Portugal, Spain, and back to France.

We've left Portugal and headed across Spain, back into France, doing a couple of marathon (for Europe) drives.

Our last three or four days in Portugal were fantastic, with some incredible food, sights, people, and roads.
We stayed a couple of nights in Costa Nova, which was quite touristy, but had a nice beach on the Atlantic, and some great seafood, before heading off to spend the day in Porto. Porto is famous for it's Port (big surprise), with stacks of cellars doing tastings, but we were there fairly early in the day, so sorry no Porto Port report!
We did however have some great food, including another lunch where we ordered one thing, were told by the waiter we had got it wrong, and given something else. Turns out he was right.

After rolling out of Porto, we headed up into the mountains toward the Spanish border, stopping above a Hydro lake in a Hotel with the most amazing views down the valley. After a swim we headed off for coffee and a look around before tea, which turned into a bit of a fang on narrow twisty mountain roads. We decided to look for somewhere to have tea at about eight, but everywhere appeared to be shut!
We were consistently turning up for tea early in Portugal, most places not starting service until eight, but were worried with it being so remote, and in the mountains, they may have changed the rules. Only one thing for it then, I went into Targa driving mode, and the navigator, instead of calling corners, was calling the status of eateries!
The monologue from the nav went something like this, "Bar on right, no, shut. Restaurant on left in 200. The bastards are shut as well! Next village 5km. Can't you drive any faster you poofter!?"
Eventually, with a glowing turbo, smoking brakes, and shagged tyres, we slid backwards into the carpark of a restaurant named Pedre Verde, where we had one of the best meals of the trip so far. We started with goats cheeses and bread, including garlic bread and a locally made(ie. the downstairs kitchen!) chorizo sausage, followed by a pork chop and potatoes, and the star of the night, goat stew with spuds, yum! By the time we got through that lot we were chockers, and declined the owner/waiter's offer of dessert, which he ignored.
Owing to our paltry attempts at plate cleaning in Portugal thus far, I asked if the portions we got were 'normal', and was told in very poor english (still better than my Portugese!) that yes they were, but the locals only have a light breakfast and lunch, saving themselves for tea.

Epic fail. For my first travel advisory: don't have a huge breakfast and lunch, snack all day on local specialties and treats, and then belly up to the tea table and try to put away a Portugese dinner!

At the end of the meal Deena asked about the ingredients of the dessert, and the owner told us that 'his' honey was in it, which prompted me to ask if he kept bees himself, and he does! Once we had managed to establish that we were both bee nerds, we spent the next hour or so talking about bees and honey, which led to a tour of the kitchens, honey tastings (on an already abused stomach), and a trip into the backyard to have a look at one of his hives. All very enjoyable, and Deena was ecstatic to be able to watch me talk in sign language, and pidgin Portu-english about bees!

The next day saw us in Spain, this time on a mostly motorway blast on the way back to France, lunching on sausage cooked in red wine and chips, and stopping short of the border with France, where Deena was thankfully able to sniff out some fresh cooked churros (thank god, we almost went half a day without some!).

Our return to France was heralded by torrential rain, which caused some localised flash flooding for the French, and a clean Renault for the Whites. We stopped two nights in Bordeaux in a lovely hotel right near the centre, with a resident beagle, and the most comical bathroom so far.
Tea the first night was at a brasserie around the corner, where I had Andouilette sausage, a strongly flavoured sausage made from pig stomach, intestines, and other bits. It had a rather strong odour, reminiscent, according to Deena, of dog shit. I tend to agree on the odour thing, but have to say that if you don't smell it too closely, it is rather tasty. Highly reccommended.
Does make you fart though.

After another couple of days travel we've ended up on the Normandy coast, visiting Omaha beach and a D-Day museum in Bayeux (of the tapestry fame) which was the first town liberated by the allies. It feels a little surreal to be driving along narrow hedgerow lined lanes on such a lovely day, after standing in a war cemetry full of headstones.

I've got a ton of photos to put up in the next couple of days, heaps more food porn, and some boring scenery shots, but until then, au revoir, Dave.

More Spain (and a bit of Portugal).

After leaving the Pyrenees by way of a mind-blowing thirty odd km descent (had to slow down substantially about halfway due to a seriously long and spongy brake pedal), we ducked back into France for lunch. and then hit the Mediterranean coast of Spain-
where we found kilometre after kilometre of very tight and twisty roads! I can see a theme developing. We stopped for a couple of days in a fishing village called El Peurto Del something, where to be fair the food wasn´t great, but the views and two days on the beach was a fair compensation.




After that we moved on to Barcelona, which is a very, very big city, very busy, and not for the budget conscious. Our room cost 120 euros for two nights, while parking the car for the same time cost 80 euro! To make matters worse, there weren´t even towels or soap to steal from the car park.


We did find some amazing food though, above is a small sample of the tapas from a bar near our hotel, the pick of which was the fresh anchovies and tomato on bread, and the dish below, grilled blood sausage. Seriously good!


As we were leaving the bar, we wandered into a large protest of some sort, complete with about ten vans full of riot police, and best of all, riot ambos! Seriously, the ambos had ballistic vests on, and helmets on their laps. I don´t think Spanish emergency services are inclined to cock-about.


It naturally enough was a bit difficult to figure out the reason for the protest, although I think some were protesting Basil Fawlty´s treatment of Manuel. Until we saw the bloke below, and it became obvious they were protesting the state of the public transport system.
Or something.


Anyway we joined in for a bit, but I think Deena was not as committed to the cause as she could have been.


Meanwhile, I had to try and convince these two I was laughing with, not at. Another minute or so, and I may have needed the riot ambos, although by this stage I think they, like half the protesters, had pulled the pin and gone to a bar. So we did too.





Another light lunch. This time razor clams in garlic butter, mussels, and potatoes bravas.
Seafood is healthy and slimming right?

One of the great things about Spain is that there is always a bottle of really good olive oil around. Drizzled on the plate with the remnants of the meal, and mopped up with bread is my favourite way to enjoy, mind you it´s so good, if I thought I´d get away with it, I´d drink it straight!


After Barcelona, we drove two days to another fishing town, this time just out of Lisbon, in Portugal. Above is the famous Portugese chicken, marinated, roasted over coals, and served with spicy peri-peri sauce. Probably the best chicken and chips we´ve ever had. Even better than Legs and Breasts!


The cooking of said chicken. Don´t you think it smelt good in there!


Grilled mackerel and boiled potatoes with oil for lunch.
This was from a restaurant that was crammed full of about fifteen people when we first went by, there wouldn´t have been room to squeeze a cat in, much less a lump like me, so we went back for the second, or maybe third sitting, and rolled out an hour or so later.
We were sat down by the owner/cook, who told us what we were going to have, no choice, no alterations, from start to finish. Although we were allowed to choose the colour of our wine. And I have to say, when the food is this good, don´t argue!
A fair part of the rolling action on our departure was probably due to the wine and some sort of almond based spirit we were told to drink at the end with our coffee. If it is served in a small glass, and is clear and oily looking, it´s gonna kick. Very nice but, just strong. And the price? A little bit more than a macca´s lunch!


And this is a shot of the Atlantic, taken when we sobered up enough to go for a drive.

Adios, Dave.

Spain

We've finally gotten rid of Avis's Nissan Note (google it for a giggle), and picked up our rocket-sled to adventure! In controlled, closed road tests, conducted under strict safety supervision, the Renault has proven to a hoot to drive!

Looks bloody fancy too!
Some of the roads we've been on so far are just insane! For the Taswegians, imagine the narrowest parts of Paradise Gorge at Orford, make it a thirty km stretch, with tunnels, and up and down hills! Some parts are so narrow, we've had to stick the nose in to the bank on one side just to let other cars past, and I've no idea how we still have a driver's door mirror!
Please note the locals drive on these roads like it's the Midlands hwy, baguette in one hand, argument in the other, full noise in a Citroen van!

This is the Millau(sp?) bridge, built to relieve holiday traffic congestion in the town of Millau. Crikey that traffic must have been fierce, because the bridge is bloody enormous. Standing under and looking up, it's hard to take it all in, but as an indication of it's height from the valley floor, there are strobe lights on it to stop planes flying into it!

One of our twenty euro hotel room picnics, that's a genuine four euro bottle of wine there kids. Actually we didn't like this wine so much, but it's the first bottle of two buck chuck we haven't enjoyed, seriously the winos here have got it so good!
The cheese is a few bits we picked up in a little place called Roquefort, you may have heard of it? Big on sheep apparently. And just to make the meal a little healthier, duck saucisson (salami).

This is the hilltop castle in the town of Carcossonne, a massive tourist trap (4 million people a year!), but still quite delightful. Wouldn't want to go in the high season though!

Below is the meal we had at one of the many restaurants inside the castle, Pork and Duck cassoulet, a beany stew with oink-oink and quack-quack in it. Adding the duck is a regional thing, because apparently pork by itself wasn't quite rich enough. Another delicious triumph of French cuisine.
Does make you fart lots though!

This is on the road through the Pyrenees into Spain. Most of the towns we passed through were ski towns boarded up for the summer, but we found a hotel in a lovely little town with two trout streams right in the middle of it, the balcony of our room actually hung over one of the streams. I was thinking what a lovely place it would be to live, and then we went to the (very small) supermarket in the town and saw this.

Our house is going on the market as soon as we get residency!

Apparently the hooves are left on to prove that the pigs are free range, and by the way, just check out the price! A trout stream in the middle
of the town, dirt cheap jambon by the leg in the supermarket, and tight twisty mountain pass roads to fang on, what more could you want!

Adios, Dave.