In addition to it being rainy all weekend, it's getting cold around here. So I cast about for somewhere to go and noticed the weather report for southern Spain to be quite acceptable. Additionally, for those who followed my spring ride through Spain and Portugal, you'll remember I didn't get to see the La Sagrada Familia when I went through Barcelona. A bucket list item waiting to be completed. So, Wednesday late afternoon I get in the Renault and head south.
Twenty or so kilometers out of Nantes I see the thunderstorms heading in. I'm heading out so, okay by me.
My goal was to chop off as much of the distance as I could before getting too sleepy Wednesday evening. So I coasted through Bordeaux about 8:00pm and, wanting to be on the south side of town to avoid morning traffic, I continued on through and beyond. I decided to stop in Agen, a town about midway between Bordeaux and Toulouse pulling in there about 9:30pm. I had stopped and booked a room in advance so, once Mr. Garmin found the renamed place I settled in. But not without one of my famous French waiter adventures.
Everything was closed around the hotel but what appeared to be a truckstop. Knowing truckstop food is usually good, if fattening, in the U.S. I determined to go over and grab a quick bite. Entering there were about twenty or so truck drivers sitting around tables watching a football game (soccer to you Americans). They just about filled what appeared to be the "open" area of the restaurant so I angled toward the back and took a seat facing away from the television and opened up my iPad to check email.
On entering I'd noticed one lady behind the bar taking orders and making drinks, etc., for the patrons. There were three other ladies busy cleaning up the closed off sections. Now this part is typically "French." Those who were cleaning had the job (at the moment) of cleaning. The lady behind the bar had the job of taking and delivering orders. So, no matter how bloody busy it gets in there, not one of the "cleaning" ladies is going to stop her "job" and help the "serving" lady with her job, "serving." So I sit there. And I sit there. And I sit there.
Having about enough of that I stood as one of the "cleaning" ladies came by and asked if I could order. She looked at me as if I had two heads and then looked toward the very busy "serving" lady and said something I didn't quite catch. I think it was to the effect that there was a customer needing service. The "serving" lady said something about being very busy at the moment, casting hers eyes on all the customers she was dealing with and waving her arms in an encircling movement, obviously, too busy to provide service to a customer, after all, what could possibly be the end result of such behavior? They'd only pay for the product and then want more some other time. It's never ending, you know? So the "cleaning" lady just shrugs her shoulder, gives the famous French "thuugg" through her lips and calmly walks away. Not having the skill needed to say it in French, I said, "Excuse the hell out of me for wanting something as silly as service in France. Au revoir!" And I walked out. With every trucker looking at me as if I'm the rude one; hungry but with my money in my pocket. Something the real owners of the place may, just may, you never know over here, have wanted in their pockets. But we'll never know.
Slept well and warm, if hungry, awoke early and ravaged the "Continental" breakfast before pulling out for Spain.
About five hours later I pulled into The Clipper Hotel & Bungalows, Torroella De Montgri. Looking at Google and using Bookings.com I'd determined this place nestled right in the middle of several nice looking golf courses. After verifying that I'd made reservations.
It's the off season so I got a very good rate, only 64€ per night for three nights. The place is really quite nice. The room is large with a seating area and nice balcony overlooking the pool. But, enough of that. It's bucket list time so I unload my stuff and head for Barcelona.
An hour later I'm at La Sagrada Familia.
Construction began by public subscription in 1882 based upon a traditional neo-gothic design by Francesc de Paula Villar. By 1884 Villar was out, having lost the most important argument, that about employment, with the chief sponsor of the church, Spanish publisher Josep Bocabella. Antoni Gaudi took over as lead architect that year and, as they say, nothing was ever the same again. Gaudi, from whom we get the English term gaudy, made it his life's work, living in a workshop on the site, and working on the project for the next forty (40) years. When asked about the slow pace of the work he is reported to have replied, "My client is not in a hurry." His efforts ended with his death in 1926 after having been struck by a tram on the city's Gran Via. But the work continues to this day. One hundred and twenty-eight (128) years and counting. The work continues.
Do I detect a little Picaso here?
Another side
The center block says, "THUS," Don't know what the other two say.
Another Side
Starting between the two towers from the top. A tree with doves on it. I think these are Gaudi doves. But, it's a city with the inevitable dove "kinfolk," pigeons.
Then, I suppose, the Master with Mary Magdalene, perhaps.
Then the worshipers. Pretty neat stuff.
Yet another (unfinished) side
Notice the white figure above the windows?
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| Mary? The Mother? Magdalene (the wife?) |
Across the street a little park.
A short ride later and I'm back in Costa Brava.
Day Two
Awoke early and cold. I was unable to figure out if the star symbol or the radiating waves on the thermostat meant heat and, thinking the radiating waves the better choice, picked that. Evidently I was correct...if I'd turned up the temperature dial it would have been perfect. Not my first mistake, and it certainly made the covers feel nice and warm during the night.
My technical problems continue. The iPad network sign on form "locks" up whenever I try to enter the login and password for the internet here at the hotel. Sort of a funny, as in weird thing. There are several wi-fi connections in the hotel. I tried all of them and was able to log onto only one, Clipper 3. I convinced myself it was the process I used to log in, first I "killed" the keyboard screen before touching the submit button. One doesn't log out and try to log back in to "test" a successful process so, imagine my surprise when, this morning, the process didn't work and Clipper 3 wasn't available. I'm thinking they do something with their sign-in screens that Mr. Jobs doesn't like, and Clipper 3 doesn't do it. But Murphy's Law is at work here. I haven't seen Clipper 3 since my one successful login.
But, all that is unimportant. Golf is the thing. I rode to the course early. Wonderful facility, lots of practice areas, good prices...of course, it's off season...but the weather's warm enough to play, that means above my MTT (Minimum Tee Time Temperature--50°F, including wind chill). So play I did.
Nice course. Fairly wide open (needed for my erratic drives), except in places. A couple of very intimating holes where overhanging trees to the right protected a green with the pin on the right. (Why do they always that? I have enough trouble hitting a fade anyway.) One very exacting par 4 where there's water on the right narrowing the fairway to a memory with a sharp dogleg to the right around the pond. I actually managed to hit the ball in the right spot off the tee, but came up short on the approach.
My goal anymore is to break bogey golf. After hacking my way to a 47 on the front side that goal was definitely in danger. I managed to knock off the double-bogeys on the back and found myself on the 18th tee needing a birdie to break 90. Not where I'd place my bets if I were you. I managed a good tee shot and, yep, did it again...came up short of the green by about 20 feet. For a tall man, I came up short all day long. I'd like to blame it on "heavy" air, but it wasn't. Or on wind, but it wasn't windy. Or on Friday. Hey, it was Friday. But that wasn't it at all. Even when I over-clubbed I was short. I'm beginning to think it's age and I need to stop playing the regular tees...this one measures about 6600 yards from the "regular" tees. Perhaps I need to move to the old men tees. But God, that's a concession I'm just not ready to make yet. A lot of rounds over 90 may be just the ticket to push me up closer to the "red" tees. (We don't say Ladies tees anymore.)
Oh, the score? I holed out the chip for an 89!! I couldn't believe it. Probably took forty minutes for the smile to leave my face.
After a wonderful day on the golf course, ending with a chip-in birdie, I was ready for a nice, late lunch and a couple of adult beverages. Leaving the course I rode into Palamos, a small seaside town about 20 kilometers away. Reading a magazine in the hotel lounge later, I learned that Truman Capote lived in Palamos for about three years while writing 'In Cold Blood,' probably his most famous novel. Most do not know this, but, between the ages of four and ten, Capote lived in Monroeville, Alabama where he was friends with a young Harper Lee, author of 'To Kill a Mockingbird', in my opinion, one of the greatest stories ever told. Dill, the young boy visiting his aunt in that story, was based upon Capote. Say what you want about his lifestyle and outrageous ways, the man could write.
View from my balcony this morning.
On the way to the golf course.
At the course.
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| Clubhouse |
There was this great old abandoned farmhouse just off the course property. As you've probably guessed by now, I love old buildings...and the stories I believe live in them. I don't believe in ghosts, but I certainly believe in old stories.
In Palamos I found this Japanese/Chinese restaurant open. The food was excellent. So, if you're in the area and want some great Chinese food I recommend La Tortuga D'Or (The Golden Turtle).
The beach at Palamos.
And, while I like the south of France, there is just something a little more "homey" here. A little less pretentious. A little more relaxing. (Wonder what cottage prices are like right now?)
Day Three
Awoke (a blessing at my age), quick shower, "Continental" breakfast (that means lots of calories from carbs, but little protein from meat), and just sat around relaxing, reading my Kindle. Tee time at 11:30am, but a little worried about it. Must have slept a little "wrong," I woke up with a pinched nerve in the lower right shoulder. But, I'm gonna play. That's why I'm here.
New course today. The guy at the front desk set up both tee times for me. The first course, he said, was pretty open...he was right. The second, he warned, was fairly narrow and once hosted the Spanish Open. Okay. I'm game, bad shoulder and all, so off I go.
This was the widest fairway I think I saw all day. The guy wasn't lying about narrow.
They were like many old friends when we play, enjoying not only the game, but the competition as well. "Someone was happy on every shot." And they ribbed each other constantly, at least I think they did, it was in yet another European language I don't understand.
Of course, they could have been making fun of me. With this bad shoulder I was hurting on every shot and all over the place today. Bogey golf? No way. That was just a memory from yesterday. The only good thing I can find to say about my game today is I never lost a ball. And believe me, as narrow as this course is, that's saying something.
But, we had nice scenery.
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| Pretty wide..but with a tree in the middle? |
This was diabolical. This picture is from the point where a perfect drive would land. The second shot? Over the damn trees!
The green, nestled comfortably back behind the trees. Interesting visual. Hit it too far from the tee and you have to hit too much loft to clear the trees and can't reach the green. Hit it too short off the tee and you can't hit the approach shot high enough to get over the trees. It got worse than this.
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| Clubhouse |
View down the 10th. The only way to widen the fairway was to use the closeup lens.
And it still wasn't wide enough. By the time we'd finished this I expected a clown mouth at the end. Of the three of us, only Soren finished the hole. After hacking it into a trap up by the green I hit two more and was still in the bloody trap.
It reminded me of a like occurrence many years ago when a fellow player looked at me and said, "You have a pocket, don't you?"
I did...and I used it.
I thought the Maquis de Sade was a French nobleman. Turns out he designs golf courses in southern Spain. Check out this par three.
Well, yes, there's a green down there...
somewhere.
A closeup showing the people in front of us.
The shot wasn't all that tough, but, like many of them out here, it was visually intimidating.
Tee was up so it was a nine-iron up through the slot. Obviously needed to turn it over, but didn't. As yesterday, I hit it short, just over the trap and short of the green. Couldn't get up and down...much as my whole day...but enjoyed the round, the course, and the company.
Couple of hours later I'm in the hotel room contemplating dinner and the long drive tomorrow. I'd like to come back here. Nice relaxing place this southern Spain.
Day Four, the Return
Set the alarm for 6:00am with plans to be on the road by 7:00. Shaved, showered, sung, but not loudly, and was ready to pull out by 6:30, ahead of schedule. Then I went to check-out...the front desk was totally dark, shut down. I hit the bell a couple of times and a night watchman/caretaker joined me. He explained that they wouldn't be in until 8:00am. He said he'd try to help and was able to check me out. The only problem is he didn't know how to change the room rate to that promised when I checked in. It represented only a 33€ for the weekend so I told him to tell the front desk to process a credit against the card when they came in and I was off...at 6:50am.
Back in France passing some vineyards. Evidently grapes are deciduous, their leaves changing color and falling like the soft woods of the northeast. Many, many trees and shrubs are in France and they are absolutely beautiful.
Notice the ones in the foreground are more "reddish" and the ones on the hill more "yellow." I think they are different varieties. You see a lot of this throughout the various fields.
The road department does a great job on the shrubbery. Here they've interspersed with diciduous shrubs creating a wild change in color. Allowing them to grow longer made me think of Peacocks hiding behind the green shrubs with tails fanned out.
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| The "Peacock" Plants |
Scenes like this constantly remind me how lucky I am.
Sounds like you had a great holiday!
ReplyDeleteMy take: I think the "stories" in the old building was much more dramatic in the Black & White photos.
As far as the golf outings ... give me a ice cold brew and I'll ride along in the cart and enjoy the game from there.