Tourists

We are tourists. Plain and simple. No matter how we dress, act, or speak, we cannot be mistaken for what we are. We are people who have come from one part of the world to visit another part of the world. We want to see other cultures, eat different foods, take lots of photographs, and drink lots of local beverages.

The owner of our Halsou house, Elsa, sent us an e-mail regarding the Basque region. She wrote:

"If you go any traditional events, please remember to wear red and white. Otherwise you will look like an uggly (sic) tourist."

Thanks, Elsa! I'm sure if we all wore white shirts, white pants with red neckerchiefs we would have been taken for the real thing!

Le Paye Basque

This region of France is both beautiful and interesting. The red and white houses, the green hillsides, and the friendly people are all making this week highly enjoyable. We have been to lots of little surrounding villages: going to the markets, peeking inside churches, wandering the streets, and stopping for beer.

When we're at home we eat, drink and make merry as there is no TV, no internet, no phone. We've spent many enjoyable nights sitting around the table on the patio laughing and telling funny stories about each other.

This is what travelling is all about for me.

Halsou, France

We are now in the little village of Halsou. You can't even call it a village really. Maybe a hamlet. It's just a small collection of about 11 houses situated by a river. Larger villages are close by though, so we go there for groceries, a pay phone, etc.

Our house is a typical Basque house. White plaster with red shutters and doors. Inside it is adorable. Lots of doors and windows. Everything is white. Which is not a good colour for this family, as we tend to be very sloppy.

We've been doing lots of driving around the countryside visiting the neighbouring towns and villages stopping for a beer every now and then. Our evenings are usually spent at home, eating late dinners on the deck.

It is very relaxing here.

Changing Countries

I found this heart of stones on top of a fence post in Montserrat.

Well folks, we are changing countries today. We are picking Miss Molly up from the Barcelona airport this afternoon and after that we'll be on our way to France. We are hoping to stop somewhere along the way to watch the final game of the the World Cup before we cross the Pyrenees Mountains.

We will be staying in a very small village in the Basque region of France. I can't guarantee if there will be an internet connection or not. You may not hear from me for a while if there isn't. But I'll do my best to seek out a Wi-Fi connection at a cafe or bar in a larger town during our stay.

Sitges

After our morning in Montserrat, we decided to spend our afternoon lying on a beach. We had heard from quite a few people about the lovely seaside town of Sitges, so we loaded our GPS with that information and were on our way.

Little did we know that it was 'Gay Pride Week' in Montserrat! And furthermore, we did not know that we just got there in the nick of time to watch the parade! I have always wanted to attend the Gay Pride Parade in Vancouver, but have always been on holidays when it was being held. How great that I got to be a part of it in Spain!

It was a riot of colour, flamboyance, dancing, loud music, and FUN! Everything I could ever ask for....

Montserrat

Yesterday we picked up our car and went for a drive in the country. Our first stop was Montserrat, a monastery in the mountains about an hour outside of Barcelona. What an amazing place! The geography is unbelievable. We spent the morning there hiking the mountain paths and visiting the Basilica to see the 'Black Madonna'.

Feed Us!

Deep fried artichoke hearts and Iberian ham on bread

A platter of seafood

Vino Tinto

A Spanish version of Osso Buco

Hazelnut cakes and chocolate truffles

Fat and happy diners

There is something I love about going into a restaurant, opening the menu and not being able to read one blessed word, and saying to the owner, "Feed us."

That is what happened last night.

The owner spoke to us in rapid fire Spanish. We couldn't understand one word of what he was saying. So we just shrugged, closed our menus, and in our best sign language asked him to choose for us.

He said, "Tapas?"

We nodded.

He said, "Feesh?"

We nodded.

"Toro?"

We nodded.

"Jamon serrano?"

We nodded.

"Vino tinto?"

And then out came the food. And the wine. It was perfect. It was delicious. We ate every bite and mopped our plates clean with pieces of bread.

As I said. I love being fed.