Travel mechanics: Six weeks in Europe, one night in a hotel

Travel Mechanics:  Six weeks in Europe, one night in a hotel

Nether Craigwell Brewery, our AirBnb in Edinburgh

This post is about accommodations, principally about our use of AirBnb. We ended up paying for a traditional hotel room only once in six weeks. Catching up with old buddies was the biggest part of this trip, and they hosted us 25 of the 41 nights. They made this trip possible. They were also the best places we stayed, and awesome company. We took a friendship back live after years of virtual, occasional communication- priceless. Mark and I are very grateful to Tim, Peter, Gerard, Patrick, Fernando and Ramon. We dare them all to take us up on our offer to visit New Mexico.

Here is the breakdown on how we stayed:

Buddies:     25

AirBnb:      14 (Venice, Split, San Sebastian, Edinburgh)

Hotel:          1 (Ravenna, Italy)

Ferry Cabin: 1 (Ancona, Italy- Split, Croatia)

 AirBnb- We are no longer AirBnb virgins, having used it in Florence, Vienna and Prague last year. AirBnb and its brethren (VRBO, et al) suit us. We like to economize not only on the accommodation, but also on meals. Until Edinburgh we rented apartments. We enjoy landing somewhere, dropping our luggage, taking our shopping bag and hitting the local market. Mark is forever in search for great yoghurt and weird soda pop. We usually pick up food for breakfast and lunches and lots of beverages, including whatever format of coffee we might need. (espresso, capsule coffeemakers, etc.) We stock the fridge then head off in the city.

We try to locate ourselves as close as we can afford to the sights and activities we're planning. Time in transit cuts into activity time. It is a balancing act. For example- you can find very reasonable AirBnb places on the mainland, close to Venice, but then you're day-hopping on buses and trains to get to the focus of your trip, the islands of Venice. Tick-tock, And commuting is a bit wearying. You can walk though St.Mark's Square late at night if you're staying a couple of vaporetto stops away. We found a tiny AirBnb apartment in the middle of everything for less than a hotel would have been. Part of the fun for us is the immersion in places like Florence or Venice, where every corner is a postcard. We get to live out the lil fantasy of actually residing in these places, imagining daily life.

Like the airfare, we booked and paid for our Airbnb's in advance, at least partially. In the midst of our planning AirBnb began permitting lodgers to pay 50% upfront, then the remainder a few weeks before travel. We were able to take that option with two of our gigs. AirBnb has a huge range of refund options, depending on the property. You have to read up. We only had one with a strict policy, in San Sebastian. I started to waver on that leg of the trip a couple weeks before going, but the room at that point was non-refundable, so we went ahead- I am so glad we did. You have to consider your need for flexibility.

AirBnb would like you to believe that theirs is a person-to-person service. Occasionally. In Europe tourist apartment rentals have been big business for a long time. In many cities the established guest apartment businesses just became 'superhosts' on AirBnb, with multiple properties and a staff that does the direct client contact. Initially, I found this folksy insincerity off-putting but now I understand that this is part of doing business. You're also expected to review your host and they review you (double-blinded). Until we got to Venice, we wrote innocuous commentary but honestly, we had only had great experiences.  Our Venetian stay did not end well, and our host's review of me has had me rethink my approach.

outside of Ca' Nene, our Venice AirBnb

The place in Venice was a tiny ground-floor apartment near the San Toma vaporetto stop on the Grand Canal.  We were not met by our host, Elisa, but by Luca, her contact person. We now recognize this as standard in European tourist settings. Luca led us back through the alleys to our place. Wow. The ad said it was small and indeed it was. But who needs space when you have Venice right outside your door? He then asked if we could get out early on our check-out, as they had a quick turn-around. We agreed, as we had plans in Ravenna on our check-out day. He gave us the instructions on where to leave the keys, etc.

We were happy if cramped in our lil place. One the third morning of our four we awoke to sleeping on a slight slant... A leg at the foot of the bed had buckled. I immediately contacted Luca to let him know what had happened. I told him I thought that we would be ok for our last night. He agreed, and said he would look at it when we had checked out. We scooted out to the train station at 9:30am.

I dutifully scrawled my review into my phone while on the train to Ravenna. We did love the location and while it was small it was fully appointed for our stay. 5 stars. A few days later Elisa had written my review, so AirBnb unblinded both. Elisa  had slammed me for leaving before they could review the damage. Ugly. And we had 3 more AirBnb stays planned... I did not want any trouble. Of course I had dealt with Luca. I wrote Airbnb to complain, then saw that they allowed for me to write a response. With all of the diplomacy I could muster I told our side of the story, offering a chance to review the time-stamped text exchange with Luca. And that was that. We later were advised that Elisa's response is very Venetian. Venetians can be very haughty in business and have quite the reputation...

Split- Our kitchen window opened onto the flowery balcony

The places vary tremendously. In Split we stayed in a one-bedroom apartment in the middle of Emperor Diocletian's Palace, which functions as the 1500 year-old old town at heart of Split tourism. It was a bargain, probably due to the fact that they were restoring the stone courtyard facade. We entered and exited up and down stone stairs covered in scaffolding and draped with plastic. Our living room windows opened onto one of the main alleyway thoroughfares of the Palace. It was initially overwhelming but eventually it became a hugely convenient base of operations. The host had the 'cleaning person' let us in hours early. We later ran into her on a walk along the beach. More than being the 'cleaning person' I think she was the actual owner, a retired physician, now an artist, based on an opening announcement I found in the apartment.

Onderreta Beach, San Sebastian

I noticed that we didn't take any pictures of our home in San Sebastian. San Sebastian is an old-world resort town and in June not cheap. When I booked our accommodation I wanted wanted to be near someplace interesting and needed parking. Our AirBnb fit the bill. We were located in Onderreta, a cool beach neighborhood south of the center city. It was a sub-basement apartment, with parking in a garage right next door-- all as advertised. On arrival it became clear that this wasn't your average apartment. Apartment doors in the tidy building had a wood-finish with wide wood molding. Our door was a standard steel frame fire door. Inside, we had a full set of windows which opened onto the courtyard. It was essentially a studio apartment on the main level, sans bath. The bath was an upper level, a few steps up. That brought the ceiling to 6', and the doorway to 5'6". Both Mark (5'9.5) and I (6'3) thumped our heads numerous times on the first day. Eventually you do learn when to duck. We concluded that the 'apartment' is a storage space conversion and maybe illegal. The mattress was uncomfortable, too. The parking set-up was brilliant, however.

AirBnb has become a huge issue in tourist-overrun European capitals. Amsterdam is on the verge of banning them in the city center, and restricting them elsewhere. Many other cities are taking action to limit them, as they suck up available housing and bring in people who don't always respect the community and culture. One Amsterdam friend, who pays handsomely for a pair of parking places, has found them occasionally appropriated by AirBnb clients in his building. He had little recourse. In some cities you have to fill out registration paperwork on arrival, as you would at a hotel. The host often pay lodging taxes. This is a dynamic environment, and I expect there will be more limitations on capacity and availability.

Our last AirBnb stay was Edinburgh. We were to be there for 48 hours and opted for a room in an apartment instead of our own place. It was a perfect fit- Adam's place was a condo in a converted brewery, a block off the Royal Mile. We could insert ourselves into and extract ourselves out of Scottish tourism at will. Adam was genial- a veterinarian for the Edinburgh Zoo who began renting his place out for some extra cash during the annual Edinburgh Festival, and just stayed in the game. Many of the condos in his complex are being used as guest accommodation. Adam said that the AirBnb market has provided needed competition to the high-priced Edinburgh hotel market. 

We did only stay the one night in a hotel. We were going to be in Ravenna for one night, arriving and departing by train. I think I used booking.com, relying on a map. We opted for a cozy 3-star hotel across from the station-- a short walk with the bags. Ravenna is a small city, eminently walkable. We were able to see the impressive mosaic-filled sights all on-foot and ran into a local pasta festival for dinner. Staying in a hotel is a lot less hassle, but usually a little pricier. Anything is cheaper than Venice. We were able to check out in the morning then wander the city a while longer with our bags secured in the hotel office.

In the two-berth stateroom, SNAV ferry from Ancona

We then boarded a train to Ancona to begin our one other housing option-- a stateroom on the overnight trans-Adriatic ferry to Croatia. As Mark sleeps with a CPAP machine, I opted to drop some cash on a room so he could plug in and try to get some quality sleep. My justification was that 1) the ferry was relatively cheap as travel, city to city; and 2)we would have paid for a place to stay that night if we flew. It was a great decision and I recommend the whole experience.

Our vacation, away from our friends, was just 16 nights, like a big vacation. Our costs for the two of us came in under $90/night. You can do Europe cheaper, hostel-style but we were staying our way and it completely worked. It was almost entirely prepaid before we traveled. I would do all of it again. 

My next Travel Mechanics entry will be about the joys of driving on the continent, with advice to do a better job than I did with car rental.

Let There Be Haggis!

Let There Be Haggis!

Mmmm...haggis

We finally made it to our final destination in Europe.  Edin'brah, Scotland.  This was more of a two day layover. In Spain, dinner could start at 11 pm, we remembered that the UK slows down a lot earlier.  Kitchens are closed by 9 pm.  The city is pretty quiet by 10.

Arriving at the train station my first thought was, wow this place is white.  Some of these people could get a sunburn under a full moon.  I think the tall socks go with the kilt to minimize the area of exposure.  One guy in shorts had alabaster legs the color of a freshly thawed Butterball turkey.  These people made me look tan.  Ok, you get the point.

The high street in Edinburgh connects the castle on one end to one of the Queen's palace on the other end.  Along the way are the expected pubs, restaurant, and kilt sellers.  What kind of kilt do you want? Off the rack? Wool? Polyblend? Or even Custom.  Do you come from a clan?  Everybody has a book to help you trace your family name.  Stu's family come from the Crawford clan.  It is not a popular clan probably because the last of the Crawfords in Scotland had a fire sale and emigrated to America.  It is a perdy plaid, none-the-less.  There were also specialty shops that could custom tailor a wool 3-piece suit complete with jacket, vest, and well, kilt (duh).  They were quite dashing to see in the windows but at 900 or so dollars, you better look good.

I joked that we would see these nasty Toby Jugs on our trip.  They are caricature of people made into mugs.  Watch the British Antiques Roadshow.  They show up all the time.  Horrid things they are.  

Ugly Racism 

We were shopping I was dragging Stu from shop to shop to find something interesting to take home.  One shop had a Sikh man out front and my first impression was, oh God, foreign tourist trap.  Since every shop looked identical after a while, we stumbled upon his shop.  Remember, he was Sikh.  Britain, um, helped them run their country for a while, kinda?  Many Sikh had immigrated a long time ago, some multi-generational.  With his Scottish accent and much pride, he described the quality of his goods.  He explained why his wool was of higher quality, thus justifying the higher price tags.  He also told us about some good deals he had on one-off pieces he attained at good prices.  He pointed out the quality shops and told us where the junk shops were located on the mile.  He even defended the cheap Chinese-made shops.  Some people just want a cheap souvenir instead of the real-deal, he said.  He went on to say that if you want quality, it costs money.  He loved wool and loved to share his trade.  I started thinking, hey, I think I would look nice in a cap.  (In the end New Mexico won out over a wool cap.)  Every shop had foreigners working in retail with Scottish accents.  This man actually owned his shop.  Since he wasn't white, I had assumed he "wasn't authentic"--whatever the hell that means.  Sigh. Always an opportunity to learn.

Stu's Crawford Clan Tartan

We got to eat a few meals in Scotland as well.  We went for Sunday roast.  By 4 pm, it was sold out.  I got the fish and chips, Stu pouted ordered the meat pie.  We ordered two non-alcohol beers called "Hee Haw".  We found the name amusing and I instantly thought about being trapped at grandpa's house on Sunday nights.  He watched Hee Haw. Every. Sunday.  The waitress asked us if we knew what hee haw meant in Scottish. We blinked and she said it mean you ain't gettin' nuttin' like what we havin' for tea, mum? You getting hee haw, now go to bed. I politely asked her about haggis. She said everyone who has had it has actually liked it--but sadly they were out of it as well.  Bummer.

I was at a car boot sale and it was marked 25p...

A joke sometimes maintained is that a haggis is a small Scottish animal with longer legs on one side, so that it can run around the steep hills of the Scottish highlands without falling over. According to one poll, 33 percent of American visitors to Scotland believed haggis to be an animal.  In reality it is sheeps 'pluck' a minced combination of heart, liver, and lungs with spices. One article describes a conversation with a chef  "...Leave the windpipe out of the pan to disgorge the phlegm.”  Oh---and boil it in tripe. Mmmmm.

Santa was one BAAAD dude!

The next day we ate at the home of Scotland's best scone, a cheese scone.  Stu ordered one with butter.  I opted for the cherry one with clotted cream and jam.  It is so hard to find a passable scone in the States.  These were amazing. For dinner, we both had fish and chips.  See a pattern?  We also had....a haggis starter.  It was now or never baby.  It arrived on a small round of mashed potatoes. It was dark and minced.  We both picked up our forks like we were concerned about our culinary growth.  If the guys on the Discovery Channel can eat bugs, surely I can eat the stuff rescued from skips.  We waited to see each others reaction.  We didn't die. Stu thought it was ok.  I really liked it--probably because the similarities to its contents were ground to bits.  It had a strong taste of peppercorns.  I ordered it on a pulled pork sandwich the next day.  Yes.  I'm a badass.  Our host told us vegetarian haggis is quite good.  I am going to try to make it.  I can see where root vegetables and grain would work with the peppercorns.

Christ in the House of Martha and Mary by Vermeer.  One of only 34-37 known paintings!

To play tourist, we decided on the National Gallery and the Castle.  The National Gallery was free and absolutely amazing.  The entire collection was strong including a Vermeer, three Raphaels, a couple Degas and the Gaugin masterpiece, Vision after the Sermon.  I just stood there staring at the painting.  I had no idea it was hiding out in Scotland. I smiled. I started. I was happy. Stu texted me to ask where I was.  I responded, Still in the same room.  I remember the room also had a Van Gogh and a nice Sargent.  The collection was unexpected and delightful.

Gaugin, Vision after the Sermon

We went to the castle to discover they were giving something away for free. Well, at least it looked like that since it was so crowded.  The herd was activating my anxiety.  Maybe I could just call it $20 to get away from the people?  Once we were in the castle my anxiety and the crowd were more manageable.  I thought the experience was more enjoyable than the Tower of London.  The Tower was £27 over 15 years ago.  Like Star Wars, I had seen the entire Tower on TV before visiting it so there was nothing new except the crown jewels displayed briefly via conveyor belt.  I didn't know what to expect in this castle so everything was a surprised.  It was not nearly as grand but still a beacon of Scottish pride.  The building were arranged like a small maze and I constantly had to think if I had seen it before.  Stu said, yes you have. Over. And. Over. The first time (again) is always the best.

Barcelona, 8pm

Benvinguda a Barcelona!  

Ramon and Thor

That's how you say welcome to Barcelona in Catalan.  We pulled up at 8 pm.  I grabbed the bags and Stu returned the car.

Mark Says Hello to Ramon

I have not seen Ramon in years.  I took intensive Spanish 8 years ago and we last saw him before that. Typically, I can understand Spanish but can't generate it very well.  I just need practice. Lots and lots of practice.  Since Ramon speaks no English, we are a perfect match.  He also has a new mascota (pet) a hyper-active bulldog named Tor. (Actually it is like the god, Thor.  If you listen carefully, you can hear 'Ta-hor'--but in one syllable.)  How the hell do you make a dog behave in Spanish?  You know, like 'get down' or 'stop'.  Ramon kept barking commands at the dog and I was clueless. It turns out, the dog learned Catalan, not Castilian. He handed me keys and asked a friend to guide me to his apartment.  It has been years since I have been here.  What do the letters in the elevator mean?  The ground floor is "0", but there was not even a "0". Which door was it? It turns out it was the one with a feminine shopping bag.  It took me a while to get the keys in the door.  I sighed and went back to Ramon at the shop, already exhausted.  Even if I can say something thought provoking, I probably won't understand his response.  If you have read David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day, you understand my dilemma completely.  I successfully asked him about the flag and some friends but not much else.  I asked him about the weird name for the dog.  That is when he showed me pictures of "Thor" on the internet. Dios Mio.

Stu Returns the Car

Hi, it's me, Stu. I will write elsewhere, extolling the virtues of driving in Europe, but this is about last Thursday, 8pm. I managed to get both Mark and Ramon to agree to having me leave Mark and the bags at Ramon's place. I would then refuel and return the car to Hertz at the airport. I admit that I was leaving two guys together, with with imited language skills and a silly dog for an hour of two. I was hopeful that they could cope. Otherwise we would be needlessly schlepping bags back on the bus from the airport. Five and a half weeks in, I was over the luggage. Anyway, that was the plan.

This plan required that I get down off the highway and negotiate driving on the overcrowded streets of the Catalan capital, in their rush hour.  Ramon lives and works two blocks from Praça Espanya, a major urban epicenter-- think a major, multi-laned traffic circle, centered on a gorgeous gushing fountain. This was to be my Driving in Europe final exam, and I was going to do it with only my Android Auto navigation avatar to help. Mark was off discovering how adequate his Spanish was.

It only took two passes around the block to find a place right in front of Ramon's shop to unload.  That place actually was double-parking across four parked cars... but hey, I was living the chaos. Mark quickly unloaded and Thor, the silly puppy, jumped into the car to head-butt me. Just as the first of the four drivers I had been obstructing strolled up I was able to pull away, down Carrer Sepulveda toward the airport.

Praça Espanya, swirl is in my head....

200 meters later I was at the light that would then dump onto the swirl of Praça Espanya. Like all traffic circles, I entered at the '6-o'clock' position. I had to exit onto the Gran Via de Corts Catellana, the main thoroughfare toward the airport, at about 11 o'clock. Ms. Android Auto was chirping away but it was more like noise. I did a lot of work in Barcelona in 2001-2002 and had done this airport ride at least a dozen times, but now...

The light turned green, then the next light on the circle turned red... but I managed to get off onto the Gran Via without having to make a penalty lap around the circle. I was then moving toward the airport in solid traffic, constantly getting cut off by cabs, merging out of the bus lane. I moved over and was seemingly in the clear, moving at the speed limit toward the rental car return. Woo-hoo.

Ms. Android Auto interrupted my moment of masculine validation. There was a slowdown and she recommended another route. Suddenly I was less sure. I listened closely as she dumped me off the highway early and looped me around a long loop to the rental car return. Still I triumphantly pulled into rental car return, grabbed my pack and prepared to head for the airport bus back to Praça Espanya. As we were completing the paperwork I panicked- I forgot to refuel- an 80 euro fee error...

About this time I got a panicked call from Mark... what floor was Ramon's apartment on? That would be 13yr old data... I confessed ignorance and felt terrible... but Mark would not forgive me for paying the 80 euro fee instead of refilling the tank. The sweet guy at Hertz let me take the car back out. Here's where Ms. Android Auto completely screwed me, sending me twice to a phantom gas station on airport property... I eventually silenced her, opting for my own dead reckoning... There had to be a gas station somewhere nearby...

I drove a few kilometers south of the airport to a shopping center exit and found a fully automated gas station. After topping off the tank with 47 euros of fuel, I cruised back to Hertz where my attendant awaited, signing off on my fuel level and saving 33 euros. Mark, ever frugal, would approve.

I got on the Aerobus back to Praça Espanya more relieved than satisfied. I texted Mark, trying to act cool. He started describing the scene above... I think I still qualify for the Euro-driving merit badge, though I did lose a few style points.

Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

I am jumping ahead since today is so fresh in my mind.  Some of these images are just too detailed so they may be off the page a bit.  I also stole the image of the altar because I wanted to share a good image of it. It’s my blog so I can do that.  Today was our first full day in Barcelona.  We have been here a few times so we both decided that walking around the city and checking out the progress on La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s vision for a Catalonian Cathedral.  The word gaudy comes from the name of the artist, Antonin Gaudi.  If you were not a fan of Gaudi I think you would say anything like: If it’s worth overdoing, it can be ridiculously overdone.  Like a lot of art, the world needed to catch up to the artist.

Painting with light

Gaudi was a deeply religious man who devoted his entire life to the glory of God.  He had some other amazing commissions but the cathedral became his raison d'être.  Upon his accidental death, he was honored by the city and buried in the crypt of the work site.  Knowing the church would never be finished in his lifetime, he prepared detailed plans for the completion of the project. Unfortunately, most of the plans were destroyed during the civil war. Well, it was impossible to re-imagine his vision so they decided to use a complimentary style with no similarities.

View of the palm trees

The ceiling of interlocking palm trees

I remember the first time I had seen an image of the tree of life side of the church.  Damn it seemed ugly. It looked like melting something.  In person years ago, it was awe-inspiring.  You just can’t take adequate pictures of the old side of the cathedral.  It is too big and there is too much detail for a picture.  There is so much movement in the stone.  It is quite busy to say the least.  Waldo of Where’s Waldo fame may be in the tree.

Gaudi’s passion and inspiration for the church was the glory of God through nature.  The entire structure is more or less a metaphor for life.  Nature is central theme.

Although the church was started over 100 years ago, they have picked up the pace.  They expected it to be completed by 2026.  I remember tearing up when I saw what was essentially a worksite 15 years ago.  The Passion side as well as the tree of life sides of the church were more or less complete but the interior required imagination.  Much of the current work is being done on the immense spires on the outside of the church so the scene within is closer to completion.

We entered the from the Tree side and notices a few small details before entering the church.  Walking inside we were greeted with light and tears.  We both started to cry.  How can something be this beautiful?  We were both overcome with what could best be described as a whiff of ecstasy. You do not know what to think, what to say, or what to do.  You are just overwhelmed.  The ceiling and columns are interlocking palm trees.  We saw how this was going to done but not the execution.  The stained glass created large soft swaths of colored light throughout the church.  It was so moving.  I also discovered being 50 has its privileges. When I shush, people listen.  It is like like a polite STFU.  We are in a soul-touching expression of God and people are loudly prattling on.  While we are at it, Daisy Dukes have no place in any church.  Yes, I’m that old.

On our last visit the altar was a construction site.  This time, the altarpiece was in place.  I can’t comprehend envisioning the design but it was also no surprise.  It is a hoop-like structure floating over the altar.  It has hanging lights and vines with grapes.  There is a medieval English Christmas tradition of building something somewhat similar from greenery.  It seemed to float in place.  In the photos it appears to tilt but that is only an illusion.  The ring is parallel to the ground.

On the outside they have added more spires and will ultimately have one in the middle that planes may hit.  It will be huge.  Perhaps I will live to see it completed in 2026.  I should be here but do we ever know?

Welcome to the Funhouse with Salvador Dali

Welcome to the Funhouse with Salvador Dali

Of course there is a crab on his lap

I was rewarded for waking up early by having enough time to travel to Dali’s hometown, Figueras, Spain.  The Google lady (bless her haart) kept directing us up and down small streets.  Initially she directed us the Dali Theater. While attempting to find parking, we came across a large building covered in bread and statues wearing baguettes on their heads. Oh, and giant eggs on the roof.  I guess we found it!

She is so wholesome

We had been to the Dali museum in Florida assembled from a Cleveland couple’s private collection. (What Cleveland wasn’t good enough?)  We were told the St. Pete collection was second only to the collection in Spain.  It is hard not to compare and contrast the two museums.  The museum in Florida explores the evolution of the artist.  Most people do not realize that Dali went through a deeply religious period.  The museum contains a few major religious monuments as well as some other strong pieces.

I know.  Those legs look good but no meat.

The museum in Spain is based on Pee Wee’s Playhouse or probably vice versa since Dali died before the show appeared on Saturday mornings.   The museum is billed as the largest Surrealist exhibit in the world.  Yup, no complaints here.  I can’t imagine anything comes close in scale or downright bizarreness. Is that a word, bizarreness?  It is now.  If you were to compare the museums piece by piece, I would say the Florida collection is actually stronger.  As an experience, the Catalunyan experience is quite the experience.  In the center of the building in a garden containing several structures that look like academy award statues surrounding a Caddy sitting above Dali’s final resting place.  If you put a coin in the slot next to the car, it starts to rain inside in the car like a wishing well with mannequins.  Yes, it’s that kind of place.  Freak.

There were other coin operated motifs as well.  One ball of fabric slowly opened up as Christ on cross.  Another was a dancing mylar crucifix with carnival music.  Each room was an opportunity to be amused.  The Mae West room was a masterpiece? I think, kinda sort of, defininely.  You walked into the room to see giant lips and other parts of a face.  When you climbed some stairs you noticed you were standing below her hairdoo.  In the middle of the platform was a lens.  The entire room came together as her face.  Freaky.  Inside here “head” was another display.

The artist was also probably a genius to in the true sense of the word.  There are some pictures that when folded create different images and when folded again create something else.  How do you plan something like that?  He was also an accomplished fine artist.  The man could paint.  In one room he played with styles that epitomize other artists in great detail like Matisse.

Overall, it was a surreal experience.  Exactly what he wanted.

It's like a tombstone, but you can drive it.

Big mouth!

Catalunya, (Spain?)

Catalunya, (Spain?)

Care for some luncheon meat?

Driving from the Basque country to Catalonia we couldn't help but notice the flags along the way.  They kinda looked like the flag on the region but these banderas were different. Instead of (boring) Spanish red and yellow stripes, these flags had an additional blue triangle and a star.  If you have not been following international affairs, you are most likely American.  (Just kidding, but possibly true.)  The richest province of Spain has a faction interested in outright independence. Even many of the locals believe this will not happen but political events have touched a nerve, thus the flags. Check the Google for more information.

Current political weather

When you are in the Basque country, another region that had gripes (sometimes violently) about being a part of Spain, you can't read the language. At. all.  Catalan looks very similar to Spanish: 'Ñ' is shown as the letter 'Y.'  Some words look a tad misspelled, some have a 'ç' and the letter 'x' can be seen in words like xocolata for chocolate.

The people of Catalonia (like pretty much everywhere in Spain) have a strong sense of Regionalism.  It feels in like, "Why would I live anywhere else?"  Our host said even the fish are better in Barcelona. (¿Como se dice smug?) And they are possibly right.  Barcelona is pretty damn awesome.

A MASSIVE Miro fabric work

Enough politics. I fibbed.  We went to the  Joan Miró Museum.  He distinctly considered himself Catalonian and wanted to be known as an international Catalonian. I find his art, well, strange. He was one of those artists trying to deconstruct the world.  The results were not pretentious but still interesting.  When he used color, it was colorful. When he used pencil, it looked scribbled.  My general response was, This one is pretty!  I got what he was trying to do but I guess it is just not me.

This sculpture was made for this location.  Without understanding the thing, you can admire the fact that this structure could only look this way with the backdrop of Barcelona, created by a proud Catalunyan Artist, Miro

I think she is a 'working robot' from the Jetsons

Barcelona is an amazing city.  It is expensive to stay here but the rest of the experience is quite affordable.  Perhaps a hostel for a few nights?  The place is a bit like London or Paris in the sense that you need a few days to even see it. We have been here a few times and this trip is still too short to quench our thirst.  Study Gaudi a bit before coming and read about the culture.  The place is seductive.  To me, it is very Spanish with its own flair.  To the locals, it depends who you talk to.

MEAT IS MURDER...
but  I'm sure it goes great with Wonder Bread at over 100$ a pound.

Art Nouveau along a walk

Another building on our walk

My what a big pepper

I Before E Except after Gipuzkoa

I Before E Except after Gipuzkoa

Guggenheim Bilbao

San Sebastian, or Donastia if you are speaking Euskara or Euskera, is a city located in the north-east region of the Basque region in Spain.  It sits on the Bay of Biscay and is a popular tourist destination.  It is known for its laid-back lifestyle and tapas called Pintxos. I failed to mention that the view of the water from the beach is breathtaking.  In between what appears to be two islands (one is connected to the mainland) there is a gateway to the sea.  At each hour of the day I would comment on the current color of blue such as: Prussian blue (my favorite), ultramarine, baby blue, navy, cobalt, cerulean, azure,  Phthalocyanine Blue BN, and PANTONE 281 C.  OK, I may have exaggerated a bit.  For most of our visit it was rainy, cold and sometimes very very windy.  Ironically, this can be the best time to capture blue.

One thing about the beach is that it is stunning--but not very photogenic. Maybe if you had a special lens?  I see two lumps in most of my images.  You can't see or feel the immense drama of the crescent beach with two giant land masses, together with hues of water, sand, and sky.  Did I mention the old town in the distance?  I sat on a bench with Stu in crummy weather and said, "Can we come back to the bench and grow old together?"  He said, "Deal".  We sat quietly and smiled while holding hands.  Time sucks--sometimes you want it to stand still--or at least until you need the loo (I hate GOMBS, getting older man-bladder syndrome).

Food. A very special friend of ours who I can't wait to see, told us that San Sebastian has more Michelin Star restaurants than anywhere else.  We smiled and I thought, I'm not going to any Michelin Star restaurants.  Lord that would be expensive.  We missed the communication.  What she really meant was that there was amazing food everywhere (at least I think that's what she meant)? The Basque are known for their food--especially this form of tapas called pintxos if you were not paying attention.  More than a few restaurants had at least a dozen themed snacks on display from sardines to blood sausages served on French bread!  We opted for things like artichokes battered and deep-fried with cheese and ham and local seafood.  If you could handle the ingredients, you would enjoy the meal.  Every meal was less than 30$ for two people and you had a few things on your plate. It wasn't a ton of food but you always felt quite content. You could actually go on a diet here and eat like a king.  I can hear my surprised self, Is it Lent again---already?  Imagine twirling while chomping down on something delicious.  You might knock a wine glass or two off an unlucky couple's table but hell, no one knows you here.  After all, we did take shameless photos of the displays like Japanese tourists (but without the tell-tale big brimmed hats and short statures).

OOhh I guess it's art. I should be impressed.

The next day we went to Bilbao.  We heard things from "God yes!" to something Trump would say, "Overrated, terrible, unfair to <something>".  The city is the industrial powerhouse of the Basque region and is somewhat dull compared to fancier locations like San Sebastian, the resort town.  In the center lies the world-renouned Guggenheim museum.   The famous large sculpture of a dog outside the museum was in full bloom.  Walking up to the museum, the shiny tiles were a bit dirty and dingy.  I was expecting shine and shimmer--like the photos.  You generally see the museum from a distance on a bright and sunny day.  Up close I realized, how do you clean this thing?

We paid and went inside.  I found a piece in an entire wing, to quote Nan from Catherine Tate, What a load of old shit!  It was curved rusted steel exploring space blah blah blah more art babble steel.  The permanent collection for the museum was also quite small.  Where the museum shined was in its temporary exhibits.  There was one on Chinese art from '88 to the present and another...Chagall exhibit!

(Illegal photo, thus the bad angle) ...She was floating above us and she was...--Talking Heads

Fortunately, I had my personal audio tour for taking unauthorized photos.  The sound was horrible but the images were amazing.  The Chinese art was reflective and brilliant to total crap.  I can glue toys to a bathtub.  I can take pictures of whipping a woman. I can invent.....crap.  And then there was the wonderful art.  A hole in Manhattan with a TV showing a hole to China as the joke goes.  A dragon made of bicycle tires with the wild growth of automobile. There were also touching exhibits.  The Chinese government played down lied about the destruction from an earthquake.  The poor construction killed thousands. One artist created a "Vietnam-wall-style" memorial/exhibit naming the victims. it roused conversation. The artist was arrested for "crimes", beaten, and imprisoned.  Another display was pictures and suitcases of random people selected from different parts of society to travel to Germany.  The artist extensively journaled each person's experience.  It was moving as well as told a story.   Overall the exhibit was wonderful and thought provoking.

Chinese Shit. 

El Greco, Mary Gets the Word

Another El Greco

The Chagall exhibit filled in some gaps about the artist.  He moved to Paris and blossomed.  He had no money nor language but was in love with the city.  Overtime he established himself enough to ask for his love's hand in marriage.  Being just a man from a poor family, he had to win her parents over.  While visiting home, war broke out and he was trapped for eight years.  Bummer.

Endless choices

For only a few dollars more we also got a ticket to the traditional city museum.  There were a few surprises including what I consider to be a El Greco masterpiece of an Annunciation or as our friend Brian and his kids call it, "Mary gets the word".   On the top floor was a Halloween exhibit of Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights . It is thought that perhaps Bosch had hallucinations from something in the wheat. Was it a bad LSD trip? Look at the painting.  If I've learned on thing about a triptych (three panel piece of art) its that you don't want to end up on the right side.  Nice things happen to people of the left.  The right side, not so much.  Demons, fire, and torture awaits people on the right.  It's messy.  The exhibit was a room where each wall had a moving spooky image of the painting.  In the center of the room has a 5th panel moving.  The room was disorienting with the creepy music and spinning art.  Any children around to scare?...

My worst culinary nightmare, dried salted cod, but sinisterly cuter

Russian Erotic Boutique or Market?

Basque

Castilian