Retrospective

A long trip is good every once in awhile. It acts as a sort of reset for the brain. Old routines, habits, patterns and feelings are challenged and new ways of seeing and thinking appear as valid alternatives to what one may think is the correct, or best method of living on this planet. What seems important from the comfort of a couch and TV may suddenly become trivial. What seems trivial, may become important. One's mind is opened to new possibilities and the understanding of other peoples' behavior becomes more clear. I say long trip because it takes us a week just to get in the mindset of being free of the old and adjust to the new. Another couple of weeks allow the traveller to complete the transformation from a "clockfollowingeatcertainthingsontime" person to a vulnerable, curious, adventure seeker suddenly once again seeing the beauty in people, events and places of all stripes and colors. Mark Twain said it best when he wrote "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness."

A couple of things we noted as different here in the States stand out and deserve some attention. Most noticeably, the traffic. It flows smoothly here with little or no tailgating, that is nice. There are interruptions in the flow of traffic here because of stoplights; that is not so nice. We encountered only a handful of stoplights in Europe and those were in the heart of cities. Most intersections are roundabouts, a smooth orderly way to keep traffic flowing. Signage is international, graphic, and standard. Once learned it is easy and sensible. Much, less important information, is painted down on the pavement out of the drivers direct vision. Important signage remains on poles but the result is a less cluttered and easy to understand environment for the driver. A "pedestrian crossing" sign does not have to compete with "no parking between 6 am and 9 pm on Wednesdays except for holidays" sign. Also, most businesses, stores and shops are closed on Sunday as well as between 1 pm and 3 pm during the week (including grocery stores!). These periods of down time give a more relaxed feel to life and are easy to accept because of the universality. Friends, families and couples can be seen enjoying each others company during the closed times and even construction workers are seen napping, laughing or just talking for a couple of hours during the day.

Using our Garmin GPS loaded with a Europe card was an absolute joy and pleasure and a must for anyone contemplating driving in Europe. We took roads, alleys, and farm roads through tiny villages, past magnificent chateaus, and through woods and forests we never would have seen had we stuck to using the map. It was helpful in locating all the things a traveller needs to locate quickly and easily. Finding grocery stores, ATMs, gas stations, toll roads, campgrounds, hotels, parking and museums would have consumed way to much valuable time without it.

Our travels were made easier with help from many people and we want to express our deepest thanks. Thanks to you, the reader, for providing the inspiration to keep up with this blog.  Wrting is easier when there is a possibility someone might actually read it. Extra special thanks go out to my brother David and his wife Tina, our friends Lynn & Donel, my overworked business partner Marion, and Bobbie's Pilates subs Susan, Christina, & Sherri for covering for covering our backs so well while we played. Thanks also to the many anonymous people we met on the trip who offered a smile and help when it was needed. We will endeavor to pay it forward when the opportunities arise.

Paris, We Will Miss You

Paris is easy to fall in love with. Sure, Parisians have a reputation for being brusque, or even rude, but it is probably because they are visited by over 45 million tourists a year, some of whom might not have been on their best behavior. We have found that a smile and admittedly feeble attempt at French opens doors and hearts.

The city is physically beautiful. Around almost every corner one will find careful craftsmanship in one form or another. Benches, flower containers, railings, steps, signs and lights all evoke an appreciation of the human hand. It is a city steeped in history. This is the place where western civilization said "no more" to dictatorial, wasteful and cruel monarchies and when the Queen answered to the problem of not enough bread "let them eat cake"' the people, said "Off with their heads".

Today was a reflective day, viewing Monet's work at the Orangerie, Notre Dam Cathedral and the Eiffel Tower one last time for the trip. Then packing up and making arrangements for our flight home tomorrow.

Natural Beauty

Beauty is said to be in the eye of the beholder. A subjective concept, it is many things to many people. Claude Monet saw beauty in Nature and interpreted his appreciation of that beauty for us with brush and canvas. We have always believed that Natural beauty is the highest form of beauty as it is the direct handiwork of the Creator.

For years we have had a familiarity with Monet's garden and art because of our dear friend Elizabeth Murray's work as a gardener in his garden and her subsequent books about Monet's Passion (Google). What a treat to see her books and 2012 calendar for sale over 6,000 miles from home. Liz is one who has never been shy about expressing love for Nature, people, animals and beauty. Liz, it is pure joy to share the passion...

We are in Paris now, winding down and anxious to return home. We miss our family, friends, and even work. In the past 6 weeks we have spent 11 nights in a real bed and look forward to our own. Tomorrow will be our last day in Paris for a while so it will be a full one. This won't be our last post, we need to have a retrospective look before we're done.

Drunk for the Virgin

UPDATE: sent from the terrace of a McDonald's in France. Maybe that is why no photo upload?
A drunk is a drunk is a drunk. It does not matter if they are Spanish, German, Mexican or American. Borracho is the Spanish word for drunk and last night we had our share of them. We camped just outside of a small town in the Spanish Pyrenees and did not realize it was Fiesta weekend until we had waited outside of the towns only grocery store, for a 5 pm opening, and it never came. Back at the campground we found out that this was the town's annual celebration of "la Virgen" and there would be a big fiesta with fireworks at 12:30 am. Sure enough, the fireworks came along with case loads of M-80's which were exploded ALL (really) night long by very drunk and obnoxious men. They were roaming around until dawn and I actually laid in the tent wondering what object I was going to use for a weapon when they discovered our car with French license plates. My fears were never realized and at first light we got out of Dodge.

The day was redeemed quickly with a stop in a wonderful supermarket. We had been down to just bread and cheese for 2 days as we had been in rural areas with no services. We also scored on an ATM which actually worked and filled the car with gas. It's amazing how we take things for granted sometimes, like food, cash, and gas. To make things better we hiked for an hour and a half up to a gorgeous lake on the French side of the Pyrenees for a picnic lunch.

The French (north) side of the range is very different from the Spanish (south) side. The north side gets the rain and it is green with dense forests. The south side resembles California's dry foothills at the end of summer. It is a rugged range and it is easy to see how the Moors never advanced further north than Spain.

As I write this we are in southern France and I can see the Pyrenees in the distance. The almost full moon is rising and the coolness of the evening is refreshing after a hot day. There are only old folks with motorhomes in the campground with us and we look forward to a long, quiet, good nights sleep.

Ancient Spanish Paths

Grey skies and rain made leaving Barcelona, emotionally, a little bit easier. We were still high from Flamenco in a little joint the night before. It had more passion than can be legal in public. Music poured from the musicians souls and instruments like we have never seen before and the intensity of the dance was spellbinding. Even though we kept our front row seats our hearts and souls were onstage with the dancer just 5 feet away beating to the intense staccato of the her heels.

We woke early for a monday morning rush hour and slick streets made for some white knuckle driving for all of the drivers on the road. The Vespa's were still out in force, slipping and sliding while being ridden by women in skirts and high heels on their way to the office. One wonders if this kind of risk taking is more prevalent in a society with universal health care...

Heading northwest for a few hours brought us into the heart of the Spanish Pyrenees. We chose another random small town at the end of the road and were rewarded with one of the most incredible places of the trip. Torla is a tiny town of medieval heritage. Crooked narrow stone streets and old stone buildings with slate roofs set in a magnificent valley within Parc Nacional Ordessa make this a hikers heaven. Besides some longer more rugged hikes, we walk along stone paths between ancient pastures and think about what has gone on before us. The Black Plague was rough on areas like these and we wonder if that or New Spain, or modern life, or any one of a million other reasons are why they have fallen into decay. There are medieval ruins everywhere and the countryside seems older than some other parts of Europe. There were no battles here during WWI & WWII (that I am aware of) which decimated battlefields like in France and Germany. There were many battles between Moors and Catholics but they were before the time of explosive ordnance and machine guns.

I was tempted to write this entire blog entry on the beautiful campground we are ensconced in. The owner lives on site and his pride of ownership shows. We feel like guests in his families home. It is another excellent campground with spotless restrooms and showers, modern stainless steel dish and laundry sinks so clean they sparkle, a small grocery store with fresh bread and croissants in the morning, reliable wi-fi, large grassy pasture with shade trees, stars at night so bright they can be seen even with this glorious half moon we're having and quiet so still the only sound is the river in the distance or the breeze in the trees. If you're ever in the area it is "Camping Rio Ara".

Life; Full On

How does one describe a place like Barcelona? As we have walked the city's narrow winding pedestrian only streets for the past 3 days I have been wondering how I would describe such a fantastic place. A city with an incredibly rich history and living vibrant streets thousands of years old. The place Christopher Columbus loaded his ships and set sail for the new world. A Roman city where one can walk among the ruins of a laundry where slaves used ash, lime and urine to clean and iron the Roman's clothes. A city where jews and muslims were forced to convert to catholicism or be expelled, and then when they did convert were tortured to find out if they were true converts. The Capitol of Aragon, the Capitol of Catalonia, the city of Gaudi, an Olympic city and a modern city of exciting architecture and art. It simply is a place one must visit in person to experience.

Pickpocketing is a professional art here. It is fascinating to watch the shell games staged, usually by slavic men, and wonder who the accomplice in the crowd is. They obviously look like any other tourist and are almost impossible to pick out but they are always there. Police, waiters and citizens are protective of their visitors. A motorcycle officer stopped when he saw a tourist set down her bag while she took a photo of her friends and gave her a friendly talk on why not to do that; in sign language. We normally think of prejudice as negative. In this city it is a survival mechanism. There are people who just don't "look right" and they are given a wide berth. This place is a port city and crossroads and people from the entire Mediterranean find welcome home here. Like any port city in the world it has it's share of characters.

After dark, young African men stand on the sidewalk with knockoff handbags on a sheet with a rope attached to each corner. I asked in Spanish, "why the rope?" He replied with a grin in broken English, "So when the police come we can run fast!" they simply scoop up all their wares with a strong pull and disappear into any one of a hundred dark narrow alley ways with their sack on their back.

When night comes to the old quarter the character changes dramatically. Women practicing the worlds oldest profession legally ply their trade, young people in loud laughing groups march down Las Ramblas, immigrant street hawkers switch from squeaky voice toys to light up whirligigs shot 75 ft into the air and waiters from outdoor cafes try to get potential customers to sit down to overpriced Tapas.

The feeling of having to leave a place we have fallen love with is becoming commonplace. City life is expensive and that gives us good reason to move on and resume our camping life. We have found that the cost of 4-5 camping days equals one city day. It is nice to have a hotel room, solid internet, and most of all a private bathroom but budget and schedule dictate that we hit the road.

Familiar Flora

We woke to the sound of rain on the tent this morning as a moist warm airmass passes by on it's way north. I think I made a vow a long time ago to never camp in the rain again but it has been broken so many times that all I do now is use a few bad words and just get on with the day. Bobbie is such a good sport it makes it fun and before I knew it she had a breakfast of fresh croissants, yogurt, müsli, fruit and coffee ready for us to start the day with.

Cadaquès is surrounded by Parc Naturel Cap de Creus. It is an incredible landscape of complicated geology altered by wind and water erosion. It would be a great place for a movie set and could easily be another planet. I stopped the car to enjoy the view and realized we were surrounded by plants we knew well but couldn't believe they would be growing so wild and abundantly. Rosemary! Cistus! Spanish Lavender! Statice! Of course, they are Mediterranean natives and this is their native landscape. Granted they are wilder cousins than what we purchase at home but nonetheless it is a priveledge to walk among them, which we did via a rugged hike over terrain our National Park Service would never provide regular public access to because of the danger.

What a small place the world has become with the advent of electricity and the technology that has followed. All along the coast here, within sight of each other are large stone towers upon which fires would be lit to warn the populace of an impending pirate raid. They still stand today even as satellites from above monitor the movements of submarines under the nearby sea. There are stone walls terracing the hillsides that date to Roman times and reminders everywhere of a long struggle by man to eke out an existence in a harsh and dangerous land. It raises the question of whether or not we have become soft in the modern world and have misplaced our priorities. We take so much for granted, everyday...