Mid-April during a short stay in Barcelona, I took a day trip by bus to Tossa De Mar. This is an old, pleasant town on the ‘Costa Brava” northeast of Barcelona.

My timing was good. The day was warm but it was too early in the season to be overly crowded with (other!) tourists.

This spot was inhabited as far back as the neolithic period. But the existing “old quarter” of the town dates to the 12th century. It was built on a hill, surrounded by a protective wall.

Now I will quit gabbing, and let the photos speak for themselves. (Remember that if you click on a photo, you will see an enlarged version.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This could be a nice spot for a return visit and a hotel overlooking the beach and sea!

 

 

 

(Clicking on any of the images will enlarge it. In many cases, clicking a second time will make it even bigger)

At the end of November (2016) I had a chance to visit Villena.

The town is located in the province of Alicante, but is just over a half hour distant from Xàtiva by train.

Those who are familiar with Spanish literature might know of the nephew of King Alfonso X “el Sabio”, Don Juan Manuel. Living in the 14th century, this Prince of Villena wrote a number of books and is considered one of the most important authors of his era. His series of stories involving the “Conde Lucanor” are delightful.

Villena also has some fame for footwear and wines produced in the area. It was the birthplace of Ruperto Chapi, composer of symphonies and zarzuelas (a Spanish cross between a musical and opera).

Tourist attractions in the town include a lovely 11th century castle, and the “Tesoro de Villena” (treasure of Villena), which was a trove of gold bowls and bracelets that have been dated to the bronze age 3,000 years ago.

Heading into town, I encountered the church of Santiago (Saint James) and a small plaza with municipal buildings

It was pleasing to see a banner hanging from the town hall which read: “In favor of a Europe with open doors. Borders kill”.

 

 

 

 

 

On this stormy day, the view of the Santa Maria church (15th century) with its mountain backdrop was stunning.

The Atalaya Castle was built in the eleventh century by the Islamic rulers of Spain. It sits on a hill more or less in the middle of town.

 

 

 

(Rhonda and I had attempted to visit the castle several years earlier. But at that time it was closed due to damage from an earlier lightning strike.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Torre de Homenaje” or “Castle Keep”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Interior stairs led to the top of this inner tower, and from the top the views were phenomenal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After enjoying the castle, I went to see the “Tesoro de Villena” (Treasure of Villena) which is housed in the José Maria Soler museum within the municipal building. The “Treasure” is a trove of (mostly) gold objects over 3,000 years old that were found in a large clay container. This incredible find came to light in 1963  when a worker found a large pure gold bracelet in some gravel fill being used in conjunction with the construction of a building.

The initial thought was that someone in town had dropped it. But then it was taken to authorities and the town archaeologist got involved. In conjunction with the workers, the origin of the fill material was located and excavation revealed the clay vessel which contained  28 bracelets, 11 bowls, and other miscellaneous objects. Today this valuable collection is in a locked case in the museum.

 

 

 

My visits to the castle and museum completed, I had enough time left in town to enjoy wandering around, exploring side streets and people watching.

Santa Maria (16th Century)

 

(click on any picture for an enlarged view)

At the end of January (2015) I shot off on a brief excursion that took me from Xàtiva to  Zaragoza to Canfranc to Vic and then back to Xàtiva.

Once a day, an Intercity train, originating in Cartagena, goes from Xàtiva to Zaragoza. But because it does not arrive at the destination until late in the day, when I go to Zaragoza, I usually take an early Cercanias (commuter train) from Xàtiva to Valencia, then get on an Intercity to Zaragoza. It is a long but scenic journey, with about a dozen stops, including Sagunto and Teruel. Along the way, it passes Sarrión, the town whose picturesque view provides the heading photo for this site.

Upon arrival in Zaragoza’s Goya train station, I took the Tranvia (a sleek, modern, streetcar) to my hotel near some ruins of the old Roman walls.

I lucked into a room with a small balcony and a lovely view over the rooftops to the cathedral of Pilar. Across the street from the hotel, right below my window is the long metal roofed structure of the Central Market- a collection of stalls selling a colorful mix of fruits, vegetables, meats, embutidos, and fish. Looking to the right were more

churches poking up past residential rooftops. Zaragoza is a picturesque city, with a wealth of history in evidence. Interestingly it does not seem to be a destination for many American tourists.

It was almost 3:00 pm, and I sought out one of my favorite restaurants in the city for a plate of Migas. This is a humble but tasty regional dish made from fried breadcrumbs that can be garnished with a variety of offerings. I chose loganiza (a style of sausage) and an (over-easy) egg on top. Very traditional choice!

When I left the restaurant, the city appeared unusually quiet, and it seemed as if almost every store was closed. Although most businesses in Spain observe the siesta from about 1:30 to 4:30, it was late enough that they should have been open. As it turned out, it was a holiday! It was the festival of San Valero (Sant Valerius), patron saint of the city, former bishop of the town, who died in 315 CE. All the fun stuff, including a parade with Gigantes y Cabezudos (giants and “big headed dwarfs”) had occurred in the morning, hours before my arrival.

One of the fun things about Spain, is that there are so many fun festivals, and one of the frustrating things is that you will never know they are about to occur if you are in a town a few hundred miles away.

The next morning, I went back to Goya Station, and got on the Regional train, that heads north from Zaragoza to Huesca, and then

winds it way through a bunch of towns including Jaca, and ending up in Canfranc, a town close to the border with France.

Along the way, the train passes near the village of Riglos, at the foot of massive (conglomerate) rock formations, understandably popular with rock climbers.

 

 

 

 

If you have ever tried to take photos from inside a moving train, then you know the frustration I felt trying to capture their majesty.

These stunning formations played peek-a-boo behind embankments and small stands of trees, as the train’s path drew close. Even when you got a momentary clear view, reflections from interior lights on the train spoil the picture. If you want to see them in their glory, you can do a web search on “Mallos de Riglos”.

 

The train’s route then runs along the Gallego river and the Yesa reservoir before it reaches Jaca.

I had expected that along the way I might see a bit of snow. Perhaps a white mantel on the higher peaks of the Pyrenees.  By the time we reached Jaca we were socked in, with no view of the mountains, and it was spitting snow.

As the train wound its way toward Canfranc, the snow was heavier and heavier. Soon the countryside we passed was buried in a thick blanket of snow, with more falling.

As the train pulled into Canfranc, I was suprised at the large throng of bystanders snapping photos

and taking videos of the train’s arrival. The last time I came to Canfranc, it was on foot, descending from Somport Pass. So I am not sure if visitors to Canfranc are always excited to see the train come in, or if it was because of the snow.

The train pulled to a stop next to a snowman, and we all exited.

The train stop was just outside the fenced off old Canfranc International Train Station. A beautiful building, built in the late 1920s, it is now an abandoned, crumbling ruin. Close to the station is a tunnel that passes under the peaks. The other side is France. This had been an important rail link between the countries. But in 1970, a train crash on the French side destroyed an important bridge that was never rebuilt.

They say the old station was used in the filming of the epic film “Doctor Zhivago” (what a great movie!), but when I watched the movie again, I could not identify it in any scene. Certainly the stunning exterior does not make an appearance.

I worked my way to the back side of the station where you can get a view of the entire building. To get there, I had to tromp through thick wet snow, my running shoes sinking into the snow (I wasn’t very well prepared!). Along the way, I passed several people wearing snowshoes. That was how I should have done it!

There are legends about the tunnel and station and events of the Second World War. It is said that the Nazi’s smuggled stolen gold on trains to Canfranc. Who knows!?

I spent the next few hours wandering around the town in the snow. It was coming down hard, heavy, and wet. It was amazing that through it all my feet stayed dry!

 

 

 

 

 

I stopped in a store and picked up a couple souvenirs, went to the tourist office and got a map, and went to a restaurant to eat my midday meal. I had chosen the restaurant based on a listing in the Guia Azul (Blue Guide) for Aragon. It was OK, but… I end up doing better using gut instinct!

After three hours I was cold. And with the weather as it was, this was not a good day for outdoor wandering or trying to catch the shuttle bus up to the pass. (besides, I heard in the restaurant that they had closed the pass due to snow and high winds!)

 

So, even though the train would not leave for another two hours, I walked back to where it was parked. The engineer was just climbing aboard to start the diesel engine. I motioned to him and he opened the window a crack.
“Can I get in?”
“The train doesn’t leave for another two hours!”
“I know. But it is snowing and wet out here.”
“What’s your destination?”
“Zaragoza”
“Oh, OK.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Get on.”
And I spent the rest of my time in Canfranc snug inside the train as I waited for it to leave.

 

An eighty minute ride north from Barcelona on the “R3” train route takes you to Vic, a city of about 40,000. The site has been occupied since pre-roman times, and today it remains an important regional center of commerce.

Once the train surfaces after its passage below the streets of Barcelona, it traverses spillover urban sprawl of that city. Eventually however, you reach agricultural lands with rolling hills and views of distant mountains.

The old part of the city is not too large and can easily be explored on foot.

My wanderings began at an 11th century Romanesque bridge that was part of the old route to Barcelona.

(by the way, all of the photos in this set are low-resolution. Sorry!)

 

 

The bridge is close to the cathedral of St. Peter the Apostle (Sant Pere).

A notable aspect of the cathedral is the beautifully embellished Gothic arches that define a passage around the cloister.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although the town was lovely, and merits a return visit, I had actually come to Vic specifically to attend its Saturday open air market. A previous year, we had gotten some tasty “embutidos” (sausage) that were made in Vic. Apparently the town is famous for its embutidos, and I was on a mission to get some more!

The market was incredible. It takes up the entire “Plaça Major” in the old quarter of town, and then spills over into adjoining streets, and down along the “Rambla Davallades.”

The market seems to sell just about everything, and is far more comprehensive than the bi-weekly market in Xàtiva.

There is clothing, shoes, kitchen utensils, and purses. There are booths selling handmade pottery, and stands promoting political causes. Stands loaded with fresh fruits and vegetables caught my eye. It is only the impracticability of buying these items so far from home that allow me to move on.

You can buy baked goods and artisanal cheeses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are more varieties of mushrooms on display than I could imagine, along with truffles.

 

 

 

 

 

There are gourds, and domestic fowl: ducklings, chicks, hens, roosters (crowing away!), along with birds I could not identify.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A whole row of stalls sells cut flowers and potted plants.

When I first got to the market, I was able to explore most of it. But by noon, you could barely make your way through the dense crowds!
My advice is: go early!

 

 

There was one thing that I did not see for sale in the market at any stall: Embutidos! Yet that was what I had come for!

Luckily, in the nearby streets a dozen butcher shops each sold a wide variety of meats and sausages. I did not leave empty handed!

 

 

Our cruise started in Bilbao, a city on the northern coast of Spain. To get there we took the train: first to Madrid, then to Bilbao.

The train from Madrid to Bilbao was long (almost 5 hours), and slow by Spanish standards. But it was a comfortable ride, and it traversed some beautiful scenery. Especially notable was the segment from the town of “Miranda de Ebro” to Bilbao. The train passed through stunning green mountains. Huge white and light brown cattle grazed peacefully in pastures. Wide valleys opened up, and we went through small towns of stone houses.

The last stop of the train was the  picturesque Abando station in downtown Bilbao. A large stained glass window dominates the north end of the terminal, though to me the view of pastel colored buildings seen through the open end of the other side was just as lovely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As with many train stations in Spain, the interior of the station was a lively center with shops and restaurants. It is a shame that so few stations in the United States are like this.

 

 

Our hotel was quite close to the station. After we dropped off our bags, we wandered around the city. The first order of business was getting something to eat. We headed over a bridge, past the opera house, to the city’s “Casco Viejo” (Old quarter) and found a nice restaurant with tables outdoors.

 

 

 

 

Our hunger satisfied, we continued rambling through the city.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Nervion River winds through Bilbao, and provides many opportunities for panoramic views of sectors of the city.

 

We headed through a commercial district, past Jado Plaza,

 

 

 

 

 

 

past Moyua Plaza, and along the Gran Via, until we reached the Sacred Heart monument.

 

 

 

 

 

Then we worked our way, back along the river toward our hotel.

 

Wide walkways along the river make it a perfect area for strolling, jogging, or bicycling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Iberdrola tower in Bilbao is one of the tallest buildings in Spain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Guggenheim Museum

 

 

 

In front of the Guggenheim is a piece of living art: A dog constructed of living flowers. Apparently it was supposed to have been a temporary installation, but it proved so popular that it has been maintained.

 

The next day we took the Metro from downtown to the suburb of Gexto where the cruise port is located.

 

 

Time to board the ship and head for other cities!

 

 

A note about the Basque language:

Bilbao is in the Basque area of Spain. Although “Spanish” (Often called “Castellano” in Spain) is spoken by most people in the region, there is another language that is native to the Basque area called “Euskara”. The language is of special interest to those who study languages because, not only is it not a “romance langauge”- derived from a form of latin, such as Castellano, Portuguese, French, Italian, etc., but it does not even belong to the larger “Indo-European” language family. Although I made a half-hearted effort to learn a few words of Euskara for this trip, I quickly gave up. It is nothing like any other language I have ever seen. This picture shows a page from a local newspaper.

Algemesí is a small city not far from Xàtiva. It can easily be reached on the commuter train line (Cercanias / Rodalias) that connects Xàtiva and Valencia. Algemesí is the train stop just north of Alzira.

 

Algemesí is host to a yearly festival of note called the “fiesta de la Mare de Déu de la Salut.” Literally this refers to the mother of God of health, or “our lady of health.”

Spain has an abundance of local festivals, and I had not been aware of this particular one. But a couple of days after my arrival I saw an article in the newspaper, so on Sunday September 8^th, I hopped on the train and got off in Algemesí. Much of the festival activity goes on between the small church dedicated to Mare de Déu de la Salut and the Plaza Mayor, site of an impressive, larger church dedicated to Santiago (Saint James).

In addition to the usual activities, this year the event was being filmed for a documentary about the Valencian Community. This meant that in addition to the “civilian” photographers in the crowd, cameras held high overhead to try to capture scenes mostly hidden by the crowd, there were photos being taken from a huge mechanical boom apparatus, and even a remote controlled hovering camera that briefly flew onto the scene.

The day was hot, the square was incredibly packed so I did not stay long enough to really do justice to the festivities. Nevertheless, here are a few pictures and a short video.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brief video highlights: