Priorat

It's been quite a while since I first opened a bottle of wine from Priorat. I won't claim that that was the moment I realized I had to come here, but I always knew that I would. Priorat is one out of the two wine regions in Spain to ever claim the coveted DOQ marking for their bottles (the other being La Rioja). DOQ stands for Denominacion d'Origen Qualificada, which is a high honour in the wine world: many other good-quality wine regions obtain only the DO standing - Denominacion d'Origen, without the Qualificada part.

Wines from Priorat are special. They are rich, full-bodied, full-Spanish, very expensive to the local standard (to the Canadian - not very). They are the wines with character, with a touch of history. They are bold and demanding. They are a pleasure to drink.

So my dad and I finally got the time to drive up to Priorat for the weekend. The wine region is found in Tarragona and is only an hour and a half drive away from Barcelona. But it is secluded, so solitary, so perfectly void of human noise, that is is very difficult to describe how comfortable we feel here. I suspect that we've been craving this kind of solitude for a while now, and this stay in the middle of nowhere - only the stars and the best wine in the world to keep us company - arrives just in time.

We've been welcomed with arms open wide. I honestly cannot remember if I've ever been treated with such warmth and genuine interest elsewhere in Catalonia. Today we had lunch in Falset, which is the capital of Priorat, and stopped at the bodega Buil & Giné for the night - and at both places we were (and are) taken such good care of, that I find it hard to believe we will need to leave. Wine here flows not by the bottle, but by the barrel. Hospitality is truly boundless.

It's been a while since I first opened a bottle of wine from Priorat. It's been a while since I wanted to stay longer somewhere so bad as in Priorat. Good call, Dad, good call.

Total San Fran Withdrawal

Current temperature in San Francisco: +15°C.
Current temperature in Toronto: -17°C.
The temperature drop of 32°C total is a bit much for me. I would like to go back to T-shirt weather and brunches.

Amsterdam: First Impressions

Amsterdam is lovely, but I didn't have to tell you that, did I? It is totally picture-perfect, making it impossible to put the camera away, because there is always some other canal, some other impressive boat, some cute fat cat or some comical Spanish restaurant to take pictures of. Amsterdam requires a lot of getting used to navigation-wise: any change of course may spin you in a new direction while going completely unnoticed... Having to navigate toward (really cute) bridges to cross canals, we took the wrong way numerous times, and we have only been here one day!

Today, Amsterdam was so choke-full of people that my friends and I had to hold hands so that we don't get lost in the crowd. Thing is, I had no idea that I will be visiting the city on Gay Pride 2013 weekend, and while super-duper awesome, it was also really tiring to get off sidewalks (for the lack of space) and jump away from bicycles to avoid injury, only to have to squeeze through colourful groups of dressed up people and having beer spilled on. Crowds get old really fast, but the general merriment and the definitely commonly shared feeling of "We are proud" was beyond amazing. Amsterdam, you definitely earned your right to be proud!

I have one random complaint though. Some places do not accept credit cards, only debit (but not Visa Electron) or cash. Some places do not accept cash, but take chip-and-pin cards. What's the deal? I am as of yet not terribly inconvenienced, but my limited supplies of cash are slowly dwindling! Please take my touristy Mastercard more, will you, Amsterdam?

Speaking of touristy, we visited Rijksmuseum, albeit briefly, De Jordaan, the Sex Museum (funny, tacky and a great way to spend 4 euros), and the New Church today. Does not seem like much, but we walked all across the city, got sunburnt and had a really light lunch, so by 9 pm we were beyond exhausted. Mid-afternoon Amstel and an early evening Kaldi espresso helped to balance out the day though. Plans for tomorrow: Rijk again, Stedelijk and Van Gogh!

A view of Barcelona

Here is a gorgeous shot of Barcelona taken from the Collserola mountains!

Bicing

You haven't lived unless you cycled on a Bicing bike, complete with its gloriously uncomfortable seat, while wearing a short skirt and no leggings underneath. You haven't known disappointment until the last Bicing bike was taken from the station right before your eyes. Also you haven't lived if you have never merged into carrer Aragó rush hour traffic on Bicing (or any other bicycle for that matter).

I can't think of another service that inspires so much love and so much situational hate. Bike sharing is a great initiative for any city even marginally suitable for cyclists (Paris, for instance, Toronto, Milan and many, many others). Not every bike sharing program is well-run and not every one is a success, and the Barcelona one definitely has many faults, but is still wildly popular. I have nothing to compare it to as I have never used any other system (I have my own bike in Toronto and I don't spend nearly enough time anywhere else), but I can still point out its ups and downs.

Barcelona is a fantastic city to cycle around. It has plenty of paths and cyclists-only lanes, it's a drop-dead gorgeous city in general and the weather is nice most of the time. There is nothing like pedaling down Enric Granados watching Eixample buildings swoosh by; there is nothing like stopping at a red light every five seconds on Passeig Sant Joan (weird charm of annoyance); and there is nothing like being able to just grab a bike and go.

Well... The problem with Bicing is that very often grabbing a bike and going is the problem. There are plenty of stations and plenty of bikes, and I'd go as far as to say that the ratio of bikes to users is theoretically quite balanced. The problem lies in distribution. Barcelona is a hilly city and people are lazy (that's universal), so people cycle downhill, from north to south, from the mountains to the beach, and park Bicing downtown. Not many people grab a bike down south to go back up; there are still plenty, myself included, but not nearly as many as those who go downhill only. So even though there are Bicing vans circling around redistributing bikes, every day is essentially still the same story: during rush hour, all the bikes uptown are gone in a jiffy, while downtown the problem is the lack of spaces to park them. This a geographical problem, the one I cannot criticize Bicing for; yet, I still rage when I cannot get a bike to get to my kickboxing class or make it on time to my appointment near Arc de Triomf.

Many people also complain about the quality of the bikes in circulation. Many are faulty, even more are not glitch-free, some are downright dangerous, which can be especially frustrating if there is no other bike in the station to turn to. Still, I have been relatively lucky with Bicing so far: the brakes were barely functioning only once (which I find the most dangerous obviously), a few times they made noises so loud that they startled both the pedestrians and myself; once the bike kept switching into second gear while I was attempting to ride in third.

Also, once I rode the bike number 666, and it got me to my destination safely. And that's all that matters to me, really.

Philly In Photos

Enough jokes about it being sunny in Philadelphia! Here are some pictures of wonder and gloom.

This, in particular, is gloom. The Eastern State Penitentiary is the oldest solitary confinement prison in the U.S. (now not functioning).

This is 4th St. It was pouring rain on a Monday night, and the only thing lacking here is a carriage.

Corner of South and 4th.

A highly recommended place to visit.

Even more recommended! Philadelphia Museum of Art

 View of Center City

 And the City Hall!

For the interested souls, I made a map of Philly's most essential spots, including museums, sights and good places to eat and drink. Check it out, I think it's neat, not to mention über-beautiful.

This waiting for Barcelona. This pregnant pause.

Peter Murphy "Subway"
It's like there's a straight way you know, you know
I've told you before it's as thin as ice
As thin as the razor snow
Don't freeze in the snow
Don't bake in the heat
I'll be your breath
There's a place where we can meet
Use me
Don't sleep in the subway
Don't sleep in the pouring rain
By my voice in my midnight meditation
When I wake, be my heart's floatation
Come and fill, come and fill from the overflow
Come and play, come and play be like a bird
Don't sleep in the subway
I'm needing you well - I
I feel you, you're closing down yeah
Get close, talk right through me
Get close, keep tight with me
If you fall now it could be forever
I'm telling you the line is thin now
I've told you before this hate is a sin
Empty out for the overflow
Let love begin

The blue Azores

I'm in the middle of the Atlantic on an island that I had been calling the European New Zealand even before landing here. I think I am right and also very, very wrong, because this is as European as it gets, yet despite all the greenery and picturesque mountains shrouded in clouds, one cannot make a mistake as of to where she is. Definitely not the Pacific!

The Azores are lovely - this is my sweeping generalization of the day. There are nine islands in the archipelago, and we are stationed on the largest one, Sao Miguel, and, naturally, the most administratively relevant, as it houses the biggest airport and the capital of the autonomous region, the town called Ponta Delgada. We are staying on one of the main streets of Ponta Delgada, two minutes away from the "Gates to the City" and the marina, and yet this central street is as narrow as Travessera de Gràcia, which I find hilarious, awesome and not relevant to our stay at all. It's great, really: everything is so close, and yet the island is big enough (or should I say long enough?) for us to explore. This is precisely what we are doing tomorrow! The weekend was all about the relaxing strolls about, but volcanoes, crater lakes and hot springs are waiting.

Locals speak superb English: anyone I uttered a word of English to responds in kind without skipping a beat. Breakfast, dinner, yielding a cycling path, asking for Internet - doesn't matter, they understand, and it's very refreshing. Now Spanish is a different story, of course :)

They grow pineapples here. And tea. Azore Islands have the only tea plantation in Europe. I'm done justifying, I'm in love.

On the road again

Onboard, Toronto-Montreal train. I am already spoiled by free Wi-Fi and empty seats in front of me. The mind is entering a festive vacation state again: only pleasure ahead, if only for a few days - art, food, wine, snow, an apartment in Old Montreal, my parents, my tablet loaded with books. And with that, I just want to finish the horrifying Stephen King story and start with rude sensual Henry Miller. No more fear and pain, even in the books I'm reading for now.

Catalunya, un nou estat d'Europa

I'm happy to be back in Barcelona. Barcelona is not happy to be a part of Spain still, and 1.5 million people attended the La Diada manifestation yesterday.

My favourite kind of nerdy talk

I am well aware that chat logs are boring. I am well aware that posting chat logs is a sure-fire way to not get new readers. I am well aware that I am going to post this one anyway and have fun re-reading it from time to time.

Here are some bits and pieces of my Skype conversation with Isaac who will be soon travelling to New Zealand (the lucky bastard).

Isaac: Olya and I were looking at passport covers last night. NZ's is pretty hot, I've gotta admit.

Katya: New Zealand. AHOIUFHNC S FHOIJFCM. That's how it looks to me. Maori is amazing.

Isaac: Welcome to my world with Russian, circa 2005. lol

Katya: I can imagine. Also, I really love these fern leaves on the edge of the cover.

Isaac: Exactly. That's what does it for me. And it's black.

Katya: Black and silver.

Isaac: Exactly.

Katya: I have a photo handy. lol

Isaac: As do I.

Katya: I bet yours doesn't belong to anyone you know. :P

Isaac: Well, no. But now it belongs to Wikipedia, which is almost as good. I think the only black passport I've seen is a US diplomatic passport. Oh. And the Swedish diplomatic passport...that shit is HOT.

Katya: That I'd need to google. ...Not bad *Obama face*

Isaac: innit

Katya: I have to say, my temporary Canadian passport was very pretty too. Not hot, but pretty. Like a countryside maiden.

Isaac: All white and pure and virginal, &c.

Katya: Yup. Have I shown you the pictures?

Isaac: No, you haven't, and I'm saddened by it.

Katya: Never came up in conversation, I suppose.


 <The temporary passport Canadian consulates across the globe issue to those unlucky Canadians who lost theirs. This replacement passport costs a small fortune.>

...


Katya: :D I don't know who decides on the colours. Most of them are ugly, in my opinion, in most countries.
Huh, Canadian diplomatic passport seems to be the colour of the Russian internal one. One word: ew.

Isaac: Kinda turns you off from becoming an ambassador, doesn't it?

Katya: Yup, but the colour is not the reason. I wouldn't want to represent Canada, if they charge 160€ for replacement passports. etc etc etc

Isaac: Hey, maybe you'd be in a position to change that.
 
Katya: Maybe. If it was up to me, I'd give the replacement passports for FREE and let the citizens return home, where they can decide to get a new passport right away for a normal fee or wait however long they want to wait.

Isaac: A single-use emergency travel document.

Katya: Exactly.