Bom Dia Portugal !

In Portugal after traveling through Santiago de Compostela in Northern Spain. Santiago is a great medieval city full of plazas, churches, fountains, cobbled stone streets worthy of a pilgrimage. This is the believed burial site of the apostle St. James after the rediscovery of his remains in the 9th century. The pilgrimage to this city and its Catherdal has been occuring since the 12th century and now, there are plenty of pilgrims who usually end their long walk or bike ride by just sitting on the plaza and simply staring at the cathedral. The pilgrims usually carry a wooden walking stick, and have a scallop shell attached or a red cross stitched on their bag.

Chalk Portugal up as another country I love. This country still has a bit of a rough edge to make it pleasant. The people are friendly and the pace of life is even more laid back and unhurried than Spain. I went to the great fishing town of Viana Do Castelo with it´s white washed low buildings and historic plaza. The town is also famous for it´s traditional customes and dancing. The hostel here turned out to be an abandoned (now musuem)hospital ship from the 1960´s and 70´s. Nothing like getting a good nights rest in the infirmary. I also went to the city of Bragga which is famous for it´s churches, particular the Bon Jesus which you have to ascend up a few hundred steps. The city has a great square except for the obnoxious oval McDonalds sitting in the middle.

Like Canadians are to Americans, Kiwis (New Zealanders) to Australians, Dutch to Germans, the Portugese make a clear distinction that they are not Spanish. It´s funny whenever I ask something in Spanish, the locals always answer back in Portuguese.

I´m particularly fond of the ¨Arroz de Pato¨ or Duck Rice here. Oven baked hard and crunchy on the surface, the rice inside is moist and full of flavor infused with the pine nuts and, duck and bacon meat and fat. I gobbled the first few spoonfulls like a man on deathrow. Absolutely delicious. If only I had some plum sauce and chilli...it would be paradise on a plate.

I´m in Porto now which is the second largest city in Portugal and famous for what else, Port. The Douro River runs through the city and on one side it´s covered with wineries like Graham´s, Taylor´s, Calem and Sandeman. All offering tours in their oak barrel storerooms.

I prefer the other side where the Riberia barrio is. Wonderfully gritty and run down, it reminds me of Napoli with it´s atmosphere and over-hanging laundry. In the Riberia, buildings and twisting cobbled-stoned lanes tightly cramp together onto a cliff by the river front. Fado music blares from one window while from another, a mother shouts at her children playing footbul on the street. Dogs bark, pigeons fly by, and families sit by their front doors to chat. On one corner of the Se (Catherdral), shady guys are dealing drugs and hocking stolen goods while a few corners down, women are washing potatoes or hauling buckets of water from a public fountain. Some teens are diving into the Douro River from the Ponte de Dom Luis bridge as the sun lazily turns it´s back on the city.... Ciao from Portugal.

Meanwhile in the Northwest.....

The party in Bilbao kept on going with people dancing on the river promenades and streets when I went to sleep at 2:00 am. People were just wandering around with cups of beer in their hands or shopping bags with alcohol or sitting in groups on the street. It´s amazing but I never saw any fights breakout and there were plenty of families walking around in strollers or little kids enjoying the celebration. There were plenty of signs, music and flags proclaiming the Basque region as distinct from Spain. The separatist feelings can definitely be felt.

I think Spain has yet to deal with the Spanish civil war. I was surprised to find out that Madrid was a Republican island in a Nationalist region before the war. There were several vendors in Madrid selling Republican flags of yellow, red and purple strips and T-shirts remembering the past government. Despite being such a self-defining event in this country´s history, there are no official monuments or museums about what happened. There are numerous personal books and films but it´s still too emotional for the government to put up anything formally. They really can not take a side and there were victims on both sides. The present socialist government took down a statue of Franco in Madrid a couple of years ago but had to d it secretly in the middle of night. There are still people who revere Franco and visit his burial site just outside of Madrid.

I just arrived in La Coruña, a seaside city in the Galicia that sits on a peninsula that juts out to the Atlantic Ocean, after taking an overnight bus from Santander which is famous for a long stretch of beach. A nice place to lie in the sun and watch the locals play ¨beach tennis,¨ which is basically two or four people hitting a tennis ball with an all wooden tennis racket. No volley ball played or muscle guys (a.k.a. meatheads) posing there. Some of the towns in Galicia remind me of English towns except with Spanish signs. Gone are the yellow burnt out fields and rocky cliffs to be replaced with green pastures and trees that remind me of home. It´s much cooler here and the Galicia region has been often compared to Scotland (even some of the traditional music is vaguely similar).

Back in the Basque Country

I´m in Bilbao of the Basque lands in Northern Spain after going through Segovia and Burgos. Segovia is famous for an Roman aqueduct that cuts throught the heart of the city and a cathedral that sits ontop of all hill surrounded by the old city and a castle. A pretty place with plenty of tourists making day trips from Madrid like me.

Burgos is also famous for a huge and beautiful Gothic catherdral where the Spanish hero, El Cid is buried inside the church in a simple red marble grave. Burgos is also an important stop over in the ancient pilgrimage route of the 750 km Camino de Santiago that travels across to Northern Spain to Santigo de Compostela. The route is marked with yellow arrows and what looks like to me, a yellow clam. There is even a hostal just for these pilgrims. If you remember when I mentioned how empty Madrid was, I think some of them are in Burgos as I had a very hard time finding a place to stay. I settled for ¨Hostal Gracias¨ which only had one bathroom for twenty people. Trust me, if you were the lucky one who got to use it for the morning pee, you were very ¨thankful¨.

I decided to go to Bilbao thinking it was described as just an industry city that doesn´t get too many tourists. It´s got the impressive Guggenheim Museum (Well worth the steep entrance fee. The titanium, glass and concrete building itself is a work of modern art, shaped to represent ships and fishes.)and what I thought easy accomodations. I ended up smack at the start of the Aste Nadusia, a very, very big feastival that runs for eight days. Throughout the whole city there are stages with live music and performance shows, the red, white and green Basque flags hanging across streets, fireworks going off and plenty of food and beer. Essentially a huge street party that is even bigger than than the one in Madrid. Great, except all the accomdations are ¨completo¨. Yes, another two hour wander. I must of asked every pension in the city and found one that charged triple its rate. Time to check out the noise and crowd...

Madness in Madrid

I´m now in the capital city of Madrid. When I first travelled to Europe, Madrid was the Spanish city I least liked. I think this was due to three main reasons: First, the traffic was horrendous and the cars clogged the streets honking away. Second, I got pick-pocketed on the subway en route to the airport. Consequently, I needed to cash a traveller´s cheque at the Amex office and by the time I got enough pesetas to get to the airport, I missed my flight to Tel Aviv. Standing at the airport with my backpack as the plane taxied onto the runway was not a good feeling. Third, to top it off, a bird shitted on me that day.

It´s odd how when I re-visit a place slightly older, I tend to appreciate different things. It´s sort of like looking at a painting. I think that is one of the great things about traveling. You can travel at any age... your lens just changes, and you look for (and find) other things. A college kid wanting to party all night, a retiree visiting the places he had only read about or some thirty-six year old guy taking a break.

When I was younger, I wanted to see every site and do everything for the shortest and cheapest possible way. I would blow in and out of one city and onto the next one. Now it´s a bit more ¨poco a poco¨ (little by little). I don´t feel the need to have to see everything and realize, sometimes savoring a bite is just as important as eating the whole meal.

Take Madrid for instance, sure there´s the famous Prado, Reina Sofia and Thyssen-Bornemisza Art Museums and the ornate Palacio Real, which are all impressive but sitting on the city steps enjoying the warmth of a summer sun is good too. Or... watching the play of daily life as old friends sit at an outdoor cafe at Plaza Mayor and laugh at a joke, the homeless setting up their nightly card board tents, tourists looking at maps getting lost and unlost, or a couple walking hand in hand at Parque del Buen Retiro.

Whereas Barcelona is known for its´modernisme movement and art, Madrid is akin to a more classical approach and it´s splendors were built during the Spanish empire. Also, the tap water in Madrid is probably the best in all of Spain. I think coming to Madrid in August is different this time around as half the city´s citizens have left and gone on vacation, leaving many of the shops and resturants closed and the streets quieter. I like the Latina and Malasaña districts in Madrid where the lanes twist and turn and there are plenty of cafes, restaurants and funky shops. I was surprised the Spaniards really like British Pop and Retro Music which in style here. They were singing to the lyrics of Iggy Pop, The Smiths and old Cure and REM songs at the bar. I still prefer Barcelona over Madrid but my views of Madrid have soften and yes, no bird shit this time.

On the Espanol Road Again...

It´s another relaxing Sunday in Spain as families lazily stroll along the Plaza de Pillar, children happily chase the pigeons around, and people go to and from service at the Basillica de Nuestra Senora del Pilar. I´m in the city of Zaragoza. After phoning three hostels in Madrid that were full and I realized I should have booked earlier, and decided to make a detour to this very pleasant city instead. I can really practice my broken Spanish as very few locals speak English and most of the tourists seem domestic. I stayed in Barcelona longer than I had planned. For me, Barcelona is like a beautiful woman with a great personality. The more you know about her, the more you like her.

The old town of Zaragoza has a number of mudejar (moor) and baroque type churches with Roman ruins sprinkled around. The main church here is the Basillica de Nuestra Senora which is a massive 17th-century building at the heart of the city. People come here to pray and kiss piece of pillar believed to have been left here by the Virgin Mary to St. James. The city also has a number of fine graffiti dotted around. It´s fun just walking around and coming across them.


The spanish media have not put alot of attention to the recent foiled terrorist plane plot and most of the news have to do with the Israeli conflict and fires in Galica. I was actually surprised given the past terrorist bombings in Madrid. The Spanards I find are generally very positive people. Off to Madrid tomorrow, enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Peaches, Fish and Plump Tomatoes

I love walking through the market place in Spain, wandering around the aisles buying groceries and feeling the hum of daily life. The older women pulling their shopping carts, chatting away with the shopkeepers at their favorite stalls and buying the vegetables and fruits in season. The vendors arranging the tomatoes, carrots, peaches and oranges in the best light while trying to hide the blemishes. And you hear the clink of coffee cups and plates as breakfast is being served, and the cooks busily preparing for lunch.

As you walk towards the center of the market, the floor becomes wet, as this is where you will find the catch of the day from the sea. Fish, mussels, squid, clams and crabs are all laid out for you to buy. Crossing the floor, you come across cured whole hind quarters of swine suspended in the air and you know, this is where to buy meat. Chicken here, beef and pork there. The shop keepers are pretty friendly and to me, they all seem to enjoy broken Spanish and Catalan. The Mercat de la Boqeria, off Las Ramblas is the most important market in Barcelona and the best produce reputedly goes there. I prefer the Mercat St. Antoni and like it best in the morning.

I noticed the Spaniards are not really into desserts, and cakes and pasteries are relatively expensive. I ordered a donut and to my shock, it came to almost a Euro for a mediocre fried piece of dough. On a positive note, the melons are exceptionally sweet this time of year. I also noticed the locals really love their fresh bread and you will likely not find a toaster in a Spanish home and definitely no ¨day olds¨at the bakery.

My Life in Barcelona

My Spanish classes ended last Friday and it´s funny, the more I learn, the more I realize I need to learn. Just only yesterday I went into a clothing shop to ask directions to the Museo Picasso. I started off by saying ¨Donde de...¨ to the saleslady and she just responded, ¨Just say it in English.¨ My ¨two-week class ego¨ was needless to say quickly deflated. At least I can say, ¨No Se (I don´t know)¨ quite well as I´ve been asked for directions to the city quite often. I found this scooter on the street, and have been going to school as my means of loco motion. I was that tourist zipping around Barcelona with a wide grin, whom all the locals thought was Japanese. There are wide boulevards to go on and a few bicyclist around but nothing like Vancouver. The cars are actually quite polite and don´t honk when I am pushing the scooter around.

Getting a haircut with hand gestures and broken Spanish, and suddenly raising my hand and yelling ¨Un momento¨ when the barber was about to shave my head was also quite an adventure. I managed to stop him in the nick of time.

I´ve also been enjoying the beach here. It´s not too bad for one so close to a major city and the beach does go on for quite a while. It´s crowded on the weekends, especially on Sunday as most of the stores are closed here (except the grocery stores and dollar stores run by the Chinese, East Indians and Arabs. Yes !!!).

Believe or not? I actually found a ¨Cash Converter¨ in Barcelonia. Yes, I couldn´t believe my eyes but there it was. I had to make sure I wasn´t in Surrey or East Van. I haven´t seen any pawn shops in Europe and this must be a new oddity. It was busy. Now where´s that vacumn cleaner I need to hock. From what I can tell, I don´t think the concept of garage sales is practiced here, and matresses, tables, fans, and other used items (hence, the scooter) are usually just discarded by the garbage cans.

I´m off to Madrid next week and back on the road. Staying and studying here in Barcelona, has been a nice break from traveling, and I´ve been staying at an apartment for the past two weeks, cooking, washing clothes, etc. All the normal day to day stuff. Hope all is well with you.