It’s been a while since I posted again, I’m sorry folks! But I went on a 12-day vacation during Easter Break. Here Easter break is nearly two weeks! My brother and his wife came to visit me here in Spain and I met them in Barcelona. We decided to go to 3 places while they were here. This post is longer than usual but we did a lot in 12 days.

We mapped out going to the far north of Spain and to see chilly San Sabastion the coastal city on the French border with more Michelin star restaurants than most cities in the world or so I’m told. We then planned a trip to Girona just north of Barcelona where Game of Thrones was filmed. Lastly, we had 2 days to kill and ended up in costa Brava. Now THAT was beautiful. I’m in love.

Firstly, hmm is that a word?  I flew from Alicante to Barcelona to meet my brother and his wife, they both have the same name Robin and Robin, so for reference, I’ll just refer them to R&R.

I met them in Barcelona and feeling comfortable on buses everywhere, I got off the plane and promptly went looking for a bus. Barcelona airport is huge and well the buses are downstairs outside. I found what looked like the right bus in blue. Luckily, I was able to pay at the door with my Credit card and verify it stopped in the center near where my brother’s hotel was. I jumped on and off I went. It arrived, I got off and the GPS went haywire. I wasted 30 minutes walking what was supposed to be a 5-minute walk. Of course. I said Ide be there at 9 am. I wasn’t. I was late but like every Spaniard, I told them to get used to lateness haha.

The hotel was an old building that looked unique from the outside. It was. There were two front doors. A glass one, and one with bars. I stood there wondering which way to go and a cleaning lady washing the glass said? Hotel? Yes. And motioned me in the glass door.

I walked into a narrow lobby with extremely high ornate ceilings that led back toward what looked like a restaurant and a bar. The walls were smooth whitewashed cement and stone.  To my right was a narrow desk with a young Spanish girl sitting behind the glass who looked totally uninterested in helping me. Customer service is often like this here. No one speaks till you do first. Except for the cleaning lady. They need to be paid more.

I checked in and was told to go to the elevator. There was a modern 2-person elevator and behind it, an old one with iron folding doors like you see in the movies. That was cool but I didn’t take it as I didn’t know if it was for looks only or what. I knocked on my brother’s room, # 3 a huge heavy black wooden door that must have been 10 feet high. Suddenly the door next to him opened and an elderly lady and her Yorkie stepped out. I thought where am I? a hotel or accidentally in someone’s apartment building? Luckily no, I was right.

 Turns out some six tenants still live in the building and have refused to sell their apartments to the hotel’s owners. So apparently the place was apartments at one time that is now a hotel. Hence the two front doors as one if for tenants.   So, they live with us transient travelers coming and going, not sure Ide like that.  But I suppose its convenient since downstairs is a restaurant if they need room service. I wonder if they ask for dog bones at the restaurant for their dogs.

Anyway, the room obviously had been an apartment, as it was a large living room with two bedrooms. But each bedroom was a separate cost even though they were off the same living room.  My Brother paid extra and gave me that room so no strangers would invade “our living room” it had two huge leather couches and a giant wooden coffee table too. But no minibar and no refrigerator to be had. And it was over $300 a night. Wow, but it’s Barcelona and it’s not cheap there.

Anyway, we set out to see Barcelona and went walking. I don’t mind saying that I wasn’t looking forward to visiting Barcelona as my Ex has retired there with money we supposedly didn’t have per his divorce lawyer. But I did promise a police officer friend of mine I would not do anything rash if I ran into him. Haha

We stayed for 3 days in Barcelona and hit some museums and of course, saw the Gaudi exhibits. The Picasso Museum was more interesting than I thought it would be.  I learned Picasso started out painting normal stuff before he got into Cubism and his weird chopped-up schizophrenic paintings.

That night we ended up walking everywhere. There were so many people out in the plazas and since both my brother and I have arthritis we are like two old people getting cranky with too much walking. He was swearing about his back and I’m cussing about my feet. Robin, his wife was like we are getting a taxi for you two.

But we couldn’t get a taxi anywhere. So I said let’s take the metro as I’m like that the heck it’s cheaper and just as fast. Well not so fast….we found one and it took about 15 minutes to figure out the route to get back to the hotel. Finding our way down to the platform I showed them how to buy tickets in the machines and we got on the metro. It was pretty full but we were only a 10-minute stop to the hotel. Score. The next morning, we were to fly out. Overall, they enjoyed their visit to Barcelona but did agree it’s crowded but very artsy and full of tourists.

Our 2^nd stop was “Basque country.” We went to the city of San Sabastian in the north on the French border. Its known for its own Basque language, fabulous seafood, cider “called cidre” and Pintos (tapas), and cold wet, rainy weather. Which makes it a very green area of the country as well right on the ocean.

We got to the airport and at the entrance to security, there are Kiosks where you scan your ticket and get in to go through security. R and R were behind me, and I thought following me. I got through and was flagged to be searched by a yummy  Spaniard. He scanned my body with a wand and then kept saying “manos”  I looked at his dark smokey eyes and said what? He pointed to my hands, smiling. Ok, you want to hold them I thought. Of course not, I had to hold them out so he could wipe them with bomb testing stuff. He found nothing so unfortunately, I wasn’t detained.

Then I looked behind me from the other side of the conveyor belt. R and R were nowhere to be found. Uh oh. I waited and looked for 15 minutes.. now I was thinking something happened to them. Just as I’m about to flag the yummy security guy I see them. They come through with no problem. Turns out their tickets did not match their names. When they printed them at the Iberia kiosk. There was someone else’s name on them. Apparently, they were Mr. and Mrs. Pedro Morenas, which they didn’t notice as they printed and just grabbed them and went. Then at the entrance kiosk, it wouldn’t let them in and a security guy had to stop them and see their passports etc. It was very weird. But the security guy was fine once she showed her phone tickets that were correct. How it printed their tickets with only their locater # we don’t know.

We arrived in San Sabastian and it was chilly but dry. Taking the only taxi available we rode 30 minutes to the coast where our air B and B was. Before getting a mile out the driver suddenly pulled over. He only spoke Basque and zero English. He turned around and said something to us pointing to our heads. “eso eso” police eso eso. What? He was pointing to the seatbelt which was over our heads in the car. Oh ok I said as  I pulled on it but couldn’t figure out where to snap it in on our laps as it had two buckles. He looked red-faced. Eso eso! He snapped. He kept pointing at it then pointing to me. What? Where do I put it donde? I say.  He then grabbed it from my hand and pulled it toward my lap. Oh ok, it went over the chest and lap. Call us stupid. Ok ok, we said. Ok, he said when we figured out what he wanted. I mean I felt like a kid being admonished by my father to do something in Swedish. I was clueless about his gestures.

He then said something in Basque about police. Oh, you get a fine if you don’t have your seat belt on I figured out.. Well, we would have had it buckled if we knew it was attached over our heads, as none of us saw it and he didn’t have to yell, but I don’t know enough Spanish to say that.

Anyway, calmed down and his color came back. Phew.

He got us to our building, and it was on a busy street with construction in front. Of course, construction blocking your view is never in the description when you rent an apartment for $350 a night.

The apartment was lovely warm and decorated tastefully. It was also on the 6^th floor but had a lift. . It faced the ocean which was cool.  The person that let us in explained everything and made sure we knew one thing: the furniture on the balcony had to be kept tied to the railing because the wind can lift it and it will blow off. Wow really? That much wind? I said. Yes, he said, pointing over the balcony. Oh, I hope nobody died from flying lawn furniture as I peeked over the railing below. No problem we won’t let anything like that happen I assured him.

I got a call and Jorge finally arrived at the building who has never met R and R. He took a 10-hour bus to meet us from Elche. God love em. But he does like to take the cheaper routes even if it meant riding 10 hours on a bus. But interestingly, as we will see on this trip, He managed to get on the wrong bus to meet us at the airport and it took him to a different airport in Bilboa 2 hours away in the wrong direction. He had to get off and catch another bus to get to us. He was exasperated and tired. Now he speaks Spanish and still got lost. I don’t feel so bad understanding zero Spanish now.

Well, San Sabastian was lovely except for the rain. It’s got mountains, plenty of green space and the lovely ocean. Which surfers like as it was quite rough. Unfortunately, it was very cold and rained, a LOT.

Well, we had a walking tour at 10 am the next day. My brother stayed back. So Jorge, Robin, and I headed out. We had umbrellas that were near worthless in the wind the man talked about. Walking the streets our feet were cold and got wet and the umbrellas kept being blown inside out. walking between buildings it was like being caught in a wind tunnel. I’ve never been in the wind that strong. No wonder the apartment owner warned us of flying furniture.

But we went on the tour anyway. It was pretty cool seeing the old buildings and the coast. I could see why it was such a pretty town albeit very expensive as people have said. Once the tour guide a young university kid with plenty of energy took us to the water to show us the port near the end of the tour we had had enough of the cold and paid the tip and left to find a tavern and drink coffee.

We found a lovely old stone walled tavern with rows of old wooden tables and a long bar with rows and rows of “pintos” the Basque region version of tapas. We pointed to some interesting things like toasted bread with grilled squid, sliced vegetables with fried fish, and Spanish tortillas. We ordered some hot coffee and pigged out as they say. Nothing like pointing and eating.

Then we were dry and feeling good so went walking. It quit raining and we popped into another bar to try the famous alcoholic cider or “cidre” that Basque people drink. It was a tiny bar with the name KuKuRRuKu” on it. Apparently, the owner liked chickens as there was photos of big roosters on the walls hence the Kuku name.

It had stone walls with dark beams on the ceiling and only 4 small wood tables. It looked like a place just for locals, small simple, and friendly. I noted the bartender an elderly grey-haired gentleman was pouring the cider for a slender man with a wrinkled grey hat. He held the green bottle high in the air and poured the clear liquid into a small glass-like his hand was the faucet. My understanding is they do this to aerate the cider and add some bubbles. He only poured about a quarter of a glass and handed it to the patron who then downed it in one gulp. The man laughed about something turned and talked to 2 other older men and a woman that walked in. The bartender poured vermouth for the lady and some wine for the men without even asking. I guess it’s like Cheers everyone knows their names.

I order a cider; Robin orders a gin and tonic. Jorge a beer. The gin and tonic took a minute as the bartender must not get that many requests as he had to reach over his head and take down a bottle of a Spanish gin with dust on it.

He makes the drink for her and then pours the cider. I watch as he poured it at least 3 feet above the glass and never misses the glass or spills it.  The cider is cloudy white and very cold. It is so sour I downed it as fast as I could. Now I know why you gulp it.  I wonder what the attraction is. Since it’s so cold and rainy here, I wonder why they don’t offer hot cider toddies.  The heck with this cold sour concoction.

I watch people meander in, drink, and leave. One older woman walked in with three kids. They looked to be under 10. The white-haired woman behind the bar who I assume is the owner’s wife smiles at the kids as they each hop on a barstool and sit at the tiny bar. She then turns and puts Spanish tortillas and bread in front of them. The elder gets a white wine. The kids get a coke. Everyone is smiling and talking. Sure, why not sidle up to a tavern and feed the little ones. But it’s ok. It’s the culture. Everyone looks happy and grandma is having her vino. You go grandma feed em and take a nip too.

Well the next day we thought of eating at one of the Michelin star restaurants San Sabastian is known for, but the average cost was $150 a person. Nope. We settled on a place with tapas and salads for dinner.

The next day it was time to leave. I had train tickets for the 4 four of us to go back to Barcelona then onto Girona where Game of Thrones was filmed.

I set up a taxi for 8 am the next morning for the 9:30 am train.

 We get up, all packed and at 7:30 I check the tickets. Oh crap!  the train was at 7:30, not 9:30. We all missed the train.  I couldn’t believe it. Of four people not one person looked or noted the time. I had it in my head it was 9:30 when in fact the plane we flew in on was 9:30 not the train.

I announced to everyone what happened. Holy crap. Barcelona was 5 hours away.  R and R took it well, I wanted to cry. I was in charge and screwed up.

We sat down to find another train. Turns out no more trains were leaving that day and flights were all booked. Damn it.

We had to rent a car. And so Jorge and I booked a car. We then discovered after we booked it, it was outside San Sabastian in or near a shopping mall someplace.

So in the rain, he and I went out and found a bus. The bus drove 25 minutes and dropped us in the rain on a lonesome street surrounded by trees and hills and next to what looked like a largely empty shopping mall but in the back.

Um ok…. The GPS said…. That damn GPS I can’t tell you how many times have been lost with it.

We walked toward what looked like a loading dock. Some young man was getting in his car. We asked where the mall was supposedly the car rental place was in it or near it.

He directed us down the street to the other side. Low and behold it was a mall. It just wasn’t open yet. We went inside but the stores were all closed. We wandered inside as I had to pee like a Russian racehorse and my feet were wet, and my mood was not good. Poor Jorge he might be rethinking staying with me with my bitching. We found the bathroom and there was a cleaning lady. And of course, who will know the mall better than a cleaning lady? No one.

She directed us to some elevators and sure enough, there was a garage underneath the mall with a car rental place. We get the car and go back pick up R and R and head out.

 Five hours later we roll into Girona. The place of Games of Thrones.

Yea for GPS right up until we arrived. The apartment was in the middle of the old stone city where only pedestrians are supposed to walk. We can’t find the so-called parking near the hospital on the edge of the city we were told to go to. Following the GPS we get stuck in a one-way narrow cobblestone street headed straight into the old town. It’s cool looking old as heck and right out of the movie. But looks aside we can’t go back out.  We have to drive in as GPSs say go. Jorge freaks I’m gonna get fined he says we can’t drive in here. But it’s too late. People move out of our way as we snake through the cobblestone streets between stone buildings close enough to touch the windows.  We get to an opening and call the owner. She says no, go out of the city. Like ok, how? We can’t back up. She can’t help she says. Go to the parking lot as if it was right there. Crap where is Bannister from the movie?

Off to our left is a plaza and a river. We slowly drive through the plaza trying not to look like fools in a big SUV in the street only for pedestrians. We just go forward hoping no cop will show up. We come out to a larger street and a bridge. We are on the right track. Crossing the river is a parking lot for tourists. We stop, R and R get out and I say follow me we will find the apartment while Jorge finds parking. I’m used to walking places like this in Spain I’ll lead the way I say!

Yea right. I’m sure they thought if this is like the train we are not going to get there. They are right.

Using GPS of course we can’t find the apartment. Dragging suitcases over the uneven stone streets down narrow paths we go in circles. The buildings are dark gray stone all around us with stone arches everywhere. I’m looking for Kings landing now. The owner then texts a 2^nd time asking me are you close? I don’t know I say it says 5 minutes on GPS, but we can’t find you. She texts “another person will meet you” ok, um how about meeting us and leading the way? No answer. Ok, now you don’t understand English.

I stop and ask three people who ignore me. Habla English? I say… knowing the place is full of tourists that do. It’s not like we were ax murderers, I mean really, we are all over 60 pulling roller suitcases. Wtf.

 Finally, I see a guy unloading a food truck and walk up to him.  He speaks English and I show him the address.  Thank goodness for cleaning ladies and delivery guys, I mean really. He smiles and directs us down another street and Wala, there stands a skinny Spaniard who says “are you here for the apartment?

Um, do you think? Three Americans dragging suitcases staring at the street names etched in stone on every corner looking irritated? Are you serious? No, we are the delivery people, of course, we are here for the apartment.

He shows us in and it’s on the 4^th floor, with no elevator um they left that off the reservation. The building is ancient looking made of stone and the stairwell is made of white cement walls and dark uneven steps. It feels like a cave. He lets us in, and the apartment is a surprise compared to the stairwell. It’s big, with high stone ceilings and beams, modern with 4 bedrooms and two small balconies facing the opposite building where other people’s windows face right across and people can see right into ours. Oh well.

We explain to the guy that in the future putting “you can’t drive to the apartment as its pedestrian-only and no elevator and btw, the GPS will lead you in circles. Be prepared to get lost.” Having a human meet us and lead us into the apartment would have been really nice. He shakes his head and says Oh well that’s not included in the price. Say what? Finding your property is a cost? Not a courtesy? That’s what reviews are for I thought.

Hmmmmm

Well anyway long story short, the city of Girona is cool as heck. The ancient streets and buildings will transform you into a medieval era, and you can imagine Game of Thrones being filmed everywhere you walked. Definitely worth a visit, where really good shoes and bring arthritis medicine.

We only had two days there then off we went to Costa Brava which only 45 minutes away. It turned out that having the car was a good idea as getting to the coast would have been a bus ride, which with my luck we would have missed.

On the plus side driving along the countryside, we passed meadow after meadow of bright yellow flowers for miles. We stopped and took pictures and noted each of the meadows were speckled with red Poppies. It was beautiful scenery. Plus had found a lovely boutique hotel called “Sant Roc” right on the cliffs of the Mediterranean in the small town of Parafrugell and that’s where we went.

When we arrived, the coast was gorgeous. I forgot all about missing the train. The ocean a deep clear turquoise blue lightly crashing against the cliffs beneath our hotel exactly as described on their site. It was mesmerizing. Just what the doctor ordered. Two nights there wandering the coast and tasting lovely seafood at little cafes feet from the water was so nice. I now understand when people say that Costa Brava is one of the most beautiful places anywhere. The closest I could think of is Cinque de Terre in Italy but smaller and more intimate. If I win the lottery this is where I’ll be.

Well, the end of the trip came very fast 48 hours later. We had to leave at 7 am to drive to Barcelona to take R and R to the airport and Jorge and I had train tickets back to Alicante.

We all get up, leave and head out. Turns out it was the last travel day of the Easter holiday and traffic was a nightmare near Barcelona. It took 90 minutes to get them to the airport instead of an hour. We were then to get to the train station. We didn’t. Thanks, GPS.

We missed the train again. We were too late. Then we could not find the car rental place and circled for over an hour in Barcelona. We finally found it. We went to the train station and guess what? Not a train or a bus to be had back to Alicante.  We had to rent another car.  Don’t hire me as a travel guide that’s all I can say.

So that we did. Six hours later we arrived home in Elche. I had to work the next day. When will I learn not to schedule a return trip the day before work?

I barely got up the next day, my arthritis was flaring and dragged myself to work.

Then we got the bills for the two-car rentals: over $1000 total as they charged us for an extra day for being late dropping it off in another city, and then said we damaged the car. Which we did not. Jorge is working on proving that.

I need a drink.

Next time pay attention to the train schedules. Bring a paper map and if all else fails ask the cleaning lady or delivery man for help.