Costa Brava, Spain's Wild Coast

8 AM. Sunrise from our hotel balcony in Aiguablava.

During our travels in Europe we have spent a lot of time in Spain. We lived for a month in Alicante (twice!), visited Valencia, and, of course, have spent the last six Christmases in Seville, and have explored the cities of Andalusia.

But Spain is big; we are always discovering new places. Two summers back we spent a fantastic four weeks in the mountains of northern Spain. And now we have returned from exploring another area new to us, the Costa Brava, the "wild coast" of Spain north of Barcelona.

(Yes, brava means "wild," not "brave." That gives a whole new meaning to the name of the traditional Spanish dish Patatas Bravas; not brave, but wild potatoes—a reference, I assume, to the spices, and not so much the behavior of the potatoes.)

Daytime view from our balcony. This chapel intrigued us to no end. Turns out it is all private property.

The Costa Brava is only a 2-1/2 hour drive from where we live; surprisingly close. We left home in the morning, arrived on the Spanish coast, and still had time to explore before heading to our hotel. Of primary interest was the archaeological site at Empúries in the northern reaches of the Costa Brava, not far from the French border.

The luscious-looking town of L'Escala, which we did not visit.

Ah Greek ruins from 500 BCE! That's more like it!

Excavation of more Greek ruins, with a view of the sea.

The Greeks built a small but thriving community here in 575 BCE; 360 years later the Romans arrived and built quite an extensive city a bit further inland. In more recent times a modern city has grown up near them, L'Escala. Although we did not visit, it looked fabulous across the bay of deep blue water.

This looks very much like an oven. Part of the Roman ruins.

Site of the Roman agora, main square, with some reconstructions.

The museum at Empúries.

Roman glass from the 1st century CE.

Roman figurines. Love the articulated arms and legs on the little doll!

Paula glances back at the old Roman wall as we leave Empúries.

After touring Empúries for a bit, and visiting the museum, we continued down the coast to our hotel in Aiguablava, an area recommended by a French couple we know who had visited it recently. We were very glad for their recommendation!

Inlet to the cove at Aiguablava. That's the Mediterranean out there!

        Aiguablava

It was surprisingly quiet around Aiguablava (well, ok, this was October, at the very end of tourist season). There is no commercial center, only two hotels with restaurants. One was right on the water and very pricy; ours was across the road; from our third-floor room we had a fine view of the sea, and the sunrise.

Aiguablava's tiny marina. That's pretty much all of it...

The cove at Aiguablava. Off on the right is a good swimming beach. We walked there... it seems close, but there's a lot of up-and-down!

Aiguablava sits on an inlet from the Mediterranean. It has a tiny marina, and several large houses that looked very much like resorts, but discreet; very discreet. There were no signs of welcome, nothing advertising names and phone numbers. I don't know how one would book a room; it seems this falls in that category of if you have to ask, you can't afford it. We didn't ask; we were pleased with our room a short walk up the hill.

Looking out towards the Sea from the cove. Is that red building a residence, or a guest house? No way to tell...

    Aiguablava

Aiguablava has a quiet beauty that really drew us in. Much of the coast shares this same rugged beauty, with steep cliffs, high rocks, and tiny coves, and the occasional small, isolated beach. And, there is a hiking trail, the Cami de Ronda, that runs along the coast, connecting these coves with the nearby towns. (It is part of the GR92 that will eventually run along the entire Mediterranean coast of Spain, from the French border to Spain's southernmost tip.)

The "Camí de Ronda," part of the GR92, a hiking trail along Spain's Mediterranean coast..

Seen from the trail. Near Calella de Palafrugell.

We wanted to sample the GR92 in various places as we had sampled the trails around the Bay of Morbihan in Brittany last summer. But the Costa Brava is very rugged, as in very. Much of it is steep; steep going up, steep coming back down. And long stretches follow the roads in nearby towns, as there is no room along the shore for even a narrow trail.

The coast here has a real Big Sur vibe.

Nice, wide trail complete with tunnels!

We were thrilled by the parts we were able to follow, though, and often found it resembling California's majestic Big Sur.

Finally we arrive at at tiny narrow beach.

The town of Calella de Palafrugell seen from the trail.

While the coast is the main attraction, there are several towns inland that we wanted to visit.

Begur

Begur is a pleasant village, home to about 4,000 permanent residents. We're told the population swells to 10 times that in the summer; glad we weren't there then!

A typical narrow street in Bergur.

The lady with a cigar (an ad for a cigar store, I think) is reminiscent of Cuba, and the "Indies" houses.

A unique feature of this town are the "Indies" houses. The 19th century had a number of economic crises, and some adventurous individuals left Begur for the New World, to Spain's colony on Cuba. Many of them prospered, and returned some years later. They had done well, and so built magnificent houses for themselves and their families. 

An "Indies house," built by a returning emigrant with proceeds from time spent in Cuba.

Another Indies house. But what's inside those arcades?

The name "Indies" comes from Columbus' initial mistake of thinking he'd found India when he'd actually landed in what today is known as the island of San Salvador in the Bahamas. Somehow all of Spain's subsequent discoveries in the region were referred to as the Indies!

Castel de Begur, a 16th century fortress. Great views of the countryside from up there!

Pals

After Begur we had time to visit this beautiful medieval village. It's located on the top of a hill and was built around a 12th century fortress. It's name comes from Latin palus, which means marshy ground, as it was surrounded by ponds and marshes. It is a gastronomic heaven with many festivals themed around it vast rice producing industry.

A picturesque winding street in the medieval town of Pals.

A courtyard in Pals. Sticking from the wall is an early street lamp: it held burning logs to light the street.
That's Torre de las Horas (Tower of the Hours) in the background.

So charming!

Roses

On our travels we are always on the lookout for standing stones and other megalithic structures. Brittany is loaded with sites (we talk about them in this blog); Ireland and England also have many (Stonehenge being the most dramatic, and the most famous). While we'd never heard of standing stones in Spain, it was hardly a surprise that there are some here (I mean, Spain has so much of everything!)

So, on our last day on the Costa Brava we went north to the town of Roses to see several structures, both menhirs (vertical stones) and dolmens (flat stones resting on stone walls or pillars).

The Dolmen de la Creu d'en Cobertella. Some 6000 years old, it's a bit out of town, near Roses.

Roses seems a pleasant town, although we were stunned at the number of boat dealers and showrooms we passed. You'd think they didn't sell boats anywhere else on the Costa Brava! But our interest was, for once, not near the water but up in the highlands, in the hills surrounding the town.

Another dolmen, this one in the hills above Roses.

This one is known as Llit de Generala, also in the hills!

We'd found waypoints (GPS locations) for some dolmens, and we dutifully followed the GPS in our car up and up through increasingly steep and winding streets to what I guess we could call the edge of town: the precarious houses suddenly stopped as the land flattened out at a protected area, a park to preserve these ancient structures.  

Paul with the Menhir de la Casa Cremada. (Yeah, they have names!)

We spent a hour or so hiking along the well-defined paths that connected the scattered menhirs and dolmens, aware that we were on our way home and did not have all day to linger. We finally turned and headed back to the car in the company of groups of students.

We could not help wishing that we could have taken a field trip this great while in high school!

The both of us in front of the menhir.

After returning the car we spent a few minutes admiring the fantastic views. 

The city of Roses and it's extensive gulf; Paula contemplates where we've been.

Once we had wound our way back down the twisting streets we were soon on our way to the Autoroute, the high-speed toll road back north. We did stop to get gas; for some reason fuel in Spain its about 20% less than in France. Then we hit the highway and were home before dark.

                Hasta luego!

The Far de Sant Sebastia.This 19th century lighthouse has fantastic views out to sea, 
Photo by Paula

What We Did On the Way to London... and Back.

Flamingos at the Parc Ornithologique

 OK, we've been to London and back. Now let's catch up a little.

Alan and Sue arrived in Montpellier a good week before we all left for London. What did we do for that week? Well, before we left...

Sue had expressed a desire to visit a "typical" French town. We couldn't think of any place more typical that Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. We'd been there a number before and always found it charming. Plus it is near Les Baux and the Carrières de Lumiéres, the light and sound show held inside a gigantic former quarry. Again, we had been here before—that's how we knew they'd like it!  (The last part of this blog is about our first time at the Lumiéres, and this one tells of a more recent visit.) 

Our breakfast area at the hotel Le Mas des Tourterelles

Paula found us another great hotel that fully represented the charm of the region (Le Mas des Tourterelles). It was more of a bed-and-breakfast place, small, in a country-like setting, but only a 10 minute walk from the center of this small town. We toasted our arrival with a bottle of wine under the arbor in front of our rooms and went out to find a nice place for dinner. It was a Monday, a day when restaurants are traditionally closed, so finding something open was challenging. We walked the darkened streets, passing charming and classic and cute restaurants, all closed. We did finally succeed, though, and had a great dinner. We then wound our way through the darkened empty streets, and finally settled in our rooms.

Our rooms.

A tremendous storm descended during the night. I remember awaking to the sound of rain torrents and the flash of lightning. Intense, although we all seemed to sleep just fine. When I got up the next morning (and I'm usually the first one up) I took a quick tour. There was no damage, but I was astonished to see that the wine glasses we'd emptied the night before were now almost filled, with rain water! It must have really poured.

Are the glasses half full? No, three quarters!
(But that ashtray—really full!)

We wandered the streets the next morning, the weather now pleasant and the air scrubbed clean, enjoying the atmosphere as we explored the shops and galleries. We visited the house where Nostradamus was born, and considered taking the mile-long walk to the sanitarium where Vincent van Gogh stayed for a year (1889-90). Time was short, though, as we had tickets for the Carrières de Lumiéres in Les Baux, about 20 minutes away. 

One of the narrow shopping streets of St-Rémy.

Sue and Alan check an art gallery while a stranger looks on.

A quiet spot. Note the classic periwinkle blue of the shutters

We reluctantly left this pleasant burg and drove over steep, winding hills to the quarry at Les Baux. Although crowded, we quickly found a parking spot (we'd been here before!) and walked the short distance to the Carrières de Lumiéres entrance.

A scene from the Carrières de Lumiéres show on ancient Egypt.

The theme of this show was ancient Egypt. I didn't think it was as good as some others we'd seen (like with a lot of things, nothing will ever match the wonder and surprise of that first time!). But still, it's impossible not to be impressed by the huge bright images projected on those massive walls. At one point we felt like we actually were in an ancient Egyptian temple.

After the show we considered visiting the old town of Les Baux. Paula and I had been there before (several times!), but were happy to accompany our friends. Except, the day was beginning to feel complete. We decided that getting back to Montpellier sounded pretty good. And as it was still early we could take the long way home and cruise through the Camargue, maybe stop at a different ancient village, one closer to sea level.

On the way home we passed the city of Aigues-Mortes with its 13th century walls, pretty much unchanged since Luis IX (Saint Luis) built them. This city, on the shore of the Mediterranean when it was built, was the port from which Luis left for his last two Crusades. We admired the walls from the car as we drove past. Rather than stopping we continued on to the salt refinery a few kilometers down the road, where we saw the huge mountain of white crystals awaiting further refinement and packaging. This area has been producing salt since at least the Middle Ages, and is still at it: the salt we get at our local grocery store was once part of that huge mountain. (And I like that connection to 13th-century Aigues-Mortes!)

The 13th-century walls of Aigues-Mortes.

        The Camargue and the Parc Ornithologique

The Camargue, the delta at the mouth of the Rhone River, is a very special area. As with the land around most river mouths, the Camargue is low and swampy. It is famed for its white horses, black bulls, and pink flamingos. And the mosquitoes (which are well represented all along the low-lying coast here). Oh, let's not forget the cowboys, Les Guardians, riding the white horses and herding the black bulls with their long, trident-tipped staffs. 

There's a lot of tradition packed into this place!

The Camargue (in this view, without horses, bulls, or flamingos...)

Even today, after decades of development, the Camargue is still mostly empty. Oh, there's vineyards—this is France, after all. And a particular type of rice grows well there. The bulls and horses no longer roam free, although have certainly not disappeared.... but there's always the flamingos, coming and going (and staying!).

While it's possible, even common, to see flamingos all along the coast here, they really come into their own at the ornithological park. We have been there before, but this time around we had a bonus: Sue and Alan are avid birders; they could show us what we'd always missed!

Paula got this great shot of flamingos on the wing.

With a total area of 60 hectares (150 acres) we knew we would not run out of room. We strolled along (some of) the 17 km of trails, stopping often to watch the flamingos. It's quite stunning to see masses of them in the water, mostly just standing on one skinny leg with their heads under their wings. Along the shore there's always a few moving slowly on those long legs, with their head upside down in the water, as they stir up the mud to find whatever it is they eat. 

A kind of shrimp, apparently; the color of the shrimp is what gives color to the birds' wings. Well, that and the algae. (Actually, it's the algae that gives color to the shrimp, too!)

Paul tries--unsuccessfully--to get a video shot.
Sue looks on... and laughs?

Héron cendré—a grey heron, minding its own business.

Seeing these birds always puts me in mind of the flamingos in "Alice in Wonderland," where those heads and large beaks served as mallets to wack the ball (a hedgehog, as I recall). They do look a bit silly.

Until you see them in the air, where they are quite lovely. That bulbous head (mostly beak, really) on its long neck is balanced by the long thin legs trailing behind. And the contrasts between the white body and the dark orange wings with their black trailing edge is a wonderful thing.

Another of Paula's great aerial shots. Striking coloration!

Sue called this a blue-legged Avocet, although it has a pretty great name in French:  Avocette élégante 

After a couple of hours of such intense aviary activity we were ready for lunch, so we made our way a few km down the road to Saints-Maries-de-la Mer, a coastal town reputed for the Gypsy festival that occurs every May. Roma people from all over Europe come for a week-long celebration of music and shared meals, a sort of gathering of the tribes. 

We were there for the festival in 2016, and found we were mostly ignored—this was an event of, by and for the Romas. A return a few years ago showed that now it's become quite the tourist attraction. While the Romas still mostly ignore the tourists (although there's always someone willing to entertain the tourists for some coin), the huge crowds make getting around—and in and out of town—difficult. 

This traffic circle leading to Saints-Maries-de-la-Mer is decorated with the emblem of the Camargue, with its three powerful symbols: the heart, the anchor, and the cross.
Oh, and the trident tips, a nod to Les Guardians, the Camargue cowboys.
(From Google street view)

But this time we were there at the end of the tourist season, long after the Romas—and most of the tourists—had left. It was quiet and mostly unremarkable, but we had a nice lunch and walked on the beach before heading home.

And then we went to London.

But you probably already know that; in case you don't, you can read all about that trip here.

        Colmar, Strasbourg, and Le Grand Est

Well, so. On the way back from London Paula and I, not wishing to rush straight back to Montpellier, made a stop to visit Colmar and Strasbourg.

These two cities, about a half-hour apart, are in that region of France known as Le Grand Est (the Big East). Geographically, it is located in the, er, east, sharing borders with Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, and Switzerland.

Parts of this region have been hotly disputed, passing back and forth between France and Germany. Germany took control after the disastrous (for France) Franco-Prussian War of 1871. France got it back after WWI, Germany took it again, and it was finalized as part of France (again!) after WWII.

Needless to say, there is a very strong German accent to the place, in both the architecture and the food. Oh, and the language, too! We heard a lot of German in the streets (or maybe it was Alsatian, the local dialect, although it was very Germanic to our untrained ears).

Lovely! Typical scene in Colmar: half-timbered houses on a canal. With a bridge.

We had high hopes for this visit; I'd been wanting to come since I passed through here on my first trip to Europe in 1973. But, our trip didn't work out quite the way we'd hoped...

We arrived in Colmar—well, the Strasbourg airport, which is in the direction of Colmar—and I was feeling a bit funky. I spent the next day in bed, nursing a cold. Paula ventured out, returning in the afternoon with bright tales of a very picturesque town.

A street corner in Colmar. The half-timbered houses, while reminiscent of those in Brittany, are actually quite different.

I did get out a little bit the next day, and the town is very cute with its old half-timbered houses and canals cutting through. And flowers! Lots and lots of flowers.

Scene (seen?) from a bridge in Colmar. Inevitably, this area in the city is known as "Little Venice".

A store front in Colmar.

We moved on to Strasbourg for our last days in Le Grand Est, and it was Paula's turn to to lie abed with a cold, while I went exploring and returned to tell tales of the wonders of the city,

The spire of the cathedral in Strasbourg. It's hard to get a good view, with all the buildings packed in!

The astonishing façade of the Cathedral, Notre Dame de Strasbourg.

Neither of us found this arrangement very satisfying. The next morning we were scheduled to check out of our rental at 11, but Paula still felt pretty funky. Our host graciously extended our stay, but we still had to leave! And our flight out was not until 7 that night. So, lots of time to kill!

The cathedral at night. During the day the dark stone looks... well, dark! It's much more impressive at night.

Paula rallied as we took to the streets in the rain, suitcases in tow. We did find a pretty nice cafe where we ate lunch and hung out for a few hours. (Nice thing about French cafes: once you buy something, you're pretty much never chased off.) The afternoon wore on, the rain slowed to a drizzle, and eventually we bundled up with our things and made it to the train station for the trip to the airport.

Paula was pretty much recovered by the time we got home, but overall it was not a satisfying trip. We were glad to see these two Germanic-flavored towns we'd heard so much about, but the trip was not at all as satisfying as we'd have like.

        We'll just have to go back...

Paula's favorite from Colmar: Paul in front of the Colmar church.