On Wednesday another light but lovely last breakfast at L’Hort de Sant Cebria, with a renewed blue and sunny sky, before we bid adios to Jordi and Juan Carlos. We were headed for our last coastal ride, with time for one last beach town stop before hitting the big city, Barcelona -- but not before Steve spent ten minutes in the parking lot crazy glueing the tailight back only to realize that we had definitely left a piece or two back in that parking lot in Girona. So much for fooling Hertz!
After reading and much debate, I choose Tossa de Mar, mostly at random from the photos of the 11th century walled city literally sitting a walkable ramp up from the beach. Traffic was light, parking was NOT complete, and was right across from the beach.
Though early and not yet really warm, maybe it was 65 or 68 degrees, there were plenty of sunbathers in bikinis lying on rented loungers with umbrellas.
We sat on the beach at a cafe for our coffee stop and then climbed up the ramp, which somehow though steep was engineered to be easy on the legs, to the walled city. Just inside the entry gate is Ava Gardner plaza with a statue of her and a plaque honoring her for filming here in 1950, in a film I never saw or even heard of.
But it must have been quite the event (Frank Sinatra pursued her here) in this small beachside town, for there are even stores with Ava brand shoes and other mementos. A lot like the small west coast Mexican beach town made famous by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in the 50s.
By the time we got back down to the shopping streets, the tourists had started to arrive in droves making us a bit less sad we weren’t booking into a hotel for a few beach days but also marking this town in our ‘places to return’ list for sure. Continuing down the coast we ambled through all of the other beach towns. Most were more 'Wildwoodish', filled with lots of two and three star large hotels in less than pristine condition,advertising discos til dawn, and casinos too. We had defintiely chosen our one short beach stop wisely.
Onto the big city. Time for some real sights, some big crowds and insane traffic.
As we followed the GPS to the last turn to our hotel, well, it was either a one way the wrong way, or a no vehicles allowed street, we couldn’t really tell what the guy stopping us was saying. Backing out, we went up, down and around with Steve not so patiently asking me to find a different way there on my phone and me just staring at the phone blankly. Yes, there was a bit of shouting, words like ‘just tell me where to drive’ and my old standby ‘you know I can’t navigate, yes, your job IS to do all of the driving and read the map - mine is to plan the trip’. Turns out our GPS wasn’t wrong, we just missed the street that was about three feet before our wrong turn. Pulling up to the front door, where there was no place to pull over and unload, so just stopping traffic, I hopped out to get a bellman.
Steve’s plan was to let me out with all the luggage and I would check in while he drove to the airport to drop the car and jumped on a bus back to town. I told him to text me when he was on the bus and I would text him the room number and were I was, etc.
At check in there appeared to be a glitch with Steve’s passport but I was already sipping my welcome cava so I didn’t mind waiting as they tried again, and again, finally realizing the problem: the internet was down. In the entire hotel. Which made it impossible to issue the key to my room, which would be ready in an hour. But there was a rooftop bar and lounge and swimming pool so I headed up to relax and wait.
Coming out of the elevator, the first view is the spires of the Catedral, very dramatic indeed, and a ready confirmation you are in the old quarter of Barcelona. The chairs were comfy, the sun shining and I easily passed the hour with the latest book on my Kindle.
At 3:00 I headed to the lobby and though the internet was not fixed, they were able to let me into my room, where to show my kindness to Steve for what I assumed could only be a trafficky drive to the airport and a Hertz hassle, I unpacked all of our things so he could relax when he got here. I headed back to the desk to tell them I would be on the rooftop, and to please look out for Steve. I described him as wearing a white shirt and jeans with gray hair and sunglasses.The receptionist laughed and said that described at least half the men walking through the door. I leaned in and said, and I quote, ‘Yes, but he’s really cute!’. And she laughed. ‘And’, I said, ‘make sure you give him a glass of cava!’
I knew Steve would be extra frustrated because he probably texted me a couple of times with no response. This is one of his regular complaints about me. He doesn’t call or text me often when I am out but since many days I am in Yoga class and forget to unsilence my phone, I do seem to miss three out of four of his messages. Finally I realized that maybe if I went out of the hotel I could pick up a signal. I did and sure enough there were texts from Steve, the last one of which implored me to at least respond that I got his text! By 4:00, with Hertz marking the returned car as not damaged (we will see what happens later), we were on the rooftop, drinks in hand and some olives and smoked mussels on our plate, all aggravation forgotten.
We went out walking, stopping for views and street music, the TI, some pinchos and just strolling through a very alive but relaxed city. It is what makes Europe so unique and so unlike anyplace in the States. It really is the way cities should be, lots of pedestrian areas, safe and full of life at all hours. For dinner, our friend Joan, who was very recently here, recommended a small place a short 6 minute walk away called Elsa & Freds, tapas of course. We could only get a 10:15 reservation but, what the hell, when in Rome.....or when in Barcelona.
The place was cosy and casual, just perfect for a night when we wanted a small meal and couldn’t wait to get in pjs and go to sleep. We had cod stuffed piquillo peppers, tuna tartare and squid ink fritters. I wish we were hungrier and could have eaten more. But Steve was tired, he couldn’t even finish his one beer! I think tomorrow we will go for an easy relaxing day, maybe Barceloneta!
PS - Again with slow or no internet, I keep writing (otherwise I might forget) and Steve keeps photoing, but publishing it is challenging. It is already Thursday morning and still no internet at the hotel so who knows when this will all make it to the web.
After reading and much debate, I choose Tossa de Mar, mostly at random from the photos of the 11th century walled city literally sitting a walkable ramp up from the beach. Traffic was light, parking was NOT complete, and was right across from the beach.
Though early and not yet really warm, maybe it was 65 or 68 degrees, there were plenty of sunbathers in bikinis lying on rented loungers with umbrellas.
We sat on the beach at a cafe for our coffee stop and then climbed up the ramp, which somehow though steep was engineered to be easy on the legs, to the walled city. Just inside the entry gate is Ava Gardner plaza with a statue of her and a plaque honoring her for filming here in 1950, in a film I never saw or even heard of.
But it must have been quite the event (Frank Sinatra pursued her here) in this small beachside town, for there are even stores with Ava brand shoes and other mementos. A lot like the small west coast Mexican beach town made famous by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in the 50s. 
By the time we got back down to the shopping streets, the tourists had started to arrive in droves making us a bit less sad we weren’t booking into a hotel for a few beach days but also marking this town in our ‘places to return’ list for sure. Continuing down the coast we ambled through all of the other beach towns. Most were more 'Wildwoodish', filled with lots of two and three star large hotels in less than pristine condition,advertising discos til dawn, and casinos too. We had defintiely chosen our one short beach stop wisely.
Onto the big city. Time for some real sights, some big crowds and insane traffic.
As we followed the GPS to the last turn to our hotel, well, it was either a one way the wrong way, or a no vehicles allowed street, we couldn’t really tell what the guy stopping us was saying. Backing out, we went up, down and around with Steve not so patiently asking me to find a different way there on my phone and me just staring at the phone blankly. Yes, there was a bit of shouting, words like ‘just tell me where to drive’ and my old standby ‘you know I can’t navigate, yes, your job IS to do all of the driving and read the map - mine is to plan the trip’. Turns out our GPS wasn’t wrong, we just missed the street that was about three feet before our wrong turn. Pulling up to the front door, where there was no place to pull over and unload, so just stopping traffic, I hopped out to get a bellman.
Steve’s plan was to let me out with all the luggage and I would check in while he drove to the airport to drop the car and jumped on a bus back to town. I told him to text me when he was on the bus and I would text him the room number and were I was, etc.
At check in there appeared to be a glitch with Steve’s passport but I was already sipping my welcome cava so I didn’t mind waiting as they tried again, and again, finally realizing the problem: the internet was down. In the entire hotel. Which made it impossible to issue the key to my room, which would be ready in an hour. But there was a rooftop bar and lounge and swimming pool so I headed up to relax and wait.
Coming out of the elevator, the first view is the spires of the Catedral, very dramatic indeed, and a ready confirmation you are in the old quarter of Barcelona. The chairs were comfy, the sun shining and I easily passed the hour with the latest book on my Kindle.
At 3:00 I headed to the lobby and though the internet was not fixed, they were able to let me into my room, where to show my kindness to Steve for what I assumed could only be a trafficky drive to the airport and a Hertz hassle, I unpacked all of our things so he could relax when he got here. I headed back to the desk to tell them I would be on the rooftop, and to please look out for Steve. I described him as wearing a white shirt and jeans with gray hair and sunglasses.The receptionist laughed and said that described at least half the men walking through the door. I leaned in and said, and I quote, ‘Yes, but he’s really cute!’. And she laughed. ‘And’, I said, ‘make sure you give him a glass of cava!’
 |
| Steve, looking particularly handsome... |
I knew Steve would be extra frustrated because he probably texted me a couple of times with no response. This is one of his regular complaints about me. He doesn’t call or text me often when I am out but since many days I am in Yoga class and forget to unsilence my phone, I do seem to miss three out of four of his messages. Finally I realized that maybe if I went out of the hotel I could pick up a signal. I did and sure enough there were texts from Steve, the last one of which implored me to at least respond that I got his text! By 4:00, with Hertz marking the returned car as not damaged (we will see what happens later), we were on the rooftop, drinks in hand and some olives and smoked mussels on our plate, all aggravation forgotten.
We went out walking, stopping for views and street music, the TI, some pinchos and just strolling through a very alive but relaxed city. It is what makes Europe so unique and so unlike anyplace in the States. It really is the way cities should be, lots of pedestrian areas, safe and full of life at all hours. For dinner, our friend Joan, who was very recently here, recommended a small place a short 6 minute walk away called Elsa & Freds, tapas of course. We could only get a 10:15 reservation but, what the hell, when in Rome.....or when in Barcelona.
PS - Again with slow or no internet, I keep writing (otherwise I might forget) and Steve keeps photoing, but publishing it is challenging. It is already Thursday morning and still no internet at the hotel so who knows when this will all make it to the web.
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