Cuenca

25 February 2020 - Our excursion to Cuenca last Wednesday did not start well, and there were multiple glitches along the way. But it turned out wonderfully in the end.

I thought I had booked the car from Thrifty for 9 a.m. That had been my intention. In fact, I'd somehow booked it for 10:30. (Old stupid brain is my guess.) Normally, it would be no problem, they said, but they were having a very busy morning and didn't even have enough cars to fill the 9 o'clock orders. It sounded touch-and-go whether they'd have one for us at 10:30.

Karen and I had got up and out early and walked over to Joaquin Sorolla station (about 20 or 25 minutes away from the flat), arriving a little before 9. When we finally found the Thrifty office, which is in with Hertz in a separate building across the street, it was too late to call Shelley off. She showed up a few minutes after I tried texting to tell her not to come. 

So we sat in a coffee shop next door for awhile, then in the Hertz office. Other customers came and left, with cars. We had booked a Thrifty car through Expedia so were lowest on the totem pole, we speculated. Finally, at almost 11, they gave us a car. The bonus was that it was a major upgrade from the cheapest class, which I'd booked. (Being cheap.) This was a small Fiat SUV, with automatic transmission - the latter something you pay a hefty premium for here. It took us awhile to get organized and get on the road. The drive, once we got clear of Valencia, was easy, the sun was shining, the highway was clear, it was going to be a nice day.

Then we got to Cuenca. It is a rabbit warren. Miss Google had great difficulty navigating the narrow streets, especially in the old town, but she did eventually, somehow, get us to Plaza Mayor, near our apartment, where we were to meet our hostess, Virginia. 

Plaza Mayor, Cuenca - Cathedral of Our Lady of Grace and Saint Julian

It was there, while parked in a no-parking zone, under the gimlet eye of the local policia, that we confirmed what we'd already suspected: the number Virginia had given us didn't work. Or so it appeared. However, my UK phone was in roaming mode and I was dialing the international access code and country code for Spain. As I was on a Spanish network, it didn't quite know what to make of this. (Yes, exactly - old stupid brain.) 

Plaza Mayor, Cuenca

I didn't suss this out until later, though. Shelley, foolishly, assumed I knew what I was talking about and accepted my wrong-number theory. I couldn't for some reason access the Messages section of the Airbnb site - where I could have texted with Virginia. So what were we to do?

Shelley, bless her, was the one who eventually solved it. She used the roaming data on her Canadian phone to go to the Airbnb page for our property, and booked the place for a few nights hence. At that point, she received a message with a contact number, a different one than the one Virginia had given me, and called it. It was Virginia's husband Rubén's number. He said he'd come, but we should go up and find the free parking lot where we were to leave the car overnight and wait for him there. We drove up the street and eventually found the lot at the very top of the old town. 

View of Cuenca from Castille Parking Lot

While we waited, I wandered off to take pictures - there were gorgeous views of the town. It was at this point that Virginia called my phone. I'd given her the number when we were corresponding a few days before. (Why hadn't she called earlier when we were so late arriving and she hadn't heard from us?) She couldn't understand my fractured Spanish, so I ran back to the car and handed the phone to Shelley. (It is just occurring to me now how much uglier this might have been if Shelley hadn't been with us.) Now it was decided we should walk back down to the square - with our bags - and meet Virginia. 

The street where we stayed

We did. She was delightful. She took us to the flat, which was on a pedestrian-only street just off the square, less than a city block away. The place was perfect. Virginia explained everything in rapid-fire Spanish. Even Shelley had to tell her, "más lento" - slower! - at one point. 

Lunch in Plaza Mayor

By the time she left, it was well after 3 and we were starving. We found a restaurant in the square still serving lunch, and had the menú del día - bunny rabbit for Shelley, roast chicken for Karen, veal for me. Shelley had something fishy for starters, Karen and I had hearty, soup-y dishes. Desserts were the usual - meh! - custard-y things. €11 each with drinks and bread. Not bad, not great.

With what was left of the day, we explored the old town. It's built on a rocky promontory between two deep river gorges. The place is famous for its casas colgadas - hanging houses. They're built on sheer rock cliffs, some with terraces hanging out over the gorge. There's a footbridge across one gorge, leading to an old convent-turned-hotel on another rocky promontory. The scenery is generally spectacular. 

Not the art Cuenca is known for, but kind of cool

The other thing Cuenca is known for is art. There are a bunch of art museums, including a major gallery of Spanish abstract art. The others are mostly devoted to one artist, mostly mid-20th-century Spanish abstractionists, and operated by charitable foundations set up in the artist's name.

Exploring the backstreets of Cuenca old town

Exploring the backstreets of Cuenca old town

Late afternoon sun on the cathedral

We happily wandered up and down the narrow streets for a couple of hours. At one point, we went our separate ways. Shelley went off down towards the new town to find a bottle of wine, Karen and I on separate peregrinations up and down the backstreets. We finally met up, almost by chance, back near the flat and went in. We were thinking we'd come out again after a rest, but never did. It got cold very quickly after the sun went down. I did go out on separate forays for beer and then bread. Otherwise, we hunkered in and nattered and drank and nibbled the evening away. 

More of late sun on cathedral fun

Karen and I slept well. The room was dark and mostly quiet. The heating rads did make weird ticking noises when they occasionally came on. This apparently disturbed Shelley who slept less well. Still, we got out in reasonable time. Our plan was to do the cathedral and the abstract art museum, which is housed in one of the most iconic of the casas colgadas. We were supposed to be out of the flat by noon.

Morning has broken - view from living room window at 8 am

The cathedral - the Cathedral of Our Lady of Grace and Saint Julian - is spectacular. It's one of the richest I've seen, and in such a relatively small city. The oldest parts of it date from the late 12th century. The facade was partially reconstructed in neo-Gothic style in the 20th century to repair damage from a lightning strike which also completely destroyed a tower and killed some children. 

Cuenca cathedral - view down side aisle from main entrance

One of the most striking things about the cathedral is the use of modern, abstract stained glass - very much in keeping with the town's identity as a repository of abstract art.  

The Chapter Hall (where the church wardens meet), with its beautiful coffered ceiling, and the Sacristy (where the priests get dressed) with its carved doors and fine carved figurines, are both striking. 

Chapter Hall ceiling

Sacristy door

Sacristy

The cloister and terrace, easily missed, are worth a look too. The terrace has fabulous views out over the river gorge. 

Spotted near Cuenca cathedral cloister

Cuenca cathedral cloister

Spotted on Cuenca cathedral terrace

View from Cuenca cathedral terrace

View from Cuenca cathedral terrace

We spent so long in the cathedral that by the time we came out, it was well after 11. Shelley felt she didn't want to be rushed at the abstract art museum so went off back to the flat to pack (and, I suspect, to work.) Karen and I went down to the museum, a few blocks away. 

Spanish Abstract Art Museum - unidentified sculpture in first room

If it had cost €8 or something to get in, it wouldn't have been worth it given how much time we had, but entry was free, so in we went. It's a gorgeous space, all marble floors, polished wood and white walls, with interlinked rooms on different levels.  

There are a couple of rooms with restored decorations from the original dwelling - 16th century frescoes, a coffered ceiling, carved stonework. 

Spanish Abstract Art Museum - 16th century fresco

Spanish Abstract Art Museum - original coffered ceiling

Spanish Abstract Art Museum - original stone lintel

The art is pretty good too. Most of the artists with the exception of Antoni Tàpies, whose foundation I visited in Barcelona a few years ago, were unknown to me. But there are some striking pieces. I particularly liked the paintings by Fernando Zóbel, a Filipino artist, photographer "and businessman" (according to Wikipedia), of which there were several.

Three canvases by Fernando Zóbel

Luis Feito, Numero-460-a (1963)

We got back to the flat a little after noon and left shortly after. The walk back up the hill to the car park dragging our bags was hot and sweaty. 

Blooming almond tree spotted on walk back to carpark

From mirador near carpark

Last view of our pretty street

Shelley had researched a drive around some beauty spots recommended by Virginia. The drive was up into the mountains behind the town. We did come to a very nice mirador (look-out spot) with views back along the river gorge to Cuenca. We stopped and took some pictures, including of the cat face and llama head carved naturally in the rock face. But the rest of the drive was a bit of a bust and brought us in a big loop back to Cuenca. We decided just to head back to Valencia. Shelley had to be back for a business call later in the day anyway.

Mirador above Cuenca - can you see the cat face? (Well, what's wrong with you?)

Mirador above Cuenca - llama above cave house

Mirador above Cuenca - town in cleft of hills

We stopped at a village called Almodóvar del Pinar, which Google informed us had a fairly highly rated restaurant. We found the place just off the highway, had a very satisfying menú del día lunch, took some pictures, then jumped back on the highway. 

Almodóvar del Pinar - from a series I'm calling "Siesta Streets"

Almodóvar del Pinar - from a series I'm calling "Siesta Streets"

Coming into Valencia, we were very nearly eye-witnesses to a car-motor scooter accident. It happened at a major intersection a few seconds before we got to it. It looked bad. The scooter rider was down and not moving. Bystanders were rushing to him and others were directing traffic around the accident site. Disturbing.

As soon as we got back to the Hertz office, Shelley skedaddled back to her flat to do her call. Karen and I walked home.

The next day, Friday, was a down day. The cough I'd had for a few days had developed into a full-blown cold - albeit a weird one that started, rather than ended, with a dry cough.

On Saturday, we did get out for a couple of decent walks. I haven't really been very sick with this cold. It's just the irritation of cough and runny nose.

Karen in front of Palau de Música on a(nother) sunny day

Shelley's friends, Jenn and Andrew, were visiting for a long weekend. They're Canadians who live on the coast just north of Gibraltar for six months of the year - they own a condo - and work part-time at their consulting-type careers. (I'm still not exactly sure what they do - must ask Shelley.) Nice couple, very friendly, interesting. We met them for a walk in the Túria park with their two dogs. We went from the Palau de Música to the City of Arts and Sciences, where we stopped for beer and snacks, and then walked back. In the evening, they came for a part-take-out (supplied by Shelley) and part-home-cooked meal (supplied by us). Very convivial. Good people. Fun evening.

Waiting to meet Jenn and Andrew at Palau de Música - on another sunny day 

Monday was lovely - sunny and low 20s. We rode to the beach, sat on a bench for an hour and read, then biked home. Today is another beauty. We spent most of it around the house - Karen basking on the upper terrace, embroidering, me working on this dratted blog - then went for a walk down to the City of Arts & Sciences. I photographed my favourite of the buildings there, the Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia. 

Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia

That is its name, by the way, in Valencian, a language (the locals would say) or dialect (linguists would say) very close to Catalan, the language of Catalonia and Barcelona, the area in the north of the country with separatist aspirations. In Spanish it would be Palacio de las Artes Reina Sofia - The Queen Sofia Palace of Arts. It's mainly an opera hall, but they do everything there - dance, flamenco, song, symphony. I love the building, which was designed by local boy Santiago Calatrava. There is something distinctly insectoid about it.

The clouds lasted for as long as we were on our walk, then the sun came back. Ah, Valencia!

  

Mistakes will be made

17 February 2020 - There's an old joke we used to think was hilarious when we were kids: "I've never been wrong," we'd say, then pause. "Except this one time I thought I was wrong." 

A paraphrase would sum up my week: "I never make mistakes, except when I think I've made a mistake." I find I worry more than I ever did about making mistakes, probably because I know too well how easy it is for old brains to screw up. But I guess I must also, at least sometimes, take precautions to avoid mistakes.

Anyway, the week so far.

We did bike to the beach on Saturday. We arranged to meet Shelley near the Neptuno Hotel on the promenade. Twenty minutes after the appointed time, I texted her. She was at the Neptuno, she said. Where were we? (Ah, at the Neptuno.) Fifteen minutes and a flurry of texts later, she turned up. She had momentarily confused the two hotels along the prom. The other is the Hotel Balneario, a big convention and tourism complex half a kilometer up the beach. Having got off her bus one stop further along than she'd intended, she was at the Balneario not the Neptuno so had to walk back to us. (Old brains.)

The beach was busy again, busier than might have been expected given the weather. It was sunny, but not terrifically warm. The forecast high was only 18C. Nice for northerners, but locals think it's wintry. There were lots of tourists - as Karen pointed out, it was spring break in Britain - but also lots of locals. Some of the latter were dressed, as we would think, appropriately for the weather and location: light sweaters, jeans and sneakers, say. Many, as usual, were not. While we were sitting waiting for Shelley, we spotted one young woman decked out in over-the-knee crimson suede high-heel boots and a bright red fake fur jacket over a filmy mini-dress! Spaniards love fashion, and I guess they just can't bear to not wear winter styles. We've seen middle-aged Valencians in puffy winter jackets and knee boots on sunny days with temperatures in the mid-20s.

We wandered along the promenade past the beach volleyball courts, which were well used, though not quite as crowded as last time we were here on a really warm day. There were fewer people in the water, but more kids on the ropey climbing thing. We went past the end of Malvarossa Beach into Alboraya, the next community north of the city. There are some attractive bars and restaurants on the beach there. We tried to find a table - Shelley hadn't eaten much yet (we'd had dinner at Spanish lunchtime) - but all the ones in the sun were taken. So we walked back into Valencia and eventually found a sunny table at a cafeteria and ice cream joint. Shelley ordered patatas bravas and some shrimpy tapas dish, Karen a salad. The brava sauce was surprisingly hot. The fries also came with garlic-flavoured mayonaise. Yum-yum.

By the time we'd finished our drinks and snacks, it was time to be heading back. I suggested we could walk straight back from the beach and hit a tram line that would take us to the nearest subway stop. But we were further along the beach than I was thinking - before the tram line turns and runs briefly parallel to the beach. (Old brain.) So we tramped through a not very salubrious neighbourhood of nasty-looking apartment blocks until we finally reached the tram. It took us to Marítim-Serería, the subway station closest to the beach, where we caught the tube into the city. Karen and I got off at Colón; Shelley went on to the next stop, Xátiva.

Karen and I had decided on an excursion to Cuenca, the mountain town north of Valencia that is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. We had wanted to go last year but the weather was never any good. It can get really cold up there. The weather was promising to be quite nice on the weekend, though - 16C and 17C and sunny. Shelley wouldn't go, she said. She had to work and, besides, it would be too busy on a weekend. We rethought and noticed that Wednesday and Thursday were also going to be sunny and reasonably mild, and there were a lot more Airbnbs available to choose from on Wednesday night. We found a nice-looking one and booked it, and a car. It's a three-bedroom flat, so we suggested Shelley rethink too. She did, and now she's coming with us.

There was talk of us meeting up on Sunday for a museum visit - museums and galleries tend to be free on Sundays. Shelley e-mailed in the morning to say she'd better work, given the time she was planning to take off mid-week. So Karen and I walked over to MUVIM, the Valencian Museum of Illustration and Modernism. It's an odd-duck of a museum, but we've seen some interesting exhibits there. Last year, it seemed hardly any shows were scheduled. It's city-run and -funded and I think the municipality may be cutting back on cultural spending. We know of a couple of other city-run gallery spaces that have stopped operating altogether since we started coming here nine years ago.

From Les Amours, by Pilar Consuegra Romero

The two shows that attracted us were both much smaller than we'd understood. Both were housed in the lobby area. One, Les Amours, is a series of ink-and-wash drawings by Pilar Consuegra Romero, the first winner of a new national drawing competition. The images, on the theme of romantic love, are inspired by Les Liaisons Dangereuses, the 18th century French novel of aristocratic love intrigues by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos. We thought the pictures attractive, but there are fewer than a dozen of them. 

From Anonimes by Paula Santiago

The other exhibit, Anónimes (Anonymous), is by a local art college professor, Paula Santiago. It's a series of painted images of abused women to mark the occasion of the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. The images are effective, but again, very few. And all displayed in the window of the museum's lobby - so we needn't even have come inside to see them. Our visit to MUVIM lasted about half an hour.

Karen loitered in the sun outside for another 20 minutes while I took pictures on the terrace. It's decorated with broken Roman columns and there's a sort of storage area for smaller bits and pieces of Roman masonry. I'm not sure what the story is behind this display. They were building it the first year we came to Valencia - and I still haven't been bothered to figure out what it's about. I assume they're artifacts from local digs.

We started walking home by a different, slightly meandering, route. About half way there, I suddenly realized I didn't have my sun clips. They're very cool, magnetic ones that came with my glasses. They had fallen off a couple of times before when I was taking pictures, and I assumed that was what had happened again - except this time, I hadn't noticed. My guess was they'd cost a ridiculous amount to replace, so I decided to retrace our steps and see if I could spot them. Karen continued home. I went all the way back to the museum, even went in and asked the attendant at the desk, who asked three different colleagues, and then I went out and checked all around where I'd been taking pictures. Nothing. So I rode home. 

The clips were sitting on the table in the living room exactly where I'd left them. I'd never had them with me. 

Old. Stupid. Brain.

Jardin Ayora

On Monday, Karen and I decided to walk to another of the city's walled gardens. This one, the Jardin Ayora, was built by an early-20th century industrialist, along with a palacete, a small mansion, in the modernista style. It was about a 30-minute walk, much of it through not-very-interesting parts of the city. The garden itself is, like Jardines de Montforte, surrounded by mid-rise apartments and busy streets, a little oasis of calm and green. It's not as elegant or well-kept as Montforte - in keeping with it's down-market neighbourhood - but the eucalyptus and fig trees are wonderful and the house pretty. We spent half an hour strolling about, taking pictures, then rode bikes home for lunch. 

Jardin Ayora, giant fig

Jardin Ayora, eucalyptus

Jardin Ayora

Jardin Ayora, palacete

The rest of the day was spent a casa, much of it on the lower terrace, basking in the sun. 

Early evening in Ruzafa

We did go out for another walk around the neighbourhood in the early evening after a very early dinner. The streets are so buzzy at this time of day. People are getting home from work, picking up the kids from nursery schools, sitting down at the bars and cafes for a drink and tapas, doing their shopping - the shops reopen at 5, having been closed for siesta since 2. 

Early evening in Ruzafa

Early evening in Ruzafa

Today, Tuesday, is the first really bad day we've had this year weather-wise. It was actually raining in the morning and it's been heavily overcast all day. We're moping indoors, getting ready for our outing to Cuenca tomorrow.

At some point yesterday, it suddenly occurred to me - why I can't now remember - that my Canadian SIM card in it's little plastic case was no longer in my wallet where I'd put it when I switched to the UK SIM we're using now. A couple of times it had seemed in danger of slipping out of my wallet. Now it apparently had.

You know where this is going, don't you? 

Today, it occurred to me to check on a cupboard shelf in our bedroom where I'd stashed some other stuff not needed while we're here. And, of course, there it was, the not-so-missing SIM card.

Old. Stupid. Brain.