Spain 08/02/2010
 
　

We spent close to a week in Spain and at first I was a little disappointed. Central Spain was hot and dirty, mostly farming communities. It is a place where major irrigation takes place to make the land inhabitable to humans or crops (Cochella Valley or Western Oklahoma). The larger cities we past were full of people sitting around, loitering. We received many a strange look. At one point (at a monastery) Jim and Brad left the bikes to look around, while I was still riding to catch up (I dropped my apple and went back to look for it). I pulled up just in time to hear a under cover police officer warn them (us) never leave the bikes unattended in Spain. I was just about ready to leave Spain, and head back to France. But we decided to hit the coast to see the Mediterranean.

We started riding in 100 degrees, no shade, long winding roads. The roads became twisted and increased in elevation (cooler). Soon the roads were a mess of twisted tight turns with major switch backs, up and then down the coastal mountain range. The bikes sang and there was no traffic. We owned the best motorcycling road. For hours we rode roads that were smooth and fast. I just changed my mind about Spain. Spain has the best motorcycle roads in the world (so far).

The three of us ended up at the beach at Penisacola (look it up). Huge high rise hotels (Panama city, Daytona beachish) covered the board walk. Thousands of people, dressed in beach clothes, walk up and down the shore. Brad was able to get a room over looking a castle (built in the 1200’s). We went out to dinner and ate sea food. I picked my normal meal, when the waiter hands me a menu, I open it and point immediately to something. I never know what I am going to get. Sometimes it is good others not so much. I can’t read the menu or speak the language, why waste everybody’s time asking questions. This night I did well and had fish. After dinner we walked the board walk and smell the salt in the air. Watching the freaks that come out at night I kinda was home sick for Huntington Beach.

The next morning were headed to Madrid. Brad was flying out and we had to return his bike to the rental company. Jim and I made an appointment to have our bikes serviced at the same location. The ride to Madrid was hot, dusty through many small towns. I was getting the feeling of not being welcomed, again. It was rolling on to the evening and elderly people started to gather on front porches, and doorways. The temp was still hot but cooling off. As we passed through they looked at Brad, then Jim and finally me. They showed no expression, no understanding of the purpose of these heavily packed motorcycle. They just gazed. This made me feel uneasy, until I waved. Once I waved I received a smile and a huge wave back. Crap, misread them completely. So each little town we passed through I waved like I was in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and people smiled and waved right back. Okay I like Spain.

 We managed to stumble into Madrid around 10:30 pm and it was still 95 degrees. After an eternity of driving stupid traffic circle and braving the highways we finally found the hotel. I probably wont go back to Madrid, although we did eat dinner at the worlds oldest restaurant, it opened in 1724 (this time I got chicken).

The next day, again stumbled around Madrid (hard place to get around) and found the repair shop. Jose is the owner/mechanic and rents motorcycles. Brad returned his and we dropped ours off for service, then went to the mall. Jose’s shop (Happyrider.com) was under his house, in his basement, he even gave us a ride back to the hotel and picked us up the next day(when the bikes were finished). Here is the kicker, he wouldn’t allow us to pay for the labor. He did the work for free. We did end up buying lunch for him and his partner (the best we could do). They were the highlight of Spain.

The following day Brad flew home. It was a nice vacation from the real work of riding around the world. Brad had traveled Europe before and was handy to have around, plus he was just fun. Thanks Brad for the laughs.

Jim and I headed north fast. It was time to leave the big city and get back to the country. We made our was along the Pyrenees winding up and down the twisty mountain roads. We ended up in a cabin for the night at a camp ground just before it started to pour. The next day we traveled to the country of Andorra. Yes, a country. We had no idea it existed. It is 181 sq. miles, that’s it. It is covered with fancy banks and hotels. I did say that correct, fancy banks. We learned it has no income tax and is a tax shelter of some sort, We met a Canadian, Marco who gave us the low down.

We headed toward Italy over the Alps. The Pyrenees are an impressive set of mountains but the Alps make them look like the Arbuckle’s. By the way the Arbuckle mountains in southern Oklahoma are the second oldest mountain range on earth.

As we progress through each country the quality of driver decreases. Italy has the worst drivers. They are not used to motorcycles following any laws and therefore do not know how to drive around bikes. The motorcycles will drive right down the middle of the street on the white line, while traffic is flowing in both directions. Because of Holiday (Europe is on vacation) Italy was packed. We sat at traffic light after traffic light wait for a chance to break free of the city. We did camp a site on top of a beautiful mountain overlooking the plains. We met a group of def kids (20’s) and had a good time explaining what we were doing. They were great sports and Happy 30th birthday.

We tried to get to Florence but the traffic and heat made it impossible. Jim tried to send some things back to the states but had a difficult time at the post office. He was able to by a box for $4.00 but not allowed to use it. After an hour of discussion it was easier to quietly leave than cause a scene. So long Italy heading north were it is cooler.

Oh I almost forgot, I ran a toll booth (they say I did, I say I didn’t). They charged Jim $9.40 euro and me $66.00 euro. I sat at toll booth while the guy spoke Italian faster and faster. Cars lined up behind me and I kept saying “No ticket”. I realized he was not going to slow down (or be any help) and he was getting louder in Italian. So just for fun, I started with the whole story as fast as I possibly could (in English of course). When he would take a breath I would unload about the days events or anything that came to mind. I paid $10.00 euros and was credited for $10. The line of cars backed up to the point the toll booth operator printed off a ticket stating I still owe the Italian toll company $56.00 euros and the gate opened. I told him he owned me $.60 euros and I rode off. I have a feeling I will not be able to register my motorcycle in Italy until I get that paid off. Whatever.

 


Comments

Lori link
08/09/2010 6:40pm

Tripp and I LOVE the way you order food!!!

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