SPAIN DAY 2: DALI DAZE AND CASTLE NIGHTS 

We slept like we invented it after 36 hours without.  Breakfast at the hotel and off to adventure.  Mandy has always wanted to explore the Pyrenees and we set out to do so.  Our first drive takes us up and over the mountains to Port Lligat on the sea.  Readers of this blog know about our checkered history with rental cars and mountain passes, and this drive portends of an epic tale… tight turns through incredible elevations on two lane roads that are only a lane-and-a-quarter wide.  Unlike France, all the roads Google takes us on are named.  Unlike Italy, all the roads Google takes us on are paved.  Unlike Iceland, all the roads Google takes us on have guard rails and are not covered in snow in June.  But unlike all of them, virtually every curve is blind with the spectre of a head on collision looming large.  But it was beautiful, groves of olive trees, neat curtain rows of cypress, patches of grape vineyards, compact yellow villages and eventually, sweeping views of the sea.

(click on the image to view full size picture)

We drop into Cadaques, a bustling seaside town with tiers of white houses overlooking the Mediterranean.  It’s a week before the season begins in earnest but the town is already bursting with happy summer energy and cool European vibe.  On the other side of town lies Port Lligat, an isolated oasis with just one road in and one road out.  Port Lligat would have been all but forgotten, a tiny, hard-to-get-to beach village, except for it’s one resident of note, Spain’s most famous artist son, Salvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dali.  From the 1930s through his death in 1989, Dali redefined the art world by being a prodigious master of multiple disciplines while simultaneously thumbing his nose at the art establishment and creating “pop-art” to bring high-culture and peaceful political dissention to the masses.  An intentionally goofy, larger than life figure, Dali made the symbolism of melting clocks and cubist crucifixes understandable to the common suburban Joe. 

Our first stop today is to visit the house Dali shared with his wife of 52 years, Gala.  The house was the epicenter of Dali’s shenanigans, serving as his studio, backdrop of some of his most famous paintings, and launch pad/incubator for some of his wildest ideas.  The house is a peak into the mind of a larger-then-life creative, a cacophony of spaces, from the whimsical to the serious to the practical. 

Our favorite indoor space is the studio, where the intense master toiled long hours each day perfecting his craft by combining raw talent with tens of thousands of hours of practice, trial and repetition.  He designed a shuttle system so very large format works could be lowered through a slit the floor allowing him to work seated – lean forward, paint paint paint, lean back, assess.    Two unfinished works remain in the studio because when his beloved wife died in 1982, he could never bring himself to return to the home they shared together.

Our favorite outdoor space is the pool, where midcentury modern glam ran headlong into antiestablishment rebellion.  The space is fully appointed with high end amenities – fountains, wet bar, outdoor kitchen and manicured gardens.  Then Dali made this space a social commentary by adding pop culture references such as the four lighted Pirelli tire signs, dozens of identical soldier shaped liquor bottles around the fountain, the iconic plastic lips sofa and other kitsch.  My interpretation is that Dali was illustrating the fact that the commercialization of his art could buy the finer things in life.  Or maybe he was just being his goofy self and threw together a bunch of stuff he thought was cool.

Our next destination is about an hour away, and we left plenty of time to hit some wineries en route.  We know very little about Spanish wine and aim to fix that over the next two weeks.  Our first stop is an unfortunate bust, a lovely setting that confoundingly refused to let us sample any of their wines.  Ten minutes down the road, the next stop at the Empordalia cooperative was quite a bit more successful.  Empordalia was started as a collection of local vineyards and winemakers, pooling their crops and expertise to make the best possible vin while stabilizing revenue.  The shop has expanded to multiple locations and have added olive oil, skin care products, foodstuffs and glassware and other products made in the region.  Almost exclusively serving the local population, these wines are rarely shipped, but proudly shared.  Our hostess poured generous samples, discussing how the blends give the winemakers control and creative license over each year’s production.  We’re constrained on how much we can bring with us, so we settle on a few bottles of their super premium Icnos, a blend of their finest grapes of the season leaning heavily on the celebrated local black Grenache.  Only 2500 serialized bottles are made and it’s an absolute bargain at a mere $27 euros.  It’s also likely that the only place in the United States to find this particular gem will be at our house in Yardley, PA. 

The next winery we attempt is closed on Sundays, and our capitalist selves wonder why you would close on the day the most tourists want to taste wine.  We settle into the cultural differences and continue down the road to Figueres, stopping for a flat of roadside cherries on the way.  A town in transition, we find the bustling main street on the edge of the old city with the requisite sidewalk cafes and stop in for some traditional tapas, sangria and beer.  At 3:00 we head into the distinctive, egg-laden palace that is the Dali Theatre-Museum.  Dali himself devoted the entire 1970s to the conception, design and building of this museum, paying painstaking attention to even the smallest details in the most obscure corners.  We have not been to (or even know the existence of) another museum where the artist himself has had such intense involvement, and we can feel him guiding us through the experience.  My favorites are the extra-large-scale installations like the courtyard with the 40s Cadillac, tractor tire totem, bubbly busty statue and other non sequiturs arranged somehow into cohesive, immersive art.  In the grand lobby, massive painting at least 50 feet high and equally as wide is breathtaking for it’s sheer magnitude, forcing you to ponder the symbolism.  We continue on through the confounding (I never understood his fascination with cubism), silly (the sheer number of hours he spent on the joke that is his take on the Sistine Chapel) and the political (the series of statement pieces on Israel and the persecution of the Jews).  It’s been an intense one-day appreciation course of an artist.

Leaving the museum, we spend a few minutes wandering the narrows of the old town.  We always love losing ourselves in the labyrinth of these ancient cities, appreciating the architecture, the adaptations of the locals to the spaces and the modern shops at street level.  It’s been a log day already, so we head back for some R&R poolside at the hotel.

If the Theatre-Museum was some version of a Disney castle, dinner tonight is at the real thing, Castell Peralada located inside a 14^th century palace.  Pulling up the long drive has the desired effect of creating tangible anticipation.  The valet takes the keys and we walk the last 50 meters, the ivy covered turrets taking form deep inside the heavily wooded estate.  Entering the space reveals the sleek modern appointments, a stark contrast to the ancient walls.  Classic British rock further sets the mood, upscale, but not stuffy.  Before we order anything at all, our server brings bread with a selection of 4 different local olive oils and pours generous glasses of Cava, Spanish champaign.  The rose Cava isn’t so much pink as it is a stunning light purple, dry, crisp and cold.  Delving into the bread, we notice that the entire wait staff is treating the Cava like water in a Chinese restaurant, refilling it after virtually every sip.  We order the tasting menu, a ridiculous number of small plates designed to showcase the epitome of Emporda cuisine, reimagining classic regional dishes using the finest of local provisions.  They offer two wine pairings and the sommelier subtly steers us to the (significantly) less expensive local wine selection.  The pairing features a shocking 7 wines total, and all are poured with as much enthusiasm as the bubbly.  Course after course of deliciousness, with only one criticism from us – foam as a feature (in this case ham foam and seaweed sponge on separate dishes) is very, very over.  The highlight of the night, after a night of highlights, was the Cheese Cart.  I capitalize Cheese Cart, as this presentation deserves capitalization.  Not so much a cart as a cheese shop with wheels, the entire restaurant stopped and stared as the large trolley was pushed over to us by resident cheesemonger Toni Gerez.  Toni asked us about our preferences then proceeded to wield his knife and spear like a ninja, creating a clocklike presentation of 12 samples, placed in order from most mellow to most sharp.  Heaven, simply heaven.