October 19, 2005
Spain

Home.  Back in “Happy Valley” after almost 3 weeks of tramping the hills and riding the rails in Northern Spain. 

For the “bi-lingually challenged” Spain is a most hospitable country.  From wake-up till noon the only Spanish one needs to know is “café con leche por favor”, (coffee with milk please), “curveza por favor (beer) is the operative phrase from noon till six and then “vino tinto por favor” (red wine) gets you by until bedtime.  

Speaking of “nightey night”, it comes well past Colorado bedtimes.  Most restaurants don’t open until 9 p.m. That makes life real sleepy for those of us with an “early to bed, early to rise” body clock.  Keep in mind, when carousing ‘til all hours on an all night bender, I’m home and snoring by ten forty five. 

But what a wonderful holiday.  We hiked the Rioja, downed copious amounts of vino from local wineries, road the rails along Northern Spain’s Cantabrico coast and feasted like kings while touring, conservatively speaking, 4,247 churches.  But who’s counting?  Sitting in the sun outside what seemed to be the 147th, “best example of Romanesque architecture in Northern Spain”, a tanned Melbourne, Australia native next to me offered, “My wife has me on an ABC tour.”  “ABC?” I wondered.  “Another Bloody Church” came the reply in his clipped, understated Aussie accent. 

If you’re a fish fan, and I am, the palette finds the restaurants from Santiago to Bilbao heaven on earth.  The nearby Atlantic makes for fish being featured on the menu morning, noon and night.  But the best part of feeding your face in the North of Spain is bar food. The tapas and pincho’s (tiny shish-kabobs) make every stop for “vino tinto” a gastronomic delight. 

Gnoshing our way through the countryside could easily have resulted in a big time weight gain but the first week’s daily tramping up and down the Rioja hills allowed our group to stay even in the weight department.  That was certainly not the case when the following week Jan and I struck out on our own for seven sedentary days of train travel and church tours along the Cantabrico Coast.  The lack of exercise coupled with three magnificent meals a day resulted in our returning home to a regimen of exercise, weight watching and a diet of salad, yogurt and Melba toast. 

Looking back, hiking the hills and wandering through the small villages of Rioja with long time Grand Junction friends will forever be at the forefront of the pleasant memories section in my brain.  We were blessed with perfect weather.  Timing is everything.  Since returning home, Spain has been inundated with torrential rains.  But our weeks there were filled with sunshine and seventy degree days.  Prior to last week’s storms, the Iberian Peninsula had been locked in a severe drought.  Wending our way out of the mountains and into the small town of Ezcaray, the path led to a bridge over the Rio de Oro.  To our amazement, the riverbed was totally dry.  Said the Oxford educated tour guide, a 15-year resident of Barcelona; “Spanish rivers are like the French Army, when you really need them they disappear.”