we spent a few days up north in girona, near the french border. unfortunately the camera crapped out, otherwise i would have lots of amazing photos of crazy off the wall things like a field with giant antique miniature golf heads with scary eyes and gaping mouths ...
there was a strange absurd surreal circus music theme going on. the circo americano (which has been touring europe for a couple decades at least, so ... the americano connection must be long lost, i can only suppose, but the name stayed) was in town in empuriabrava, along with the aforementioned abandoned mini golf attractions. lots of mini golf in empuriabrava, for some reason.
the following day we spent exploring figueres, birthplace of dali, and home of his museum. the town is quaint and quirky and whimsical, as one would imagine. the outside of the theatre-museum is as insane wacky crazy as he must have been, all bright red and decorated with golden loaves of bread and ancient scuba diving helmeted men and gigantic egg topped fortress walls.
the line to get in was tremendously obnoxious, and we didn't have tons of time, so we resolved to come back during off-season and went to explore the toy museum of catalunya instead. they have some of dali's toys, and lots of fantastic felix the cats and freaky eyed mickeys and eerie smiling spanish civil war dolls and crazy dominoes and dice and dolls and game pieces from the roman era and for some reason a fantastic collection of japanese tops. and i bought a great postcard of dali as a kid making funny faces in a motion camera. and a super fantastically classic top that i spent all my free moments at lunch trying to get to spin on the table.
lunch. in a cobble stoned back street off the main square. under giant shady trees. where the breezes from the pyrenees and the mediterranean sea intersect and the gazpacho is just cold enough and they didn't strain it quite all the way so that you get a bit of bread texture coming through. and the grilled sepia is perfect in that garlic parsley sauce that seems so simple but you can't seem to ever perfect yourself. and the lemon sorbet makes you smile from this ear all the way across to that one, and then it's time to drive home, cruising down the costa brava with the windows down and gato perez blaring from the stereo.
oh. and the beach. next time remind me to talk about the lying on the beach at night in roses and a million stars and the most perfect happy moment and the drag queen and the ancient fubolin table and the rooster and the hotel and rotundas.
the end.
for now.
m
there was a strange absurd surreal circus music theme going on. the circo americano (which has been touring europe for a couple decades at least, so ... the americano connection must be long lost, i can only suppose, but the name stayed) was in town in empuriabrava, along with the aforementioned abandoned mini golf attractions. lots of mini golf in empuriabrava, for some reason.
the following day we spent exploring figueres, birthplace of dali, and home of his museum. the town is quaint and quirky and whimsical, as one would imagine. the outside of the theatre-museum is as insane wacky crazy as he must have been, all bright red and decorated with golden loaves of bread and ancient scuba diving helmeted men and gigantic egg topped fortress walls.
the line to get in was tremendously obnoxious, and we didn't have tons of time, so we resolved to come back during off-season and went to explore the toy museum of catalunya instead. they have some of dali's toys, and lots of fantastic felix the cats and freaky eyed mickeys and eerie smiling spanish civil war dolls and crazy dominoes and dice and dolls and game pieces from the roman era and for some reason a fantastic collection of japanese tops. and i bought a great postcard of dali as a kid making funny faces in a motion camera. and a super fantastically classic top that i spent all my free moments at lunch trying to get to spin on the table.
lunch. in a cobble stoned back street off the main square. under giant shady trees. where the breezes from the pyrenees and the mediterranean sea intersect and the gazpacho is just cold enough and they didn't strain it quite all the way so that you get a bit of bread texture coming through. and the grilled sepia is perfect in that garlic parsley sauce that seems so simple but you can't seem to ever perfect yourself. and the lemon sorbet makes you smile from this ear all the way across to that one, and then it's time to drive home, cruising down the costa brava with the windows down and gato perez blaring from the stereo.
oh. and the beach. next time remind me to talk about the lying on the beach at night in roses and a million stars and the most perfect happy moment and the drag queen and the ancient fubolin table and the rooster and the hotel and rotundas.
the end.
for now.
m
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