Welcome to the step-by-step record of my adventures with mom, mostly for nosy family members (just joking, ya'll).
Toledo is now my third favorite city in Spain (bajo SanSe and Granada), the medieval capital of the country, where we stayed at Posada de Manolo, two minutes walk from the Cathedral. Along with the bouncy Alejandra from Mexico, a fellow Erasmus, we ate a questionable meat platter, bought damasque jewelry, and explored the tranquil brown cobblestone streets. The city was preparing for the feast o
f Corpus Cristi at the time; even the apartment building surrounding the local McDonald's had put up banners, providing a very humorous sight (see pic). I took a reflective walk at night amid the illuminated buildings.Olite: we rented a car in SanSe and drove to this out-of-the-way town, which makes the map for its fantastic Parador, a centuries-old castle that has been opened as a hotel to mystified tourists. one night in this place and i felt like a princess. too bad i can't expect that kind of treatment every night (hooray for youth hostals!!).
French Pyreneese: our itinerary resided around seeing the Pyrenees, the grassy/snowy/curvy mountain range dividing France from Spain. From Olite we drove to Ochagavia, which would have been an easy 2-hour trip if my mom hadn't forgotten to switch the GPS from pedestrian to automobile. So, 80km and 6 hours later, we arrived in Ochagavia from Olite. This Pyrenean village is picture perfect, tiny, and was still empty of tourists. I had a great time hiking the mountainous surroundings after dunking myself in SPF 60+ sunscreen. Oh yes, it exists.
Torla: here's where the trip takes a turn. We planned on staying the night in Torla, a short drive from Lourdes, but by that time we still hadn't figured out why our silly British GPS named Henrietta (don't ask) was taking us through cobblestone streets and every tiny village we passed. I had extremely clogges sinuses, so driving up and down through the Pyrenees was starting to fill my head with pressure. Eventually I reached the point of crying, even after laughing for a while when we figured out what was wrong with Henrietta. After reaching Torla I collapsed in bed, basically cursing the universe at the pain (I was overreacting, yes), and my mom disappointedly but kindly commented, "You know, we can cancel Lourdes." I flinched at the idea, but knew my sinuses couldn't withstand another day of mountainous driving. So the next day my mom and I hiked the area, then drove down and out of the most beautiful scenery we'd ever come across. I say with complete certainty that the French Pyrenees beat the Hawaiian coast any day. My Lord of the Rings book had come to life around me. Here's a tantalizing taste of what we drove through.
Elizondo: instead of making our way from there to Lourdes, we drove to a remote Basque village at the foot of the Spanish Pyrenees, where a kind Anjelica Houston look-alike checked us into an empty hotel. We enjoyed a menu-del-dia dinner made by a pleasant, vibrant French woman, whose husband was the brother of the owner of our hotel. Small, sweet world: Elizondo. She made us both laugh when we asked her what "queso de cuajada" was, and she responded with a straight-faced sound effect: "baaaah." (goat cheese)
Bilbao: we ended our adventure staying one night in Bilbao, at a hotel across the river from the Guggenheim, the fantastic but misfit silver museum designed by Gehry. really, i have no idea why he picked such an ordinary city for such a statement of a museum. the whole city buzzes around the enormous shiny structure; its curvy mirrored walls reflect the surrounding industry, river, and nearby forest. mom had a great time failing at taking pictures where it looks like we're holding the whole museum aloft. you know, like those ones you gotta take at the eiffel tower where it's balancing on your headafter taking touristy pictures, we woke up at 4:30 the next morning to see mom off at bilbao aiport.
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