So I yielded, like the good subbie I aspire to be, and have joined my dominant Joanne in a long-planned tour of northern Spain by car. A rental car, loose in Europe, my idea of good times -- I've indulged in it often over the past three decades, almost always with my control-freak significant other.
We'd been all over central Spain and the south (even Morocco, by ferry from Alicante) several times in the 90s, We also like Switzerland and Italy by road, but more and more fall into her beloved cruising, Me, I still love the "open road" -- a loose itinerary suits my casual nature.
This time, since I fondly recall Spain's unique system of "paradores" (literally "stopping places" -- historic castles, monasteries, etc. that were falling into ruin back in the Franco era, almost fifty of which became elegant hotels), I talked her into booking some -- though I prefer NOT having rigid reservations. Paradores are often 50 kilometers apart, and otherwise you chance not getting in...
Anyhow I flew to Barcelona (via Dublin) Sunday. Having already done 3 weeks* intense touring in Italy, she met me, taking me to a posh hotel in the old "Gothic quarter". We had a great afternoon and evening, wandering and eating/drinking wonderfully.
Next morning we got our Hertz car -- not easily, however. Spanish slapdash overcame the manic Anerican car-rental efficiency, and it took us a crazy hour to get our damned car -- actually a zingy Spanish-made "Leon" (pronounced "LAY-on," not like the first-name "LEE-on").
Headed west on the A-2 (not the toll-road, as cabbies usefully told us), stopping for an unusual prix-fix lunch -- in a roadside place filled with non-tourists, namely workmen enjoying a paid-lunch perk. (I liked the octopus stew; Joanne not so much the grilled -- and greasy --shortribs. The "primo" of garbanzo/chorizo soup was great.)
We then followed the Ebro River south, our destination the castle/parador at Alcaniz. It looms on a hill above the town -- google it, you'll be inpressed.
Tomorrow a quick visit to the cathedral at Zaragoza, then on another hundred km to the next parador.
___________
* I've learned better than to do TWO months' travel with her; I get sick of seeing the same suitcase (and of being too much under her thumb, especially with no sex being her rule) -- a month is all I can do...
We'd been all over central Spain and the south (even Morocco, by ferry from Alicante) several times in the 90s, We also like Switzerland and Italy by road, but more and more fall into her beloved cruising, Me, I still love the "open road" -- a loose itinerary suits my casual nature.
This time, since I fondly recall Spain's unique system of "paradores" (literally "stopping places" -- historic castles, monasteries, etc. that were falling into ruin back in the Franco era, almost fifty of which became elegant hotels), I talked her into booking some -- though I prefer NOT having rigid reservations. Paradores are often 50 kilometers apart, and otherwise you chance not getting in...
Anyhow I flew to Barcelona (via Dublin) Sunday. Having already done 3 weeks* intense touring in Italy, she met me, taking me to a posh hotel in the old "Gothic quarter". We had a great afternoon and evening, wandering and eating/drinking wonderfully.
Next morning we got our Hertz car -- not easily, however. Spanish slapdash overcame the manic Anerican car-rental efficiency, and it took us a crazy hour to get our damned car -- actually a zingy Spanish-made "Leon" (pronounced "LAY-on," not like the first-name "LEE-on").
Headed west on the A-2 (not the toll-road, as cabbies usefully told us), stopping for an unusual prix-fix lunch -- in a roadside place filled with non-tourists, namely workmen enjoying a paid-lunch perk. (I liked the octopus stew; Joanne not so much the grilled -- and greasy --shortribs. The "primo" of garbanzo/chorizo soup was great.)
We then followed the Ebro River south, our destination the castle/parador at Alcaniz. It looms on a hill above the town -- google it, you'll be inpressed.
Tomorrow a quick visit to the cathedral at Zaragoza, then on another hundred km to the next parador.
___________
* I've learned better than to do TWO months' travel with her; I get sick of seeing the same suitcase (and of being too much under her thumb, especially with no sex being her rule) -- a month is all I can do...