Barcelona re-visited, Paris, and Vancouver re-entry

We began the three-day drive from Nerja back to Barcelona on November 30. We stayed in the same towns and same hotels as we did on the drive down, Aguilas and Gandia. Both very lovely. This time in Aguilas we climbed up to the castle on the hill, and found this on the way up:





Our arrival back in Barcelona almost didn’t happen. We nearly drove to France instead! Well not really, but we had driven quite a way north of our required exit before we realized we’d missed it. I was looking at the map very carefully. I saw the highway exit A2 and said to Don, “no don’t take that, we want AP2”, so on we drove, further and further north. The difference between A2 and AP2 is that AP2 is a new toll road and the map showed it having a direct connection to the road we wanted for re-entering the Barcelona suburbs. According to the map A2 still exists parallel to AP2. Aaaaahhh. Not so, we discovered. The hard way. A2 becomes AP2.

Eventually, (we’re in rush hour traffic during all this) I spot a sign indicating a U-turn opportunity on the freeway, so we turn around and phone Liz who puts us onto her son who guides us in. Don said it felt like he was one of those WWII bomber pilots being guided in for landing :). And what do you know. When you’re approaching Barcelona from the other direction there’s signs all over the place indicating the exit to AP2.

We got in late afternoon, dropped our bags and, with Liz, headed into the city to see the Christmas lights – simply stunning. They know Christmas lights in Barcelona! – and to find a nice place for dinner. Divine crepes!

Barcelona Christmas lights! (And yes I did stand in the middle of the street to get some of these shots).













Through the bus window





The next day was a crazy whirlwind. We had only one day, and a list! We wanted to ride the Teleferico (a kind of cable car with glass-sided cabins) that takes you for a ride from Montjuic out over the harbor) and we wanted to go to Parc Guell (where there’s more of Gaudi’s creative extravagance), and, if time, we wanted to go to the Miro Museum. Well we did all that and rode the funicular up Montjuic, rode the aerial gondola around Montjuic, walked down to the Miro for a tea break and a quick stroll through the museum. Then we rode the Teleferico down to Barcelona's harbour and port, walked around the old quarter there where the fishermen lived, walked along by the port and beach quite a way, went back to the old quarter for a fabulous lunch, then got the bus to Parc Guell, then home for the evening to collapse, and pack for leaving the next day. Phew! A fabulous day!

View from the gondola





On Montjuic





Views from the Teleferico













Port old quarter













Along the waterfront













Parc Guell
























The next day we travelled by train to Paris arriving late(ish) in a downpour. We’d thought of walking to our hotel, but the weather made that decision for us and we got a cab. Thank God, because even having studied the map we never would have found it.

We had just the one day in Paris, and the rain had stopped, but we weren’t inspired to do any sightseeing since we’d spent 3 weeks there fairly recently. So first we oriented ourselves re our hotel and the nearest Metro, and then we walked. Don wanted to find Shakespeare & Co, the oldest English language bookstore in Paris, so we walked there (about an hour or so I think) and found lots of sights along the way anyway.

























That evening we went out for dinner with some long time family friends. We hadn't seen each other for several years so it was great to catch up. And the next day we flew back to Vancouver………….

We didn’t want to leave Nerja, it was so perfect. But not only that, I stopped sleeping the last 2 nights in Barcelona and the 2 nights in Paris. I finally figured out what it was about. I knew the return to Vancouver would be busy, and with no place to settle: one night in the guest suite in Magnolia Gate (where we used to live), then 8 nights house-sitting for a friend, then 6 nights back in the guest suite, then 2 nights at my sister’s place in Montreal, then 7 nights in a cottage in St Adele, then 4 nights in a hotel in Montreal, then 2 nights in the guest suite, then 4 nights down on Whidbey Island with a bunch of friends for our semi annual Long Dance, and then 3 or 4 nights back at the guest suite. Then fly to India. It’s crazy. And in the middle of all that moving we have to sort out visas and flights for India and Bali, a hotel in Montreal, our income taxes so we can get them done without actually being in Canada next April, doctors, dentists and haircut appointments, months of mail to read, shop for the India trip, and pack and repack for each of those separate trips – 20 below for Montreal, and 30 above for India/Bali.

What I finally realized was that I believed there’s no place to rest, and it was eating me up, especially because I was not in touch with the feelings, so it was showing up as not sleeping well. Every time we’ve gone away on extended trips there was home to come home to. We could just stop. Put everything away in its rightful place. Get all the laundry done. Have everything neat and organized again. And just stop. This time there’s no stopping. At least not externally. This time there’s no home to come home to. No place to just be. No place to take a breath. No home. When I finally realized what it was all about the tears and fears came to the surface. I let the storm roll in and roll by. Stopping can no longer be about what’s happening externally. It has to be internal. I have to trust. Trust the moment. Trust that all that needs to be done will be done. Trust presence. Let go into each moment. And be stopped. In each moment. I have no idea if I can do this or not, but I know there is no longer any external place for me to do it, or to help me do it, so I have to find some other way. I have to embrace the feeling of being at home wherever I am, even if it is only for a day. I have to find that feeling of being at home in myself, in spite of the busyness and constant moving. And whatever I feel, it’s not personal, and things only become problematic when I think it is.

All of our time in Europe feels like a miracle. We chose what we wanted, it arose, magnificently, and then it fell away and was done. Miraculous. What a huge gift life is.

Nerja, and the Costa del Sol

When we left Vancouver our plan was to see Italy, and then go to Barcelona to see the Gaudi buildings. After that we had no plans, only the idea that we wanted to go wherever it was warmest in Europe until our return to Vancouver on December 6th.

We guessed we’d get to Barcelona around early to mid November. As it happened we arrived on November 10th and stayed there for five days. We’d researched the climate of many places around the Mediterranean, including Crete, Malaga, the Algarve in southern Portugal, but still nothing really felt right until Liz suggested Nerja (just up the coast a little from Malaga) and then offered us the use of her car to get there! And I would just like to say that travelling in Spain at this time of the year the hotels are ridiculously inexpensive: we stayed in 4 star hotels for only about $70 per night.

I can’t begin to even express how miraculous it all felt, day after day after day. It was an easy three-day drive down there. The first afternoon we stopped in Gandia, with time for a walk on the beach on a beautiful warm sunny day.

View from our hotel room




The next morning we went for another walk along the beach, and then drove to Aguilas. Spanish road signs can be confusing, or apparently contradictory, or just plain non-existent………………..what fun. All 3 days driving had their challenges but we always made it in the end. The second night we stayed here:

Aguilas









And on the third day we arrived in Nerja where we had booked a studio apartment in a hotel right in the centre of town. It became home for almost 2 weeks.

Nerja





Nerja is an absolute gem of a town. We fell in love with it. We had 12 full days there. It rained on the 2nd and 3rd day we were there. And when I say rained I mean rained! Torrential. We were a little anxious about flooding as our apartment was on the ground floor overlooking the pool. But it didn’t flood, and every other day was clear brilliant sunshine and about 20-22 degrees. We thought we’d died and gone to heaven. We couldn’t have imagined a better outcome for our final two and a half weeks in Europe before our return to Barcelona, then Paris for our flight back to Canada. Two and a half weeks on the Costa del Sol with 12 days of it in Nerja. It was heaven.

The town itself has retained a lot of its original charm with many small streets twisting and winding here and there with no cars allowed. At the same time we found all the facilities you could want, like a supermarket, laundromat, lots of good places to eat, an English language second-hand book store, and miles of beach to roam along. And, of course, endless sunny days.


















We had many lazy days, really unwinding from the long weeks of travelling and doing and seeing during the preceding 8 weeks. We went for a walk most days, and on some days went for longer walks, first in one direction along the coast, and then the other. We discovered a long dirt road along the coast leading to other coastal communities and local bars (cafes). We soaked up the sun.

Walking south





















Walking north













Three times we actually left town. The first time was a short trip inland to the little town of Frigiliano, one of the many Andalucian “white towns” – just to see what was there. Very pretty.

Frigiliano





















We left town one day to see the Caves of Nerja. Quite spectacular, and a strong, strong, almost overpowering feeling of the thousands of years human habitation. There are cave paintings in there dating back many thousands of years but you need to go on a specially booked tour to get to see them. Still we were happy with what we could see. One of the chambers in these caves is so big they hold concerts in there during the summer. The acoustics must be fantastic.













And our third day trip was to see the Alhambra, near Grenada. A long day but really worth it. The Alhambra is a huge complex of 13th and 14th century palaces and gardens, the most spectacular and significant being from the days of the Moorish rule of southern Spain. A breathtaking example of Islamic architecture. Beautiful detailed decoration. Arched windows and colonnades. Fountains and mirror lakes and formal gardens. Everywhere beauty. The whole place is just astonishing. In the way of all palaces and palace complexes, the Alhambra is truly magnificent.


































A couple of Don's photos - decorative detail, and colonnades













And in one of the little bars on the dusty coastal road south of Nerja we found the most genuine authentic delicious seafood paella. Definitely one of the best meals of the entire trip. And we got to watch it being made over an open fire by the beach.




















YUM!



We didn’t want to leave Nerja. But the time came for the drive back north to Barcelona for another whirlwind day of sightseeing there, and then on to Paris by train for a quick visit with some long-time family friends, and then the flight back to Vancouver to get ready for the next phase of our big adventure.

Barcelona revisited, Paris (briefly), and Vancouver re-entry in the next blog.