Zaragoza

Retro living and girl power.

I booked myself into the Hotel Pilar, opposite the famous Cathedral and after a few hours of travelling, it's time for lunch. I wander until I find Casa Lac, 1825. I venture into this glamorous bar and order the luncheon deal of 3 tapas and a glass of wine. It's so elegant and the Spanish businessmen and women are out in force and possibly brokering deals in expensive looking clothing.

Then I wander over to visit the cathedral, Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar with it's interesting history. One of Jesus's disciples, James went to Spain to spread the word but he wasn't doing very well getting converts to Christianity. In misery, he sat on the bank of the river that runs through Zaragoza and Jesus's mum, who was still living in Jerusalem, came to him in some sort of spiritual form, gave him a pillar of jasper and instructed him to build a church in her honour. About a year later, he built a chapel for her, the first ever church dedicated to Mary, girl power back in the day of the patriarchy! Many churches have been built over and around it since then, the last in 1681 in a Mudejar, Islamic inspired style.

It is huge, and I wander past a Goya, (as you do) and my pamphlet tells me about the two bombs that were dropped onto the Cathedral during the Spanish Civil war that miraculously didn't explode and which are still in the church. Then I go up to the Basilica tower and am buffeted by strong winds but the view is amazing. Back on ground level, I find so many shops full of statues of Mary holding baby Jesus, her head surrounded by rays of celestial beams on a pillar.

As usual, I wonder if I've made a mistake by coming here. I wander through the huge piazza outside my hotel, the biggest in Spain and I'm not falling under it's spell but then I find a Vermuteria, the famous Vermouth bars of Spain. The older ladies of Zaragoza are out in style, perfectly coiffed and dressed with a Vermouth in hand. I'm seated next to two girls from Japan and I ask them why they came here and they said to see the church at night from the bridge. So that's where I will be, but I will have to find somewhere to eat as the Vermouth has gone straight to my head.

I find a paella bar and sober up and head off towards the bridge at sunset. The wind sweeps around the crowds of tourists waiting for the last dramatic rays of the sun as it sets and suddenly the twilight falls, brushed over in vermilion, flamingo pink and bright 24 carat gold tones, the church highlighted alongside the river. Spectacular.

The next morning, I venture into the back streets of the old centre and there, I fall in love with this city. Beautiful old bars and cafes everywhere! Churros for breakfast as that's what they do here and then I find the Gran Cafe Zaragozana. It is retro heaven for me.

I coffee there and then not far away I find another shabby chic cafe, La Republicana for more coffee where the beverage is accompanied by free buttery cake. It's like a museum, I stay awhile taking in the warmth and beauty of it.

Then I'm off to find a chocolate shop, La Flor de Almibar, dating back to 1856, still with the original woodwork and old signage. I order a rose truffle and a violet one. The women puts them on a gold cardboard plate, sprinkles red rose petals around them, wraps and ties it with a bow. For two chocolates! Oh, how Europeans love to present their produce and I like to receive it! I also love how they have merged the modern buildings to reflect the old.

Then I decide to walk to the Aljaferia palace which I've googled and it said it's 8 mins away. After thirty minutes of walking, I look at Google and see that I've selected how to get there by bike! Aljaferia is a fortified Islamic palace built in the 11th century. It's highly ornate and stunning but of course, its now lunch time so back into the centre I go for tapas - mushrooms stuffed with herbs and goats cheese covered in nuts with a cranberry topping.

The heat is still heavy here, I siesta and then go to La Pilara, a tapas bar I'd seen earlier, it's use of wine barrels for the bar is wonderful and also the walls are lined with retro wine and liquor labels. I dine on tapas and then go through the Gastronomic Mercato. It's Wednesday night and it seems it's the night for the grey haired brigade to eat out.

I wonder through the different tapas bars but end up back at the Gran Cafe Zaragozana where even the bathroom is gorgeous. I order an icy cocktail and settle in for the night to people watch. The tables are wooden and worn and I can imagine revolutionaries during the Spanish War, plotting and planning here. Even the bathroom is beautiful with wisdom on the walls. The daughter sends a photo from Seville, where she's gone with her friend. She's drinking wine at my favourite bar there. We're both making memories.

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Madrid.

MIND ALTERING.

Ah Madrid! What an entrance through the airport! Stunning architecture.

After a day's travelling, we dropped our bags off at the lovely hotel and went straight out for food. We found a cute place and ordered Margheritas, mine infiltrated my bloodstream within minutes and I found myself watching the lime slice move around the glass in slow motion, it was miraculous and then I got the giggles. This is how it must feel to be on drugs. So far, so good. Sadly the power went out in our cafe of choice and we had to find somewhere else. We found a cool place with a Mexican vibe, Frida Kahlo and lover on the wall and a wreathed skeleton woman welcoming us in, this all suited my Margherita induced intoxication. The chicken with mole sauce was amazing. And then we were done.

Note: Love travelling with the daughter as she loves an early night after a days travel as much as I do, excellent travelling companion.

We woke early and had the city to ourselves, as Spaniards, like most Europeans, start eating around 10-11 and then need a good sleep in. Plaza Mayor, the 15th century main square is grand and quiet as we make our way through it to find Chocolateria San Gines, Madrid's most famous cafe. It began serving it's hot chocolate and churros combo in 1894 and is open 24 hours a day. Evidently the Spaniards go there around 4-6 am after their night out! The daughter and I will never experience that!

Fortifed by the experience of dipping the crispy churros into the thick hot chocolate, we head off through beautiful parklands to the Palacio de Cristal del Retiro. Built in 1887 for an Exposition of the Philippines, (which was then a Spanish colony), it is made entirely of glass set in an iron framework and decorated with beautiful ceramic details. Situated by a lake, inhabited in large numbers by tortoises sunning themselves in the autumnal sunshine, it's such a beautiful sight. We walk back admiring the stunning architecture and the splashes of colourful street art.

Lunch is at Mercado de San Miguel, a covered market built in 1916. The tapas bars displays of food were works of art as is the architecture. The daughter had to leave to catch a train to meet a friend in Cordoba and I took the occasion of her leaving me as a time to go to a Vermouth bar or Vermuteria where I had a 2.50 euro or around $4 Australian with a plate of free olives.

I spent the afternoon walking through the old city, past restaurants that have been operating in one form or another since the medieval days, interspersed with beautiful ceramic wall scenes. Exhausted I found a tapas place for dinner and then another early night as tomorrow there was another city to explore.

Home away from home.

We arrived to autumnal air, crisp at the edges and cooling to our souls and bodies. Now I know why Italians escape to the mountains. Our apartment has been rented out throughout August to people from Genoa who've been coming here for twenty years.

The sister-in-law isn't great. I wonder what we should do next if her conditions worsens. She's in her 80's and not getting out and about since a fall the year before. We make meals and take them in but she thinks everything tastes like chilli. She asks for gelato and tells me what to get but they never taste right according to her, at least they don't taste like chilli.

The next day is my anniversary, woke up saddened that the husband's not here with us, enjoying the mountains that he loved so much, seeing his daughter on her independence journey, being able to speak Italian with her, sharing with her his love of this place.

I walked down to the lake, holding his imaginary hand. The water is turquoise and still, everything is mirrored over it's surface. There's mauve crocuses poking up on white stems.

We lunch at a weird cave-like pizza restaurant that the sister-in-law recommends but she's scathing that we would eat pizza for lunch as Italians supposedly only consume pizza in the evening. We're Aussies so we have pizza and drink a little too much wine and as we pay the bill, homemade Limoncello is poured into frozen glasses. We return home to rest and a storm comes in, we watch as the rain sluices over the mountains, ending with a rainbow straddling it's gigantic peaks.

It's our last day here for a while. We're on the move the next day to Spain and Portugal and from there I'm off to Morocco. It seems nothing to say that to Italians, they're like - yep, see you when you get back. And yet, being Australian and living on the far side of the world, it never fails to have an air of old fashioned adventure with slight fear and longing attached.

Writing this, from a place of pandemic still, I am so grateful for us being there and travelling without any constraints. I can't imagine now how it will be when we return.