It was a wonderful day to walk through the old part of the city and see the decorations.

The churches made picturesque backdrops for many of the installations.

Our favorite site was the old Roman bath house.

Even the architecture provide beauty in its own form of flowers.

A successful outing that provided an amazing mixture of old world charm and unique design.

We headed out from Barcelona to San Felíu de Guixols.

Next stop was Empuries. A 575 BC Greek and then Roman town on the Mediterranean coast. This is where we were introduced to the famous “tramuntana” wind. It was so windy that it was difficult to stand at times, and I now understand why the wind is rumored to make men crazy. Despite our fight to stay vertical, the ruins of the town were amazingly beautiful.

Ok…maybe a few of us were affected by the wind.

Now off to Cadaques a beautiful fishing village that has amazingly held on to its charm despite being inundated by more tourists than residents every summer. The streets are narrow, steep and paved with pieces of slate stone placed in a vertical position. The town has also had some notable residents and visitors, over the years it has become a bit of a mecca for artists…Pablo Picasso, Marcel Duchamp, Joan Miró, Man Ray (just to name a few), and Salvador Dalí who had a house built in near by Port Lligat.

We had arrived in the town before the height of tourist season, so it was still “quiet” (only in lack of people) so it was just us and the “tramuntana”. La Sirena was a wonderful little restaurant set in a tiny alley off one of the narrow streets. We ate the best local anchovies and other fish. After settling into bed with a full belly, the hotel creaked and rattled as if we were out on the open sea in an old wooden ship. I thought the wind would keep me up, but it actually lulled me into slumber, sleeping of pirates and mermaids…

The next morning we wandered around the town in search of the local anchovies. Maybe the cats will lead us to the stash? We couldn’t find any local catch, but did buy some from near by Roses. I don’t like anchovies, but Jason and Galya said they were amazing. I will take their word for it. It was an amazing road trip.

We ate like kings! Isabel made two wonderful paellas. The boys barbequed. We feasted.

We celebrated three birthdays…Joel, Adam, and Isabel. Rebecca baked some fantastic desserts.

We partied til the wee hours of the morning.

We drank ourselves silly. Does that bottle really have Joel’s name on it?

And then we rested.

El Roquer had everything one needed in a weekend getaway. We should go back….

More photos

I must apologize for the tardiness on this posting as this took place back in February. Bad blogger.

All of these photos came out looking really hazy. I am not sure if it was the camera or maybe just the night….

…and sorry for the delay on posting. February is as hazy as the photos.

The first…just outside the town of El Pont d’Armentera (where we soon would be returning for our feast of calçots). The ruins of the tiny village and castle of Selmella.

Next on to the region of Querol which is a hilly area near the river of Gaià. The castle of Saburella sits high on a hill looking over its once domain.

Along with the beautiful landscapes, we encountered a few unusual landmarks.

And now….for the food! We went to a great restaurant called - La Sort, and tried to get our fill of the calçots and the heaping plates of artichokes, beans, and grilled meat.

Add in drinking wine out of a communal porro and funny bibs for keeping romesco sauce off the clothes and you have the recipe for a good time. The use of a porro is an acquired talent, but lifts the act of drinking wine out of the hands of the snobbish and into those not afraid to wear their wine (at least for the amateur).

An excellent way to spend a Saturday!

Also as some of you have already noticed, part of our website is broken sigh and it looks like it will be down for awhile. Jason has to re-program a lot of the site Luckily it didn’t affect the blog…

“menja bé, caga fort i no tinguis por a la mort!”
(Eat well, poop strong and don’t be afraid of death!)

So, yup, you guessed right - the Catalonian’s have a different outlook on Christmas. Lots of people throughout the world celebrate xmas with manger scenes, the three wise men show up, there’s baby Jesus (the reason for the season!), there’s usually a chicken so that the viewer knows that the baby jesus can eat eggs on the 26th.

But the Catalans have added an extra character - the “Caganer”. This adorable little scamp is often tucked away in some corner of the manger where he is not easily noticed. He’s hiding for a good reason. “Caganer” translates from Catalan to English as “pooper”, and that is exactly what our lil’ buddy is doing.

There’s an amazing variety of Caganers for sale at our local xmas market by the Catedral de Barcelona. Most of them are Barca footballers doing their fertilization thing, but you can also get George Bush, the angel Galadrial, even Santa Claus. You truly have not lived until you’ve seen a small plastic figurine of a squatting santa with his breeches down around his knees and a strained look on his tiny plastic face…

Then there’s the Tió de Nadal, which translates to “Christmas Log”. But most people call it the “Caga tió”, which means “pooping log”. Sort of redundant, yeah?

Your basic caga tió is a log propped up on four legs, with a bright, sunny, cheerful face painted onto one sawed end, wearing a jaunty blanket and a rakish red hat. And what do the Catalan kids do with this adorable personification of age-old pagan rites, come Christmas day? They beat him with a stick while singing mocking songs to him, until he poops out a present for everyone to eat, of course!!! duh…

The really crazy thing is that we’re honestly not overstating any of this, the Catalan xmas really is filled with lovable defecating scamp-like children’s mascots. Here’s some wikipedia for those wanting more details, and to see where we stole all of our quotes from:

• Our Laxative Log Lad
• Pooping Plastic Pal

Here’s a translation of a common caga tió song:

Pooping log,
poop turrón,
hazelnuts and cheese,
if you don’t poop well,
I’ll hit you with a stick.
Pooping log!

Come and listen to a story
’bout the Snow Rocket
A fast mountaineer,
his skiing, they would mock it.

And then one day
he was racing down the slope,
Towards another skier
who’s safety had no hope.

Nacho that is, ex-ski instructor, ex-snow patrol.

Well the first thing you know,
ol Jason’s in a bind,
Skifolk said “Heeey cuidate!
You’ll hit him from behind!”
But twas too late,
Snow Rocket couldn’t stop,
And when the snow settled,
Nacho began to hop.

On one leg that is, jostled joint, knee high.

“Aw it’s fine, but you owe me a beer,
The day is almost over or so I hear.”
Skifolk said “Frozen slopes, time to flee.”
So they loaded up the car and headed back to sea.

Barcelona, that is. Gaudi, Ramblas, Pickpockets.

Well now’s time to say goodbye
to Jason and all his friends.
And they thank Andorra
fer kindly lettin’ ‘em in.
You’re all invited back again to this locality,
To have a heapin’ helpin’ of their hospitality.

Meetup Hiking Group that is. Ski awhile, don’t forget your bathing suit.

Y’all need it for the hot tub!

It wasn’t just a beautiful walk through an immense beechwood forest. It wasn’t just two old volcanoes and a hiking path. I didn’t realize until I got home and on the internet, and saw the area from a different view. I had been a tiny speck on a huge landscape of volcanoes, seen buildings from the 12th century, and stepped on stones part of old Roman roads. The beautiful forest that we walked through grew on top of a lava flow, marking its path through the landscape with beechwoods.

Ok, for those of you interested in a few details about the above pictures and a little history read on. If not skip this paragraph. This region of Catalunya is nestled between the Pyrenees and the coast. The volcanoes were amazing up close.
Santa Margarida is the largest volcano in the region and a very long time ago blew its top. Inside the crater is a small hermitage from the 12th centrury, bold place for religious worship. Croscat is the tallest volcano and was mined for materials until recently. Our luck that the gash in the side of it gave a great view of the insides of a volcano. There are many more volcanoes in the region, approximately thirty, and a rich history that dates back to 200 B.C.

I was also wrong about hiking with 31 people. I learned a lot and made some new friends. Even when I got lost, I had three companions, we had a nice talk and a good laugh afterwards. I ended up having my first ever ‘hitchhiking in Europe’ experience. It was lucky that we had gotten lost at the end of the hike, because we knew where everyone was supposed to be - Restaurant Hostal dels Ossos. The place sounds foreboding - Inn of bones - but don’t let that fool you, the food was amazing. Traditional Catalan cuisine of roasted duck and pears, sausages, roasted pork and lamb with white beans. A feast for any weary traveler. I felt really happy as I sat there with such a mix of cultures, laughing and exchanging a few insights. Even being ribbed that there was no way my husband was in Thailand solely for work, helped me feel a little better (thank you Miguel). I made it. I survived living in Spain solo for a month, hiked up a volcano and came down the other side changed.