Jun 1

Jun 1 Cavorting through Catalonia

Costa Brava quite literally means ‘wild coast’. Skirting around the sweeping bends of the Costa Bravan coastline, hugging the cliffs so that we don’t tumble down into the wild sea below, I can see how the formidable coastline got its name. Every so often, the road dips down into a small village, surprising us with the apparition of passenger trains that seem to burst from mountain sides. The inlets are calm – the beaches are untouched, rugged. I feel like we’ve discovered the Catalonian Great Ocean Road, but for the distinct lack of koalas and tourists with selfie sticks. For once, I’m okay with the lack of scenic opportunities; the wind is blowing a gale and the drop down to the Mediterranean is sheer.

We’re staying in a small semi-rural town called Torroella de Montgrí, which (with a little bit of luck) happens to be perfectly situated between the beach, the countryside and the medieval town of Girona. Our apartment is a stone’s throw away from the church, clock tower and town square, where the locals gather at the end of the day, to enjoy a glass of the region’s finest. The soundtrack to Torroella de Montgrí is a little like a school playground – chattering kids, music, yelling, the kicking of soccer balls – all punctuated with the resounding gong of church bells. It’s lively – but only after 8 o’clock – because, much like the whole of Spain, that’s when the town really comes to life. When you are in a habit of eating at 6 o’clock, any time after 7.30 feels like the middle of the night. We’ve got a lot to learn about the art of afternoon napping ...

We’ve discovered that luck really does come into play, when you are travelling on the fly, picking places at random. It’s not until we are wandering through the streets of Girona, learning about the Spanish Inquisition and visiting locations from season six of Game of Thrones, that we realise that the town is beginning to bloom – quite literally. We soon discover that people the world over travel to Girona in May for one reason – and that’s to see the festival of flowers come to life. Some of the floral creations unfold in a matter of hours, some take days to prepare. The final product is amazing to see but the real joy is in watching the people of Girona frantically flitting about town, putting the finishing touches on each piece.

With another stroke of luck, we bump into a fellow Aussie, who happens to be leading a tour group of cashed up Canadian pensioners through Spain. It turns out that he’s got two spare tickets to the Dali museum that we are more than happy to take off his hands. Sure, he mistakes us for Kiwis but we quickly forgive him when we realise that his generosity has just saved us 30 Euros. The Dali Museum in Figueres is absolutely worth the visit. Dali himself had a hand in its creation, making it the perfect tribute to his influential, quirky, imaginative style. Sure, you’ll see the melting clocks, but the real highlight is his jewellery collection. Check out the incredible beating heart that he rendered out of rubies and gold – it’s heart-stopping and breathtaking all at the same time.

It would be remiss of me to talk about the beautiful Catalonian region without giving a little airtime to the events that have played out over the past year. Bear with me as I bring you up to speed. Spain is a decentralised country, with a unique structure similar to (but completely different from) a federation. In essence, the 17 autonomous communities that make up Spain each have their own right to govern their people, within the limits of the constitution. Catalonia, with Barcelona as its capital, is the most affluent of all, with a GDP of 266 billion euros – almost one-fifth of the entire country’s economic output. Many of the people living in Catalonia see themselves as an independent nation; they have their own language, have a great deal of autonomy already and a flourishing economy that will enable them to stand on their own two feet, should they be left to their own devices. The issue? Spain do not want to lose their ‘bread basket’. On Friday 27 of October 2017, the Catalan Parliament voted in favour of Catalonian independence, but for one small problem: Spain declared the vote illegal. In the wake of these events, the Catalan government were forced to either flee or face jail time. The fallout has been messy, to say the least. What's next for Catalonia? Only time will tell.

Our next stop in Catalonia is the capital itself, where we are reunited with Mama and Papa Broomhall over an unusual breakfast of pork knuckle, white corn and steaming black coffee (It seems that the language barrier got the better of them this time!). The sprawling city of Barcelona is a cyclist's dream, with paths leading right the way along the waterfront, to the harbour. Happy to cruise around town by bike, we spend the next few days zipping between Gaudí's masterpieces, sampling tapas and enjoying the Spanish sun (between unpredictable showers of rain). After so much time on the road, it's nice to have some familiar company.

Gaudí’s architectonic works are truly one of a kind, scattered amongst the city like whimsical gingerbread houses, iced and decorated to please the eye. His greatest legacy, the Sagrada Familia, a whopping masterpiece decked out in true Gaudi style, replete with mosaics and leadlight galore, is still under construction after 135 years. They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, but even the pyramids of Giza were built in a hastier fashion. To this day, the people of Catalonia have a saying that goes something along the lines of: ‘Come on, hurry up, the Sagrada Familia will be finished before you get moving’. Jokes aside, it is anticipated that the building will be completed by 2026, marking one centenary since Gaudí's death.

So far, we’ve embraced the siesta, embarked on a number of late-night tapas tastings, mastered the art of Spanish cooking and endured a healthy dose of food poisoning – it’s been an eventful week! Our next stop in Spain is the region of La Rioja, famous for its quality Tempranillo grapes, scenic patchwork of vineyard-covered hills, monasteries and quaint medieval villages. With over 600 wineries and 140 000 acres of cultivated land – almost triple the size of Napa Valley – La Rioja is one of the biggest (and least well-known) wine regions in the world. (We hadn't heard of it either, don't worry.)

On first impressions, Briones is a sleepy hilltop town, with a typical medieval layout and panoramic views that stretch for miles. After the buzz of Barcelona, we're more than happy to spend our afternoons sitting in the town square, catching the last of the sun's warmth, as we nibble on croquettes and patatas bravas. It's not until the white storks – perched elegantly in their church tower nest – start up their bill-clattering, drowning out the sound of the clock striking the hour that we realise what the ear plugs on our pillows are for. The gong, gong, clatter-clatter-clatter makes for an unusual symphony!

Sure, we can count to six, ask for the bill, say hello, goodbye, thank you and please, but is our Spanish proficient enough to make a trip to the local market? We're about to find out. Impressed by the deli ticket system, we take a number and patiently wait our turn. We're full of confidence until we realise that we won't know our number when it's called out. Sensing our unease, the lady next to us takes us under our wing, telling us to wait until we hear sesenta y siete. Right, got it. We can do this. 'Adios', she calls, leaving us to it. Mum soon makes a friend, who insists on jabbering away at her in Spanish for the whole 30 minutes that we wait our turn, oblivious to the fact that we can't understand a word. The cashier is all giggles as we point out the produce we require, making cup-like motions with our hands. Si. Mas. Non. Gracias. La quenta, por favor. We don't know if it's our terrible pronunciation or our Aussie twang that gets him, but we're more than happy to go along with the charade, laughing along with him – even if we are the butt of the joke.

Shopping expedition complete, we visit the Vivanco Museum of Wine Culture to learn a thing or two about the art of coopering (making wine barrels), corking bottles and how the region of La Rioja came to fame (when France's vineyards suffered the Great French Wine Blight in the late 1800s). If you're into cork screws, the museum also appears to have the most incredible and extensive collection of wine paraphernalia in the whole Europe (I haven't checked Guinness World Records to substantiate this claim but we were definitely impressed by the vast array of wine-opening devices presented to us during our visit).

When we've had our fill of fine wine, we shove our numerous belongings back into the white wagon and make our way to Madrid, where we make it our mission to learn a thing or two about the history of Spain's monarchy and appreciate the brush strokes of the likes of Velazquez, Goya, Dali and Picasso (also known as the Spanish masters), whose works are housed in the Prado Museum in the centre of the city.

I've already banged on for far too long (my apologies) but do stay tuned for more adventures in Spain, once we've conquered all that Portugal has to offer. With a bit of creativity, I'll try to compress the the history of Spain (also known as the empire where the sun never sets) into fewer than 2000 words.

Adiós! Adéu. Muchas gracias. Moltes gràcies.