Costa Brava

Along the winding trail

Costa Brava, the most beautiful coastline in Spain, I submit. Steves seems to think Nerja is the best, but he is wrong. He doesn't even mention Costa Brava! Forgetting some of the most idyllic beaches and coastal landscape is shocking negligence. I don't remember where I've had heard of it before, but for some reason Costa Brava was in my head as the place to go while we were living in Barcelona.

Yes, Micah tricked me into pointing

We decided to take the first weekend in October and rent a little apartment right on the water. Our friend from Georgetown, Antonella (who is also studying at ESADE) joined and we had a fun time weaving through city traffic and the castle dotted hills. It didn't take much time from sunny Barcelona to get here, but it was pouring rain upon arrival. The mild Mediterranean was in a tempestuous mood. When it stopped raining we walked down the beach to a chiringuito (brilliant inventions - bars on the sand) for a refreshing drink. When another storm blew in we hunkered down for dinner and cards, listening to the crashing waves.

In front of the tiny fishing village with Anto

The storm vacated overnight leaving an immaculately clear sky and beautiful, balmy weather. We hiked the surrounding cliffs and beaches, passed quaint (and I mean quaint) fishing villages, improved our tans (well Micah not so much), and played in the waves. The storm the previous day was a God send as there were actual waves (abnormal for a sea that's more like a lake).

Micah and I climbed up into the prohibited area. Sh!

Even castle rubble is cool!

Walking back from our little beach cove we hit up another chiringuito. While we were sitting there watching the enthusiastic surfers we saw one of the men fly into the air, landing in the water face first. We didn't think much of it until we saw someone dragging his limp body from the waves. Everyone on the beach was freaking out, I was freaking out, and people were attempting to drag him out of the lapping waters. We still aren't sure exactly what happened, but we know that he was alive, and I don't think he broke his neck because I saw him raise his arm. However, we sat at that chiringuito for 15 minutes waiting for the ambulance. 45 minutes later we left and the paramedics still hadn't carted him to the hospital. Note to self: do not get injured in Costa Brava.

The only way to this fortress was climbing. Wish we had more time!

Later that same day we ventured further up the coast, trying to get to Dalit's birth place. The sojourners all lost impetus half-way there and we stopped in some little town called "Roses" for a coffee. This throw back the American '50s (or 70s? I'm not sure) had a tree growing in the courtyard so we were immediately charmed. 

You tell me, 50s or 70? Maybe 70s

Driving back we saw the biggest ever wine emporium and stopped over for our evening's enjoyment. We decided to start off with some real Catalonian food (which is good because when we got to the restaurant the first thing the waitress said to us was: "We don't serve pizza or burger, only Catalunyan food." Cheeky). We ate the most delicious mussels, fried calamari, and botifarras with Catalunyan craft beer and headed back to the apartment for post restaurant revelry.

Best mussels ever.

View from the balcony of our apartment

The final day was spent meandering back to Barcelona. We stopped off at Lloret de Mar, a famous tourist spot, to see a castle. It turns out, the "castle" is actually a private villa (ridiculous!), so we hiked around a little, ate ice cream, and left the tourists behind.

Yes. I would live here.

The trees will find a way!

Moral of the story? Go to Costa Brava rather than Nerja. Sorry Stevey boy.