Más España

Plaza Catalunya, Barcelona.

Trying to recapture the magic of our Spanish spring not to mention the lost photographs I travelled differently, more simply and cheaper. I’ve already established that I ride the train when possible but I also look for accommodations a couple of notches below the three plus stars Peggy and I favor. And while that is partly driven by frugality it also comports with my belief that the more stars your hotel boasts the more you’re removed from the heartbeat of the community. And engaging with real folks is the wonder of memorable travel. So, when alone I choose unstarred hotels, ones that are a world apart from the whole star system. And despite that the modest establishments can wonderful. 

Along the strand, Barceloneta.

In Madrid I stayed in the two-star Hotel Mediodia at the perfect location for the Prado, La Reina Sofia and the Parque Retiro where I ran each day. I found a local bar and a place for a 5-euro lunch including a small beer. From Madrid I took the high-speed train, second class, to Barcelona where I stayed in student housing near the beach in Barceloneta. It was simply furnished, came with a simple breakfast brought to my room and with a laundry downstairs. Sure, it was spare, but it was four blocks from the playa, three from an amazing mercado and surrounded by tasty local eateries with no tourists.

Centro, Cordoba.

I

Roman Ruins, Cordoba.

Royal Alcazar, Sevilla.

Catedral de Sevilla.

In Cordoba I stayed at the El Convento Antiguo, also un-starred, where I sat on the front steps talking with the Ernesto the front desk manager who commuted to work from the countryside. Yes, it was once a convent.  In Sevilla it was the well-named Hotel Sevilla, another no-star just a block from great tapas, ice cream and flamenco. The Sevilla offered a prepared to order breakfast, an ideal location and was 79 euros with the breakfast. I couldn’t ask for more. It was personal and welcoming compared to a faceless chain hotel. And it was across a small plaza from a bar that filled with lawyers, teachers and workers enjoying a traditional prix fixe lunch of an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert and a small beer or wine for the munificent sum of 8 euros.

It doesn’t take big money to enjoy a city. Quite the opposite I’d say. And you can stay longer at at less than 100 euros a night. I struggle to rationalize 300-euro hotels, and $6,000 a week guided tours when for that price I can a stay for a month and really get to know the place. To me it's a gimme. 

Seeing double in Spain

Atocha Station

It’s likely I’ll write about Spain for the next issue of Shadow and Light. It is not a given at this point and I have almost two weeks to get it together. Why hurry when you can get the adrenalin rush that comes with a deadline tomorrow.

School children at La Reina Sofia Museum

2014 was a major travel year for the Immels. We spent a month in Andalusia in the spring, a month in the south of France in the fall and I revisited Spain after the French sojourn because Peggy scrubbed all my Spain photographs while we were in Madrid when the screen on my laptop was disturbing her sleep.

Walk on By.

The one euro lunch.

My local in Madrid.

The gist of the tale is that she bid me adieu in Marseille, and I flew to Madrid to retrace my steps and replace the lost images as best I could. I enjoyed a modicum of success at best. But I gave it a shot and saw the important locales a second time and added two, Girona and Malaga.

I travelled by train except from Malaga to Gaucin where we’d spent a month in the spring. Trains in Europe are superb and driving in cities is, simply put, stupid. So, I rode the train from Madrid to Barcelona in 2-1/2 hours, had a beer and sandwich along the way, napped a bit and arrived in the center of Barcelona fresh a daisy. In the spring we drove it in 5-1/2 hours, played hell finding our hotel and slept for 12 hours.

As much as I wanted to replicate the shots from trip one, it was not to be, as in impossible. I knew it but had to try. I remembered specific images from trip one and tried to find the exact location at the right time of day but four months later everything was different. The light, the people and the magic.

Today are a few from Madrid, the first stop on my second Spanish merry-go-round. I liked Madrid even more the second time and would return in a heartbeat. These are mostly street shots even though Madrid is an architecturally handsome city. In the upcoming article that may change. Barcelona, Malaga, Girona, Sevilla, Gaucin and Cordoba may be part of my Spanish journal. I ’ll know when I begin piecing it together.

Dark as Night

Occluded Sun near Point Reyes.

As I contemplate my next article for Shadow and Light, likely a Spanish Journal, start a diary, and weigh into the dreaded taxes here a handful of recent images. They are linked by mood if nothing else. I’m drifting toward the darkly rendered photographs even if taken in daylight. All but one of these were. The exploration began with the image Occluded Sun and the ones below follow in its footsteps.

Last Light, Looking southwest toward the West Rim.

Highway 104 between Tucumcari and Las Vegas.

Pump House, Desert Shores.

Cottonwoods, Los Luceros.

More to follow.

By the sea. By the beautiful sea.

One stop shopping, Desert Shores.

Get gas at Lorenzo's.

Prime beachfront property.

Lithium Gallery

Fixer Upper.

Given my dozens of posts celebrating the forlorn, derelict and forgotten over the decades, it’s fitting that I returned to the Salton Sea in mid-January. If ever there was a place that time forgot, California’s biggest lake is the reigning king of desiccation. So, here are a handful signs, sad abodes and bent metal dwellings for your perusal. This follows in the footsteps of last week’s examination of Thousand Palms which is Newport Beach compared to Desert Shores Beach, Salton Sea’s once and would be playground of the rich and famous.