Castillo de Loarre
We also found this little castle on our way home from Jaca. It was built on an outcropping of stone and stands watching over Aragón. It was a beautiful day in the mountains.
Castillo de Loarre
Tag Archives: environment
The gateway to the Pyrenees
Los Mallos
We drove up into the Pyrenees from Zaragoza. On our way back from the little town of Jaca we came across these fabulous rocks, Los Mallos. (I can’t find a translation.) They are called “La Puerta del Pirineo,” or the Gateway to the Pyrenees. Perfect name!
The Gateway to the Pyrenees
Masterpiece in titanium
Frank Gehry-designed bodega in La Rioja
After seeing architect Frank Gehry’s masterpiece, the Guggenheim-Bilbão, we thought we’d drive by the bodega, or winery, he designed for the Marqués de Riscal winery in La Rioja. We didn’t know the exact location, only that it was in/near the town of Elciego. We wondered if we’d recognize it on a drive-by.
¡Sin duda! (Without a doubt!)
As we descended the hillside into the town of Elciego, there was no mistaking Gehry’s work practically floating in the trees before us. So much more beautiful than the museum! I love the way he worked the titanium to get the purples, pinks, blues, and greens in the “wings.”
In addition to the vineyards and bodega, this winery also has a luxury hotel named for its architect. Lovely spot!
La Rioja
a hilltop village in La Rioja
We passed through the province of La Rioja on our way from the Basque Country to the city of Zaragoza in the province of Aragón. La Rioja is the primary wine region of Spain and produces some excellent wines, in our humble opinions. The countryside reminds me of Il Chianti in Italy.
This happens to be harvest season. We saw many pickers in the vineyards, and every 15 minutes or so passed one of these trailers laden with fresh-picked grapes. Looks like it will be a good season!
El perrito
Puppy, in front of the Guggenheim-Bilbão
This is the cutest vertical garden I’ve ever seen. Designed by artist Jeff Koons, it’s forty feet high and called Puppy.
Cutest little fishing village
Cudillero, Spain
Fodors promised Cudillero is the cutest little fishing village in Asturias. We haven’t seen them all, but they just may be right; we were enchanted and so glad that we waited to make our lunch stop here.
the one and only plaza is the heart of the town
The village virtually tumbles down the hillside into the sea. Loved its vibrant town center with its colorful facades! Fun place to hang out.
the lighthouse and the Atlantic beyond
happy travelers
Tilting at windmills
wind turbines in Asturias
As we drove from Santiago, in the northwest of Spain, along the northern (Atlantic) coast to our next destination, the terrain gradually changed from fogged-in mountains to open, rolling green hills and sunny skies. The landscape reminded me of Switzerland, although without the Alps towering above the foothills, with little stone farmhouses and placid, milky-brown cows tucked into valleys between the hills. To our left (north) we could see a line of steel-blue on the horizon – the ocean. Ahead (east), along the ridges of this increasingly mountainous terrain, a phalanx of wind turbines congregated.
I don’t know what it is about wind turbines that thrills me so much. The most dramatic were the ones we saw in Greece. Greece can be such a dry, barren, and impoverished country in parts; the sight of these colossal machines harvesting the wind’s power left us hopeful that the country was on the right path and just might survive its financial woes.
The wind turbines in Portugal – yet another EU country in need of modernization – were also impressive; the sound of the ginormous blades cutting through the wind at “o fim do mundo” (the end of the world), the tempestuous southwest coast of Europe at São Vicente, was exhilarating.
Don Quixote and his sidekick, Pancho Sanza
But in Spain, these dynamos give an entirely different sensation. I can’t help but think of the beloved Spanish literary character, Don Quixote, and wonder what he would make of them. Much sleeker, taller, and awe-inspiring than the squat little plugs of windmills in his day, would these have been as threatening to him – or more so?
I don’t know about Don Quixote, but when we drove round a bend and suddenly found ourselves in the midst of them, I felt the urge to reach for my lance. Instead, I grabbed my camera and tried in vain to capture their majesty. These gentle giants, rather than responding to the wind, seemed to be moving their magnificent arms of their own volition, waving us through the pass with approval and on to further adventures.
Galicia: granite and grapes
granite posts support the fence around this home-grown vineyard
Galicia is so rich in granite and talented stonemasons that everything is made of granite – the houses, the barns, even the fence posts. We love how so many houses, even in the towns, have their own little vineyards in the backyard. This is albariño country, the delicious white wine that Galicia, especially Cambados where we had lunch, is known for.
Café radar
café on Illa de Arousa
I have pretty good restaurant radar – I can sense from the atmosphere of a place and the menu if it is going to be good, and it’s usually accurate. Marcus has been perfecting his café radar. (We all have to start somewhere!)
After our fantastic lunch in Cambados, we drove over the causeway to the island of Arousa (in the Ría Arousa). We stopped at a beautiful little beach, and Marcus spotted this café run by a young family. It was the perfect pick-me-up before we headed back to Santiago. The sun felt so good!
Wonderful day in Cambados
Cambados, España
After two straight days of pouring rain and gusting winds, we couldn’t stand being indoors one more day. Thursday promised to be partially sunny, at least on the coast, so we blew our popsicle stand in Santiago and headed toward the sunshine.
I had chosen the little town of Cambados for our escapade and ran it by our host. Yes, we couldn’t do better for a scenic village on one of the Rías Baixas, the estuaries that interlace the fingers of land reaching into the Atlantic Ocean on the western coast of Galicia, the little part of Spain that juts out over Portugal. We practically ran to the car.
I just have to interject here, for the practical traveler, that there are no public restrooms in Spain. If you feel the urge, you need to go into a cafe, bar, or restaurante. And, according to the guide books, you are obligated either to buy something when you use their facilities or leave a tip on the plate at the bar. Never having seen a tip plate on the bar, we always feel compelled to buy something – and it’s usually liquid, which kind of defeats the original purpose of visiting the establishment.
chocolate con churros (with someone’s beer and jamón in the photo)
Regardless, we had had an hour’s drive to Cambados, post-morning coffee, so we ducked into a little chocolatería/churrería near where we parked. This was my chance to taste (hot) chocolate with churros. Chocolate competes with a good Rioja wine or perhaps a Basque cider for the national drink. It’s so thick, you have to have it with churros (if you haven’t had them in the U.S., think fried dough put through a Play-doh extruder) to wipe out your cup. Delicious!
El Rincón de Tío Paco
Although the weather had improved as we headed west, there was still a threat of rain out over the ocean. We walked along the Paseo Marítimo (path along the water) when we arrived and were disappointed not to see women digging for clams, despite the low tide. (Gwyneth Paltrow’s favorite experience on her gastronomic road trip through Spain with Mario Batali.) We felt sprinkles and looked for a place to duck into for lunch. Nada. But my restaurant radar was on, and I sensed better opportunities ahead – a red awning. El Rincón de Tío Paco (Uncle Paco’s Hideout). They had a cart out front with the catch of the day, and I was in the mood for mussels and a good albariño, the best white wine in Spain. Coincidentally (or not), Cambados is the heart of albariño country.
mejillones
We spoke to José. Yes, they have mejillones (mussels), but he recommended the zambariñas (bay scallops). Great! We’ll have both with a salad and a couple of glasses of albariño.
zambariñas
We sat outside on the terrazza, the sun came out, and we had a view of palm trees with the ocean beyond and the most amazing meal so far in Spain. The mussels were good (the largest I’ve ever eaten and bright orange!), but the scallops were absolutely amazing. And the wine…. Well, let’s just chalk this one up as a good day.