery. But I caught myself after a couple hundred yards - having Rosie drive and me navigate has been working out really well, especially since there is a lot of shifting in and out of gear that I'm not comfortable with. We have a cute little Fiat that just fits us just right. It is a little under-powered on hills, we found out today. 

The Marqués de Riscal winery is the oldest in the Rioja region, with its first harvest in 1858. They have a bottle from every vintage since the first in 1862 in their bottleria. The corks are so old, they use a metal bottle decapitator to heat up the glass around the neck of the bottle, then brush on cold water to shock the glass and break it. 

Being so old, the winery has buildings from the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries. The building from the 21st century is a hotel designed by Frank Gehry. 

Frank Gehry is famous in Spain for the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, but I know his as the architect for the Experience Music Project in Seattle. (See the similarities? Curvy metal, silver and bold colors, no regard for the countryside or surroundings.)

When Frank Gehry visited with the plans, they opened one of those old bottles from his birth year. The building was finished in 2006, and the colors are meant to represent the winery - red/ purple for the grapes, silver for the seal on the bottle, and gold for the gold wire around the bottle.

Near the Gehry building (which is a very pricey hotel) is the processing areas for making the wine. It is sorted out front of the building, first bunch by bunch, then berry by berry. The vines have been trimmed down so that each of their two main branches has just four bunches each. The bunches are all separated by grape type, age of the vine, and quality of the grape. 

Once chosen and separated, the grapes are mashed into a pulpy mixture (with the seeds still in it, but not crushed). This mixture goes into the first barrels, where the sugar-alcohol fermentation happens in 7-10 days. Then the mash is pressed slowly, for about three hours, to filter the seeds out. The finer mash goes to smaller (but still thousands of gallons big) barrels where the malic acid to lactic acid fermentation happens. Then, it is filtered again, and into the barrels for the typical amounts of time for each type of Rioja wine. 

This winery is slightly smaller than Campo Viejo, producing about 5 millions bottles of red and 5 million bottles of white at another facility. They recently started their white wines (about 10 years ago). Of all their wines, they export about 65%.

The Rioja region is perfectly suited for grapes since the Cantabrian Mountains to the north and a different range to the south protect them both from harsh winters and humid summers (though they are definitely still hot!)

We got to taste one of their whites, a "rueda verdejo" as well as a mostly Tempranillo Reserva. The white wine was actually really good! Fruity and dry - the only way I like my whites. It helps that it is warm around here (glorious days in the 80s and 90s), but it still is confusing when they serve us the red wine cold too.

We met a couple and their kids from Connecticut and chatted about Barcelona and San Sebastián, since we each had just left one and were going to the other. She also was the de facto photographer of the tour. We asked for her to take a picture, and she ended up probably taking one for every couple there. 

We wandered into a "jardin ingles", but were then told "no possible" and decided to just get back on the road. The ten-minute road to our hotel and a recommended restaurant in Laguardia.

We checked in, found parking down a hill near the hotel (potentially illegal - guess we'll find out tomorrow), and dragged our hot bones to Amebilia, a restaurant Rosie's family recommended.

First off, the view was magnificent. We split a bottle of my newly discovered favorite white (verdejo), a vegetable and shrimp appetizer, a cod and "pista" (which might be pistachios according to the Internet, but the taste wasn't like that) entree, and then a black chocolate mousse dessert with sea salt and olive oil. Everything was so delicious, and our meal was so relaxed, that of course we had to walk the block back to the hotel for a siesta. 

Seven o'clock arrives, and the two flies in our room wake us up. Some sort of 2-on-2 ball game was happening right outside our hotel. The teams alternated hitting a racquetball-type ball against a wall above a metal line, and if you didn't get to the ball before its second bounce, the other team got a point. 

We wander to the west side of the the walled city (Laguardia means "The Guard" for its protective presence on the hill) and find ourselves on a gorgeous overlook with a beautiful sunset. We play cards until the sun goes down (about 9pm here) and I pay back Rosie for the thorough pounding I took yesterday by beating her soundly today. But really, can we just appreciate this awesome view for a bit?

Our night ended with a stroll around then through the family-oriented town, with grandparents and small children walking slowly through the cobblestone streets. Inside the walls, it is pedestrian-only, and you can tell by the crazy car parking situation outside the walls. 

We ate some cheese-bread-berry pinxhos (tapas) then got a full recione (mostly by accident) of the croquettas and tomato salad at another bar. But it was a great dinner, and the melted chocolate back at the hotel room, combined with some planning for tomorrow's adventures, topped off a pretty evening in Laguardia. 

Pedestrian streets in Barcelona to Logroño: Wed., Aug. 22nd

This morning was much more successful than yesterday's - we woke up to the 6:30 alarm and were out of the hostel by 7, which was perfect timing for our 7:35 train to Logroño. I set an alarm for 11:10am, ten minutes before we were supposed to arrive, and promptly fell asleep listening to "War Horse." (Every time I woke up, he was still at war. Surprise!) Rosie didn't have any issues with a morning nap either. 

When we got to the train station, the Avis office was right there. We got our tiny, adorable, manual Fiat and... couldn't figure out how to get it in reverse. Turns out you need to pull up on a safety catch to do that. 

After that, it was probably only a mile to our hotel, but it was a mile filled with pedestrian streets, roundabouts, invisible roads the GPS wanted us to take, and more! There were signs for the hotel, which were pointing down a street that had a no entry sign but with conditions that excluded "auto de tourisidad" or something similar. I figured the only way for us to get to the hotel was on this pedestrian-ish street, and I forced Rosie to go down it, placating her that I would pay the ticket if we got in trouble. 

A simple block down, there was Hotel Marques de Vallejo and a parallel parking spot right in front of it. We parked, checked in, grabbed a map, got directions for our first winery, and was told it was only 12 minutes away. We had 25 minutes before our tour. We were out to prove them wrong. 

The combination of the map and GPS helped us figure out when we accidentally crossed the river, but after that we were right on track.

Campo Viejo is one of a few brands owned by a wine conglomerate, and it has fairly new (from 2000) facilities that mimic the sandy brown soil and are energy-efficient in the face of the blazing sun. 

Our tour got started a bit late, and was a spastic alternation between Spanish and English. The production volume of the winery is amazing: 30 million bottles a year, with 40% being exported.

This winery ages all their wine at least two years in oak and up to three more in the bottle for a crianza (which we tasted one - it was spicy, younger-tasting, though the spice was tempered by the salami we had with it). Reservas are three years in oak, gran reservas are four (and this is for the entire Rioja region). The gran reserva we tried was smooth, with a good early taste, but no complexity since it was 100% Tempranillo grapes. Those grapes are the basis of all Rioja wines, but the more complex ones are blends. 

Also to add complexity is the oak it is aged in. Campo Viejo had about 30% of its oak as French oak, which gives a coffee flavor, and the rest as American oak, with more vanilla flavors. 

The process for making that much wine was impressive as well. The rooms with the steel tanks, the barrels, and the bottles were all impossibly large. 

El Toro, their forklift, takes the pallets of wine bottles to be "dressed" by robots and packed into a truck in 7 minutes. My final fact: a barrel holds 225 liters, which is 300 bottles.

And now, pictures of the countryside - a little browner than I imagined, but beautiful nonetheless. 

We drove down back into Logroño and our public parking lot, where we made the car look as non-interesting as possible. (Thus far, we haven't had any issues with theft or pick-pocketing, so let's hope it continues!)

We walked back to the hotel, wandering through a few plazas with some frozen yogurt on the way. The town was basically closed for the siesta, so we took the hint and had ourselves a two-hour nap as well. 

We awoke and asked the hotel reception more questions - where should we go for espresso? where are good tapas? what about octopus? what's your favorite? and then started with the espresso. (I keep trying her coffee and only the super frozen sugary one at Parc Güell have I liked.)

We had our paseo (walk) around another park until it was appropriate time for tapas. 

I was slightly disappointed at the restrictive tapas in Barcelona. Today more than made up for it. There were bars with great windows of food, lots of people, and beautiful houses and alleys.

We started by trying to redeem ourselves from the bad octopus last night with "pulpo al a vinagreta" (octopus in olive oil) at a pulpería called Bar La Universidad. It was much, much better than yesterday's.  A cup of gazpacho was the perfect size to try as well, though it just came from a bottle, so we'll have to do better. 

Our espresso maker's recommendation was a potato omelet ("tortilla de pâtata") with salsa at Bar Sebas. It had a great texture and was well-spiced. Then we had killer mushrooms topped with shrimp ("champiñón a la plancha") from Bar Ángel. We got to watch them simmer in oil, then get filled with garlic butter and salt before being pinned with a toothpick and placed on a slice of bread. 

After the mushrooms, we took a break, wandering back toward our hotel for a complimentary glass of wine and some card-playing. But the tapas weren't over yet!

The guy that gave us wine at the hotel suggested rotos, so we went to Bodeguilla Los Rotos for "un roto de gulas" (a hollowed-out roll with fake baby eel made from an Alaskan fish called surimi with squid ink to color its "back").

Our final tapas stop was to get "pimiento relleno" (meat-stuffed pepper covered in sauce) from Bar Rte. Las Cubanas. Once we had ordered our dish, we noticed the crowd favorite was clearly a meat dish that wasn't in our handy guide. So we ordered the suckling pig, "cochinillo," for a great final wrap-up. 

We wandered, we ate ice cream (or a weirdly alcoholic-tasting sorbet in Rosie's case), and we played rummy 500, in which I was beaten terribly. I think our Barcelona bedtime is still what we are used to, since it crept its way toward 3am easily. We do have things to do tomorrow, so it'll be a great (and air conditioned!) rest in our snazzy hotel. 

Amigos in Barcelona: Tues., Aug. 20th

We had great ambitions to wake up at 7:30 this morning so we could be at the Sagrada Familia by 9 to beat the lines. Instead, the following occurred:

4:30am - go to bed

5:35am - Corinne crawls over Rosie to turn off Rosie's weekday alarm that goes off at 5:30am. After confirming (just barely) that it isn't Corinne's 7:30am alarm, all resume sleeping. 

7:30am - Corinne's alarm probably went off.

10:30am - Corinne wakes up with a phone smothered under her pillow and Rosie still asleep beside her. Plan B for the day commences. 

So we had a walking tour at 1pm. We used the hostel Internet to book tickets to Sagrada Familia at 5pm for a guided tour and Casa Milá for an entrance at 7pm. Impressively, everything we wanted to see was lining up exactly for the day.

We wandered through the Boqueria at about 11, where Rosie bought some fruit juice from one of the stalls in the marketplace there. 

We next found a mural by Mirò in the center of La Ramblas, followed by a bakery shop for an Americano (Rosie) and an apple tartlet (Corinne). We walked past the Palau de Güell, but just admired the outside as we already had two Gaudi works lined up for the day. We instead spent our money on sunscreen and a ham sandwich (where "ham" is more like prosciutto).

Our walking tour covered the Gothic Quarter, which was perfect since we hasn't been wandering around there as much as Las Ramblas. We saw the square where over 30 people, including children from the orphanage next door, had died during a bomb squad. There was still cracks and pock markers from the blast.

We stopped at the corner of two alley where Els Quatre Gats, where Picasso and his contemporaries hung out and drank absinthe. It was also designed in the Modernisme fashion (Neo-Gothic Modernisme by Josep Puig i Cadafalch). 

When we walked into Plaça Nova, we were greeted by a giant advertisement with Iggy Pop. However, underneath there is a frieze designed by Picasso that secretly depicts Catalonian traditions even as it was commissioned by Franco while he oppressed Catalonian culture.

There was also the impressive cathedral. We learned about Barcelona's two patron saints. The first, St. Jordi (George) was famous for slaying dragons. "Slaying dragons," apparently, is a metaphor for killing off other religions and their followers. In George's day, the last of the Muslim Moors disappeared, and he probably contributed. 

The second saint is Eulalia. She was tortured at 13 in 13 different ways - our tour guide broke this one down too (just like those imaginary dragons): she is probably symbolic of the many children who were abused and tortured for their religion. When they finally cut off her head, a dove came out. 

Another figure we heard about was Wilfred the Hairy. The Catalonian flag (five yellow stripes with four red stripes) is from when he was injured and his blood was used to wipe the four stripes on the yellow background. 

In sum, the two-and-a-half-hour tour covered a lot, Rick Steves covered a lot, and I'm sure we are just "scratching the surface," as our guide kept saying, of Barcelona. (Scratching the surface of La Ramblas put us at what was a giant sewage ditch leading to the harbor that was paved over.)

We came across Plaça Reial again, where we attempted to go find a club at last night and instead found an awkward dancing bar. All of the pretty palm trees are "implanted," as Rosie has been saying, as are the two street lamps designed by Gaudí.

After the walking tour, we had our favorite meal yet at a restaurant recommended by our hostel receptionist called Origens, which was down by the harbor. We had a delicious lentil, pepper, and octopus salad with a beef-stuffed onion and a vegetable-stuffed eggplant. We needed that energy as we took the metro to the Sagrada Familia.

Oh, the Sagrada Familia. We are almost done with our visit to Barcelona (leaving in the morning) and at 5pm on the second day we are just getting to the architect Antoni Gaudí's unfinished masterpiece. (It has been under construcition for over 100 years.) But, nevertheless, we saw it, inside and out, without having to wait in the line stretching around the block. 

We also might have gotten in for free. We booked a 5pm English tour, but they didn't book the tour guide, so they said our money will be refunded in 15-30 days. We'll see if that $40 ever lands back in our pockets. (If you are reading this 30 days from now, let me know so I can check my credit card and update this post! Or call and complain...)

Instead of a tour guide, we had Rick Steves. (I skipped the part were I basically fell asleep inside the church while we were waiting for the tour, but who cares about that. Except Rosie, who took a picture for blackmail some day.)

Rick Steves outlined a tour in his book where we wandered from the Passion Facade to the Nativity Facade, from the nave to the unfinished entryway. The tri-colored columns inside evoked a canopy which had light filtering in from the stained glass (not all of it done). The columns were built to hold an not-yet-realized cross, meant to be light up and 560 feet tall. It will be the tallest steeple in the world, but a few feet shorter than the summit of Montjuïc, since "the creation of man should not eclipse the creation of God."

More awesome stuff about Gaudí and the church:

* Gaudí improved on the arch so it would support his grand steeple by hanging chains with weights and flipping them 

* A 4x4 grid adds up 33 in all directions on the Passion Facade - Jesus' age at his death

* One of the men on the Passion Facade (sculpted by Josep Maria Subirachs) is a monument to Gaudí

* The roof and floor of the church were just completed in 2010, right before Pope Benedict XVI consecrated it

* A bronze door has been made for the Glory Facade that has the Lord's Prayer in Catalan and "Give us this day our daily bread" in 50 languages.

Also, there's a turtle holding up on of the columns on the Nativity Facade (reminding me of Stephen Hawking's "turtles all the way down.")

Overall, it was amazing. Highly recommend it. 

We scuttled out of Sagrada Familia to make our timed entry into Casa Milà. But then we found a shop with espresso for Rosie and ice cream for me, and then the caffeine didn't kick in until we had walked a few blocks in the wrong direction, so we took a cab to what is also known as La Pedrara ("The Quarry" because of its massive amounts of stone).

We had an hour to tour the house before it closed, and we spent most of it on the undulating roof. We had this Canadian guy take our picture in front of one of the chimneys, and then he started following us. (Not quite true - Rosie kept being friendly and asking him questions about architecture school and traveling...)

So we had a new amigo named Merdad who we got to know as we walked through the attic, which housed an amazing display of the genius of Gaudí, and the apartment, which was pretty but also seemed very bare compared to the intricacies of the external details. Though there was an umbrella stand that I'm in love with (birthday present - hint hint):

If you can't afford it, a print or scale model of the bronze door from the Sagrada Familia would work too. Wink wink, nudge nudge. 

Rosie and I had this grand plan to see a flamenco guitar concert at the Palace of Catalan music, which is supposed to be brilliant on the inside. We got there right at 8:30, but the concert was sold out. It will have to be on our next trip to Barcelona. 

We saw the outside for the third time, then headed to a restaurant for a not-great tuna and greens salad and a much better entree of veal with fig and walnut compote.

We were still seeking tapas, though. I didn't think yesterday's two mini-meals were very tapas-like, so I wanted to have a small plate and a drink at a table on a terrace. However, we were thwarted, first by our decision-making skills (or lack thereof), then by two different restaurants saying they wouldn't seat or serve us without a minimum that was too much food for people who just ate dinner. 

So we ended back up at Taller de Tapas, a local chain that we had the artichoke and chickpea dishes at yesterday. A pitcher of sangria (our new friend was still hanging out) and some octopus (not good) and some razor clams (very good), and we were back to our relaxed selves.

We wisely asked our young, cute, Ted Danson look-a-like for a bar recommendation, and wandered toward Shakerato, where we talked music, drinks and life while all three were happening (loudly) around us. 

I heard (from Rick) that churros with melted chocolate is a post-bar treat, so we wandered toward the hostel and the Ramblas in a futile search. I had to be content with some Cadbury chocolate we had bought in the Madrid airport. It was partially melted from the lack of air conditioning, but all the more delicious when a bed awaited afterward.

Perdóneme in Barcelona: Mon., Aug. 19

I was confused when they gave us dinner on the flight to Madrid from JFK. Aren't you supposed to be habitualizing yourself to the time you are arriving to? Our 10pm departure was 4am in Barcelona (which was, almost exactly, 24 hours ago). As Rosie said earlier today, "Can you believe how long it's been since we were in a bed?"

The hostel has a bed in a room just for us... On the fourth (fifth in America), un-air-conditioned floor. I did say I wasn't happy with just the 80 degrees it was in DC, so even at night it is going to be warmer than that. 

We easily got to the hostel from the airport, washed off nearly 12 hours of airport, then hit the Ramblas. It is an awesome pedestrian street that runs from the Placa de Catalunya to a giant (200-foot) Christopher Columbus statue by the water about a mile away. We heard it was awash with pickpockets, so we've been extra careful and haven't lost anything yet!

Our own "ramble" let us to a plaza with some outdoor tables where we got some paella and bread with tomato spread (almost just tomatoes crushed into juice with olive oil) and Manchego cheese.

 It was a great place to people-watch before we took to the bus to Parc Güell. 

Gaudí (or "gaudy" as Rosie keeps calling him - could someone tell us if there is a connection?) devised and built this estate for the rich to be sheltered from the city from a hill on high. It didn't quite work out - turn-of-the-century nobles thought it was too far from the thick of things - but the entrance gates, with a dragon that tourists fight over to get picture with, still lead to some dazzling terraces and views. 

(The kid who took the picture of us was very confused when we ask for a photo. We think he might have thought we were asking to take a picture of him.)

We continued hiking up stairs and stairs (they are there...must climb...) and found the local dog hang-out. (My coworkers will have to wait until Animal Photo Friday for me to send in pictures of the dazzling view that might just happen to have dogs in it too.)

We drove past the "Block of Discord", three competing Modermisme works along one street. We will be walking that way tomorrow, but it was a fun evening preview. 

We knew there was a flamenco concert at 8:30 at the Palace of Catalan Music, but thought there was one at 9:30 and 10:30 as well. When we showed up confused to an empty ticket office, the security guard showed us a schedule. 8:30 was the last one, not the first one! That'll be an adventure for tomorrow then.

Instead, we walked to the water. And back. And had some tapas along the way (fried shredded artichoke and spinach, chickpeas, and panchetta - the second one was better because it was correctly salted).

Our plan had been to go out, but my feet were hurting and we couldn't find a place that was quite right along the Ramblas. We stopped back in at the hotel for a clothing change and a read-through of the suggestions we had procured before deciding on one in Garciá. Our cabbie knew where it was, thankfully, but it was for naught - closed on weeknights in August!

Thankfully, he was an awesome taxi driver and knew where to take us instead. We danced and fended off men at the Port Olimpic area at a Japanese (potentially?) themed club. It had great music, until about 3:30 when it turned into house music and we turned around and left. Overall, a successful, if dreadfully tiring, first night in Barcelona. 

The pre-trip: Sat.-Sun., Aug. 17-18, 2013

Everytime Alisa and I take a trip together, I make her drive to DC to fly out with me. It is only fair that I transport myself up to New York to fly out of JFK with Rosie. (Not really fair to either of them, but in the karmatic total of the universe.)

I spent my Friday night loading maps onto a borrowed GPS (Kelly, again, thank you immensely. I'll put "Afrikaans" back on your GPS as a language before I give it back if you want. It just didn't fit with the Spain maps on there too.) I attempted to put in the street addresses for all of the wineries we were visiting, but Spain addresses are illogical and confusing. (How are you supposed to assume that a winery is on a road with its same name by just a number in the street address line?) Not know any Spanish, I couldn't parse the street names for the important bits ("Calle de Grande", "Plaza Mayor" - you look up Grande and Mayor instead!) I'm hoping driving is going to go smoother since I did that upfront work. 

It was a 8:30am bus that finally got into NYC at 2:30. I slid onto the local train up to Larchmont where I was greeted by Roaie and her mom... On bikes. 

We'll see if this becomes a reoccurring theme, but we biked (with my luggage in the trailer cart) back to their house to play some Boggle and organize seating charts for the party that night. 

The major reason we are meeting in New York was this party - a classy little affair at the country club with a tequila tasting and an impressive salsa band. We scarfed down our food so we could jump on the dance floor. I got to see the one cousin I had met before and meet a myriad of Rosie's cousins, family friends, and relatives.

Many people have asked if we were sisters in the past, but it took two of her relatives tapping me on the back assuming I was Rosie to seal the deal. 

Today (Sunday), I traveled into the city again to see a high school friend. Christine (Christie, when I knew her) and I hadn't seen each other for at least three years, so we had wonderful catch-up conversations as well as great conversations on traveling, politics, the economy, art... Having captivating people to talk to makes four hours too short for a conversation. 

I had biked to the train station, and, after my afternoon with Christine was over, I biked back to the Weisburgh's house. Good news - I found the street with no issues. Bad news - I didn't find the house the first time I passed it. Or the second. We'll just call it accidental exercise (just like when I zoned out after the second floor and ended up on the fourth floor of my apartment complex instead of the third this week - it's just more exercise!)

A bridge game was wrapping up, then it was sushi at the family favorite, and off to the airport, where I'm finishing this post. Rosie and I are teeth-brushed, contacts-out, faces-washed, ready for our red-eye! We don't have tickets together, but we are hoping our 40D and 39C will have someone between willing to trade with us.

Either way, the Salsa Sisters are going to be in Spain tomorrow! Goodnight, America!

Tanzania Wrap-up : Haggling and Hanging Out - March 3

But Corinne, how did it get to be March 3rd?

Because I spent 20+ hours confused about what time it was on a plane, that's how.

Alisa and I spent our final day in Moshi attempting to spend all the shillings in our pockets - and managed to spend most our dollars too. Tanzania shillings aren't legal tender outside the country, so except for the few (thousand) that were taken home for commemoration, we needed to spend them.

One USD is about 1600 Tanzania shillings, so converting while trying to bargain was always fun. $25 equal 40,000 shillings, but mostly they are just a lot of zeros and I start getting confused when I have a 1,000 and a 10,000 shilling note in my hand. 

We didn't have to check out of Springlands Hotel until 10:30, even though we were up at 5am with the call to prayer and then again at 7am when we got hungry and it was light outside. So we hung out in the room, read, took our fourth shower in fourteen days (in true CS major fashion), and got our buffet breakfast. (Neither of us had the porridge - shocker, I know.)

I had some gifts and souveniors I wanted to buy, and Alisa was always interested in looking, so we took the $1 shuttle a quarter mile into town and started wandering.

There was a row of shops, and the first we stopped into gave us pretty decent prices up front, so we didn't do much haggling and came out with some hand-carved stuff. Both Alisa and I wanted Christmas ornaments, so we found some keychains made of cow horn that could service, but we didn't want to pay more than $1.50. The first shop, we talked them down to $2, but weren't satisfied with that. The next shop, we asked for prices and the girl started them at $10! It is always more fun to haggle when you know that actual valuation of what you are trying to buy.

None of the shops would go down that far, but we stumbled upon one with beautiful beaded and metal animal ornaments, so scooped up those instead. I'm hoping that using the Masai blanket I bought there too as a picnic blanket isn't offensive...

Traveling back to the hotel, we saw Thomas again and said our hello-goodbyes again. Other than that, the next 24 hours were hotel-airport-plane-airport-plane-airport. I got a few hours of sleep in there, watched some movies, and was driven crazy by the guy behind me tapping on the touch screen right behind my head while playing a game.

We did run into another couple that we had sat with at dinner, then again at breakfast, then again on the way to the airport. In Addis Ababa, we played cards for the duration of the layover, so it went pretty quickly, thankfully. All of the international departure terminals were much nicer than the international arrival terminals, so we weren't sitting on the floor being hot and sweaty.

We made it to Dulles, where a friend (who I'm highly indebted to for getting to the airport at 9am on a Sunday) picked us up to take us to my grandparents' house. Alisa's car was still there (yay), and we went our separate ways. During the trip, we did figure out that I'm headed to Pittsburgh in two weeks anyway, so it isn't going to be long until I see her again anyway.

My day was seeing Rosie (who is headed to a conference for a week, so needed to make sure I said hello-goodbye to her) and trying to stay awake and failing. I don't think a 5-hour nap is going to help me sleep soundly tonight, but I'm still tired and ready for bed - so here's to hoping that jetlag isn't as bad going west!