To Spain

I had rides in two lovely black Mercedes sedans today.  The first one took me to Fiumicino Airport to leave Italy, the second picked me up in Barcelona and took me to Sitges.  Both shiny, with lots of bells and whistles.

When I got to Fiumicino for the flight to Barcelona and was checking in my bigger bag, I noticed the sign said no knitting needles allowed in the cabin.  So I took my "air" project out of my backpack and stuffed it in the bag before handing it over.  Then I realized that I had two projects (call them "bus/conference" and "hotel") in my carryon, but by then the checked bag had been sucked down the conveyor line. 

Every airport's screening is slightly different.  I did have to take off my laptop, didn't have to take out liquids, didn't have to take off shoes, did have to put all bags in bins for the ride through the x-ray.  They said nothing about my two sets of ninja weapons, but I didn't dare take them out just in case.  They have carabinieri with mean-looking weapons everywhere.

I found a pathetic but gluten-free sandwich, which was fuel enough.  I like the way they sell sandwiches here (although not mine, which was sealed in plastic) - they make piles of each kind of sandwich on all kinds of bread and you buy it already made from the deli case.  There are beautiful pastries everywhere - like croissants stuffed with ricotta or sweet fillings.  I envy those who can have them.

The flight took us over the junction between Corsica and Sardinia, and from above you can really see how the mountains and valleys direct the layout of towns.  Spain's mountains seem even more dramatic than the Italian ones around Rome - taller, looking more likely to have big boulders shear off and come crashing down.

The hotel in Sitges is sleek and modern (Melia Sitges) and expensive (I would not be staying here for the conference if I was using my money).  I doubt I'll be able to eat 14 euros worth of breakfast each day, but it's easier than going out to find something.  There's yet another bidet to ignore, shiny modern furniture, and a door that opens onto a little patio.  Here are views from the room (alas, it does not face the sea, but I hate to think of the cost of those):

The town.

The sea.

The inside.

After I got settled and got the map from the front desk, I Googled furiously for a while to find places to eat and map out routes to them, as well as the grocery store the clerk pointed out (which isn't open Sunday, pfft, Catholics).  Then before sundown I headed out, finding that the nice straight lines on the map had a Z direction as well as X and Y.  Many hills.  But as time passed, more and more people came out for shopping, dinner, walking dogs, holding hands (men), peeing in bushes (toddler), running, smoking, playing, and just being outdoors.  I walked to the restaurant I picked to try first, only to find it closed for vacation, but on the way I found a tiny store with yarn and fabric and notions, so that's a plus - I finally got my souvenir yarn.  I backtracked and tried a restaurant with GF icons on its menu, where the waiter seemed to know what it meant.  The first rendition of the salad had a crouton in it, so I sent it back, and the second one did not look like the first one with the crouton picked out, so I ate it (spinach, a disk of something they said was goat cheese, but with a rind, pine nuts, some kind of fruit preserves).  If all goes well I might go back there for some barbecued pork ribs and fried plantains.  This seems to be a place where I must have fish, too.

The large ziggurat toward the left is the hotel.

The restaurant imports their Angus beef from the US.  Go figure.

Regarding Catalan independence: from the limo drivers I heard that there were some demonstrations today after the Spanish government decided to invoke Article 155 and take away Catalan autonomy, but they said that the small towns aren't very political.  An article in the international edition of the New York Times said that Barcelona, because of its mix of natives and immigrants, was less likely to want independence than the small rural towns.  Not sure how it swings here, but there are flags hanging from some windows here and there, just saying "Si!" or "Democracia" or just the Catalan flag.  Not a lot, but enough to let you know they are here.  This is a town where rich people have summer homes and there are lots of tourists, so it may be that they know their bread is buttered on whichever side keeps the peace.  We'll see.