Going home

The El Xalet hotel was built by a Catalan businessman at the beginning of the 20th century after his return from Cuba. It's a beautiful specimen of an Art Nouveau building. It was easily the most pleasant place that I had stayed at in my sojourn. The room was modern and comfortable. Breakfast was sumptuous.

One of the reasons I picked Sitges for my final night was its proximity to the airport, which is between Barcelona and Sitges. I even found that I could catch a bus from Sitges to my departure terminal. However my flight was late in the evening so I didn't need to be at the airport until sundown. So that left me with a few hours to while away before walking to the bus stop in the late afternoon. The hotel was kind enough to let me pass the time in the coffee room, while the staff went about their duties. I passed some of that time talking to a friend back home using the last few minutes on my SIM.

The bus took the coastal route to Barcelona's El Prat airport. I was fairly early and finished the last of my snacks before checking in. Our boarding gate was strange: to browse the airside shops you had to go down the escalator and then up again after shopping.

So it was goodbye to Spain again. I liked the way of life on the Mediterranean coast. I enjoyed the pleasant weather in the shoulder season. It was wonderful to forget about the quotidian issues and live in the present during my holiday.

Sitges

From Tarragona, I was close enough to Sitges to catch local trains instead of long distance expresses requiring bookings. I had to make one transfer, at Vilanova i la Geltrú.

This is the ticket I bought from a vending machine. Notice that for form of payment it reads Metalico, meaning cash. Paying by card would have elicited Plastico of course.

About an hour later, I was checked into my hotel, El Xalet, which was just a stone's throw from the train station, and only about 5 minutes walk to the beach. Along the way I had a falafel lunch at Pita Sitges which served very good middle eastern vegetarian fare.

A pretty blue hotel on the beach strip.

The palm lined esplanade.

This is the Museu Maricel Sala D'Exposicions Temporals Sala Vaixells, not a church. It was a cool and windy day so hardly anybody was out on the beach.

Also parts of the esplanade were under renovation before the summer season started in earnest.

That didn't deter everybody, it being a Sunday.

On the main pedestrian street I bought a sweet pastry from this patisserie.

One of the spires of my hotel on the rooftop.

In the evening I had a simple roast chicken dinner and walked around the city afterwards.

That seaside hotel again.

The museum, lit up.

A jamón Ibérico shop.

One of the larger restaurants.

A cozier corner restaurant.

Sitges, though touristy, had its charms.

And that was my final night in Spain.

Tarragona

The stretch from Valencia to Tarragona took 2-½ hours. They screened a French film, Asphalte, on the train video. It was the presence of the ever formidable Isabel Huppert and Valeria Tedeschi Bruni that allowed me to track down the title.

The sky had turned gloomy and apocalyptic towards the end of the journey and it had started drizzling by the time I reached Tarragona. There was new challenge: the hotel and most of the city were up on the heights. How to get there? I wasted some time in trial and error before reaching the hotel. Later viewing from the Balcó del Mediterrani I saw where I had to descend the next day.

The civic statue at the vantage point.

The cold and windy evening wasn't deterring these customers.

Dinner and coffee after theatre? Yes please.

The foyer.

The wide Rambla Nova.

Looked like a pleasant and prosperous town.

I found Pizza Amarcord, an Italian restaurant serving small servings of pizza enabling me to try a couple of varieties. I finished with tiramisu and coffee. It was very good. There were film posters from Amarcord and also from La Vita è Bella.

I had just enough time to buy a bottle of water from the supermarket before closing time, then I headed back to my hotel.

Again, I'll continue with the next morning to avoid splitting Tarragona across two posts.

The hotel did serve breakfast but it was optional. I decided to get something better outside. I found a café serving a standard Spanish breakfast combo: freshly squeezed orange juice, pastries, coffee, and in this case a small bocadillo.

I didn't have time to explore the city beyond this point but there is quite a bit of hinterland.

The Rambla Nova. Don't let the blue skies fool you, it was a cold spring morning.

Back at the balcony on the Mediterranean, the clear weather revealed the railway station and port.

Looking towards the east.

People having a morning break.

It looks like I should investigate Tarragona more in the future, especially as Reus Airport, used by low-cost carriers, is near the city.

Valencia

Unfortunately there were a couple of hours to kill between quitting the apartment and the express train departing. I had bought a couple of fresh bread rolls in the morning from the supermarket to make cheese bocadillos to eat in the station hall. I chatted with a friend back home over the Internet. There was a pop-up store for a Spanish Internet bank whose reps were trying to sign up customers. I had a good excuse, I wasn't Spanish. Then I had a beer in the station bar to quench my thirst from the salty cheese. Contrary to what I had expected, the train did not leave from one of the platforms behind X-ray screening. Seems they don't always follow the procedures.

It was only about 90 minutes travel to Valencia. It was a long walk to the B&B place. I realised later that I could have taken the metro part of the way. But it wasn't too tiring. It was on the 5th floor of an old building, I had to ring to get in, but fortunately there was someone in the residence. It was cramped but quirkily decorated and all amenities were provided.

After freshening up I went to explore the Turia nearby, one of the reasons I picked my lodgings, because of its location. Just over 25 years before, I had reached Valencia, but then headed inland towards Madrid instead of continuing down the coast, creating a gap in my coverage of Spain.

The flood mitigation project completed in 1969 had turned the Turia riverbed into a city park. The bridges span dry ground and the occasional fountain or pool.

It was a paradise for cyclists and joggers. In fact there were so many of them that I had to be careful not get run into.

An orange tree.

Trees with odd looking trunks.

Another pond reminding viewers from the bridge that water once ran in this riverbed.

On one bridge were planters with geraniums and other flowers. I like it when cities make themselves up this pretty.

Red.

Pink.

Purple.

White.

Leaves.

Palms.

Cedars.

One of the modern bridges over the riverbed.

Museu de Belles Arts de València.

A fruity sculpture.

This would be the Pont de la Trinitat, which according to the signs is the oldest bridge in the city.

I left the Turia and walked into the old city. This is the Basílica de la Mare de Déu dels Desemparats, dedicated to the patron saint of Valencia.

On the Plaza de la Virgen side they were holding a celebration with singers.

And dancers.

Lots of them.

For comparison, it was much emptier when I saw it for the first time 25 years previously.

In the evening, people were enjoying the mild night.

And starting to fill the restaurants.

Near the ajuntament (city hall) is the Rialto Teatro.

And a fountain.

I was attracted to the modernist tower.

I'll continue with the next morning's sightseeing so as not to split Valencia across two posts.

Just around the corner from my lodgings is the Mercat de Colón. It now houses upmarket shops and cafés rather than produce stalls.

There I found a café serving orxata (horchata) and had a serve of this refreshing drink.

Much more spacious now that the former shoppers are gone.

But downstairs there is still a produce store, selling jamon.

The evening before I had failed to find the Palau de la Música. I realised from looking at a map that I hadn't explored the lower reaches of the Turia.

And for comparison this is what it looked like 25 years before. It was only 6 years old when I first laid eyes on it.

Further down is a play area.

And finally this futuristic looking Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia (opera house) which didn't exist in 1993.

It looks like some fantastic crustacean that has emerged from primordial ooze. Tosca was playing.

It was getting close to check out time so I caught the metro back to the nearest station. This also didn't exist in 1993.

A branch of El Cortes Inglés near the Colón metro station, the nearest to my lodgings.

Valencia and its inhabitants were much more prosperous than those of 25 years before. It is now a very liveable city, though a little more populated than I like at around 2 million.

I boarded the Renfe train for the longest stretch of this return journey, to Tarragona.