Ugh, my friends, I feel like I've let you all down immensely, what with the recent dearth of blog posts and all...and I have so much to yap about! I apologize as profusely as I am able. Seeing, however, as I now have a cat stretched across one arm, this post will proceed a little more slowly than I'd intended, and I apologize for that, too. Nevertheless...onward to adventure!
Since it's become cold, gray, and depressing here (which has made me not care about cooking in the least), we've been eating out a little more, and have found (thanks mainly to Nanda!) a few surprising and good restaurants, including:
- Saigon (Vietnamese food, and everyone's lunch was good.)
- Ah-hua (Thai food, and yaaaaaay, whole fish! which I actually filleted and made eatable all by myself!)
- Tandoori BBQ (if I were ever to go vegetarian, this is how I'd do it. Cripes, I love Indian food.)
- Hotel Rivington (American food: met Nanda for an affordable [gasp!] lunchtime burger [topped with fresh veggies and bacon and cheese, by default!] in this place that was, according to legend, dismantled in NYC and shipped here, and then re-mantled [it's a word now, isn't it.])
- Spanish food at Chateau Barrique (despite the French name, their tapas are quite good) and Tasca Romero, which I think is now officially my favorite eatin' place in Zurich. They're open late, they always have live flamenco-y music (with a guy on a guitar and a guy on a harp), the staff is nice, they have good sangria...and they have this.
Chorizo del Diablo. A delicious, spicy chorizo which they douse in some sort of high-octane booze, then set on fire. The chorizo gets all crispy and it is awesome. (And when you eat it with a plate of manchego and sun-dried tomatoes on the side, even better.)
Other things I will (uncharacteristically) skim over:
- A quick weekend trip to Basel, ostensibly because Mike had never been there, but also because the Titanwurz was getting ready to bloom. (Given my past fascination with horticulture, this seemed like a must-do. We missed it by one day.) We roamed the picturesque streets, we went to the history museum, we visited the University of Basel's botanic gardens, and we had some good food at Brauerei (in particular, my pumpkin seed soup, yum). A few highlights:
Behold: Titanwurz. It was so humid in there that my lens fogged over almost immediately. Pot and all, this thing was 7 or 8 feet tall. (Feed me, Seymour.)
Orchids at the U. Basel Botanic Gardens' tropical house. I saw these in Amsterdam and thought they were fake, they're so huge and vibrant.
Amazing bird in the tropical house. There were a handful of other birds, along with a turtle, (supposedly) some frogs, and this creepy eel thing swimming around in their pond.
Actual working guillotine (as in, used) at the history museum.
- We hosted Thanksgiving for a motley little crew at our house again, and we're still eating the turkey leftovers (we froze them for a little while, but now they're green chile stew [seriously yum]). My contribution was a batch of buckeyes, which were sadly misshapen, but at least they tasted decent.
Terrible lighting, but awesome food: turkey, salad, Mike's made-from-scratch stuffing (heavenly), corn with herb butter and garlic, and homemade mashed potatoes with gravy.
- We attended a Dia de los Muertos celebration (hosted by a local Mexican folk dance club), and boy was the music and dancing incredible. We weren't smart enough to take a real camera with us, so the professional photos are here. (Seriously, check out those costumes.) This was maybe one of the most festive, joyous occasions we've attended here...all sorts of shouting and whistling and stomping, and the whole show was emceed in both (Mexican) Spanish and Swiss German. And they were selling pan de muerto, yum. It was so fun, and made us both a little homesick.
- We made no fewer than two trips to the Zürcher Oktoberfest tent, for some Nürnberger sausages and giant heaps of mashed potatoes and sauerkraut with bacon. Once we even went in costume. I think this is the happiest place in Zürich, for the month that it runs. (The sound on the following video is crap, so turn your volume way down. My poor phone just can't handle the joyfulness.)
- The weather went quickly from pretty, pretty fall to cold, ridiculously snowy winter.
In October...
...and this is what it looks like outside our apartment now. We've had more snow by this point (it's snowed at least some part of every day for at least 2 weeks) than we had all of last year combined.
At least all of the Christmas lights are on now, but I don't have any good pictures yet, so stay tuned for that. I do have a shot of the 'Advents-Pyramide,' though, which is one of my favorite Christmassy Zurichy things. It's this amazing food-and-drink stand they set up in front of our neighborhood train station, where they serve all sorts of warm beverages and raclette to go. This is how one survives the sad, icky cold months here.
Naturally, it's in the shape of a giant wooden Christmas pyramid, complete with fake candles.
And now, the important part: my birthday. We started celebrating a little early this year: Mike surprised me with a trip to Mallorca the weekend before the actual day of. The trip itself wasn't a surprise, but the destination was, and we had a fantastic time. Mike did a super job of lining up hotels and plane tickets and everything, right down to the Smartcar we rented to drive around the island. (FYI, that's the only way to drive there: the streets are crazy narrow, and parking can be a wee bit of a challenge. As in, mostly impossible.) We spent two nights in Palma (the major city) and two in Banyalbufar (tiny village with funny Arabic name). And just so you know, I took around a thousand photos over those four days, so consider yourselves warned.
Some quick history: Mallorca has a fantastically interesting past, and it was invaded by just about everyone who could get there. It's been occupied since roughly 7200 BC, and in 1200 BC, it was invaded by the fierce (if somewhat mysterious) Talayotic people. They were known for their slingshot skills and were hired as mercenaries by the Carthaginians, who had been unsuccessful at invading the place themselves. The Romans took over in 123 BC (they prevented slingshot damage to their ships' hulls by wrapping them in leather!); then came the Vandals in 426 AD, then the Romans again, and then the Arabs in 902-903 AD. Under Arab rule, the island's main city (Medina Mayurka then, Palma now) became both a thriving cosmopolitan center and an extremely successful haven for pirates. Tired of their trade being disrupted by these Mallorcan pirates, the Spanish invaded in 1229, and the island has been under Spanish control ever since. Obviously, there's much, much more to the story (later attacks by pirates! supreme prosperity! their own merchant fleet! peasant revolts! invasions during the Spanish Civil War! etc.!), but these early roots, and the resurgence of the Mallorquin dialect and customs (which early rulers from mainland Spain did their best to suppress) are what made it a superbly interesting place to visit for me. I can't even imagine how miserably packed with tourists the place might be in the warmer months, but while it was chillier than I was expecting, I'm so glad we went in the off season. (Hilarious aside regarding tourists: Mallorca's primary tourists are Germans and German speakers, so lots of its residents speak really good German. And everyone thought we were German at first, so we got to be the slightest bit bilingual. Awesome.)
Our first night in town: fancy-schmance dinner at Simply Fosh, which finished with this: a super rich chocolate mousse on top of a thin circle of chocolate cake, covered with dark chocolate ganache and berries. Happy early birthday to me. (Favorite course: strawberry and tomato gazpacho surrounding a wee island of crab, avocado, and coriander. Fresh and interesting.)
Day one began with a quick visit to Santa Eulalia: a two-minute walk from our seriously amazing hotel, and one of the oldest Gothic churches in Mallorca (built shortly after the Spanish invasion, although the facade was restored in the late 19th century).
Then, we roamed the streets, looking for a small, random list of interesting buildings. Recall, if you will, the nutty goodness of the Modernismo buildings (i.e., Spanish Art Nouveau) from Barcelona. Palma has its own Modernist facades: here's Almacenes el Aguila, from 1908.
Almacenes el Aguila.
More Modernism: Pension Menorquina (1909-11).
Can Casasayas (1908-10), right next to Pension Menorquina.
A little more traditional: Palma's Ajuntament (town hall), on Plaça Cort.
On Plaça Cort, a preserved facade that's clearly going to be part of a new building. Just thought it was interesting...never seen this in progress before.
One of Mallorca's famed courtyards, or patis, where the stagecoaches of the wealthy would enter in olden times. These things are so grand, and while you can't usually go in (because people actually live like this!!), you can at least crane your neck. And snap a few photos.
The Arc al Almudaina, one of the few remnants of the Roman city walls.
The Banys Arabs, or Arab baths (10th century). The major remaining Arab ruins on the island.
Banys Arabs.
Srsly, some of these streets are narrow. As in, some of the balconies are so close together that one could shake hands with one's neighbor across the street.
I loved these crazy, gnarly olive trees. These things are all over the countryside.
And now, to Palma's major draws! This is the Palau de la Almudaina, which was originally an Islamic fort, but was converted into the residence of the Mallorcan monarchs in the 13th century. Still occasionally used for ceremonies when the Spanish king comes to visit.
Illicit photo time! Not entirely sure whether photos were permitted in this room, but here's a 15th-century fresco and an amazing coffered ceiling.
The main courtyard with its Arab-era fountain and view of the cathedral spires.
As we made our way back to our hotel to get read for dinner, we passed back through the Plaça Cort, where they had set up a bandstand (the tuba was warming up!), and where it was obviously that something was going to go down relatively soon. We grabbed a seat at an outdoor cafe (thank goodness for gas heaters!) and a couple of glasses of cava, then sat down to wait. Turns out, not only was it the fanfare prior to the switching on of the city's Christmas lights (hooray!!!), but it was also a "black Christmas" protest held by Mallorcan unions against public spending cuts. The band played a few unlikely songs (including an Abba medley), a small band of bagpipers paraded around the square and off through the streets (followed by people in giant costumes of a black Santa, a devil-faced Santa, a bald old man, a cat and a donkey [!]), and then the actual ceremony began. We had a good seat for the ensuing insanity.
Here's a video I shot of just a tiny portion of the craziness and the light-switching-on. Yes, most of the protesters are wearing black Santa hats. Disclaimer: it's loud. Turn your sound down.
Pardon the shoddy video work: the new camera takes video just fine, but I am not good at wielding it.
A few of the aforementioned Christmas lights. I LOVE CHRISTMASTIME IN EUROPE.
A few gratuitous night shots: Palma's harbor at night.
Such drama: here's the Palau and the cathedral. And the moon.
Both lunch and dinner of Day 1 were tapas, and I have no problem with that at all. Among other things, between La Boveda (on the tourist thoroughfares, but good) and L'Ambigu (little back-alley place near our hotel), we ate pimientos de padron; shrimp-n-garlic; some sort of mild, delicious cheese; a super-hearty white bean stew with chorizo and blood sausage (stew = fantastic, blood sausage = not my favorite...); and some nice, spicy patatas bravas, and washed it all down with some decent red wine and sangria.
Day 2 began with a trip to Palma's Mercat de l'Olivar, mainly 'cause I adore markets, but also, we'd heard it was a good place to eat. They weren't wrong. There were little bars everywhere, serving oysters and seafood and tapas and sushi and pastries. I just wish we'd been infinitely hungrier.
Such pretty tapas.
So much jamon Iberico.
We chose, however, to eat on the seafood side of the market (yes, naturally, there exist plenty of photos from there, too!) and had an awesome lunch of shrimp-n-garlic (this one nice and spicy!); some sort of chopped, fried, meaty, white fish; and a few fried fish-n-cheese croquets, with bread to sop up all the shrimpy-garlicky goodness.
Enough seafood to boggle my seafood-lovin' mind. And there were three double-sided aisles of this.
Next, it was over to the cathedral (built 1306-1601), because it's fairly apparent to all just how fascinated I am by cathedrals. (And I seem to have infected Mike with my weird enthusiasm, as well, thankfully. I'd feel somewhat guilty dragging him into yet another Gothic masterpiece if he just had zero interest in it. Only somewhat guilty, though, seeing as how it was my birthday trip, heh heh.)
Don't kid yourself: this place is huge.
And it's so close to the Palau that it's impossible (without my trusty wide angle lens, on the old camera [Did I mention that we got a new camera? We did.]) to get a square, full shot of this rather impressive facade.
Chevet of the cathedral. Gigantic.
On the inside, they have a small museum with some insanely fancy treasures. Here, a supposed remnant of the True Cross, in a 16th-century reliquary. (I dig the giant gems.)
Without any sort of scale, it's hard to tell that this silver candelabra is over 8 feet tall and 5 feet wide, and it weighs 535 pounds. And it has a twin.
Cathedral interior: so very, very tall. And the three tall levels of stained glass are something I've never seen before. (Here's some trivia: this is the 7th highest church nave in the world, and the ratio of the width of the pillars to the vaults they're supporting is the narrowest in the world, i.e., more height with less material. Craziness.)
Officially, this is the largest rose window in the world.
And then there was this, the "Adoration of the Eucharist" chapel by Miquel Barcelo, created between 2001 and 2006. Modernist-y and a little Gaudi-esque...and I really don't love it. But hey, the King and Queen of Spain presided over its opening in 2007, so who am I to judge? (FYI, there are no fewer than 20 side chapels along the two outer naves in this cathedral, and the retable* in each one is huge enough to serve as the main altarpiece in most smaller churches. It's nuts how big this place is.)
Outside in the cloisters, a close-up of remnants of one of those coffered and painted wooden ceilings. Who knows how old.
Post-cathedral, it was time to pick up our Smartcar (wooo!) and head for the hills, quite literally. We drove northwest to Banyalbufar, a wee village on the coast. Gorgeous drive through the hills and through little charming towns, up into the mountains, which are heavily terraced (and somewhat reminiscent of Amalfi, but with way more olive trees).
This little guy greeted us at our hotel, and was one of several kittehs there who were simply insistent that we pet them. Continuously. For long amounts of time.
Banyalbufar.
The outskirts of Banyalbufar: it's the Mediterranean, kids.
Banyalbufar's main square by night. (One small church, the small local government building, and the side of a house. This town is teensy and adorable and the people are so nice.)
Day 2 ended with dinner at our hotel--one of the two restaurants in town that were still open this time of year--and it was just lovely. We shared still more shrimp-n-garlic (Mike could not get enough); a shrimp omelette (see aforementioned shrimp-related statement); a dish of red peppers, chopped beef, and potatoes; and some sort of pork marinated in a sweet sauce. And homemade cheesecake. And wine made in Banyalbufar from grapes that grew on the vines immediately outside of our hotel room window. Neat.
Day 3 began with breakfast at the hotel (best fried eggs ever) and a quick drive south along the coast to see the island's most famous Talayotic tower, the Torre des Verger (built in 1579). The scenery there is ok, I guess, if you're into that sort of thing.
Supposedly, this is one of the most photographed places in Mallorca. I get that.
One side of the view down the coast, from the tower's terrace. The views from here are so expansive that we could not capture the entire horizon with any of our fancy, newfangled, panoramic photographin' equipment. Sigh.
Next, it was a quick drive a little back inland and over to Deia, a ridiculously charming stone village on top of a hill. It was hard to get good, evocative photos in the town itself, so here's one from the car on the way out. Nice, right?
Ugh. It's almost too charming.
Then, over to Valldemossa, so that I could geek out on Chopin memorabilia at the monastery where he and (his somewhat scandalous, considerably older lover...!) George Sand spent three months during the winter of 1838-1839. It was not a happy time in their lives, but Chopin was crazily prolific there during the single month after his piano arrived, and he composed several preludes, two polonaises, a scherzo, a mazurka, and revisions of a ballade and a sonata (!). What I find interesting is how awed I became in the presence of originals of correspondence and sheet music in the man's own hand. (Who knew I was such a Chopin freak...?) The monastery is apparently quite the tourist draw, and despite Valldemossa's original resistance to Chopin's and Sands's presences, the town now hosts Chopin concerts year-round, and an annual festival dedicated to the man and his works (my favorites here, here, and here).
Monastery hallway.
They also had a 17th-century pharmacy here...I love the old bottles and the painted ceiling.
Original sheet music...so amazing.
Chopin's piano for a single month in 1839.
Monastery tower. Love it.
Next, up to Soller, which was essentially all closed up for the winter. (We did, however, get to enjoy some fresh-squoze orange juice and some super thick hot chocolate, which tasted delightfully like a dark brownie batter.)
At least along the way there were these amazing olive trees in these ridiculously stony fields. And some serious mountain views.**
The main square in Soller, with the Banco de Soller and the 16th-century Eglesia de Sant Bartomeu, with its 1904-remodeled facade.
Finally, it was over to the town of Fornalutx, which is supposed to be one of the most scenic on the island, and they're not kidding. No views of the Mediterranean here, just a stunning location in a valley in the Serra de Tramuntana mountains. Perfect and picturesque and charming and all of that, but I don't know that I could live there: too many stairs for my stupid lame knees. Nevertheless...too pretty.
View from Fornalutx.
Narrow! Stone! Perfectly well tended greenery everywhere! If they didn't have winter and stairs there, I'd probably pack up my cats and go.
Day 3 concluded with A) our transfer to a bigger room (with a fantastic Mediterranean view) at the hotel, and B) a dinner of delicious tapas at the only other restaurant in Banyalbufar that was open--this cool little bar that felt like being in someone's living room, but with tremendously thick, old stone walls and a high vaulted arch over the bar counter. The pleasant proprietor roasted some delicious little chorizos in his fireplace for us, and then we had some tasty spicy-garlicky potatoes and two (unfortunately) huge plates of ham and cheese with oil and peppers on toast. (Truly yummy, but a single plate would have sufficed, considering all we'd eaten on this trip!)
On Day 4, we left our pleasant little village and drove south to Andalutx (just to see what was there--their town hall is in a 16th-century castle, and a large, 18th-century church built on a hilltop), and then, since we had time, made the obligatory drive over to Manacor, hometown of Rafael Nadal. I had the urge to roll down the window and shout his name as we were driving through the city, just to see if he was there ("Dr. Leo Marvin!"), but I managed to keep myself in check. And as it turns out, the most memorable parts of our journey to and from Manacor were A) the amazing coffee we had there, in a small out-of-the-way cafe; and B) the drive past Palma, and across the plains eastward: they're full of these weird little windmills, of which I took numerous (mostly terrible) photos from the car.
Boats in Palma's harbor. This is only the teensiest, tiniest fraction of them.
Entire cathedral, taken from the car. Bam. That's called skillz.
Windmill in Manacor.
One of the many, many little windmills on the plains around Palma. Lots of them were dilapidated, like this one, and some were just remnants (towers only).
Some, however, were gloriously restored, like this one, which I failed to realize is the signpost for a restaurant, as I was taking the picture. Pardon the photo quality: moving car, and all that. (No skillz on display here.)
And with that, we were back at the Palma airport to drop off our darling Smartcar (Mike was really nostalgic, driving it around everywhere...I think he really enjoyed himself!) and to catch a flight back to Zürich. What a superlative way to celebrate my birthday...I really could not have selected a more interesting or delicious place to visit! All thanks to my awesome, thoughtful husband. (Big, big thanks, Mike. Well done, you.)
And just in case anyone's wondering, for my actual birthday, a handful of friends and I enjoyed another Mexican culinary triumph (street tacos with homemade tortillas! perfect red chile beef enchiladas!) from Mike.*** Dessert afterwards was--finally, she gets back around to the title of this, the lengthiest post ever, you're thinking!--fancy cupcakes from an adorable little store in old town, and birthday champagne courtesy of Nanda and René. Kids, I do not think life gets much better.
Now that this post has dragged on almost interminably, I'll skip over the usual "what I'm reading" nonsense, and all that. Next up: some Christmas lights, snow, and hopefully a weekend trip to a Christmas market somewhere in Germany. And then home to the US for the holidays with our families! Since I most likely will not catch up with you all again until after the new year, merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a festive new year to you and yours. Eat well and be safe.
*Don't mind me: just throwing around a little architectural snobbery here. This is also called the reredos, or the retabulum. Roughly, the big fancy screen thing behind the altar in a church. I kept seeing the Spanish word "retablo" (although I'd heard "retabulum" before, and just didn't know the formal definition) and had to look it up, myself.
**The mountain range on Mallorca is the Serra de Tramuntana, the highest peak of which is around 4700 feet. Doesn't sound like much, here in our Alps, and in Denver in the Rockies, but from sea level, those mountains are DRAMATIC.
***I think it speaks volumes for my husband's cooking when I'd rather stay in than go out for my big day...he's a talent.
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