As I had suspected, the buffet breakfast was sumptuous and delicious, though we had time for only one cup of coffee, a bit of cheese and a croissant before we had to head to Portilligat, 45 minutes away on the coast, for our 10:30 timed tickets to Salvador Dali’s house tour. Everyday I love our GPS Hertz wifi hotspot even more as we get to our destinations with not one wrong turn or missing a sign, or more important, argument.
Learning our lesson about parking in Coullierres on Sunday, we pulled into the first lot we saw and walked the extra half a kilometer just to be sure. Following signs and turning down a steep driveway, you arrive at a small beach of fishing boats and a kind of non-descript white house.
At your appointed time you are ushered into the house, ten visitors at a time, along with a guide fluent in every language needed.
I think I expected the house to look crazy, maybe with furniture dripping over windows or clocks dripping down the wall. But instead the furniture was antique and the architecture determined in part by the acquisition over time of seven separate fisherman houses converted into one residence with additions.
The decor was a bit over the top, colorful, with winding stairs providing great seaviews. Dali even had a mirror installed in the lower level of his bedroom, facing the sea at just such an angle so that upon waking in the morning he could lay in bed and see the sunrise. His studio showed his ingenuity where he built a mechanical easel, about 15’ wide and 12’ tall on a steel frame that could be lowered or raised so that Dali could paint large canvases sitting in his chair and never have to use a ladder or squat.
The terraces and gardens were lovely and the swimming pool area quite Daliesque.
And yes, there are two large eggs on the top of the house. The documentary had interesting footage of Dali when he was young, before the crazy moustache, and he was movie star handsome!
The tour got a B, or B-, but since Portilligat is right next to Cadaques, our next stop, and not out of the way, we were glad we went. Cadaques is a smallish fishing village/town of white houses with red tile roofs cascading down the hill to the sea. And it is where months ago Steve booked a table for lunch at Le Compartir, a non Michelin star restaurant of a chef who has a two star Michelin in Barcelona.
We were seated at a table on the terrace and immediately faced the dilemna of whether or not to order the tasting menu. Steve loves to do this but no matter how small the courses are, ten courses and three desserts are just too much, as well as the 70 Euro per person plus wine cost.
But aside from too much to eat and too much to pay, I was eyeing the food being served at the table next to us. The two men were speaking French but clearly talking about how delicious their plate of sardines with oranges, carrot curls, mandarin foam and basil oil was. Impromptu, one of the men leaned over to tell us, in perfect English, that we simply had to order this dish.
That began the conversation, stopped and started through five or six dishes and a bottle of wine. Ken, the one who spoke perfect English was from......North Jersey!
He has been living in France for 30 years and was in Cadaques for the day with his partner Francis and their two dogs after celebrating his ex-wifes 60th birthday in Begur the night before.
Both men were handsome, Ken in a older guy (age 63) gray hair - blue eyes movie-star kind of way, and Francis in an older man, oh-so-French and gay striped shirt and big jewelry kind of way.
Ken actually was a part time actor with a 2019 film to his credit (yes, we googled him and will watch his likely very bad zombie horror film ‘The Barn’ when we get home). And Francis looked oh-so-like the older Robin Williams a la Cage Au Folles.
We had a great time talking about travel and politics, both US and French and before the coffee was finished we had been invited to visit them in Bourgogne next time we are in France where they have a lovely guesthouse at our disposal. Glad we live in Santa Fe and have a casita so we can offer to reciprocate!
Bellies satiated, we headed to the water for a boat ride along the coast, up to the lighthouse, past Dali’s house again and in and out of coves, a bit windy and cool but a boat ride nonetheless. It was now almost 5:30 and I was ready to pack it in and go home, sit by the pool and read a book, but Jordie had told Steve about a must-see spot, an 11th century monastary on top of a mountain with spectacular views and a magical feel. Steve was in and since I am only the passenger, I went along for the ride.
THE RIDE......A CRAZY DANGEROUS MULTI-HAIRPIN TURN RIDE ALMOST STRAIGHT UP FROM THE SEA TO 2,000 FEET. It is one of those rides that on a map looks like a tightly wound spring for 15 kilometers (10 miles). On the plus side there were guardrails.
On the minus side there were, at times, cars coming down taking a bit more than their side of the road and bicyclers headed up we needed to avoid. Good thing we didn’t have both at the same time. We finally got to the parking, about 1/2 mile from the Abbey and at 6:30 pm we were only one of two cars there. Our guidebook said the abbey was closed on Mondays, as are most things in this region, but oddly, around here things are open on holidays and it was a Catalan/Barcelona holiday.
We started the walk and got more than halfway when we realized it looked deserted so we simply enjoyed the view of the ruined facade against the sky tumbling down steep lush mountsins to the sea, all in one eyesview. It was magical. Jordi was right. Luckily the drive home was on an easier road except for encountering the unexpected bull, cows, and cute calves all over the roadway on the way down.
Finally home at 7:45 I was content to sit in salon with olives and wine, but Steve was in the mood for a bit of diner. Jordi and Juan Carlos were out, we were now the only guests and so there was no one to ask what might be open. We ended up in the next town, mostly African and Arabic immigrants working the local fields, at a rotisserie chicken joint enjoying the super crispy spicy chicken skin and a Coke Zero. So you see, not everyday is a two cava bottle day in Spain, just most! Adios, nos vemos.
Learning our lesson about parking in Coullierres on Sunday, we pulled into the first lot we saw and walked the extra half a kilometer just to be sure. Following signs and turning down a steep driveway, you arrive at a small beach of fishing boats and a kind of non-descript white house.
At your appointed time you are ushered into the house, ten visitors at a time, along with a guide fluent in every language needed.
The decor was a bit over the top, colorful, with winding stairs providing great seaviews. Dali even had a mirror installed in the lower level of his bedroom, facing the sea at just such an angle so that upon waking in the morning he could lay in bed and see the sunrise. His studio showed his ingenuity where he built a mechanical easel, about 15’ wide and 12’ tall on a steel frame that could be lowered or raised so that Dali could paint large canvases sitting in his chair and never have to use a ladder or squat.
The terraces and gardens were lovely and the swimming pool area quite Daliesque.
And yes, there are two large eggs on the top of the house. The documentary had interesting footage of Dali when he was young, before the crazy moustache, and he was movie star handsome!
 |
| Steve sitting next to Dali’s pool |
The tour got a B, or B-, but since Portilligat is right next to Cadaques, our next stop, and not out of the way, we were glad we went. Cadaques is a smallish fishing village/town of white houses with red tile roofs cascading down the hill to the sea. And it is where months ago Steve booked a table for lunch at Le Compartir, a non Michelin star restaurant of a chef who has a two star Michelin in Barcelona.
We were seated at a table on the terrace and immediately faced the dilemna of whether or not to order the tasting menu. Steve loves to do this but no matter how small the courses are, ten courses and three desserts are just too much, as well as the 70 Euro per person plus wine cost.
But aside from too much to eat and too much to pay, I was eyeing the food being served at the table next to us. The two men were speaking French but clearly talking about how delicious their plate of sardines with oranges, carrot curls, mandarin foam and basil oil was. Impromptu, one of the men leaned over to tell us, in perfect English, that we simply had to order this dish.
He has been living in France for 30 years and was in Cadaques for the day with his partner Francis and their two dogs after celebrating his ex-wifes 60th birthday in Begur the night before.
Both men were handsome, Ken in a older guy (age 63) gray hair - blue eyes movie-star kind of way, and Francis in an older man, oh-so-French and gay striped shirt and big jewelry kind of way.
Ken actually was a part time actor with a 2019 film to his credit (yes, we googled him and will watch his likely very bad zombie horror film ‘The Barn’ when we get home). And Francis looked oh-so-like the older Robin Williams a la Cage Au Folles.
Bellies satiated, we headed to the water for a boat ride along the coast, up to the lighthouse, past Dali’s house again and in and out of coves, a bit windy and cool but a boat ride nonetheless. It was now almost 5:30 and I was ready to pack it in and go home, sit by the pool and read a book, but Jordie had told Steve about a must-see spot, an 11th century monastary on top of a mountain with spectacular views and a magical feel. Steve was in and since I am only the passenger, I went along for the ride.
THE RIDE......A CRAZY DANGEROUS MULTI-HAIRPIN TURN RIDE ALMOST STRAIGHT UP FROM THE SEA TO 2,000 FEET. It is one of those rides that on a map looks like a tightly wound spring for 15 kilometers (10 miles). On the plus side there were guardrails.
On the minus side there were, at times, cars coming down taking a bit more than their side of the road and bicyclers headed up we needed to avoid. Good thing we didn’t have both at the same time. We finally got to the parking, about 1/2 mile from the Abbey and at 6:30 pm we were only one of two cars there. Our guidebook said the abbey was closed on Mondays, as are most things in this region, but oddly, around here things are open on holidays and it was a Catalan/Barcelona holiday.
We started the walk and got more than halfway when we realized it looked deserted so we simply enjoyed the view of the ruined facade against the sky tumbling down steep lush mountsins to the sea, all in one eyesview. It was magical. Jordi was right. Luckily the drive home was on an easier road except for encountering the unexpected bull, cows, and cute calves all over the roadway on the way down.
Finally home at 7:45 I was content to sit in salon with olives and wine, but Steve was in the mood for a bit of diner. Jordi and Juan Carlos were out, we were now the only guests and so there was no one to ask what might be open. We ended up in the next town, mostly African and Arabic immigrants working the local fields, at a rotisserie chicken joint enjoying the super crispy spicy chicken skin and a Coke Zero. So you see, not everyday is a two cava bottle day in Spain, just most! Adios, nos vemos.
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