Yesterday, we avoided all thoughts of packing and plans and took a train up the Costa Brava to a small town called Flaça, about an hour north of Girona. We’d been invited to stay the night at the seaside home of a married couple (the husband was a classmate of Andrew’s); he’s Swiss-German, she’s Catalan and six months pregnant. We arrived Saturday afternoon, and, after enjoying the view of the sea from their terrace, we drove to an absolutely beautiful coastal town called Calella de Parafrugell, full of hills and flowers and white-washed homes. There we met a Portuguese couple (another MBA friend, the wife also six months pregnant) for lunch at Tragamar, a lovely seafood restaurant overlooking the sea. It was an amazing meal: almejas (clams), anchovies and red peppers on toast, and a delicious rice stew full of mussels and squid and langostines and shrimp (this stew was different, we were told, from paella, in that it’s more liquidy). Delicious, all of it, and pleasant to drink wine and have a leisurely meal in a sunny room, the sea washing up on the sand right outside.
Later, we took a walk on the beach, though it was so windy that the sand pelted our ankles painfully.
Today, before we caught a train back to Barcelona, we visited Empúries, an extensive site of Greek and Roman ruins, with some Roman mosaic tiling amazingly in tact. Again, lovely to wander around the ruins in the sun, the sea within sight between the various Roman columns.
Almejas…Roman ruins…Two weeks. An apartment still full of things, a million decisions to make, a veritable wheelbarrow full of things to do before we leave. There's nothing to do now but...take another trip. We're off tomorrow to the Basque country, determined to squeeze the very last drops from our time in Spain.