Hola from Catalunya!

I slept in until 9, and then we worked out and showered and were having a very pleasant slow morning. About 11 I went down to the front desk to see if my sweater, which I accidentally left in London, had arrived yet. It hadn’t, but there was a large letter instead. It was from Spanish customs and said that we needed to do something to get our box of cruise wear released. I showed it to the front desk, and they had no idea what it meant, but they told me there was an office of the Correos about 2 blocks away, so I took it there. I took a number and waited half an hour for someone to call it. When he did, I used all the Spanish I had to tell him my problem, and he said there was nothing he could do and I should go to the website listed on the form.

So I went back to the hotel and fought with the website, and we eventually figured out that we needed to scan Dave’s passport and the form and upload them to the website. Which we did with the help of Hakim at the front desk. I think it’s not going to work, because I think we also had to send some proof of purchase or something, so basically we spent a huge amount of money shipping the stuff and it’s not going to get here before the ship leaves. So we will probably need to buy some dressy clothes in Barcelona, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I guess. I’m bummed about the loss of Nia wear, though. Actually, I’m bummed about the whole situation, but I’m trying not to be.

Meanwhile Rachel Ritchie, our tour organizer/guide, a British native who has lived in Catalan for 20 years, was coming to the hotel. She parked her orange rental car since I thought she could help with the website but then we were done before she got to the hotel and then we had to walk to the car but then we got the luggage loaded and got in the car and escaped from the parking garage and then things got way better, except it was now almost 12:30 and I hadn’t had anything to eat and I was STARVING.

We drove for about an hour through Barcelona and out into Penedès, which is where most of the cava comes from. On the way Rachel talked about Catalan and its history and all sorts of useful things, including explaining why there are Catalan flags hanging everywhere. Apparently although they are an autonomous region, their taxes go to Madrid and are redistributed from there, unlike the Basque region which keeps its taxes, and there’s talk of secession. Also there are some 4,000 extra police and the equivalent of national guardsmen in Barcelona between now and Nov 9^th, when there may or may not be a vote on separation, but we’re not to let that bother us. Since we practiced that in Paris, we’re feeling prepared.

Meanwhile it was a warm and sunny day and we had lunch at a fabulous little restaurant that is famous for grilled meat. I had a grilled veggie appetizer with romesco sauce that I will remember forever, and not just because I was starving. We also shared a very nice bottle of red wine. Then back into the little orange car and off to Recaredo, a small-to-medium sized cava producer. Their director of international sales gave us the tour, and it was very enjoyable. They are trying to lift the reputation of Cava from a cheap wine to something you’d pay 90 euros for. They are organic and biodynamic, and they use corks both for aging the wine in the bottles while it’s on its lees (at least 5 months, or over 100 for their top of the line stuff) as well as for the finished product. And they do all the riddling and disgorgement by hand, without freezing. We got a demonstration of both those things and it’s very impressive. Also impressive is the sheer number of bottles of cava they have lying around aging – stack after stack after stack. It’s a very different thing from any of the wineries we are used to.

At the end of the street that the winery is on there’s a chocolate manufacturer, so the smells as we walked back to the Orange were delicious. Fortunately we didn’t stop there – we needed to get to the hotel. It was about an hour drive, first along the coast and then into the mountains surrounding the Priorat. It is an absolutely beautiful drive (although I missed some of it due to napping). The part we drove through is famous for its hazelnuts, which is funny since that’s what home is famous for as well. It’s much dryer than Macon, although they had a rainy summer and things are still very green and beautiful.

In Barcelona it’s about half and half Castillan Spanish and Catalana, but in Penedes and out here in the Priorat it’s pretty much exclusively Catalan, although they do speak Spanish very quickly with a heavy accent. So it feels a lot like being in France, where there is a lot of conversing while you wait for the translation. When we got to the hotel the owner’s son was there to let us in and give us our choice of room 2 (small, with balcony) or room 3 (larger, no balcony). We went with balcony. He speaks very good English, but his mother Kima and her partner Paco not so much. Rachel had said they would feed us a light dinner of ham and salad, which is sort of what happened, if you leave out the word light. Jean, the son, had been out gathering mushrooms, so we had a mushroom “carpaccio” as well. And then there was flan for dessert, and there was also wine we had to try. It’s not as bad as Macon, but we’re fuller than we meant to be. On the other hand, how often does this happen?

We will take many pictures tomorrow, because this is a beautiful place. Until then, bona nit from Mas Figueras.

Bonus photo from Macon - we cook together