The Long and Winding Road

We strive hard not to cut corners or settle for less, and when it comes to car camping in Europe, that mantra is no different... regardless of the result. Cadequés had been a daytrip. A stopping point between Barcelona and the South of France. However, we had two nights to kill. So after Cadequés we set out for neighboring Port de la Selva, which is the next harbor north.

This worked out well. While Port de la Selva doesn't maintain a distinct character or charm like Cadequés, it is still an amazing location, complete with lighthouse. I love lighthouses! So naturally, we chose a camping spot in the parking lot beneath that glorious giver of light.

Once parked, we mixed up some cocktails in the trunk from the mobile bar (some things don't change on vacation), picked the pointiest point in the trio of harbors and set up our dinner picnic with 270° views of the Sea. Paella rice, fresh bread, fresh avocado, fresh tomato, pesto, some delicious sauteed peppers and chicken Ali whipped up in Barcelona, and a bottle of wine. Perfect.

We ate and drank and laughed, took in the sweeping views and then realized, despite the sun having just set, that 10pm had come and passed and therefore returned to the car for a good night's rest. This didn't happen, however, because Costa Brava in the summertime is hot (shocker), Pepé (the car) doesn't have good ventilation, and the area we picked to sleep was scarce on people, but heavy on mosquitos. This meant suffer the wrath of the heat or suffer the wrath of the mosquitos. We eventually chose the mosquitos and I somehow sank into five hours of rest. Ali's tally for the night... one. Maybe.

Needless to say, Ali was a bit tired the next morning, but she was a trooper. After a dazzling sunrise over the Mediterranean, we drove the winding road from Port de la Selva to Sant Pere de Rodes -- a former Benedictine monastery a few thousand feet up the Pyrenees over Costa Brava. Mentioned as early as 878 A.D., Sant Pere de Rodes is considered the cradle of Catalan Roman architecture, and is a remarkably well-kept structure featuring ample construction and artwork dating back to the 10th Century. With an extensive blueprint, we spent over an hour exploring the terraces, naturally-cooled cellars, cathedrals, courtyards and crypts of the isolated sanctuary high above the Spanish coast.

All good things must end though, and we left the halls of two millennia ago in search of new adventures. Unfortunately the next day and night were hardly worth the telling, and even had they been, would have little sway over our next, planned destination...

All That We Perceive

Safe to say that anyone who believes in Intelligent Design would have to agree that God spent a little more time on Cadaqués. Fleeing the mania of Barcelona, Ali and I maintained the same, alert sense of paranoia that may've kept us entirely out of Barcelona's dubious, criminal statistics. However, the closer we came to Cadaqués, the more marvel distracted us and by the time we hit the sleepy little harbor in Catalonia we were nothing shy of sheerly awed.

We abruptly left the major highways and found ourselves on perilous, winding roadways akin to the grand prix track we found between San Sebastián and Madrid. Only the views the whole way out were too unbelievable for my inner-road demon, and my childish-wonderment favored seeing what lay around us instead of conquering what lay before us. What was below us was the whole of Spain, for a hundred miles or more from the coast. These were, afterall, the Pyrenees.

Down the hill entering the city we were met by a hilly lowland nestled between the steeper, coastal mountains and the Mediterranean. In this area, no larger than a few square miles, lay the red-roofed, white buildings of Cadequés, a town of under 3,000 locals.

Salvador Dalí once made it his home and it's easy to see why. Once on the coast, his dashing statue greets you as though you've found something as hidden and mystical as his paintings. Boats bobbed in the clearest, seafoam green water we've ever seen. Classic Mediterranean residences, such as the famed Casa Blava, met the stone streets that dropped into the sea. Trees grew out of the fortified walls as though the harbor itself birthed the town. It was a surreal place of perfect pleasure and quintessential serenity.

After walking the walls above the harbor from one side of town to the other, Ali and I settled down in a cafe and immediately questioned whether we were still alive. The service was actually service. With a smile! We were floored, and it put us at ease enough to enjoy our beers and coffees, and spend an hour watching local children kick around the footy in the cobblestone courtyard. This was the Mediterranean the way we'd always imagined it. If only for a day.

Float On

After our first semi-disappointing large Spanish city visit, we were excited to get to Barcelona and see all the amazing things people are always talking about. Just the drive from Valencia through the mountains and along the clear blue Med sparked our excitement exponentially more than the desert to Madrid. We arrived to our literally underground hostel after a crazy drive in the city and were pleasantly surprised with a huge, clean room and common areas that looked like the owner was actually trying. We were there for 4 nights (that turned into 5) so we unpacked, and put our stuff in the closet. Yes. I said closet. With shelves. A luxury I will never take for granted again. 

The first thing we learned was that Barcelona was definitely our most expensive Spanish locale. Eating dinner on La Rambla being our first activity, that was not a difficult discovery. We spent the next day doing a little bit of wandering, and met up with some friends from home at the city's main beach. It was crowded, but beautiful, despite the drugs and alcohol offered to us on average every 7.5 seconds. After the beach we headed back to make dinner. Our friends in the city had their friends in the city, so we got some social time in and all met up at a pub for 1 euro San Miguels. The night turned into drinking on cathedral steps and making awesome new friends until morning, and arriving home just as light began showing in the sky. 

Unfortunately, after feeling a little too lucky for the previous two weeks of good health, Europe caught up with me and I was out for the count for a full day, which led us to booking one more night in Barcelona so as not to miss the too much. When I was functional, we set out for a whole day of Gaudi adventures. We saw the apartment buildings on Passeig de Grácia, La Sagrada Familia temple, and Parc Guell, and each one blew my mind a little more. The apartment buildings were fit for mermaids. That is all. La Sagrada is the strangest and most beautiful building I've ever seen. As my friend Elliot wrote to me so accurately, it looks like a giant drip castle. Unfortunately it was under construction and completely surrounded by cranes, but it was still incredible. Parc Guell, my personal favorite Barca moment, was just perfectly weird. We spent about 4 hours there. It can't be described. I wont try. All I will say is Gaudi was completely out of his mind in the most brilliant way, and also, go there. ASAP.

Our last day was spent doing more wandering, eating an amazing meal, seeing the Picasso Museum, and stumbling upon the 4Cats (the famous old haunt of the Spanish avant-garde) in an alley. We know we didn't see enough of you, Barcelona, and we will be back. 

O Valencia!

Valencia was supposed to be a stop over. A one night break in a small town on our drive from Marbella to Barcelona. We had never heard much about it, other than it being a good just-past-halfway point on the long coastal road. Our first surprise came with its size. It is no small town, though the old central city is a compact maze. It is shockingly sprawling, actually, and full of crazy winding streets and even crazier drivers. The next surprise was a little more pleasant: Valencia is pretty darn cool. 

Our hostel was just on the outer edge of the old town and was, shockingly, also very nice (despite our room, which was us and another couple in bunk beds with about 10 inches between them). We didn't have time for much that night, but we had a beer at the hostel's bar and met a new Australian friend named Peter who joined us out for some tapas (the food was the only disappointment). 

The next day we set out to explore, since it really was the only day we had. We had seen strange, white, orbish buildings on our way into town, so we headed toward what we would learn to be the Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències. We crossed through the main park, which bisects the city beneath old stone bridges in the old bed of the Turia River, now rerouted through the suburbs because of a major flood in the 50s. This park was beautiful, full of orange trees and fountains and all manner of public amenities (including the giant "Gulliver's Travels" playground you see Michael standing on below). When we reached our destination, we were in awe. The "Ciutat" was incredible and strange. One giant, perfectly white and shining mosaic tiled buildings. It really is indescribable in words, so I took the best photos I could, but it must be seen to be believed. Google for aerial photos:) 

After wandering in the heat around the city for hours, we were very ready for a quick siesta and the happy hour liter (yes, I said LITER) of beer for 2.50 EU. Our hostel was lively and friendly, and after a few drinking games with sangria - never smart - we decided to actually attempt the 2 am pub crawl. Needless to say, despite a great time had by all, checking out was not my favorite moment of the trip.... But Valencia is another on the list for return.