Barcelona

Now to recap last month's visit to Barcelona.  It was interesting, to say the least.  An inauspicious beginning at Estacion Sants gave creedence to all the "pickpocket" warnings we'd received.  Is, her son Russell, his girlfriend Zarah, son Orrin (in stroller) and I were clustered around, discussing which metro line to take to our rented apartment, when we were approached by an excited young man waving a map and blustering in Spanish.  As I turned my attention to him, trying to decipher what he was raving about, his unseen companion snatched my shoulder bag and laptop case which I had carelessly laid at my feet by my suitcase.  Is spotted him and blurted, "your bag!".  I turned to see the thief about six feet from me, calmly walking away with my bag on his shoulder.  I grabbed him around the neck and pulled my bag away, then let him go.  As he ran off, I regretted not choking him out or breaking his fingers, or at least dropping him, but then it was in public...

The next day we covered a few galleries, had a great, though expensive lunch at Cal Pep, a jam-packed restaurant that specializes in seafood.  We arrived half an hour before they opened and were the second party in queue.  More sight-seeing for the others, while I went to a color lab to get some prints made of one of my paintings.  It took three visits, and cost lots of Euros, but I got some fine reproductions of  Banago River 7. I'll put it on display once I figure out how to do a watermark.

Day three found Is and me wandering around Barceloneta and crime-fighting again.  While we were seated on a park bench, I noticed a man on a bike approaching us and studying us more than casually. He realized I was watching him, and switched his attention to a fellow dozing on a bench to our right.  As we watched, he glided up behind the guy and reached over the back of the bench and was about to lift the dozer's pack, when I shouted, "Hey!", waking the intended victim.  The thief made a lame excuse about looking for a light for his cigarette.  No mention of the fact that it was someone else's pack and he didn't know the guy or have permission.  Thief cycled over to us and started cussing me out, insulting my mother and asking if I spoke Spanish.  I said I did, called him a thief and told him to  do bad things to his own mother.

This is a street scene I shot while sitting on a different bench, waiting (again) for another one of Nick's recommended restaurants to open.  We weren't disappointed and left fat and happy again.  We had wandered around much of the port area, and saw just about everything the average tourist sees.  The Picasso Museum was anti-climactic.  I had no interest in Sagrada Familia and found the Gaudi-designed park to be less than stimulating.  His style does nothing for me-go ahead, call me a Philistine.

My favorite piece of sculpture is the one that says, "Madrid?  That way!"

Our overall impression was that Barcelona is over-crowded with tourists, noisy and busy and not a place for the inattentive.  Not a relaxing city, though the metro/transit system is super and the cuisine very good, priced accordingly.  We were happy to head back to Comunidad Valenciana.

Happy Birthday (yesterday), Dylan.  Tried you on Skype, but figured you were out galavanting.  We're off to Barcelona tomorrow, plunder in our sights.  You'll have to wait till July for delivery.  We plan to go to the Picasso museum, and possibly Joan Miro's, hit some eateries that Nick recommended and I have to go to a printing firm to get digital files of a painting and then contract for a small run of prints.  


The citrus trees are in full bloom and the air is perfumed beyond my experience.  Cycling around with Is this afternoon, it was almost an olfactory overload.  Great day, except for high winds picking up a lot of dust from the newly-harrowed orchards and blowing pollen everywhere.  Allergies took a hit.  

I'm starting to find/recover a few of my images from various sources, cloud, flash drives and this machine.  The old laptop is resting (clean) in Westbrook, awaiting further tweaking and twitching.  I finally got the drivers for my camera loaded on this and should be able to post future pictures.  Fingers crossed.  Here's one of Dyl and H.

Monday the 16^th of April, 1500 hr: Sitting here, killing time at Logan Airport, wondering what is going to go wrong next.  It’s been an inauspicious start to a long, potentially error-fraught trip.  First thing-my taxi was late.  They had forgotten my call of last night, so at 1100, my 1030 cab rolled in.  No apology, but a quick trip to catch my 1130 bus.  The cabbie’s “No tip?” gave me the opening I’d been waiting for years to fill.  “I’ll give you a tip.  If you’re in a hurry, don’t call Westbrook Taxi.”

Next, my large bag was taken off at the wrong terminal.  I saw it sitting on the curb, all lonely and unclaimed as the driver boarded the bus.  When he asked what airlines we were all using, and I replied ” United-that’s my bag out there.”  He stated that somebody had put the wrong tag on my bags.  I replied that I’d used the tags the ticket desk had given me.  He told me that I needed to get off at Terminal C, not A. 

At the United desk I disturbed three chatting McJobbers by asking a couple of questions.  Turns out, I had been at the right terminal, the mix-up being that United had just eaten up Continental and nobody was sure what was going on.  So they checked in my bag, assuring me that it would be checked through to Madrid.  I don’t expect to ever see it again.  While checking myself in, using the machine that the loquacious three were irritated at helping me with, I kept seeing messages that one or more of my (two) flights may have been overbooked and offering me $150 funny money if I wanted to take a later flight.  N.F.W.

I then had my first golf cart ride to Terminal A, where the TSA was waiting to sink its teeth into me.  Apparently there is an alert about terrorists beating cabin crew with bicycle chains, and I had to explain why I had one in my carry-on.  Simple, it would have made my checked bag overweight and it was the heaviest small item that could be switched.

With one hour in between flights in Newark, I think I can guess what the next horror-show will be.  I think I’ll go get a beer…or two…

Algorfa 18/04 at 1950 hr. 

Rolled into Callosa yesterday about 1700.  I had all my luggage and was essentially on schedule by the optimistic timetable I had worked out ahead.  Nearly missed the train in Madrid as I was catching up on some Zs and didn’t hear the announcement.  Nodded off several times on the train, waking myself by snoring.  Fortunately it wasn’t by drooling on myself as I used to do in Economic Geography 101.  Pulled into Alicante with ten minutes to buy a ticket and catch the 1605 to Callosa.  The warning lights were flashing as I dragged my suitcases at speed to the train; and was seated for a minute when it pulled out.

My 0700 alarm wasn’t set, but I did crawl out of the sack at 0830 and proceeded to fix two bikes, cycle to Cyclogical for a seat post, cut it and re-assemble it for Russell, then hit the road again with him and Is for a total of 28 kliks.  San Miguel time now.  It’s good to be back-wish you were all here.

About to leave Rochester, N.Y. after a three-day visit with Andre and Brooke.  In celebration of Passover/Easter, we reluctantly forced ourselves to eat and drink too much; stay up too late and get little exercise.

One memorable moment was my first Garbage Plate, a local "delicacy"(?), which consisted of piled macaroni salad, cole slaw, cheeesburger sans bun and split hot dog covered with mustard and chopped onions.  I declined on what was offered as "meat sauce".  After my failed effort to clean my plate, I was informed that the meal was invented as a late-night effort to soak up alcohol.  Having got the order wrong, we then went to LUX to try and set our systems right.  Our morning after photo tells the whole story.

Today's ride

Mid-March in Maine

This is the bike I rode today. Although I have gotten both the Trek roadie and the Diamondback commuter fit and ready, I was seduced by the warm weather and the fact that the Enfield started on the first kick. After eight months of disuse, the critter fired up with a slight coughing fit and then settled into its usual rumbling idle. So I donned the necessary gear and meandered the back roads up to Nick and Susan's to retrieve the shaving kit I'd forgotten after spending last night with them. Once back in Westbrook I started dinner and began reading the inordinate pile of (crap) reading material and advertising that has arrived to herald my becoming eligible for Medicare. After one glass of excrable wine (nowhere near as good as Fidencio which costs a third) and seventeen pages I decided to do something meaningful. I washed dishes and came to play on thee 'puter. Am missing the cycling in Spain, but I hear that the weather over there has been quite wet. Glad I missed it. We're setting record highs here, with summer-like weather on the first day of Spring. Forecast is for 27C or 80F inland, tomorrow. Think I'll go take an Aleve for a splitting headache. Don't know whether it was caused by reading government brochures, money-grubbing adverts or the vinaigrette mis-labled as Merlot. Buenas Noches!

Early March in Alicante

Second of March and we've had some t-shirt days mixed in with sweater days. Got my first sunburn on a ride with the Amigos, and last Friday's trip to Guardamar Light. It is a small lighthouse on the end of a breakwater which protects the mouth of the Segura River. The breakwater is home to a tribe of fearless feral felines who relentlessly stalk a ham sandwich but merely turn their noses up at olives. Must not be martini drinkers. I like to set out on the hard-packed gravel trail around 11 and cruise along the south bank of the Segura, through citrus orchards, artichoke fields and a couple of towns; listening to my iPod and setting my cadence to the various tunes. Anyone trying to keep pace behind me would be befuddled as my tempo changes from Brubeck's "Take Five" to Morrison's "L.A. Woman" and then to Piaf's "Je Ne Regrette Rien".

If you look closely at the foot of the lighthouse, you will see the miscreant that made a pass at my sandwich while I was turned in the other direction to take the next shot. It shows the fishermen who patiently fling dough-balls at tiny fish, without much success, I might add. But then, fishing is not really about catching, is it? Anyway, I watched the closest fellow concoct his bait. He took a couple of handfuls of flour, mixed in some water and added what looked like decomposing shrimp before kneading it into a grapefruit-sized ball. He then tore off a chunk and placed it into a plastic jar and stirred in some more water (I presume) until it reached the consistency of chewing gum on a sidewalk in August. Then, winding some on a stick, he transferred a gob onto two small hooks, about the size of that which one would use for sunfish, on a drop-rig and cast out into the current. While I ate lunch and fended off marauding cats, he rebaited four times without threatening a fish. Beats mowing the lawn.

At the Orihuela Medieval Market Festival

Last weekend we went to Orihuela, a city near Algorfa, and a very historic spot. It was here that Ferdinand and Isabella joined their kingdoms (by marriage) and started the alliance which eventually became Spain as we know it. It is also where Ferdinand's friend and banker convinced the royal pair to fund an expedition by Cristobal Colon, leading to the America as we know it.

One shot is of a Quasimodo-like jester who was walking a large ball through the crowd. The other is of a baker with some massive loaves of bread. This was not a place to be when hungry, or broke. Orihuela hosts what is alleged to be the largest medieval festival, and it did not disappoint. We spent about four hours there walking through narrow booth-clogged streets; viewing all sorts of food, drink, baubles, leatherware, ironware, pottery-you name it. Lots of fun, but unfortunately it is held during the first weekend in February and not a warm time. Sitting in a sidewalk cafe quaffing mead and chewing on a shank of lamb would be much more pleasant in a t-shirt than a leather coat.

Some pics from Spain

This is a view of the Royal Palace in Madrid, taken through a gunport in a wall.

Did I mention the dramatic sunsets?

Mid-Winter break

Now this is the way to spend January.

Beach and boat

The boat is identical to the one on whch we were riding home from Saona Island. Racing along, side-by-side, bouncing off waves at break-neck speed was more appealing to the twenty-somethings than to us. Made my beer fuzzy.

February Edition

Finally got my puter back in working order. Nick very kindly sent me a replacement power supply which got here in 1/4 the time I waited for the local place to tell me that the one I ordered was still "in the mail". I hope they can sell it whenever it arrives. Anyway, we set off for Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic on the 23rd of January. Is wanted to go on a "Holiday", and I had the hardest time figuring out how to go on "Holiday" from retirement. After I spent days on white sand beaches, swam in transparent water, sailed a catamaran for the first time, ate too much, partook of limitless daiquiris, wine and whatever-I figured it out. Pictures to follow-somewhere in this post. Had a couple of cold days in Madrid, but played tourist around the Royal Palace and watched the hubbub around a funeral for a Provincial President. I have never seen so many cops in one place. There were Guardia Civil, National Police who even had a mounted detachment, and the Madrid Municipal Police. All told, there must have been about 200 visible. No telling how many were in plainclothes, on rooftops and inside the buildings, not to mention the black helicopters. We're experiencing a cold spell here, and high winds blown all the way down from the steppes. Everyone says that it's the coldest they've experienced, which leads me to wonder whether it's following me. Went out for a ride with the Amigos last Sunday and saw a shelf of ice where a puddle had been. At least the roads were dry. Heading West for Maine in March. Gotta collect papers and prepare to alleviate the national debt-at least that's what it feels like when I file taxes. I guess someone's gotta pay to send the Border Bastards to arrogance classes.

Jan. 8 Update

I have a bunch of photos I'd like to put up, but my 'puter, hence, my photo management system is still defunct. I ordered a power supply through a local merchant (or so I thought)a week before the Madrid trip. Last week he apologized and told me that the order had never been placed, but that he had just done it and the item is "...in the mail". You know the story.

The 3 Kings parade in Orihuela was fun. Not as large and crowded as last year's in Torrevieja, but more family-oriented and you could tell that everybody knew everybody. I took a lot of photos of "elephants" for the granddaughters and will send them as soon as I can use Photoshop again.

Cycling has been great, weather-wise. Been warm and dry up till today when it was cold (by our standards). Took off in blazing sunshine and a temperature of about 42 F. and it stayed clear but cool all day. Friday I did the trail along the Segura River all the way out to the tip of the breakwater. There, I sat in the sun eating a sandwich, drinking a beer, spitting olive pits at feral cats and watching a fisherman catch what looked like anchovies. Don't mean to crow, just report. I hear you're all having a mild winter, anyway.

Off to Orihuela to buy our train tickets for Madrid on the 23rd. Machine was down the last three times we tried, and we may have to take a train to Murcia to buy them. Might be a stroke of luck, though. There is a lottery agent there whose sign features a black cat. We were told that a notable number of big winners have bought their tickets there and it might be time to invest...

First coffee break of the year

Here is the hard-core element of the Amigos del Cyclismo on 01 January braving the weather and ignoring hangovers while seeking nourishment at a local refuge in San Isidro. Please note the absence of snow, the intense sunshine and the big smiles. Happy New Year!!!

Official Spanish Resident

Six months and one day after I started the process, I picked up my official Extranjeros Regimen Comunitario card. Two trips to Orihuela, four to Alicante, much mail back and forth to the Philippines and Madrid and it's over-until Nov 2016, anyway. That's when I need to renew it. Now to undergo 40 hours of "integration" classes that consist of language, culture, civics, etc. I hope they don't interfere with cycling.
Tomorrow we're off to Alicante again, by train, to chase down Is' driver's license. She was told to contact the Traffico office if she hadn't received it within 60 days. Well, that's just passed so we're chasing. I'm dreading the start of another process to get mine. Hers was relatively easy; just go there, show the Brit (E.U.) license and wait for the mail. I have to go to mandatory classes. Hey! Howcome? I drive on the proper side of the road! then I have to learn 600 different laws and rules, study mechanics, towing issues, first aid, target practice and then take the exam...in Spanish. Oh boy! I'd almost rather not get one, just ride a bike and let her drive. That way I can sample all the wine I want. Hmmmmm.....

Day Two

We had fine weather on the second day, making the 112 Km in good time. We travelled through some really beautiful country, vineyards and neat towns. All in all we did 170 Mk, climbing a total of 6010 feet, reaching a maximum altitude of 3160 feet. We celebrated the successful trip with a penultimate pint in Catral, three towns away from Algorfa, where I peeled off to make it home.

Wet arrival in Baneres

We finally made it, wet, but elated. We checked in and headed for the bar where we warmed up with a couple carajillos (strong black coffee laced with brandy). Then it was to the showers and a fine dinner.

Between Guadalest and Alcoi

Here we are in the mountains on the first leg, slogging along in the rain. It was somewhere near here that Thomas got a temperature reading from his do-everything Garmin cycle computer. We were dismayed to learn that it was 2 degrees Celsius.

A semi-dry Start

Here are 4/5 of us on the bus to our starting point in Guadalest. We were soggy from riding and loading bikes in the rain, and the bus conductor kept mentioning the five (fools) cyclists who were setting out for the mountains in the deluge.

Back from the Mountains

Made it back from the Guadalest-Alcoi-Baneres-Crevillent tour in one piece, though carrying some damp gear. We set out from Studz Bar in a steady rain, riding the bus to Guadalest while soggy from loading the bikes. There were five of us, aged 55 to almost 68, and all a little soft in the head. After coffee and tostadas we headed uphill (all the way, it seemed) toward Alcoy. The rain alternated between a heavy mist and pelting almost sleet. Thomas gave us a temperature report from his do-everything Garmin bike computer. It was 2 Celsius or 35 Farenheit, so we had to keep climbing vigorously to stay warm.

We stopped in Alcoi for lunch, getting directions to Baneres and leaving profuse apologies for the puddles on the floor. One man who told us how to get there shook his head in sympathy, pointing up while mumbling something like, "Muy alto!"
We dragged our sorry posteriors into the hotel just before dark and ordered the mandatory carajillos before hot showers and a sumptuous dinner. I thought about asking for my meal to be brought to the shower so I could steam a little longer.

Tuesday, we set off in fine weather, dropping about 2500' down to our starting level. We cycled through some really beautiful country, stopping in Salinas and Hondon de los Nieves for snack and lunch, before topping the final mountain range and sliding thru Crevillent to our penultimo cerveza in Catral. My whole trip was approximately 175 km; no accurate figure being available as the 'puter got a little water-logged and quit working. Thomas will send us all a report from his Garmin and photos from his smart-phone...someday. Will try to post them soon.