Remembering Morocco

In Sevilla, our tour is winding down (but not before tonight's final dinner and horse drawn carriage ride, of course). Spain and Morocco have been a whirlwind, with too few opportunities to write about the experience. While Morocco now feels like a world away, I can still recall sitting on the roof terrace of the Dar Nour by night, surrounded by the layered rooftops of the kasbah, and hearing the day's final call to prayer as the meuzzins one by one began their chant. Unlike most Muslim countries, in Morocco the call to prayer is still sung by a live meuzzin rather than a recording, and the sound spreads throughout the city via the loudspeakers atop the minarets.

Below, the streets are packed with action until late in the evening. Kids and cats roam the twisting alleys while men drink mint tea at tables lining the sidewalks. Many women are out two, making their way though the narrow streets in both traditional caftans and headscarves and skintight jeans, but the cafe scene still belongs to the men.

Some of the best food can be found just outside the prime tourist zone at Le Saveur de Poisson, where one menu is served for lunch and dinner. Take a seat and you will be presented with a dish of black olives, a bowl of housemade chili oil, roasted almonds, and a basket of Moroccan breads. Soon, a bowl of shrimp and couscous soup appears. Dip your bread in the chili oil - it's positively addictive, and far spicier than almost anything you'll find in Spain. Even the flavor othe roasted almonds seems amplified beyond any you've tasted before.

But these simple delights are only the beginning. An earthenware dish of shrimp baked with spinach and cubes of fish soon follows, steaming hot from the oven. It tastes fresh and bright, the shrimp bursting with flavor, the fish and spinach melting together on the tounge. A main course follows of flatfish simply roasted over coals, served alongside kebabs of swordfish. Fresh and meaty, sweet and tender, nothing beats seafood roasted to perfection.

Finally, there is dessert. Toasted barley and pinenuts are mixed with coarse brown sugar and thick, dark honey that is just starting to crystalize, and luscious strawberries topped with the same honey round out the meal. Throughout it all, your goblet is constantly refilled with a home brewed fruit juice, tasting of figs and plums.

Like Morocco itself, the meal is enchanting and exotic. It's also a respite from the crowded streets outside, much like the roof terraces take you away from the bustle of a city packed with people, traffic, and non-ending noise. Spain feels tame by comparison. Here in Sevilla the weather is perfect, the city is beautiful, and the atmosphere is relaxed. But I can't wait to go back to Morocco for another taste of this different world.

Jamon and the Alhambra

It´s a sunny day in Granada, with any snow merely a distant memory (after all, it didn´t even really stick). This morning, the group gaped in awe at stalagtite ceilings in the Alhambra, and even managed to beat most of the crowds. Down below in the old town, I headed for lunch at a local tapas bar with the guide and driver.

As any good Spaniard, or good traveler in Spain, knows, crowded equals good when it comes to tapas bars. And at around 2pm, this place was hopping. We snaked our way through the throngs and managed to squeeze out a little spot along the bar for a stand up meal. Out came a platter of migas (Spanish fried breadcrumbs, which are actually very tasty), quickly followed by selection of jamon, cheeses, and pates. We weren´t even halfway through it when small sampler plates of paella arrived, on the house.

Spain: scme for the sights, stay for the food, but don´t ever expect to lose any weight on this vacation.

The Snow in Spain

...falls mainly around the plain. We woke up in Segovia on May 4th to the sight of white flakes swirling on the other side of the windows. Who would have imagined it, but so far our May tour in Spain has been colder than our April tour in Belgium and the Netherlands. On the ride to El Escorial, a light dusting of snow coated the rocks and trees along the highway, and while El Escorial itself was free from snow, a fierce wind whipped around corners and down alleyways, making any time spent outside a fight against the elements. The fingertips of my left hand prickled with numbness.

Fortunately, the sun was shining despite the nearly frigid temperatures, and in Spain all it takes is a nice, leisurely meal in a warm cafe to put things right. Some of the group, including the guide and I, took advantage of the menu del dia at a local restaurant. This Spanish specialty provides patrons with the option to choose a three course lunch with wine for one very reasonable price, in this case twelve Euros. For a mere twelve Euros, I enjoyed Russian salad, fish, and pudding for dessert, along with a full bottle of red wine to share. If you want to follow the recommended advice to fill up with a large meal at midday and enjoy only a light repast (tapas, antyone?) in the evening, the menu del dia is the way to go. In Seattle, you´d pay the same amount per person just to split a bottle of wine.

Finally warm again, I´m glad to be in Madrid tonight, where the weather isn´t quite so chilly. Still full from lunch, I wonder if I´ll even bother with dinner tonight. In the meantime, a walking tour around the Puerto del Sol should get the blood moving again, and I can honestly say it´s a beautiful day on the plains of Spain.

A Look at Luxembourg

Last night in Luxembourg, tonight in Belgium (and believe me, I'm really craving a beer right now, so I know where I'm headed once I finish this post): it's a whirlwind tour! But I am thankful to be here, although it sounds like our poor tour group, which is scheduled to start tomorrow, may be down to eleven members. This, combined with the fact that my lead guide still has yet to arrive in the city, does make me just a little wary.

But Luxembourg was a joy to visit, filled with turrets, twisting alleys, beautiful bridges, and the distinctive feeling of France, but in a trilingual community and service with a smile. The Luxembourgers, having long been a small nation, sandwiched between the European powerhouses of Frqnce and Germany, have no choice but to live side by side with others. In fact, "foreigners", mostly from within the European Union, make up almost half of the population of this tiny country.

This was one fact I learned on a guided tour through the city this afternoon, with a cheerful, yet highly opinionated, native Luxembourger as our guide. Among others, he rated both Regan and Obama as great American presidents, so at least it can be said that his opinions don't subscribe to one particular political ideology, at least other than democracy. Ah, democracy! That was the word of the day, as our guide insisted that everything was fair - as long as it was decided democratically, by the people, not the politicians.

We traveled up and down the city; situated as it is on top of a natural fortress of rock, it's easy to work up a sweat while traversing the town. Today, with the sun shining despite the haze on the horizon (a haze caused in part by volcqnic ash, perhaps?), it wass even easy to get an accidental sunburn.

I left Luxembourg feeling that my time there had been too short, and wondering why it doesn't even merit a mention in Rick's guidebooks. But then, it's also nice to feel like I've discovered a little piece of European charm all by myself.

The Greek Odessey Continues

Lest you think that Greece is nothing more than a paradise where the sun shines 365 days a year - it is not. A couple of days ago, upon leaving Delphi and heading into the mountains of the Peloponnese Peninsula, we were caught in heavy fog and even heavier rain on our free day in the coastal town onf Kardamyli. Thankfully, the clouds broke today, leaving us with blue skies to explore the Mani Peninsula and our arrival tonight in Monemvasia.

Leaving Kardamyli this morning, we headed deeper into the Mani, first stopping at the tiny (population 40) hill town of Kastania. After a tour of the orthodox chapel-studded village, we sat under the trees for Greek coffee and locally made cheese.

Our lunch stop in the (almost) equally tiny town of Gerolimenas fulfilled everyone's vision of the sunny Greek coastal village that we had missed out on during our rainy stay in Kardamyli. Pale aquamarine water lapped over blindingly white, smoothly polished rocks. The restaurant terrace put us directly above the bay, where we could enjoy views of the water with our lunch of Greek salad, tzatziki, calimari, crispy Mediterranean anchovies (nothing like the kind that, as our guide David put it, "live on pizza in the U.S.A."), artichokes, and green beans in tomato sauce.

But the real entertainment came after lunch, when some decided to roll up their pants and test the water temperature. Lovely - yet treacherous. Those polished white stones proved to be quite slippery when wet, and one woman ended up thoroughly soaked after taking an unexpected tumble. Myself, I was safely on shore with my camera, documenting it all, of course.

But the excitement didn't end there. A Greek fisherman, enjoying lunch with his family, spotted dinner from their waterfront table and promptly went down to get it. The unsuspecting octopus he grabbed was soon the center of attention, trying vainly to wriggly out of the man's grasp. He ended up in a small blue plastic bag, and although he made a valient attempt at a daring escape, he was not fast enough to escape the fisherman, who prompty tightened the knot in the bay (and, we suspect, put the octopus swiftly out of his misery once our group had left).

The forecast for tomorrow is for clouds, but I still feel optimistic. And if it's sunny after all, you may just find me in the water as well - intentionally, of course. I have no plans to fall in clothes and all - I packed too light for that!

The Wisdom of Delphi

A great guide brings a sight to life. Instead of seeing a pile of rubble on a hillside, the caved-in faces of unknown people from more than two millenia ago on crumbling marble remains, the guide gives you the chance to see the temple in its former glory, to understand the story behind the statues and the all-too-human triumphs and tragedies that they represent.

In Athens, our tour group had the pleasure of a guided tour through the Acropolis and Ancient Agora, followed by a trip to the Archeological Museum this morning. We learned to tell archaic statues from severe, the severe from the classical, and the classical from the hellenistic. We imagined the processions that would wind their way up the Acropolis Hill every four years in honor of Athena's birthday, making their way through the massive gates and ending in front of the Parthenon, the grand temple to the virgin.

But my favorite experience so far has been this afternoon's trip through the museum and archeological site at Delphi. Leaving metropolitan Athens behind, we find ourselves surrounded by rocky, pine forested mountains, with towns clinging precariously to cliffsides. Our guide, Penny, was bursting with enthusiasm to show us the amazing artifacts in the Delphi Museum, and to remind us of those ancient stories - from the the Trojan War to Oedipus Rex - that, with the right perspective still have so much to teach us today. The famous Oracle at Delphi was, after all, a place where people went in search of answers, and when all was said and done, it seems the most important answers were the ones insribed above the temple: "Know thyself", and "Everything in Moderation".

"The answers were not vague," Penny told us. "They were open to interpretation."

One story, an unfamiliar one to me previously, sticks with me in particular. In the museum, archaic statues of two larger-than-life twins stood. "They are the happiest men," Penny told us. "Why do you think that would be? I'll tell you later!"

At the end of the tour, however, Michael and I realized we still had not heard the full story, so we questioned Penny on her own.

"As a parent, what do you most wish for your children?" she asked. Not being parents ourselves, we weren't sure what to answer. Penny told us the story of a rich king who came to the oracle, wondering whether he should engage in war with the Persians or not. The oracles response was, typically, up to interpretation. Unfortunately, the king made the wrong choice, started a war in which he lost all his riches and his kingdom - the things he had mistakenly believed brought him happiness - and found himself about to be burned to death by the Persian king.

Before this tragedy befell him, however, a very different event had taken place back home. In honor of their mother, the queen, a celebration was being held at the temple. Two oxen were supposed to draw the chariot seven miles to the temple, but the oxen were nowhere to be found. Wanting nothing more than to bring honor to their mother, the two twins of the famed statues took the place of the oxen and they themselves pulled the chariot to the festival. Upon their arrival they collapsed, exhausted but happy.

Their mother, pleased with her heroic sons, asked the gods to favor them for their deed. In the morning, the two young men were found dead, having peacefully passed on in their sleep.

"This," Penny continued. "Is as much as you can hope for: to die in peace, with no suffering, having done a great thing."

Finally, on the pyre about to be torched to death, the former king remembered his sons and the words of the oracle, and realized how mistaken he had been in his choices. On voicing his newfound realization to the Persian king, the Persian ruler ruler realized that here was a wise man indeed, and rather than killing him, offered him a position as his very own counselor.

So, in the end, he learned from his mistakes, and took responsibility for his errors. This, our guide told us, is what we can still learn from today. No matter what anyone may say, we are all responsible for our own actions, and within each of us is the ability to find our own happiness in the things that truly matter, and to make a wrong situation right.

Breakfast of Dreams

In fewer than 34 hours I will be on a plane, probably eating bad airline food for breakfast. Fortunately, at this point in time, I still have one more Austrian breakfast to look forward to.

I love the breakfasts in German and Austrian hotels. Nutty whole grain rolls, rye bread, cheeses, yogurt, and eggs are always available, and any meal that features good bread and cheese prominently is fine by me. The Schweitzerhof, where we are staying in Vienna, offers the best breakfasts I have had during this entire trip, including fresh strawberries (mmm!), a basket of warm rolls on the table (outstanding!), and, rather than the typical pre-sliced cheese squares, a large selection of whole cheeses accompanied by a knife allowing one to slice off as much of any wedge as one would like. As is standard for such places, they bring the coffee in individual pots to each guest upon request, rather than using the automatic coffee machines that have unfortunately become common in many European countries.

Now, to some such a a breakfast may not sound like all that. But keep in mind that I have only listed my personal favorites. You will also find at the Schweitzerhof a variety of cold meats, muesli, cornflakes, Caprese salad, more fruit, scrambled eggs, assorted jams and honeys, and numerous spreads for topping a slice of bread, among other things. True, it doesn't have the same decadence as an American breakfast of pancakes, waffles, or sauage and bacon, but for a hotel buffet it far surpasses the sad continental breakfast of a packaged roll and bad coffee.

Hmm, I must admit my mouth is beginning to water. It's a good thing I'm still full from an excellent dinner, otherwise I think I'd have a hard time waiting until tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I'll dream of one last breakfast in Vienna. I hope they still have strawberries!

On the Beautiful... Green Danube?

Austria is an interesting mix of modern and traditional. Were the Captain and Maria still alive and living in their homeland, they would simply be Georg and Maria Trapp, minus the von. Noble titles, as I learned from our local guide on this morning's walking tour, are verboten in modern day Austria.

But despite losing two world wars and the Hapsburg Empire, tradition thrives in the form of such institutions as the Vienna Boys Choir and the Lipizzaner Stallions, both of which were begun by the Hapsburgs (whose descendants, by the way, are only welcome to live in Austria if they agree to stay out of politics). Were these brought back to bring in tourist money, or are they truly important to the Austrian identity? Today, along with two other guides, I watched the Lipizzaners at their morning exercises. The graceful horses cantered in time to the strains of the Blue Danube Waltz, a piece so strongly associated with Vienna it's practically a cliche.

This evening I took a long walk along the Danube Canal, which is, in fact, anything but blue at this moment in time. Murky green would be a more apt description, although the Danube itself can be blue on certain sunny summer days. Such days are not, however, typical for today's river.

But blue or not, the Danube makes a great backdrop for an evening outing. On a warm night like tonight, the Viennese are out walking, rollerblading, biking, playing soccer, and eating ice cream throughout their many parks. In fact, about half of the city consists of green spaces (and I'm not referring to the Danube this time), which doubtlessly played a large role in Vienna's being chosen as the world's most livable city last year.

And the clever Viennese have even found a way - almost - to go swimming in that murky Canal. How? Watch for a photo here when I return.

They Say That All Good Things Must End Someday

The bus dropped us off in our final destination today: Vienna (aka Wien), where our hotel is only a five minute walk from Stephansplatz, the central square around Vienna's gothic cathedral. While waiting at a traffic light, I looked down from my window seat to the cars below, just in time to see the woman in the passenger's side light a cigarette while two children, presumably her own, sat in the back seat. Behind her, the man in the passenger seat of the next car was also enjoying a smoke, which apparently was all the encouragement the car's driver needed to pull out a cigarette of her own and use the pause in traffic to light up. Austria, I think you're still a long ways from the non-smoking laws that have been passed in Italy, Germany, and Paris in recent years.

But thankfully I usually manage to avoid the heavy smoke here, and today's arrival felt a little like a homecoming to me. Last May I spent two weeks in Vienna, studying German at a small institution for foreign students of all nationalities, ages, and abilities. It wasn't long enough, but even after only two weeks my German, which had steadily declined since college with a couple of brief upswings due to later trips back to Germany, had improved significantly. Two weeks is enough, however, to get a good feel for a city, and I definitely feel more at ease now.

Sadly, I only have three days left here before I fly back home to Seattle. While I can't wait to see Michael, I don't feel quite so enthusiastic about heading back to office on Monday, preparing for a house full of people (no joke - there may be as many as eight adults, one child, and one dog, staying at our place over one weekend), and leaving the traveling lifestyle behind. I could happily do this for months - something I can say honestly, as last year I did it for almost seven weeks without tiring.

In the meantime, though, I plan to enjoy these last few days in Vienna. I'll sip coffee at a cafe, admire how much work they done on cleaning the Stephansdom since last spring, eat some more chicken döners, and go walking in the gardens around the Belvedere Palace. On Friday I will even have the luxury of an entire day to myself, as the tour will have ended that morning (frankly, I doubt I'd have the time to make it out to Belvedere otherwise), before heading out for a night at the airport and a 7am Saturday flight.

It's been a good trip, overall. And Vienna, it's good to see you again.

Jazz A La Czech

This contraction free post is brought to you by the Czech keyboard (and yeah, I am sure I could just ask, but where is the fun in that?)

Prague, as many know, is famed for music. Mozart was probably more popular here than in Vienna during his own time, and today there are nightly concerts put on largely for the tourist crowds at various historical churches and concert halls through the historical center.

But in addition to classical music, there is a smaller jazz scene, so I decided last night to deviate from the expected and give one of the most popular local jazz clubs, Agharta, a try. After surviving the rainburst that opened up no the crowds as I was crossing the Charles Bridge into Old Town, and reviving myself with a pizza for dinner, I wandered over to the Old Town Square, where the recent rain left the paving stones glistening in the lamplight as the unseen sun went down. Agharta was only a quick walk from from the square, down the stairs to a cozy cellar where local jazz groups perform.

Popular with locals and tourists, the club filled up as the evening wore on, with those who had reserved seating grouped around tiny tables and the rest of us packed in along the walls, and even sitting on the stairs leading up to the balcony outside the main room. For the equivalent of two bucks, I got a half pint of dark Czech beer to sip slowly during the first set.

The group of the night was a quartet featuring electric bass and guitar, piano, and drums. While I am generally not as into jazz that features electric guitars (I like the old school jazz trumpet players most of all), they were pretty good, and got more and more into it as the night wore on, to the enthusiastic cheers of the audience. The piano blew me away, though, with his flawless playing and utter immersion into the music as he bobbed to the beat, alternating between looks of intense pain and sheer joy. When he gave an impromptu solo performance after the guitarist broke a spring, the audience was completely taken in.

I left after the second break, an Agharta compilation CD in hand (the one the clerk at their shop claimed was his favorite). For many, I am sure the night was just getting started, but I while on tour I try to make sleep something of a priority. It was just a taste, but if I come back to Prague, I will be ready for more.

When the Rain Comes

I have not been able to figure out how to use the apostrophe on a Czech computer. Because of this, I am going to attempt a blog post with not contractions! Yippee!

Our group arrived in Prague yesterday afternoon and made the nearly half mile walk to the hotel from the bus just as the rain started to pour. Typical for central Europe (and for Seattle, really), the weather this time of year is unpredictable. In the lovingly rebuilt baroque city of Dresden, where we spent one night before our trip to Prague, the weather changed from rainy to sunny to rainy to sunny all in the course of about six hours. And I do not mean light rain. When it rained, it truly poured.

Prague is lovely, however, in any weather (although I am sure the group would say they prefer the sun, and, well, I cannot say I do not agree). But the stained glass in St Vitus Cathedral is still breathtaking, the Charles bridge still feels like a walk into fairyland, and, of course, the crystal shops will never, ever disappear. And if I am not mistaken, I think I notice a little more sunlight creeping across the leaves of the trees outside this shop window. Now might be the perfect time to explore more of the Prague Castle. I can write more later, but I cannot let a possible sun break go to waste!

Fear of Falling

I've always had a fear of heights, but it's never been enough to keep me from a good viewpoint. This morning, those tour members who wanted came along with us to take the funicular up to Monte Igueldo for the best view San Sebastian has to offer. For an even better view than the one from the top of the funicular, you can climb the tower that tops the hill, offering 360 degree views out over the ocean as well as the town. Why, I wondered as I inched my way to the edge of the tower, do I do this to myself? But one look at the ocean, and I remembered.

I had a similar experience climbing the tower in Barcelona's Sagrada Familia temple last week. As Gaudi's unfinished masterpiece, the Sagrada Familia offers two elevators that take visitors above for an up close look at the intricate stonework and a bird's eye view Barcelona. While the wait for the lift to the first tower was at least an hour, the line was nonexistent for the other. How could I resist?

It was worth it, no question about that. You could almost reach out and touch the stone doves that appeared about to take flight from a central pinnacle. The worst part, I discovered, was actually the climb back down, as the lift for this particular tower takes guests one way only and you have to make your own way to the ground. A narrow, seemingly unending spiral staircase was clausterphobicly tight, and worst of all there was no central column protecting me from the view below. Like a coil of ribbon, the stairs wound their way down to the main floor, which I greeted with knees shaking.

Over water, however, I feel much more at ease. Never mind that falling one hundred feet to the ocean below would feel like hitting solid concrete, there is something calming about its presence. With today's beautiful weather, everyone in San Sebastian seemed to agree, as people stolled the beach and took off their shoes to dip their feet into the Atlantic. A few brave souls were even swimming, although one little puppy was too frightened of the incoming surf, as gentle as it is along the protected Playa de la Concha, to retrieve his stick. Every time a wave would come lapping onto the shore, he would run back to avoid the rush of water. His owners, not giving up, threw the stick further down the beach and finally, timing his attempt exactly with the waves, the pup dashed out and ran back triumphantly, stick in mouth.

In thinking about it, I realized that I'm perhaps not so different from the puppy when it comes to heights. I may balk and I may take my time, but eventually I'll get to the edge and retrieve my reward.

At the Guggenheim

Enough with food! Let's talk about something else. After all, I don't want to give the false impression that there's nothing to do in the Basque country other than eat (although really, would that be a bad thing?). The last couple of days on the tour have been very busy, and I just haven't had the time to write. After a pleasant trip to Gernika on Monday, Tuesday was a very full day spent in Bilbao, the largest city of the region, a formerly industrial city that has transformed itself into a modern powerhouse of modern art.

Most people have probably heard of the Guggenheim, if for no other reason than the controversy that was created when Frank Gehry's architectural masterpiece was revealed to the world in 1997. No matter what the opinions may have been then, so far the place seems to have withstood the test of time, kicking off a renaissance of new art and architecture in the city center and along the river. Personally, I love it. From every angle the museum offers a new perspective, with graceful titanium walls curving voluptuously to the street below. Many would say, and I would agree, that the building itself is the Guggenheim's greatest work of art.

Inside the museum, you never know what you might find. There are a few permanent exhibits, but much of the space is devoted to enormous temporary exhibits, currently including China's Cai Guo-Qiang (perhaps best known for creating the opening ceremony pyrotechnics for the Beijing Olympics) and Japan's Murakami (well known for his crazy, often psychedelic, anime influenced works). The tour members, well... some of them loved it. Some of them didn't. I think (hope) all, however, were at least happy to see the famous building up close and in person.

The great thing about modern art is that it can be about absolutely anything, in any style, and all one has to do is stand back and look. Maybe you'll love it, maybe you'll hate it, but any reaction is allowed. For me, it's a break from the psychological heaviness of a museum of the Old Masters. It's the junk food of the art world! Well, that's an exaggeration, and there is certainly modern art out that carries important, and sometimes disturbing, messages. But overall, watching cars explode in a shower of blinking lights overhead, or getting lost in the creepy yet cute faces of Japanese cartoon characters recharges me after days of history, culture, and "important" art. And with the many museums of Berlin only a few days away for me, the Guggenheim was just the break I needed.

How to Get a Michelin Meal for 30 Euros

OK, I was determined that my next blog post would not be about food, but you know what? Sometimes you just have to go with the moment and write what's on your mind, and my mind (not to mention my stomach) is filled with memories of tonight's dinner, an excellent meal at Kursaal in San Sebastian.

When researching the San Sebastian restaurant scene I came across Kursaal, which actually houses two sibling restaurants of the same name in a modern, multipurpose structure just across the river from our hotel. The chef, Martín Berasategui, has been awarded one Michelin star for this venture, making the fact that you can choose a five course tasting menu (including wine) for about 30 euros in the ground floor gastropub nothing short of an amazing deal. Heck, in the U.S. the wine I drank could well have cost as much.

Six adventerous tour members chose to come with me, and five of us chose the tasting menu. Starting with a slice of spider crab cake artfully arranged with a single leaf each of arugula and chard atop a swil of herb infused cream, the meal did not disappoint. While two of the party were uncertain about this menu, they were able to choose from among the many items on the menu of the day to create their own three course meal, a great option that allowed everyone to leave happy and full.

And lest you think tasting menu means course consisting of no more than two bites, take note that our courses were considerable more substantial. Following the crab cake we were served a lovely bowl of cuttlefish cooked in its own ink, which was sweet, salty, and almost fork tender, followed by a dish of two canneloni with a delicate yet hearty meat filling. This was the substitution for the veal dish that appeared on the original menu that was apparently, but we assured our waiter that the chef was welcome to bring us anything - substitutions were no problem. As one bottle of wine was finished, another one silently appeared, keeping us all happy as we visited between courses.

The last two courses were companion dessert dishes. One, an elegant slice of French toast that had been bruleed to create a carmelized sugar crust that cracked under the spoon, was served alongside a silky scoop of iced cream, while the other was a refreshing pear sorbet topping a jumble of miniature cubes of pear and a few precious candied pistachios.

So now, as it is almost time for bed, I'm still thinking fondly of dinner - the food, the comany, and the wonderful town of San Sebastian itself. I'll be leaving in a few days, and then my meals on my own will probably switch to primarily chicken doner kebabs and beer (not that I'm complaining - I love chicken doner kebaps and the Germand and Czechs really know how to make beer). But San Sebastian, you'll always have a special place in my little foodie heart.

How Further to Eat in Basque Country

Traditional Basque society was matriarchal. Women ruled the home (including the purse strings), while men worked, often as fisherman. When they got home, however, the wives were in charge. What's a poor fisherman to do? In San Sebastian, they chose, logically enough, to start their own men's clubs, a place where no woman was going to tell them what to do. What might not be so logical, to some, is that the clubs they chose to start were.... cooking clubs.

OK, obviously there's more going on in a Basque gastronomical society, as these clubs are known, than cooking. But, as the name gastronomical society suggests, food truly does play a major role. And if you've read my previous posts about food in this region, this should come as no surprise.

Nowadays, the rules of the clubs have relaxed a bit, and while women are still absolutely not allowed to set foot in the kitchen and cannot be members, some clubs do now invite women in to dine. These are still exclusive places, however. Eating at an txoko (pronounced "cho-ko), the Basque (Euskera) term for the clubs, requires the invitation of a member. And somehow, we've managed to get that elusive invitation for our tour groups. The first night's dinner of the San Sebastian tour takes place in a local txoko, where our tour members are plied with some introductory tapas, followed by a four course meal and a tour of the txoko. It makes for a fabulous start to the tour and introduction to the importance of food in Basque culture.

Today, I continued my culinary exploration of this region when we stopped for lunch in the tiny fishing village of Getaria on our way to Gernika. The guide and I split a fantastic, not to mention enormous, cut of fresh fish desribed on the English version of the menu as "nape of hake". Hmm... think "halibut cheeks", and you would not be too far off. This was one of the specials of the day, where one kilogram portions (enough for two or more) of fresh caught fish (mainly whole fish, although not in the case of the hake) are just waiting to be chosen, at which point they will be grilled to perfection on an outdoor charcoal grill for your eating enjoyment. When choosing one of the whole fish, you will even have the uncooked specimen brought to your table for your approval before grilling.

Well, as stated about, the fish was excellent, possibly the best I have ever tasted. With soft, sweet meat, barely cooked through to the middle, but nicely charred on the edges, this was a fish to win over anyone who has criticized the average filet as being "too fishy". As is typical in Europe, the eyes were still attached, although in this case, since the fish was butterflied to reveal the juicy meat, resting on a pool of olive oil, you had to turn the filet over if you wanted to check them out. Yep, I noted on inspection, it doesn't get much fresher than this.

And now, almost eight hours late, I am still full! But maybe I'll have room for some pintxos in a little while... just a couple. Yeah, just a couple.

Pintxo Paradise

This morning, the streets of San Sebastian are almost empty. Being Sunday, few places are open, and the alleys that were bustling with life last night are now a wall of closed doors. Still, one good breakfast option attracts a small crowd, and I head there with my tour guide, Robert, for a breakfast of brioche and cafe con leche. The brioche tears into tender, buttery layers beneath its dark, carmelized exterior. It is a perfect breakfast treat.

And the food last night didn't disappoint, either. This, in fact, was my first true pintxo crawl, as we stopped by various bars, elbowing in to choose from among the artistically arranged platters of pintxos: fresh, white fleshed anchovies that tasted only of lemon and the sea, a sliver of Spanish ham topped with juicy mushroom and shrimp, whole mushrooms cooked to complete tenderness and infused with garlic, their juice bathing the bread on the toothpick as if it had been dipped in au jus, and a Spanish tortilla unlike any I have had so far, one that tasted purely of well seasoned potato morsels, the egg that bound it barely detectable. Where but in San Sebastian could we have such a meal? Robert, who should know, claimed the pinxtos here really are the best in Spain, and even though I lack the necessary experience to make a judgement, I believe it.

Since it was Saturday night, the bars were especially popular, the narrow streets filled with people out for an evening with friends, their chatter providing the soundtrack for the night. And despite its reputation within the food world, San Sebastian is still a place where locals - not tourists - dominate the scene. Perhaps that's one reason why the food is so good?

Tonight our tour group will meet for the first time, and gather for dinner at one of the traditional Basque gastronomical societies, a very special event as one can only dine at such an exclusive club, where the male members cook all the food, through an invitation. I can hardly wait.

Walking the Gourmet Way

As a special treat, I decided to book myself a place on the "Gourmet Walk" offered by Barcelona Walks through the city's TI. A group of around 30 people met at 10:30 and were given turquoise earphones and a little white transmitter that mimicked an Ipod in shape and color. Once our guide, Bernard, had determined that everyone could hear him, we were on our way.

This was my first walking tour in Europe on my own, as I'm usually keeping a discreet eye on all the group members for one of the Rick Steves´ tours whenever I'm in this kind of situation, making sure no one loses the group. This time, I only had to listen to Bernard desribe the many mouthwatering foods we came across on our walk, along with a few tidbits about the local architecture and history, and a simple recipe for that classic of Barcelona dishes, pan con tomate. I can't wait to try it at home.

But more than anything, we saw chocolate - lots and lots of chocolate. Unfortunately we didn't get to taste any, but we were given delicious fresh fruit salads from La Boqueria market and a ticket for two tapas and a drink at our final destination, the Saint Catherine's market. I also made a quick stop during a free time at La Boqueria to take the obligatory photo of Juan, owner of the Pinxto Bar, smiling while giving the thumbs-up signal, just like in Rick Steves' show. I also bought an absolutely amazing pastry from him, crisp and flakey beyond any French pastry I've had, and filled with just the right amount of cream.

All of this coincided perfectly with the fact that I was starting to feel a little better, bringing back my interest in food. At the bar in the market, I sipped on red wine and enjoyed two Basque-style pintxos, one topped with sausage and carmelized onions, the other with eggplant, peppers, and a creamy goat cheese. Pintxos (pronounced peenchos) consist of any variety of toppings served atop a slice of baguette, usually with a toothpick stuck in the middle, enabling you to pay when finished by counting the number of toothpicks you have acquired. Needless to say, I'm looking forward to enjoying a great many pintxos next week while in San Sebastian, the gastronomic capital of the Basque region.

Along the tour we also were able to see a working 150-year-old oven used for roasting nuts, the only one of its kind in Europe. I bought some samples to bring home, so we´ll see how this technique works. Tonight I headed back to one of the shops Bernard had pointed out on the tour, this one specializing in hot chocolate with churros. Ah, heaven! The chocolate was like a silky, molten pudding, and the fresh churros only lightly sweetened with a sprinkle of sugar were the perfect accompaniment. But I really could have used a partner to share the chocolate; not that I wasted any of it, mind you, but such a rich dessert is, in my opinion, best appreciated in a few small bites to savor.

Following dessert with some tapas, I chose patatas bravas and pulpos (octopus) at a bar in La Ribera. Only here again I was confounded by enourmous servings that filled me up and were clearly ideal for sharing. If only Michael were here (although there is no way he would touch the pulpos - I'd still have those little creatures all to myself)!

Still, I feel as if I am finally getting into the foodie world of Spain, and it just whets my appetite for more. After a good night's sleep and an early train trip to San Sebastian, let's hope I'll feel even better and ready for the gastronomic delights ahead. And if you enjoy food and are ever in Bareclona, take the gourmet tour; it's two hours very well spent.

Food of the Gods

When you think of Seattle, what comes to mind?
a) the Space Needle
b) grunge
c) Bill Gates
d) chocolate!

There are no right answers here, but there is a better answer, and if you chose d) chocolate, congratulations! You have very good taste.

Seattle is home to the only certified organic and fair trade chocolate maker (not to be confused with chocolate melters, which are the many companies that buy partially processed chocolate and melt it to create their own confections) in the United States. And luckily for us who live here, they offer tours. For the bargain price of $6 you get an entertaining, informative look at their factory in Fremont, and as many chocolate samples as your heart desires. Is there a better way to spend an afternoon? My friend Rebecca, for whom this tour was a dream come true, would doubtlessly respond to that question with a firm, "No!" And far be it from me to argue.

Stephanie, Rebecca, and I took our first tour of Theo (I say first because I'm sure I'll be back) yesterday afternoon. While the factory shop stocks plenty of samples and is well worth visiting on its own, the tour brought chocolate to life. Our guide was a young, chipper employee, happy to share her company's mission of bringing delicious, sustainable, and socially responsible chocolate to the world, and able to answer every questions her audience threw her. As a guide myself, albeit in a far different capacity, I was impressed.

But the best part, of course, is the chocolate - the food of the gods, as the botanical name for the cocoa plant implies. We tried dark chocolates from Ghana or the Ivory Coast, milk chocolate flavored with chai tea, chipotle spice truffles, freshly roasted cocoa nibs, dark chocolate with orange, and much, much more. And since Theo chocolates do not come cheap - quite understandably so after you've taken the tour and learned the difference between their products and methods and those of the mass market - this feels like the best gourmet deal in Seattle.

One taste, and any chocolate lover is sure to agree.