Pouring cider from a height
The waiter held the bottle above his head and the glass at his hip and poured without looking. He gave me the bottle to try. I hit my own shoe, and he refilled my glass without comment.
A cathedral still unfinished after 140 years, and a town that throws 150 tonnes of tomatoes.
The practical numbers, before the stories.
Worth knowing: Lunch runs from two, dinner from nine. A restaurant serving dinner at seven is serving tourists.
A day-by-day itinerary, and the guides that cover the decisions you make before you go.
The Sagrada Familia has been under construction since 1882, funded almost entirely by donations and ticket sales rather than public money. Every August, Buñol throws roughly 150 tonnes of overripe tomatoes and then hoses down the main street. Madrid holds the oldest restaurant still trading, serving roast suckling pig since 1725.
The entries here also puncture the siesta myth, explain why an Asturian waiter pours cider from above his head without looking, and describe the moment on the Camino when two days of fog lift and the towers of Santiago are exactly where they should be.
The waiter held the bottle above his head and the glass at his hip and poured without looking. He gave me the bottle to try. I hit my own shoe, and he refilled my glass without comment.
At noon in August the plaza emptied so completely that pigeons walked down the middle of the street. By eight in the evening the same square held four hundred people and a brass band.
The long midday break is mostly a rural and small-town tradition now; most Spanish office workers take a short lunch and finish late instead.
The Sagrada Familia has been under construction since 1882, funded almost entirely by donations and ticket sales rather than public money.
Every August the town of Bunol throws about 150 tonnes of overripe tomatoes in La Tomatina, followed by a hose-down of the whole main street.
Sobrino de Botin has served roast suckling pig continuously since 1725 and still uses its original wood-fired oven.
We waited eighteen minutes. The driver walked back along the carriages explaining the situation to each one personally, and by the time we moved everybody knew everybody.
We walked in fog for two days and saw the same twelve metres of path. Then it lifted on the last morning and Santiago's towers were exactly where they were meant to be.
The guesthouse key was iron and the size of a forearm. The owner said it had opened the same door since the eighteenth century and asked us not to lose it, understandably.
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