In which we say Hola to Spain…..
Nimes is barely an hour and a half from the Spanish border, so we decided to head to Spain for a short week. First we drove along the Costa Brava, with its arid mid-section leading down through granite cliffs to little coves lapped by gentle waves from a cerulean sea. We lunched on tapas in the white-washed fishing village of Cadaques and slept next to the El Far lighthouse in the white-washed fishing village of Llafranc.
It looks pretty idyllic, but looks, as we all know, can be deceiving. We get fresher fish at Les Halles in Nimes. You may find it surprising to learn that intrepid Brunhilde did not make the trip with us. Instead we drove an Avis car. It turns out that European parking garages are for tiny (read “fuel efficient”) cars only. Brunhilde’s stature simply doesn’t suit, as attested by the dent in her roof as Bernard was backing her up in a particularly tight spot in one garage. Did I just say that Bernard dented the car? Yes, I did!! Of course, Bernard didn’t make the dent; the section of concrete bulging from that garage’s absurdly low ceiling did. Still, the number of bonus points ka-chinging into my “Mistakes” account is hard to believe!!
It took me all of half a day to fall in love with Barcelona. And half of that was spent with my jaw open, in and around Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia cathedral. You’ve probably seen images of this unfinished masterpiece. So have I.
Those photos don’t convey in the slightest what it feels like to be inside the building. I was spellbound by how Gaudi was able to take the basics of gothic architecture and create a space of such tremendous warmth and light. The man was a genius and we spent our several days in Barcelona enthusing about the houses, buildings and parks that were designed by him.
Barcelona also is famed for its version of Les Halles, called Boqueria. I don’t know what it is about markets, but I never tire of wandering around them. And if fruits are just too healthy for you, stick your hand in some of the candy bins which do a good job of mimicking the bright colors of real life.
!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!! DEAD ANIMAL PARTS ABOUT TO BE DISPLAYED…..
Boqueria is the place to go if you want truly young animal parts for your meal: suckling pigs that were barely a foot and a half long, infant lambs. And there was the usual complement of body parts that aren’t usually mentioned in polite U.S. society, but that are the grist of many a succulent meal in Europe.
Even though it was only ten in the morning, we had to stop at one of the lunch counters and eat immediately, garlic be damned. Miniscule squids for Bernard, mammoth prawns for me. We’ve done this a couple of times in Nimes as well, where I get to indulge in rabbit hearts and duck giblets, while Bernard eats a more traditional white sausage with some excellent potatoes.
I have been out and about with my camera, collecting the images you would expect when living in an old French town: church steeples, cobbled lanes, quaint balconies, Christmas decorations.
Still, when one walks narrow stone-paved streets every day it all starts to seem so, well, ordinary. Instead of more cobblestones, Roman arches and stately trees with leaves in the middle of winter, I thought you’d like to see something the French do really well: cute dogs. My subjects were beside themselves with delight to be in such demand. The young ones couldn’t hold still, the old ones just wanted to get back to bed, while their owners cordially regaled me with the particulars about their pet. In order of appearance, I give you: Hungry 6 mos: crepe stand dog; Viva 8 yrs; Pelouche, 2 yrs; Baccio 3 yrs: tea room dog; Canelle 13 yrs; Monsieur Fenetre: doing his job.
Every evening the shops in the pedestrian old town of Nimes and Barcelona pull grills and metal shades over their front windows for the night, irresistible canvases for street art. Seeing them throughout the town, one after another, I was struck by how much brashness and color they added to the cold beige stones of buildings and alleys. I think when you see them all together, you’ll get some of the same impression I did.
Here’s the next amazing fact about Nimes which I promised you. In 1530, a certain Jean Nicot was born in Nimes. As ambassador to Portugal he spent two years there organizing the marriage of a French toddler to the 5-year-old King of Portugal. The little princess refused to stop growing long enough to fit in her wedding dress. The king was more interested in his toy carriages. On his return to France he brought with him certain plants that enabled him to introduce snuff to the French court, quickly hooking Catherine de Medici. In thanks for his assistance, the plant was named after him and we remember him to this day with the word for that perniciously addictive chemical in cigarettes: nicotine!!! Which is why I find it so amusing that there’s this shop in the center of town:
