Madrid/Segovia, Spain
It was in Madrid that the war against the buskers began. More of a cold war. Maybe they
didn't even know it. However, it became apparent that most of the world's accordian
players lived in Spain. And they knew that seated diners were an easy target.
A couple of recorder-playing gypsies had taken up camp on the street outside our hotel
room and were soliciting money from passers-by. We wondered how much we could pay them
to simply stop. Or to learn a second tune.
Some respite was to be gained from ducking into art galleries. The amazing collection
of the Thyssen-Bornemisza's who demonstrate what good taste can accomplish when paired
with a truck-load of money: an art gallery full of famous names representing all
significant Western art periods from the 15th to the 20th centuries. We gained our art
education, then moved onto the Prado and the Reina Sofia museums. It was really
enjoyable - who knew that art was this interesting?
However, to take a break from all the art, we did a day trip to the nearby town of
Segovia. Several things took our breath away, from the 2000 year-old Roman aquaduct,
to the multi-turreted castle (alcazar), to being served the local delicacy of pig, with
foot still attached.
Barcelona, Spain
Given the tourist info that was provided, you'd think that Gaudi was the only important
thing to happen to Barcelona. Certainly, almost all postcards are of Gaudi's buildings.
We visited many of them, and were suitably impressed (see
the photos).
Other highlights were stepping into the Mediterranean (the saying used to be that
Barcelona turned its back on the sea, but these days you could say that Barcelona bears
its chest at it), enjoying the Sweden versus Holland quarter-final of the soccer with
people from the nations playing in it, and catching the chair-lift up the mountain where
the Barcelona Olympic Stadium was, and going to a vegetarian restaurant where we had our
first meat-free dinner in a good couple of weeks.
The buskers in Barcelona make a habit of coming into the train carriages with you. They
have learned about captive audiences.
Paris, France
Ah, the French can bake a good pastry. We stayed in the Opera district, which was
surrounded by multi-cultural food establishments, but breakfast was always French.
We took the Trenhotel overnight train from Barcelona to Paris. It was pretty gruesome,
and we arrived in a somewhat psychotic state. A visit to a French boulangerie/patisserie
was very therapeutic.
Again, we had to fend off buskers, but this time they were fully re-inforced. A father
and son pair of rappers were told off soundly by a French passenger on one train we were on.
Elsewhere, a full string ensemble played Vivaldi in a subway tunnel while commuters pushed
past them during rush-hour.
We did a great walking tour of the old parts of Paris from a Rick Steve's guidebook, and
it led us to Notre Dame, Shakespeare and Sons bookshop, Saint Chapelle, and the
Consiergerie (where Marie Antionette stayed before she was made a foot shorter). Of course,
we went to The Louvre, and also checked out the sculptures at the Rodin Museum.
Having caught the Eurostar through the Chunnel, we're now in London, staying with Claire,
Benno, and their housemates. And there's a lot to be said for being in an
English-speaking country again.
- 3 July 2004
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Andrew and Kate on Gaudi's La Pedrera in Barcelona |
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