Madrid.

I'll not beat around the bush, I didn't really like Madrid as much the other two Spanish cities I had visited earlier in the week. After Barcelona's majestic architecture, and Valencia's interesting old city area, Madrid did not seem to have anything that any other big city does not have.

Paula met me at the station in Madrid beside the biggest baby's head sculpture I have ever seen, and we compared notes on Valencia and the Tomatina.

We had two nights and one full day there. On the first evening we went out for a meal and a drink, and found two Irish pubs within a hundred metres of our hostel. It was pretty lively and the pavements were filled with tables and chairs. They certainly enjoy the nightlife in the city.

A day of sight-seeing uncovered a couple of spectacular buildings, the Palacio Real de Madrid (Royal Palace) being the most impressive, with very nice sculpted gardens.



But the highlight of the day was the Museo De Arte Reina Sofia, where there were many paintings by both Picasso and Dali. Those guys certainly saw things in a different way to most of us!

The whole city reminded me very much of London in many ways, and by the end of the day I was looking forward to heading to the UK next. One day in Madrid was enough.

The second night in the hostel only confirmed my desire to leave Madrid, when at 5am a group of Spanish residents returned to the hostel after a long night out, and proceeded to make the most incredible amount of noise for the next half hour. I don't think I could have made that much noise even if I was trying too - incredibly inconsiderate.

Fifth goal completed! Tomatina!

Yesterday I bought a couple of items that would be invaluable for today. The white t-shirt was a bargain at 2 Euros, and the waterproof camera would be a very useful.

We set off in good time for Bunol, about thirty kilometers from Valencia, and found a place to park the car, even though there were many more arriving all the time. Graham and Maria were my companions on this goal, and we walked down towards the centre of the town with the growing crowds.



The atmosphere was very festive, and there was an excitement in the air. The closer we got to the centre of town, the denser the crowds became, and we continued to worm our way through towards the centre square. It was packed there, and the crowd was surging back and forth, and there was still almost an hour to go before the official start at 11am.

The town centre was alot more closed-in than I had imagined, and the narrow streets were packed full - it was almost impossible to move anywhere, and in the surges I lost Graham and Maria. I eventually made my way to the square just off the street, and a couple of steps up I found a bit of space, and eventually managed to bag a great vantage point on a wall.

The atmosphere was electric, the crowd singing and chanting, TV cameras on many of the rooftops, and a helicopter circling around. From my vantage point I eventually spotted Graham and Maria, who weren't far away, and kept an eye on where they were in the surges as the excitement mounted.

At 11am there was a big bang to start the celebrations, and tomatoes started to rain down from people on the rooftops and balconies.

Before long a huge tomato-filled lorry made it's way along the packed street, and people aboard it threw tomatoes in every direction. The crowd went wild, and watching the lorry drive through the packed street where a minute before it was impossible to move, I wondered how nobody would be run over.



The lorry was the first of six to pass through the centre, and each one caused an increace in the tomato throwing frenzy. When the fourth lorry tipped up and emptied tons of tomato semi-puree into the streets the scene took on incredible new proportions, the air being filled with tomato juice and semi-pulped tomatoes. It was amazing and hilarious to see.

The wall was not the best place to stand, as I felt I stuck out a bit as a target, and when the Irish guy in front of me, who was acting as a great shield, gave up and jumped into the crowd, I soon gave up and followed suit, re-joining Graham and Maria.

Eventually we made our way right into the centre of the melee, and found ourselves wading ankle-deep in tomato juice. It was incredibly packed, and as the crowd moved towards the edge of town it was impossible not to be swept along with everyone else. At times it was possible to simply lift up your feet and be carried along.

There was another big bang, and the hour-long food fight was over, but that did not seem to slow anyone down one bit. Eventuallly we got to a less packed area as the crowd thinned out, and happily made our way back up the hill out of the town.



The pictures here are off my digital camera, which I only used when I felt it was relatively safe to do so. The pictures from the thick of the action from the waterproof disposable are now being processed, and I will post them here when I get them later in the week.

What an amazing experience! It is well worth going, but one word of advice I would give - take some cheap, but sturdy shoes, and be prepared to lose them. Flip-flops are not the best footwear, and I eventually ended up barefoot, it seemed much safer, although my toes are pretty bruised!

Welcome to Valencia!

Paula and I arrived in Valencia mid-afternoon on Monday, and found a baggage locker and left our rucksacs. We went for a wander around the older part of Valencia, which isn't far from the station, and took a wander through the dry riverbed area around the old city. The river was diverted to avoid city floods, and the dry bed is now used as a long park/cycle track/sports area/general recreation.



At 5pm we waited at the front of the station where I had arranged to meet Graham, who had very kindly offered me accomodation in Valencia for the Tomatina Festival period. We only had the vaguest idea of what we each looked like, but eventually met up, as we were both obviously waiting for somebody else.

Graham took us on a quick tour of Valencia, then back home to meet the rest of the family, wife Lynne, daughter Maria, and two youngsters Danny and Anita. They made us feel very welcome, and Lynne had made a lovely meal.

I find it so wonderful that simply from knowing me from my website, people are prepared to help me out with accomodation, and all sorts of other help. But when I saw Graham's home office, I sort of understood why. He had pictures and reminders of his goals all over the office walls, and many of them were quite similar to alot of mine. It was clear that he "got" what I am doing and why.

The next day Maria took us on more of a tour around the modern parts of Valencia that we had not seen, and then on to the beach area for a paella by the sea.



Later in the afternoon we dropped Paula off at her hotel - she is booked in for a couple of days for an organised Tomatina tour - and headed home again.

It seems funny referring to somewhere that I have only slept for one night as home, but when I have been made as welcome as Graham's family have made me feel, it is easy to do so. My thanks to them for such great hospitality.

Graham works in Valencia as a real estate agent, so anyone looking for property in the Valencia area, Graham's your man!
http://www.valencia-property.com/

Viva Espana!

After over twelve hours of train travel, broken by a wait of a couple of hours at the French/Spanish border, I arrived in Barcelona, and made my way to my friend Borja's apartment. I met Borja about 8 years ago, when living in the UK. He came from Spain for the summer to improve his English, and lived in the same house as me for three months or so. We became friends, and although we have not seen each other since, we have kept in touch.

Unfortunately, this weekend, Borja had already arranged to travel to the other side of Spain to see his parents, and would not be at home. At his appartment I met Carlos, his flatmate, and was made very welcome. I put my bags in Borja's room, and pretty soon had a cold beer in my hand.

An hour later I set off for the airport to meet Paula (see goal 33), who was flying in from London, and after a bit of mis-communication we finally met up.

On Sunday morning we were up fairly early, and set off on a sight-seeing tour of Barcelona, after receiving some tips and hints from Borja's friends.

Barcelona is a wonderful place, with wide-open streets, a relaxed friendly atmosphere, and a very easy-to-navigate public transport system. It was the home of famous artist and architect Antoni Gaudi (1852-1926), and his influence can be seen everywhere. We walked through a couple of the main city streets, marvelling at a couple of his buildings, and then on down Las Ramblas, the touristy centre of the city.



In a shop we stopped to look at postcards, and I saw many pictures of an incredible-looking building, which would merit further investigation.

Off to the sides of the main street, older houses and alleyways led off in all directions, and we wandered through them towards the waterfront area. After lunch there we took a cablecar across the harbour, which offered fantastic views of the city.



From the far end of the cablecar we headed to Park Guell, another of Gaudi's amazing creations, and from there onto the Temple de la Sagrada Familia, the building spotted on the postcards earlier.

To describe this building as incredible would be an understatement. It is quite simply the most awe-inspiring building I have ever seen. And before yesterday I did not even know it existed.

The construction of it began in 1882, and Gaudi oversaw the work for 40 years, until his death in 1926, by which time about a third of the building was complete, only one of the three amazing facades being finished. Work still continues today, over 120 years after it began, and there is still a long way to go!

Take a look at the pictures below, but I have to make it clear that the pictures could never hope to capture how majestic and how huge this place is.




Inside, the place was equally majestic. It was a bit like a builders yard, with construction materials spread about, and enormous scaffolding constructions everywhere, but magnificent sculpted pillars support a high ceiling, all designed to look and feel like a huge forest, with tree trunks supporting a leafy canopy high above.

It was very peacful and relaxing, and we just sat for some time gazing up at the incredible place. My lasting memory of the afternoon will be of a French girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, who sat near us, humming and whistling to herself, as she sketched the celing on a small drawing pad, completely absorbed in her own world, seemingly unaware of anything else around her. She just seemed so happy and peaceful.

I took a lift up into the towers, where a network of thin passages and spiral staircases led to tiny bridges and balconies high above the city. Every new turn revealed another amazing view.



After dinner we did a bit more sightseeing, and although the huge multi-coloured building pictured below was pretty impressive, nothing could rival the Sagrada Familia.

If you ever go to Spain, I would highly recommend Barcelona.

On the road (or tracks) again!

As I write this I am back on the road, or in this case, the tracks. I thought the journey from Nice to Barcelona would be pretty straightforward, but the cheapest flight I could find for today was over 350 Euros! The train fare was only 80 Euros, but involves a 12 hour journey, and three train changes.

The oddest part of the journey is having to change trains at the French/Spanish border, because the railway tracks are different guages! The whole of Europe apparently uses one size of track, Spain alone uses a different size!

So I have 12 hours to read my book, type a blog, stare out of the window at the passing European scenery, and listen to a couple of Spanish lessons.

As I have been in France for a couple of weeks I have listened to so much French, and tried to speak in French as much as possible. I think it will be difficult to stop using French words, and I hope listening to some Spanish lessons on this journey will help the transition process....

Lesson 1:-
"Dos cervecas, por favor, senor."

French progress.

I have been in France now for two weeks, staying in a French household, and living a French sort of lifestyle. This includes dipping bread in your coffee in the morning, eating quite alot of cheese, and drinking plenty of red wine. I quite like it, but am still a bit hesitant about the bread-dipping!

Most people here seem to speak pretty good English, but I have been trying to join in by speaking French as much as possible.

I have just completed a three-day paragliding course in the mountains near Nice, and the course was conducted almost entirely in French, although again, all the instructors were pretty good at English too, and when speaking to me individually tended to use quite a bit of English.

My instructor, Gilles, spoke French very clearly, often demonstrating his point with his hands, or drawing on the board, and I found that because the subject material was something that I was pretty familiar with, I understood quite alot of what he said. I reckoned that overall, during instruction I understood maybe 75% of what was said, maybe a little more, and only had to ask questions in English a couple of times to clarify a point. I was very pleased.

However, I found that when training sessions became questions and answer sessions, and a few people were speaking at once, I got a bit lost. Even worse, when we sat for lunch, and conversation ranged over various topics, I became completely lost, only occasionally knowing what they were talking about.

When you know the subject material, it is much easier to understand what is being said, as you can guess at most words or phrases that are unfamiliar, as you know the context in which they are being used.

However, I am often very frustrated, as when I do understand, I often would like to say something, or ask a question, but do not have the necessary vocabulary. By the time I have mentally prepared what I would like to say, conversation has often moved on!

Anyway, although slow, I do feel that progress is being made! As proof, here is a video fo my second flight in a paraglider, using skills largely learned in French:

Fourth goal completed! Paragliding in France.

Today was the second day of my paragliding course in Gourdon, in the south of France. I started first thing on Monday morning, along with five other French guys.

Gourdon is another spectacular French village perched high on a clifftop with an incredible view overlooking Nice and the Mediterranean far below. This morning I arrived with time to spare, and walked up into the village itself. Because it was still early there wasn't another tourist around, and I wandered alone through a village that seemed to be from another century.



Yesterday morning we spent several hours running down a hill, hauling a parachute behind us, and then trudging back up in the heat. After lunch we did this again, but with a little more finesse, and throughout the day our skills improved. By mid-afternoon, as the winds increased, we were making small hops and glides, like baby birds stretching their wings.

This morning we did more practice of the same, which is really to perfect the take-off technique, and then at lunchtime the instructor asked us if we were ready to make our first flights. There were quite a few nervous questions, but we were all keen to have a go. I think we were all just fed up of tromping back up the practice hill in the French summer sun!



So after lunch we headed up the hill to the top, and were all a bit disturbed by both the height, and the strength of the wind. But after watching a couple of others taking off, and as the wind died a bit, we were ready to go.

When it came to my turn I took off pretty much as we were taught, and was soon soaring over the ground far below. I received intructions through my radio, and followed the flight plan, landing triumphantly five minutes later away down the hill.

It was a great experience, although over pretty quickly, and because there were constant instructions and things to think about it was hard to take in the view and the experience fully, but I am going back for more tomorrow!

It is very different to parachuting, as the paragliders are much more responsive to small braking manoevres, and are designed to fly further and stay up longer. It was quite disturbing to be so close to the ground at times, but not to be within a second or two of landing.

Without the help of the instructors I imagine I would have overshot the landing area by a significant amount, as my approach would have been way too high!

Unfortunately there were no photos taken of the first flights, we all had too many other things to concentrate on, but I am going again tomorrow, so will hopefully get some pix then.

Third goal completed! Cristo Degli Abyssi.

From Chamonix we drove through the Mont Blanc Tunnel, 17 kilometres long, and came out on the other side in Italy. Another amazing feat of construction!

We arrived in Santa Margherita Ligure at about 5pm. I had imagined it would be a small quite fishing village nestled on the coast, with perhaps a few tourists wandering around. How wrong I was!

The place was absolutely packed! Cars, bikes, mopeds, cycles and pedestrians all jostled for space in the tiny streets. It seemed like chaos! We drove around for some time, but could not find a parking space anywhere. Every conceivable place to park a car was full, and a few more places too where I would not have thought you could even fit a car in. Every other space not big enough for a car was filled with mopeds and scooters.

We tried up a side street, which quickly turned into a twisting road up into the hills, far too narrow to turn around too come back down. We eventually found our way back to the coast, and finally found a space we could fit the car into. The guys we were parking in front of looked very nervous, and actually came out of the shop to move his car a bit to avoid tragedy!

We went and introduced ourselves at the dive shop, and got directions to a campsite, which was apparently "almost full". When we arrived at "Miraflores Camp Site", hidden away in an industrial estate, they managed to cram us in on a gravelly patch down at the back of the park. Later that evening, despite being "full", we saw them manage to fit in four more tents and a huge caravan!

To say it was the worst campsite I have ever stayed at would be a major understatement. We were relieved of 22 Euros for a patch of gravel about ten metres from the freeway that ran alongside the campsite. We had to pay extra for a card to access a hot shower. The place was jam-packed full. And it was in the middle of an industrial estate. There was a small swimming pool, proudly advertising "Free Entry", but that was locked up before we even had our tent set up!

The only thing the place had going for it was it's small restaurant - there was nowhere elso to go - they had a captive audience! They did a pretty good pizza, and the wine by the caraffe was very cheap. There was nothing else to do but hope that enough wine would help overcome the freeway noise!

We drank a fair amount, and actually found the whole campsite experience quite enjoyable, it was so bad it was good. After dinner we took a walk throught the industrial estate, and admired the local petrol station, and had an early night.

We were glad to pack up and leave early, and headed off to the dive shop. There we geared up and climbed aboard the boat, which took along the beautiful mountainous coastline.

There was a bit of doubt among the dive crew about whether we would be able to do the dive that we wanted, because of sea and wind conditions, but we hassled them a bit, explaining that we had come to see the "Cristo Degli Abissi" statue, and no other dive would do.

When we got to the site conditions turned out to be fine, and the dive was on! We jumped in, and spent about forty minutes swimming around the coastline, ending up at the statue, which is in about ten metres of water.

It is quite breathtaking and beautiful, and it is very surreal to find it there in the depths, even when you know it is there.

I was very satisfied to see it at last. I first saw a picture of it in a diving magazine when I was a child, and thought, "One day I will go and see that!" Well, today was that day!

On the boat trip back I am sure I had a big smile on my face.




The dive company we went with were called DWS. Here are their details:-
DWS Diving
They were very laid back and friendly, and we reckoned that at 63 Euro, which included all gear, it was a pretty good deal.
Call Luca on +39 0185 282578 for further info.

Two more goals - close but not quite!

Yesterday I did two things quite similar to goals on my list, but not quite close enough to tick them off.

I saw Mont Blanc - goal is to see Everest. Not quite - although it was still a magnificent sight.



And I went on a luge ride - goal is to do a bobsleigh run! Not quite - there were kids of about six doing the luge ride too! It was still great fun though.



I am progressing fairly well with my French too, although am still a long way from being able to join in a conversation, often only having a vague idea of what the people around me are talking about!

From the beach to the snow.

About five hours of driving took us to Chamonix, high in the French Alps. We soon found a campsite and got set up quickly and then headed into town for dinner. Returning later we just managed to get into the tent before the rain began!

It rained most of the night, but the tent faired well, and pretty much everything was still dry in the morning. The weather was a bit grim, with low cloud and rain in the air, but we carried on as planned, and bought a mountain pass to use the cable cars, and for only 6 Euros more we decided to buy a two day pass, "just in case the weather is better tomorrow" - always optimistic!

Chamonix is a busy alpine town catering in summer to holiday-makers and serious summer climbers alike. However on the first grim morning there the cable car was packed with Japanese tourists, and hardly a climber in sight.

The two stages on the cable car take you from the town up to the Aguille Du Midi, at 3842m. To describe this place as incredible would do it an injustice! It is above the snowline, even in the middle of summer, and is an amazing feat of building and engineering.

Unfortunately the view was poor, as we were in the clouds, but while we were there, it actually snowed! It was pretty cold up there! And this was the day after we had been swimming in a pool in the middle of summer trying to keep cool!



Our next journey was on the Mer de Glace rack and pinion railway, celebrating 100 years of service. It climbed steeply up into the mountains, and from its terminus high above the glacier, we took another small cable car, and a walk down some steep steps to the glacier itself.

Here they have bored into the glacier, and you can walk inside it about 50 metres or so. It is absolutely beautiful, and quite incredible to think where you are. The glacier moves about 90 metres each year, and the holes you can see in the picture below are from earlier this season, abandoned as the glacier has moved on.



Back in town it was still raining on and off, but the weather forcast promised better for the next day, so we remained optimistic.

Saturday morning dawned fine and bright, and we were not the only ones who were up for an early start. The queue at the cable car was huge, and most of these were serious climbers, with ropes, ice axes and crampons attached to their bags.

Back at the Aguille Du Midi the views were stunning. I will let the pictures do the talking.