Trains, Tapas, and Traveling Home

Our last full day in Spain had arrived. We had decided on another day trip, this time to Montserrat, to visit a monastery. (We had originally planned on flying to Palma early Friday morning, but with everyone feeling poorly, we rearranged.) We would be staying in a hotel closer to the airport Saturday night and, rather than drag our luggage with us, we found a storage place where we dropped off the bags before heading to the train station. Despite my previous not-so-elegant train ride, I held no grudge, and happily climbed aboard.

The hour and a half ride passed quickly, with the first bit of track running underground. Once we emerged into the daylight, the landscape was beautiful. This train was much more full than the last one, though with it being Saturday morning, I can’t say for certain where everyone was going. There were quite a few tourists, but also a good number of locals on board. One group of Brazilians ended up speaking with some Spaniards in English; I always find that fascinating. (Although Brazilians speak Portuguese, not Spanish, so it makes sense that they found a common language.)

After disembarking from the train, we made the short walk to the cable car we would ride to the monastery. As there was a large crowd, and no rush for us to get to the top, we milled around outside for a few minutes, taking in the view.

The monastery is nestled at the top of the mountain, right where the two meet. It looks pretty cozy up there, doesn’t it? I hadn’t put much thought into the cable car, other than it sounded cool, so when I realized we’d be riding it all the way up, hanging off a couple cables, the nerves set in. It wasn’t nearly as bad a I thought; it was an incredibly smooth ride, and if you can get over the heights, it’s the best way to see this little valley.

We’d had to fold the pram on the way up, and we kept it folded as we wound our way up a few stairs to get outside. From there on out, everywhere we wanted to go was stroller-friendly. We walked for a little bit (I simultaneously tried to walk in the sun while avoiding it; I wanted the heat, but I had no sunglasses), before realizing that we were all hungry. The only food place open (aside from the grocery store) was the cafeteria, so we joined the crowds, and filled our trays. Little Man had fallen asleep, probably thanks to the cold, fresh air on our walk, and miraculously stayed that way for the duration of our meal. The place was understandably packed, but we managed to find a table that wasn’t too awkward to access with the pram.

Fully fueled and ready for the afternoon, we left the cafeteria and climbed uphill to the monastery. Oh, the hills! My most comfortable “walking” shoes happen to have a slight heel, so by this point in the trip, my calves were worn out. Helsinki is, for the most part, flat. Spain is not. Once it leveled out, I caught my breath in time to admire the beauty around me.

While we did manage to see parts of the monastery interior, we did not go all the way through it. They ask that you don’t unless you’re planning to pray at the end. Judging by the length of the que, most people missed that sign. (Not to mention the sign prohibiting photos inside; it’s a picture of a camera with a line through it. I thought that was pretty universal.) The views of the valley from the courtyard were spectacular, so we were definitely able to enjoy those.

At my insistence, we stopped at a souvenir shop on the way back to the cable car; I always get my dad a shot glass when I travel, depicting the locale, and I had yet to pick one up on this trip. We planned the ride down to give us time to catch the train back to Barcelona. (The return was only slightly less terrifying than going up.) There was some delay with the car, so by the time we got going, everyone on it was biting their nails in anxiety about making it to the train. There is a pram ramp from the cable car to the train platform, but it winds around quite a bit, so in the interest of expediency, I carried the folded pram while Hubster carried Little Man. We all made it with about a minute to spare.

My father-in-law, myself, and Little Man hopped off the train early to go straight to the hotel, while Hubster and his mom went to pick our bags up from storage. We all had a brief rest before meeting up for dinner. (My father-in-law had now contracted the Spanish sickness, so he stayed in.) We found a tapas restaurant within walking distance and became the first customers of the evening. It was 7:00 pm. Most restaurants don’t start serving dinner until 8:00 pm so we kind of lucked out. Not that we actually saw any food until then anyway. (I felt so bad for Little Man. He was so exhausted by then.)

We ordered entirely too many tapas, being under the impression that they were “small plates”. Nope. Not here, at least. They were, however, delicious. It was the best food I’d had all week. And the sangria. Oh boy. I wish I could’ve taken it home with me. We actually asked the owner what was in it. Along with orange slices and strawberries, there was wine, Cointreau, and something else none of us could understand. And it was only 9 euros for a pitcher! What a great way to end our time in Spain. Little Man even got some creme puffs. He was such a trooper!

Sunday morning had us up before the sun, catching the first hotel shuttle to the airport. BCN is not averse to letting parents take their prams through security, so we got our boarding passes from a kiosk and found the correct line. Sometimes, I really love Europe. Instead of having to stand in line at security, we were waved to the side to go through what I’m sure is the “family lane”, but we were the only people using it that early. (I think it’s the only spot with a machine large enough to scan the pram.) Whatever the reason, we breezed through with more than enough time to grab a coffee and pastry. (The pram came in handy as there were no high chairs to be found.)

Since we still had some time before our flight boarded, we let Little Man explore the play area. It was the perfect place to let him get some wriggles out before another four hour flight. He had so much fun he never even tried to wander away!

As all good things do, this trip came to a close. It certainly wasn’t the smoothest, but it made for some wonderful family memories, along with some excellent sight-seeing and cultural experiences. The weather wasn’t quite as warm as I’d been hoping for, but on the bright side, that meant it wasn’t much of a shock touching down in freezing Helsinki. Besides, we had our next adventure to look forward to!

If you missed any of my other three posts about our trip to Barcelona, you can read them here:

Gaudi, Rainy Days, and Aquariums

Cava, paella, and…seriously?

Warm Weather and Sangria

Gaudí, Rainy Days, and Aquariums

We left off on our Spanish adventures Wednesday evening with me falling ill. By the time we’d returned to the apartment, Hubster was fighting off the same bug. Thursday morning saw us both feeling better, though me slightly more so. We persevered, however, and hit another spot I’d been anxiously waiting to see: Park Güell. The walk to the park was up the steepest hills we’d had to climb in Barcelona. So steep, in fact, that in some places, there were steps built into the sidewalk. Conveniently, there were also escalators. Although, keep in mind that they only go up, which was not so convenient on our way back down.

The exertion was worth it; the park is beautiful. Once again, we had purchased tickets online the night before, and were given a thirty minute window for entrance time. A section of the park is free, but of course, the cool part requires a ticket. It’s well worth the cost, and definitely worthy of a few hours of exploration.

The tile work is so intricate and colorful. I love how these buildings look like gingerbread houses. It was a nice day, so we decided to let Little Man roam around a bit. This was the perfect place for that. As much as he loves people, all he wanted to do was climb the stairs. Another reason this place was ideal: the stairs seemed to be endless. He made a few friends in the tourist group as we went up and down, but ultimately remained focused on his goal: climb, climb, climb!

There was some construction going on, but as loud as it was at times, the views were still marvelous. The tile work continued throughout, and Little Man had fun walking, climbing (more stairs), and chasing pigeons.

A few rest breaks were necessary during this exploration as Hubster and his dad were both still a bit under the weather. There were quite a few benches scattered about, so this was easily accomplished. We were there so long that Little Man fell asleep in the pram! When we’d all decided our sight quota had been met, we attempted (with only moderate success), to wind our way back down the hills. Hubster beelined it to the apartment, while the rest of us (Little Man still snoozing away) went in search of the ever-elusive churros. The one bakery that advertised them had run out, so I settled for some other chocolatey pastry concoction. The flavor of the chocolate reminded me of Mexico. It’s not quite as sweet as what I’m used to, but it’s still delicious.

More relaxation took place at the apartment that evening. I kept thinking of it as a waste; being in a foreign city and sitting inside? When I could be seeing new things?! I have since gained some perspective on this. As much as it frustrates me, there are some things I simply don’t expect Little Man to do. Like sit quietly through a two hour walking tour, or be content as I leisurely browse through museums. It ain’t gonna happen, mama. That being said, if I can’t relax on a beach while sipping rum, I might as well relax in an apartment in Barcelona while sipping Spanish wine with good company. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being an expat, it’s to make the most of what you do have, not sit around lamenting what you think you’re missing.

Friday was an anomaly: Rain in Barcelona! Not just a little, make-your-hair-frizzy drizzle, either. This was an all day downpour. It made for a good forced day of rest for all of us. I’m no stranger to rain, but even I did not want to venture out in the deluge.

After allowing Little Man to take a much-needed long nap in a crib, I decided it would be necessary to get out of the apartment in the evening. The rain had let up a bit, so Hubster and I found our way to the aquarium. We paid 20€ each to get in (Little Man was still in the free age range), and snagged the last large locker for 2€ in which we stored the folded pram and our damp jackets. A stop at the cafeteria was much needed as we hadn’t eaten much that day. We finally obtained some churros and, while I’m sure they weren’t the best we could’ve found, they were quite tasty. Once that task was complete, we sought out the children’s area.

It included a koi pond, a couple tunnels, and a slide that looked like it was spraying the rider with water. After we’d exhausted those attractions, we headed back downstairs toward the famed tunnel. Along the way, there were smaller tanks with a variety of sea life. They were pretty cool, but Little Man seemed to enjoy the freedom more than the fish, and raced from one place to the next. Eventually, we made it to “the tunnel”. 80 meters long, it’s filled with many different fish and, the most exciting part, sharks! You stand on a slow-moving conveyor belt that takes you the length of the tunnel. (Or you death-grip a squirmy toddler who is more excited by the conveyor belt than the sharks.)

Totally cool. There is an outdoor play area for those kids that simply can’t be entertained any other way, but remember how it rained all day? The entire play area was soaked. As much as I enjoyed the tunnel and the various fish displays, I don’t think the aquarium was worth the entrance fee. All the older kids there (aged five and up) appeared to greatly enjoy themselves. Sigh. Some day our child will be old enough to appreciate these things.

Friday came to a close as we dried off at the apartment and made plans for the next day. One more day trip was scheduled before our flight home on Sunday.

Cava, Paella, and…seriously?

Our adventures in Spain had just begun when Tuesday rolled around, sunny and warm. We had a slow morning before venturing out to see more of Barcelona. I should probably mention at this point that because I had failed to wear socks on Monday, and we walked something like 7 miles (about 11 km), I had some wicked blisters. Equipped with a different pair of shoes, and enough moleskin to cover a baby elephant, I limped along, happily using the pram for support when needed. We went passed the Gaudi museum, admiring the building, along with all the others along that street.

Little Man was getting fussy after sitting in the stroller for so long, so we found another playground on the way to lunch. They are seriously everywhere. He had so much fun! People walk their dogs on the path next to the playground, so LM got some kisses from a husky through the fence. Then, he showed everyone how not shy he is by stopping to point at a random guy walking by, babble something very decidedly, and make that man stop in his tracks. He looked confused until our little orator kept talking to him. The man chatted back for a minute, then waved and kept walking. It was hilarious!

For lunch, we had paella, something I’ve been dying to try. This restaurant also did not have high chairs, but we were able to pull the pram right up alongside the table and have Little Man eat there, not that he actually ate much. (He’d had a cold before we left home and still seemed to be recovering.) I had the seafood paella, Hubster ordered one with chicken and rabbit, and the in-laws tried to order the vegetarian paella, but it somehow came through as three orders of the chicken and rabbit. Luckily, they were able to easily eat around the meat and since there were a decent amount of veggies, they rather enjoyed it. My seafood paella had mussels, shrimp (with the head on, something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before), scallops, and an entire crayfish. I really wish I had taken a picture of it. It was a bit salty, and figuring out how to eat the crayfish was an experience, but the overall flavor was good (as long as you like fish, which a do). The four of us also shared a pitcher of sangria. Boy do they know how to make sangria in Spain!

With the pain in my feet dulled by the nectar of the Spaniards, we meandered our way to La Rambla. Described in most guide books as the “pickpocket capitol” of Spain, this pedestrian mall was surprisingly nonthreatening. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as I thought it would be (it was, after all, January, and not the height of tourist season), but a lovely street to walk down, lined with vendor booths. Since this side of my family does not particularly enjoy souvenir shopping, we turned off La Rambla early and went into a market hall. One of those places where you can buy just about any form of food: Meat, fruit, vegetables, spiralized sweet potato on a stick (seriously), and a number of other local specialties.

Another relaxing night in, followed by a not-too-early morning on Wednesday, and we could be found on our way to the train station, ready for an afternoon of wine tasting. I think I’ve really become spoiled with the public transportation in Helsinki; nothing seems to rival it. The metro in Barcelona is a little older, mostly underground, and has fewer seats. There’s plenty of standing room, but it does make for a tight squeeze at times with the pram.

As we were smack dab in the middle of cava country, we found a vineyard in Sant Sadurni d’Anoia that makes, obviously, cava. The French, back in the day, decided that Spaniards could not call Chardonnay made in Spain “champagne”, so the Spanish now call it “cava” which means cave. (Really, it’s Spanish champagne.) Seeing as it’s aged in caves, the name makes sense.

It was an hour by train, with about a twenty minute walk from the train station in Sant Sadurni to the vineyard, Cavas Cadorniu. It was nice, once we were outside of Barcelona a bit, to see the countryside. There was a place to park the pram on the train, and with it being mid-morning on a Wednesday, the train was fairly empty. Little Man was actually pretty patient (and possibly not feeling the best). He passed the time on various laps and looking out the window.

It was another sunny day, so the walk to the vineyard was beautiful. The town was quaint, and once we were on the outskirts, mountains loomed in the distance.

The vineyard itself was stunning. The tour was educational and fun and took exactly ninety minutes. Not only did we see the original barreling and bottling equipment, along with pictures of how things used to be done, we were given a tour of the caves where the wine is aged. Afterward, a tasting of two of their premium cavas was included. Little Man quite enjoyed his taste too! (Grape juice, of course.)

There is a winery right across the street from the train station, but we chose Cavas Cadorniu because it was highly recommended. We booked the tour online the night before (I don’t think they offer walk-in tours), and it was a great choice. Aside from the ten minute 3-D movie at the beginning, the entire tour is child-friendly, with very little walking. The quick-paced cart ride through the caves is exhilarating! The tour guide was especially accommodating as he had a son about the same age as Little Man. And to top it off, the cava was delicious! They sell it worldwide, so go ahead and look for it at your local liquor store. You’re welcome. 😉

After the tour, we had planned to get lunch in town, but ended up eating a few things we had with us instead. (I’d made sure to get sandwiches at the Barcelona train station that morning, just in case.) I wasn’t feeling the best and wasn’t very hungry. We walked back to town, where my in-laws wanted to explore. As Little Man had fallen asleep on the way, we needed to keep the pram in motion. By that point I was really not feeling great. I made my way back toward the train station while Hubster and his parents toured the town with the sleeping one. They arrived only about ten minutes after I did, and shortly after that, we boarded the train back to Barcelona. There’s a handicap seat right by the door that I fell into, while everyone else took actual seats, a few steps above me. A WC is also located right by the doors but, unfortunately for me (and very possibly everyone in the vicinity), it was occupied. I managed to get a bag from my mother-in-law (thank goodness for souvenirs from the vineyard!), sink back into my seat, and vomit. I doubt I’m the only person who ended a day of wine tasting in that manner, but probably one of the few who did so on a train. By the time we got back to the apartment, I was feeling better, but not quite sure I was up for three more days of adventuring.

Warm Weather and Sangria

As the temperatures dropped, and the snow began to fall, this little family headed south, in the hopes of finding a warmer climate in Spain. A three and a half hour flight (Little Man’s 28th, for those of you counting) should be a piece of cake for us at this point. However, when it’s the only flight of the journey, it does seem to drag. Luckily, with a strong tail-wind, we arrived in Barcelona in good time.

We collected our baggage and headed to the exit to meet my in-laws. This little get-away had actually been their idea. The plan was hatched last June when they were visiting us in Helsinki. Nine months later, here we are!

 

The in-laws led the way to the apartment we would all be sharing for the week, as they had arrived a few days prior. It was stunning. On the top floors of a six story building (taking up the fifth and  sixth floors), it was the penthouse suit. I know that makes it sound swanky, but “swanky” isn’t quite the term I would use. There were four bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, a large living and dining area, and four terraces, including the one on the roof. The views were incredible.

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Monday morning was leisurely, and we left the apartment late to go exploring. I always enjoy walking the streets of a new city to get the feel of it. The sidewalks were quite narrow, allowing two people to walk side by side only so long as no one else was passing in the opposite direction. Grocery and fruit stores speckled the way, along with trash bins separating plastic, paper, cans, compost, and trash. I found it intriguing (and a bit inconvenient) that in order to take out the trash, you had to bring it all the way down to the street, then find the appropriate bin (which was not always readily available).

We meandered to La Sagrada Familia, the famous temple designed by Gaudi. Since Little Man is squirmy and impatient, we decided not to tour the inside, but admired the outside of the building instead. (It’s also best to purchase tickets for the tours in advance as you are given a specific time of admittance. It’s possible to by tickets at the temple for that day, but you may end up waiting an hour to get in. Who has that kind of patience with a toddler?) Besides, it was a lovely day, and I thoroughly enjoyed walking in the sunshine, a rare treat during the Helsinki winter.

We found a playground across the street, and let Little Man enjoy the day as well. Most of the playgrounds in Barcelona (there are so many!) are enclosed with a three foot fence and locking gate so little kids can’t just run out. This particular park was perfect, as there were plenty of things for younger kids. Really, the little one only has eyes for the slide, so that’s where we spent most of our time. Although he did like being able to run around and stretch his legs as well.

By this point, we’d all worked up a decent appetite, so we left the park in search of lunch. A kebab restaurant caught our eye, so we grabbed a table inside, Little Man parking it on his grandpa’s lap as there were no high chairs. (I found it was hit or miss with high chairs in Barcelona. As much as Spaniards love kids, and will happily accommodate (or play with) small children, many restaurants simply don’t supply them.) The food was good, but the sangria was the best I’d ever had. I don’t know what they put in it, but it was spectacular.

With full bellies and a slightly tipsy mama (that would be me; I meant it when I said I didn’t know what was in the sangria), we turned toward the Mediterranean, to fulfill a lifelong dream of mine. When you spend ages reading about the beauty and magnificence of the Mediterranean Sea, how can you possibly grow up not wanting to see it for yourself? Add to that the fact that it was literally across the world from me, and I was sold. Wanderlust, anyone?

Ta-da! Man, I love the ocean! I’m going to go out on a limb and say that any sunbathers were tourists. The locals were wearing winter coats and boots. It was a very strange sight when coming from below freezing temperatures to +15C and realizing that the outfits hadn’t changed. Turns out Little Man still loves the water too. He had napped on the walk to the Sea, but once he woke up, I took him to the waters edge so he too could touch the mighty Mediterranean. It was cold, but once he had a few waves kiss his feet, he shook my hands away and darted toward the water. I could visibly see the undertow at work and quickly grabbed a hold of him. We played a little longer, then made the trek back to the apartment. After such a fun (and exhausting) day, dinner was a casual evening in, after the little one fell asleep. We spent the rest of the night sipping wine and planning the remainder of the week. Such adventures to be had!