Globe Corner Blogs

…at 5 o’clock. Two days ago, 4:30 pm: lightning crashes, my mom freaks out, and we still have 20 kilometers left to bike before we reach home.  Ambulance sirens pierce the air as they speed past us.  Yesterday, 5:30 pm: even the closed window can’t stop the deluge of water from finding its way into the house.  The floor shakes with each peal of thunder.  Today, 5 pm: black clouds gather in the distance and forked lightning illuminates the darkening sky.

Today is the third evening of a four day biking trip in Spain, over the course of which we (my parents and I) have been traveling in and among the farm houses and fields in an area slightly north of Girona. It’s amazing here. The views around the countryside are absolutely spectacular, ranging from wide sweeping corn, wheat, and sunflower fields to steep wooded hills, all the while with huge jagged mountains forming an imposing background in the distance.

The first night we spent in a small farmhouse bed and breakfast in Terradelles.  Going up the driveway for the first time made me realize just how far away we were from home: thick palm trees and tall cypress lined the driveway and a strong bright sun shone overhead.  When was the last time I had seen a clear Boston sky?  I wonder.  Certainly not in the past several weeks.  This bright Mediterranean landscape was a welcome change.

The farm house we stayed at was small, but terrific. It looked out over long hay fields, recently cut and baled, the mountains in the distance.  The house also ran a horse barn and stable and raised goats as well (we had delicious homemade butter and cheese with most meals).

Our hostess soon seized upon the fact that I spoke a small amount of Spanish (which is more than my parents, who speak none) and soon started to address me alone whenever she had anything to say to the group.  Unfortunately my high school Spanish, learned from American teachers, was completely inadequate to match either the speed or vocabulary that she spoke with.  Fortunately our host recognized this, and slowed down her speech.  Although my Spanish teacher would not have been impressed, it made communication much easier, and I actually had a lot of fun trying to piece together conversations.

On our first day of biking we covered a 43 Km loop that led us to Banyoles and back, passing through many small villages along the way.  Banyoles is a moderate-sized city built next to a small lake, which hosted the rowing races for the ’92 Olympics and various World Championships as well.  As we rode around the lake we could see crews rowing on the water, with course lanes set up for racing. Near one end of the lake we stopped and climbed a tall viewing platform, which is where officials stand during races to judge the finish.  It was a lot of fun, standing up above the lake, in the same place where judges had stood not long ago to record the achievements of the best rowers in the world.  We waved to a few of the boats that were passing below us, and several of the rowers smiled and waved back.

A little while later we stopped for lunch in an outdoor café, in a beautiful courtyard shaded under stone arches.  A cool breeze picked up, which felt great after a long morning in the baking sun.  We took our time with lunch, enjoying the relative quiet of the siesta-ing town, before heading out to get the bikes and head home.

Upon stepping out from under the stone arches, we saw a changed sky: where bright blue had been before, dark swirling clouds now were forming. At one point I tried, unsuccessfully, to locate the sun.  As we mounted our bikes and headed for home, the clouds closed in behind us and just as we were leaving the city the first raindrops fell.  We pulled over into a small restaurante to shelter ourselves.  We made it in just in time.

Starting at 4:30 and continuing for a couple of hours, it rained like I have only seen a few times before in my life.  Enough of indecisive gloomy New England drizzle; this was real rain.  It was a true tormenta, a storm.  Flooding the streets and parking lots, it covered everything in sight.  After an hour of waiting for the storm to pass we decided that we didn’t have time to wait any longer, and so we left the restaurant and decided to take our chances in the gale.  Several ambulances sped past us just as we were getting on our bikes, which wasn’t very encouraging.  Just over an an hour later, though, we reached the farm house, soaked and tired but safe. Later that night we heard stories on the television about hail the size of golf balls that had landed not far from where we were.

On the following day, a similarly powerful yet brief tormenta swept through. This evening, our third day, we are staying at a different farm house in the town of La Pera. At the moment there are clouds and lightning on the horizon, and a few small raindrops are just beginning to fall. In response to our initial worries about rain (something to be aware of when biking) our host had said that it hadn’t rained in long time–we would be fine. The guide book says that it rains on average just three days a month in July. Maybe we are bringing with us the rain from Boston, but the weather here seems just as crazy as it has been at home.

But don’t let the rain fool you.  This country, despite the sudden weather changes, is incredible.  The country farms are simply beautiful, and we’ve stopped along the way at so many dramatic 11th or 12th Century churches that I’ve lost count. The villages that we have ridden through are so different from anything that I have ever seen before—some of them, (for example, Planils, which we passed through today) consist of no more than two or three farmhouses. There are virtually no other tourists here. Narrow alleys, stone archways, open markets, ancient buildings, and friendly people are everywhere.  Biking along the small roads is great, because you get a chance to slow down and see these kinds of small things that would be impossible to see by car.

Tomorrow evening we head to Barcelona, for the last few days of my stay in Spain.

Read more: Bike Tours, Mediterranean, Spain, Touring with the Parents, Travel, Western Europe


Adam

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