Pugsworth in Spain
It wasn`t my original plan to begin with Barcelona but seeing as it was so late in the year and getting cold it seemed like a good idea. I certainly enjoyed the comparatively warmer whether and being back in shorts for the first time in a while, but for me Barcelona didn´t live up to its reputation. The highlights were Gaudi´s Segrada Familiar and also his Parque Grüel, one of his less well known but just as beautiful landscape designs. It was returning from this park that I came off my bike rather dramatically. The front wheel of my bike was seizing up and I´d spent the morning looking for a bike shop but couldn´t find one open. Parque Grüel is situated on top of one of the hills over looking Barcelona and as I was coming down the wheel suddenly seized up completely, luckily I was going slowly so the stop wasn´t too bad. In the now fading light I had to turn my bike upside down and turn the wheel backwards in order to unjam it. I then got back on my bike very cautiously but was descending the steep hill down to the centre of town when it seized up again. This time I was going too fast and while I felt it coming and began to brake I wasn´t able to slow down enough to prevent me from going straight over the handle bars. The first time I´d fallen off the bike for the whole trip! Luckily I wasn´t injured except for a gash in my right leg, but several people stopped to make sure I was alright and get me off the road. From there I decided to walk, and managed to find a bike shop now open after siesta. I replaced the front wheel and back tyre, doing it myself in the bikeshop. Then back to the hostel for dinner.
Mostly though my impression of Barcelona is that it´s just another crowded city, not particularly pleasant and a bit touristy. I had a couple of nights out with others from the hostel but didn´t find any of the famed nightlife, maybe November is the wrong season. The other little jem I found is supposed to be the oldest known synagogue in Europe, in the old quarter of Barcelona. It´s just a couple of little rooms but a short visit there taught me a few things about the city´s history and the history of the Jews in Spain, something that seems otherwise squeezed out between the Muslim-Christian rivalries.
From Barcelona I headed south by train to Valencia, enjoying the beautiful mountain scenery along the way. From my first moments there Valencia struck me as a much more beautiful city with a lot of old architecture surviving and new architecture blending with it quite well. On my first afternoon I had a great ride down a stretch of fantastically landscaped parkland that runs in an old riverbed under several beautiful 800 year old bridges. It just kept going and going and progressively changing in design, shaping several different atmospheres along what turned out to be about 12km. Valencia has several beautiful park areas, all landscaped but not overly done and with a sort of natural look to them. I also had a great Servas stay, with a young couple who introduced me to some of Valencia´s alternative community. I went on my first ever Critical Mass ride on a Friday evening which was fairly relaxed and lots of fun and then out for tapas with a group afterwards. I also helped my host Santi working in a community garden he has started in a vacant lot.
Staying with Santi and Jenny was also the main beginning of adjusting to Spanish eating times and quantities. Traditionally the Spanish eat very little or nothing for breakfast, lunch is the main meal, between 2 and 4pm and then a light dinner at about 10pm. It seems that most foreigners find adjusting to the times more difficult but I often eat lunch at about 3 and dinner at about 9 so this was no problem. However I do this after eating a good breakfast at 9 or 10 in the morning. So with a Spanish breakfast I was at first starving by about 12, a big lunch just made up for it and I was well hungry again by dinner time. After a week or so though, I began to adjust, the body once again proving how adaptable it can be.
After a few days staying with Santi he mentioned he was going to Eivissa (Ebiza one of the Belearic Islands, next to Mallorca) to visit a friend. I´d wondered about going to the islands but had decided to give it a miss but when said that I´d love to go there he invited me to come with him. His friend Jesus was happy to have me so along I went. Like Mallorca, Eivissa is very touristy but being December most things were shut for winter. It also has some remaining rural areas and the highlight for me was a day walk through the bush to a remote farm and ending up on the cliff top on the western side of the island.
Mostly though my impression of Barcelona is that it´s just another crowded city, not particularly pleasant and a bit touristy. I had a couple of nights out with others from the hostel but didn´t find any of the famed nightlife, maybe November is the wrong season. The other little jem I found is supposed to be the oldest known synagogue in Europe, in the old quarter of Barcelona. It´s just a couple of little rooms but a short visit there taught me a few things about the city´s history and the history of the Jews in Spain, something that seems otherwise squeezed out between the Muslim-Christian rivalries.
From Barcelona I headed south by train to Valencia, enjoying the beautiful mountain scenery along the way. From my first moments there Valencia struck me as a much more beautiful city with a lot of old architecture surviving and new architecture blending with it quite well. On my first afternoon I had a great ride down a stretch of fantastically landscaped parkland that runs in an old riverbed under several beautiful 800 year old bridges. It just kept going and going and progressively changing in design, shaping several different atmospheres along what turned out to be about 12km. Valencia has several beautiful park areas, all landscaped but not overly done and with a sort of natural look to them. I also had a great Servas stay, with a young couple who introduced me to some of Valencia´s alternative community. I went on my first ever Critical Mass ride on a Friday evening which was fairly relaxed and lots of fun and then out for tapas with a group afterwards. I also helped my host Santi working in a community garden he has started in a vacant lot.
Staying with Santi and Jenny was also the main beginning of adjusting to Spanish eating times and quantities. Traditionally the Spanish eat very little or nothing for breakfast, lunch is the main meal, between 2 and 4pm and then a light dinner at about 10pm. It seems that most foreigners find adjusting to the times more difficult but I often eat lunch at about 3 and dinner at about 9 so this was no problem. However I do this after eating a good breakfast at 9 or 10 in the morning. So with a Spanish breakfast I was at first starving by about 12, a big lunch just made up for it and I was well hungry again by dinner time. After a week or so though, I began to adjust, the body once again proving how adaptable it can be.
After a few days staying with Santi he mentioned he was going to Eivissa (Ebiza one of the Belearic Islands, next to Mallorca) to visit a friend. I´d wondered about going to the islands but had decided to give it a miss but when said that I´d love to go there he invited me to come with him. His friend Jesus was happy to have me so along I went. Like Mallorca, Eivissa is very touristy but being December most things were shut for winter. It also has some remaining rural areas and the highlight for me was a day walk through the bush to a remote farm and ending up on the cliff top on the western side of the island.
posted by James Tonson | 10:09 pm
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