Gone mining!

Yesterday we put on our hard hats and headed down into the deep tunnels of a salt mine! When we say deep, we mean 3 miles below a BIG pile of salt. A salt mountain, that is.

We went to the Salt Mines of Cardona. It is the result of salt deposits 40 million years ago - almost as old as my mother as Joel would say - back when this part of Spain was covered by an ocean! Part of what is now the Bay of Biscayne, as the waters started to recede and dry up, salt was deposited in layers on the (then) ocean floor. The shift in the plates that partially separated the Iberian peninsula from the rest of Europe pushed the salt deposits upward into what is now the Salt Mountain. The first know miners of this precious mineral were the Romans, as early as 400 BC although there are also remmants of people as early as 4500 to 2500 BC. Whether they 'mined' the salt, or just licked the rocks is not known ;)

The inside of the mine was fascinating. Due to the different characteristics of the formation of salt stalactites and stalagmites, some points of the mine looked like a winter paradise. A post-evaluation comment by Joel pretty much sums it up: "That's the first time I've actually listened to what the guide had to say."

All that salt made us hungry so after a quick perusal through the souvenir shop, we headed off to our lunch date - in a medieval castle. It was the Parador of Cardona hotel's restaurant where you can literally eat like a king (or a very rich duke)!

After lunch we took a stroll around the 9th-11th century castle. The view from the tower was awe-inspiring but as a thunder storm rolled in and our hair began to stand up from the electricity we decided it was time to take our leave.

PS. Pictures of our trip will be uploaded into the picture gallery soon.

Back in Barcelona

Safely back in Barcelona, we still had an action-packed busy week before Hal, Mitzi and Brock left for the USA. After Pablo picked us up from the airport, Hal & Mitzi found that their hotel had not kept their booking! Luckily, Pablo knows how to argue long and determinedly and he got the hotel to put them up in a room in a different hotel for the night. The next day, unhappy with this hotel's service, we found them a different place and everyone was happier about the results anyway since the hotel was closer to our house and had a little kitchenette and living room. They said it felt like their little home away from home. Brock and Joel enjoyed the tiny swimming pool on the roof, too.

Everyone was pretty tired the next day and we just hung around, resting up and getting organised. As usual, the cuisine was excellent and we enjoyed our privileged 'booking' in the al fresco terrace at home.

Sunday was St. Paul and to celebrate, we all went to tour the Gaudi building called 'Casa Batlló'. You'll be able to see the pictures of our visit soon. Grandma wanted to invite us all out to eat to celebrate Pablo's Saint's day so after the tour of the 'freaky' architectural wonder (evaluation by the two younger members of the party) and a quick peak at the Ametller House we headed down Via Laetana towards the beach and our lunch destination. But on this scorching Sunday afternoon, Melinda's well-worn car simply could not stand the heat and in the middle of the Sunday traffic full of irritated drivers determined to get to the beach, it simply stopped and refused to go any further.
Luckily (?) there were about five policemen standing on the curb. All of them came rushing over to let her know that the car could not stay where it was. She explained to them that she was aware of that, but could not really do much about it. So that they told her to steer while they pushed her car. Unfortunately, they gave conflicting instructions about which way to go and she steered as if she were drunk as she turned to the right, no to the left, no to the right and finally, ignoring all of them, steered the car into a corner turning lane. Eventually Pablo found us, got the car started and we still managed to make it to our lunch date (after having to argue with the parking lot attendant to get our cars into the lot to park). As Pablo said, when we all finally got into the restaurant, "Melinda doesn't like to do anything simply. Every where she goes, she needs an adventure or simply isn't fun for her." Just the same, we had a great lunch at one of our favourite seafood eateries, the 'Sea Goose' (Oca Mar). Its English menu is fun to read as well, featuring such obscure items as "Prawns in a Raincoat" and a "Quick Shave in See Food Blanket".

After an uneventful ride home, we got ready to enjoy the Eurocup Finals: Spain versus Germany. At 8 in the evening, we crowded around the flatscreen TV, made fun of the Spanish anthem and opened our Polish beers specifically selected and brought for the occasion. Our visitors were pleasantly startled by the enthusiasm of the Barcelona's inhabitants as each goal was punctuated by car horns, firecrackers and noise-makers across the city. As most of you know by now, Spain was the underdog, fielding a group of extremely young but talented players against formidable, enormous German veterans. But Spain won! The first Eurocup in 4o odd years. Pablo said it was the best Saint's Day present he could ever ask for.

The rest of the week went by like a blur. On the days that Melinda had to work, the Tennessee travellers relied on Hal's map-reading ability to get to know Barcelona. They checked out the Gothic Quarters, the Cathedral, spent time on the beach, 'did' the Rambla several times, learnt the streets around the house, became experts at catching the metro, and enjoyed some down time by the pool on the roof.


One day, we took an excursion to Tarragona (Grandma and Joel stayed home). Everyone was really impressed by the conjunction of Roman ruins and medieval buildings - it was a really great day trip (hot but cool). Hal's favourite was the ampitheatre you can see here.
On another evening, we went to the 'Magic Fountains'.
This is a sound and light show that uses the water fountains on the Montjuic hill to create an outdoor show for everyone. It's a great place to have a relaxing summer night. While it might sound kind of corny, it is pretty sensational when seen live. It would be fun to the the light and sound engineer in charge of it!(If you want to see an amateur video recording of part of the show, click here.) After the fountains, we headed up to the fortress on top of Montjuic to see a panoramic view of Barcelona by night.
On Friday evening, we all put on our best rags, got dolled up and went to the Liceu opera house to watch Luisa Miller (by Verdi).

On their last day, we crammed as much as we could into 24 hours. A morning trip to a 14th Century Gothic monastery was followed by an authentic paella lunch. Then, after an authentic Spanish siesta, we took a quick trip to the Güell Park while Joel and Brock went to the cinema.



We were sad to see them go. We hope they had as good a time with us as we did with them!

Witajcie to Polska!

We are now in Warsaw - in one piece and all intact. After negotiating the price in zlotzies for two taxis, we piled in to find our next hotel. On the way, we passed the famous skyscraper 'given' to Warsaw by Stalin. It really embodies the Soviet style that is so prevalent throughout Warsaw, along with the many military statues throughout the city.

This time we were lodged in a more modern hotel (although in the boonies of outer Warsaw). Since we were so far away, the intrepid travellers from Tennessee soon mastered the intricacies of the tram system in Poland, even using it to come home after a night on the town (Old Town, that is). Of course, we were the only ones who bought the tram tickets and validated them - the true indicator of what separates the tourists from the natives in Warsaw.

Just as it was in Hradlec Králové, Claudia and Melinda had to head off to a dull meeting while the rest of the troop explored the Old Town of Warsaw.

There were loads of sidewalk musicians - many of them playing classical music - free concerts in all the streets! Not surprising considering that this is where Chopin is the town idol and there's a world-renowned music school here. Brock got to 'jam' with a few of them. Of course, Pope John Paul II is also a national icon and hero here which bespeaks of the rather ecelectic tastes of the Polish.

Speaking of tastes, we found we had a liking for Polish food (and some had a liking for Polish beer). Some of our favourites were pumpkin soup, pierogi, nalesniki, and mushroom soup in a bread bowl.

Our ice cream gourmets did decide, however, that the Czech ice cream (zmrzlina - that was easy to pronounce!) was better than the Polish type (lody). As the Polish would say, "Jedzcie, pijcie i popuszczajcie pasa"... "Eat, drink and loosen your belt".

BIG ADVENTURES ON THE LAST EVENING

On the last day of our stay, after a half-day meeting we all met up in the Old Town. The group had visited the Warsaw Ghetto uprising memorial, a complete walking tour of the old town that included the main square, the so-called New Town, the Jablonowksi Palace and many other wonderful sites. And Joel was able to find a real treasure - an ocarina. For those of you who don't know (ah, duh) this is an important instrument in the videogame The Legend of Zelda.

By the time, Claudia and Melinda were finished and had caught up with the group, they were getting pretty tired but were still wanting to find a 'piece of the Jewish wall' that was indicated on their map. So Melinda had the bright idea of hiring a bike taxi to take Grandma while we walked along beside it.

This worked fine through the pedestrian zone that led to the Saxon Gardens and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We stopped briefly to see the changing of the guards (young soldiers that barely looked out of diapers, ordered around by a tough looking veteran).



The weather was beautiful, the garden was full of flowers, the birds were singing, the butterflies were flitting and the children were laughing and singing in the park ... then we came out on the other side of the park. The weather darkened, the traffic roared and the taxi bike driver told us he would have to hurry through the traffic and we would meet up ... on the other side.


Ten minutes of semi-coherent dialogue (the driver spoke broken English with a stutter and we spoke no Polish), we felt we had understood clearly where we would all meet and that we could easily trail along behind. At his mother's insistence (and with extreme reluctance), Joel got into the bike taxi with his grandmother. At the last minute, his mother shoved her cellphone into his hands. The last words the rest of the group heard as the bike taxi took off were, "but I don't know how to use it!"

As the taxi bike darted through traffic, Brock and Keith were in the front, jogging along as closely as they could and relaying messages to the straggling group behind them.
"They've turned left."
"Do you see them?"
"I think so. Isn't that them over there near that corner."
"No, I think they went right."
"Watch out, don't cross in red."
"But they're getting away."
"Do you still see them?"
"They've disappeared around the curve."

After about five minutes of racing to keep up, we decided to call them to get some landmarks. Joel answered the phone.
"What street are you on?"
"I don't know, it's all in Polish."
"Give me a name of something you see."
"Pkrzuzzxit."
"Let me speak to your grandmother. Mom, did you turn onto a wide avenue?"
"I don't know, we turned left and then turned left and then turned left and then turned left and we keep going in circles, he doesn't know where he's going!"
"I'll call you right back."

Finding the phone conversation pretty incoherent, Hal, the map-reader, said he could get us to the meeting place. But Melinda had a vague sense of uneasiness since we really had not established one particular point of reference for meeting. But we headed off in the general direction of the street we had named to the taxi driver (but which seemed to traverse the entire city). It was further away than it looked and our uneasiness grew with the time it took it to cover this distance on foot and because it seemed that the bike taxi had taken at great speed and did not appear to be stopping. Hal told Melinda, "You're going to be the one who has to call Philip and explain to him how you last saw his wife and grandson in a bike taxi taking off down a main street in Warsaw!"


Finally reaching the street that we were sure would take up straight to the one we were looking for, we called back to make sure that was the right one. Joel answered in a clear state of agitation and when he heard his mother's voice, only managed to get out, "Why did you do this to me?" and broke down into sobs. This caused great consternation and sobbing on the other end of the phone so Melinda handed the phone to Hal. Now there was weeping and wailing on both sides of the phone as Grandma was now crying because her grandson was upset.


The phone conversation on the seekers' end went something like this. "Deanna, what is the name of the street you are on? Can you spell that? E I E L P. Wait, start again. E as in WHAT? Was that E or I? EEEE. E as in WHAT? L as in WHAT? OK. Start again. Wait, we've got it! We're right there, we're behind the building. We'll be there in a few minutes." Claudia had miraculously been able to decipher this conversation and find a road that fit the erratic spelling.


Despite his stuttering and apparent lack of English, the bike taxi driver had indeed delivered grandmother and grandson to the Intercontinental Hotel. He apparently took some serious shortcuts but did deliver. Completely unphased by a sobbing senior citizen and young child, he offered to take them on another tour at any time and calmly delivered his visiting card upon being paid. Needless to say, that offer was refused (words not repeated here) in no uncertain terms by grandmother. Joel did not speak to his mother again for most of the afternoon, preferring to stick with Brock and Keith, who had not delivered him into the bike taxi.


In the end, the 'piece of Jewish Ghetto wall" turned out to be (we think) part of an old apartment building. But all is well that ends well, after traipsing all that way, and then finding our way back on a very crowded tram, we did see part of the wall in a memorial. We saw it through the tram window by accident. It was approximately 250 yards away from the first tram stop where we took off to find it.

The night was not quite over, however, Recovered from our incident and (almost) forgiven, we had a nice dinner on a terrace with a very polite and generous restaurant owner at our bidding. Then we headed back to the hotel, with last minute shopping in hand, because we had to watch the Spain-Russia semi-finals match that would determine who went on to be a finalist in the Eurocup 2008. Brock and Keith decided it would be more exciting to stay in Warsaw Old Town to watch the match.


The match was just getting started when we arrived and was being shown in the lobby of the hotel. Since most of the guests appeared to be Russian and over six feet, we felt it would be more prudent to watch it in our rooms. Spain beat Russia 4-0! We were considering going down to the lobby to shout 'Viva España' but having noticed the lentitude of the elevators, were afraid our victory would be soured since we would surely have been caught waiting for the creaky elevators to descend to the lobby. So it was a quiet celebration instead. Only Grandma was disturbed as we had Joel call her room every time Spain scored.


Then Grandma got her own back by calling at 12,30 to get Melinda to ring Brock and Keith's cellphone. They had not yet arrived and the last tram had been at 11 pm. Keith promptly answered and waylaid any concerns by saying "We're in the Rooster." Not having been with them during their trips through Old Town, this was a rather cryptic message for Melinda but she dutifully passed it on. The two truant men showed up around 1 and Hal was finally able to go to bed, only to get up at 6 am in order to catch our 1 pm flight.


We safely made our flight, taking two taxis to the airport and passing our last sightseeing opportunities of Warsaw - the Wilanow Palace and an old Skoda car - two remnants of Poland's history. After a lay-over in London (where Keith got off to head back to the USA the next morning), our bedraggled crew arrived safely to Barcelona at 9 pm, full of stories and adventures to share.

All Aboard ... Or Else!

After the last day in Hradlec Králové and after a considerable amount of discussion and gesturing in order to check out of the infamous Amber Hotel, we all headed to the train station with the rabbit hole to try our luck again. This time, however, it was to catch a night train to Warsaw. We had 2 sleeper cars booked and paid and were ready for this new adventure. And adventure it turned out to be. Luckily, we were on the same train with another project member or else we might still be standing on Platform 2B (the train to the station to catch the night train to Warsaw was on Platform 2A and just about to leave when we realised out mistake).

We had an hour's wait in yet another intriguing Czech train station. This time we were all together in the main terminal. It was neat learning about other cultures - the toilets where you had to pay for the opportunity to make them more filthy than they already were, the strange characters hanging around the station at night and last but not least, the large and intimidating cleaning lady on her riding powermop, going around in circles around the column when she wasn't trying to run over people in her path. It was finally time to move to our platform to catch our night train (this time there was no rabbit hole). As the train pulled in, we saw our companion dashing down the platform to the end of the train to get into the sleeper cars. We took off after him. But the train never seemed to end - it seemed at least 2 kilometers long. As we neared the last coaches, dragging our large bags and tired carcasses, we began asking which coach we should get into (or rather gesturing and showing our tickets). The Stasi porters kept blowing their whistles, ignoring our confused expressions and indicated imperiously to go further down. When there were no more coaches to run to, and with half the group still struggling to catch up about four coaches down, the whistle began to toot frenetically that the train was leaving the station! The porters were not helpful but at least they didn't throw us off the train (not at the beginning anyway).

Like the three stooges (but we were eight), we threw our bags and ourselves onto the last car as the whistle continued to blast its warnings that the train was leaving. Melinda was at the door, grabbing bags and slinging them backwards, grabbing limbs and whatever available extremities and tossing people and baggage behind her, unaware that the crowd was piling up like pigs in a poke. As the train pulled out, Keith was pulled in. Luckily the door on the other side of the passageway in the coach did not open, or the entire group would have fallen out the other side!

So off we traipsed to find our sleeping cars, like Hercules setting out on his impossible tasks. Our first obstacle came in the form of a female Stasi porter - the same one who had sent us all the way down to the end car. When we showed her our tickets, she signalled that we should keep going to the front. Melinda, always cool and collected - ha, ha - calmly told her she should reconsider her attitude. After vigourous arguments in 2 languages in which neither opponent understood the other, the argument was satisfactorily settled by running over the Stasi porter's toes with the largest bag we had as we grumpily stumped through the carriages to find our beds.

Our next Herculean task came in the form of a male Stasi porter. With a look that would make Hitler himself look like Granny, he demanded we show him our tickets. When we gave them to him, he snorted and, in a long spiel in Czech, let us know that our tickets were useless. As he motioned that he was going to throw the tickets out the window, Melinda again - calmly and cooly - explained his family history to him in no uncertain terms. Another completely incomprehensible bilingual argument ensued. Since Melinda refused to get her ducklings off the moving train, the situation reached an impasse that was only resolved when a reformed Stasi member showed up and began arguing with her companion.

After about 10 minutes of this, punctuated with gestures and glances at our bewildered (everyone) and furious (Melinda) group, we were finally given leave to look for our sleeping cars. Of course, service was minimal for us and no one came around to make our beds. That was an easier task than simply getting on and staying on the train. We took the task with pleasure and everyone settled in for a long winter's nap. And long winter's nap it was since we could not regulate the air conditioning in the sleeping cars. Everyone's teeth were chattering and lips were blue within the first hour.

Joel was disappointed that we actually had to sleep in the sleeping car and kept insisting that he wished he had his friends with him to keep him company rather than his boring travel mates (Melinda, Claudia and Grandma) who wanted to sleep. They told him to go ahead and chatter all he wanted - which he did until he fell asleep five minutes later.

We were due to pull into the Warsaw Central Station at 7 am. To ensure that we not miss our stop, Hal was up at 4,30 (a reasonable hour to get ready to get off the train). He banged on our compartment door at 6,30 and we tumbled out of the train at 7 am on the dot, under the scowling surveillance of our friendly Stasi porter. We were ready to take on Warsaw!

Down the Rabbit Hole

This is us ... Mommy Duck (Melinda) leading her ducklings through the Prague airport, bus, underground and then into the train station to catch our 4-hour train ride to Hradlec Králové (HK for short since none of us could pronounce it!). It seems that our group trusted Melinda to navigate them through the bewildering jungle of concrete known as Prague transport. Her duty was to look back, as we wove through the Czech crowds, to make sure all the ducklings were in a row. Their duty (successfully followed) was to shout "quack, quack" to let her know they were all there. It did not help that our train's platform was the only one not showing on the scheduled train bulletin board! The lady in the information (or was that disinformation) booth was not exactly helpful with her minimalist response "Upstairs". Nonetheless, we did manage to find our train, get on board and settle down to a trip into the past.

As you can see by the image, trains in the Czech Republic are still mostly remnants of the Communist era. The ride through the Czech countryside was equally fascinating as we could glance out at two parallel countries - a fast-forward country with loads of European money flowing in and a country locked in its past.

Arriving at Hradlec Králové train station at close to 10 pm, we grabbed our luggage (not without some struggle considering the size of some of the bags we had) and headed off to find our hotel. At least, we intended to do so. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, at least that is what Hal is convinced of. The adventure begins ...

Mother Duck was tired and allowed her ducklings to separate. Some of her ducklings (Hal, Mitzi and Brock) decided to go down the stairs to the exit, while Mother Duck and the rest of her ducklings took the elevator. We soon discovered the need to know a few words in Czech - starting with the word 'Exit'. Coming out of the elevator, it seemed to be a dead end. But a little investigating (remember, we have great detective skills honed by trying to find airplane flights of grandmothers) showed that the exit was just around the corner and up another elevator. Makes sense - after all, we had to go under the other train rails to get to the main terminal.

Once in the main terminal, the three ducklings (Hal, Mitzi and Brock) were no where to be found. We looked all around the near empty terminal (it was, after all, quite late) and even checked outside. But no little ducklings to be found. Mother Duck parked her other ducks on a bench (except for her brave duckling named Joel, who went with her to save the lost ducklings). The three ducklings, not finding their Mother Duck, and not having learnt the Czech word for exit, went down the stairs but did not find their Mother Duck so they went back up the stairs. Then they decided to go down the elevator after the other group, but did not realise that they had to go out of the elevator and go around the corner for the other one. So they got back on the elevator and tried to find other buttons that would take them ACROSS the railway tracks. Since it was not an elevator belonging to Willie Wonka, this elevator did not go sideways. So they went back down the elevator, their feathers getting more ruffled all the time. Hal decided that the elevator was really Alice in Wonderland's Rabbit Hole and said we don't take that again! Then a nice Czech lady in a uniform happened by. But she did not speak English and really could not understand why they were asking for directions to a town they were already in. When she finally understood that they wanted directions to get over the railway tracks to the main terminal she cracked up. She was still giggling when Mother Duck and Duckling Joel showed up to rescue the lost ducklings. The look of relief on their faces was priceless. So we gathered everyone up and headed to the ex-Communist 'luxury' hotel across the mud-packed square.

As Joel said, it wasn't very hard to find as it was looming up out of the darkness right outside the train station. At the hotel we met up with the other members of the project and everyone decided to catch a bite to eat. Being so late, the only place open was a Chinese restaurant. Nothing like Chinese in the Czech Republic to restore your spirits. But the Spaniards (Joel & Melinda) skipped dinner to stay in the hotel to watch the Spain-Italy soccer match. Spain won after a 0-0 tie that went into overtime and then into penalty shots! Spain moved on to the semi-finals - the first time in 30 years!

The next day, while Claudia (Melinda's research assistant) and Melinda got to spend their whole day here ...

at this boring (but very modern) Education Faculty, the others got to roam around HK and see this beautiful medieval town.

But surprised by a sudden (and I mean sudden) hail storm, the intrepid travellers took refuge in the archways of the main plaza. Later on the sun came back out and they were able to enjoy the city and the theatre festival the rest of the day.

Finally found!

The cross-the-big-puddle branch of the family finally showed up. It was through detective work and intuition that we were able to figure out which airplane they would be on, given that the rather cryptic message from Grandma was, "arriving Friday around 2". There are approximately 10 flights every hour from London to Barcelona, but we managed to find them!

Five weary travellers, having spent an action-packed week in London, were waiting for us in the airport terminal just after 2 pm. That will teach them to let people know which plane they are taking! Friday evening was spent at the best eatery in town - the chef is fantastic and the view from the terrace is awesomely romantic.

It's known as Chez BBF Family and the head chef is Pablo himself. Michelin four stars were given by the gourmets from Tennessee and NC.

Because Keith only had a few days to spend in Barcelona, they took advantage of Saturday to take the Barcelona bus tour. They braved the extremely hot Spanish weather (over 90º F) to see the city known as the 'Count's City' (Ciudat del Condat'). Saturday night, Pablo & I took them to see an authentic 'tablao'. That's the typical southern Spanish dinner and dance, largely influenced by a mix of Arabic (from the 7th century) and gypsy music (from Rumania who migrated to Spain in the middle ages). Everyone enjoyed it and Brock, being the blooming musician in the family, said he would like to try to integrate the Spanish guitar into his next recordings. Sunday morning, everyone got ready to head East - Eastern Europe that is.

Melinda had two project meetings back-to-back in the Czech Republic and then Poland. Having successfully managed tourism in the UK and in Spain, this adventuresome group of 7 was ready to try their luck in the ex-Communist block of Europe. Off we headed into the unknown ...

NB: Pictures will be included when we have them downloaded. Thanks for your patience!