02-03-2016, 01:08 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-03-2016, 04:00 PM by Drunk Monk.)
Actually, I've never driven in a foreign country. And I would certainly not wanted to have started in Spain. They drive all crazy there. Can't tell a street from a sidewalk. There was literally no place to park in Cadaques - it's just not that kind of town. There was probably parking in Figueres but I didn't see it. It would have been far more stressful and expensive to rent a car (and remember, we were traveling as economically as possible as we are a threesome and only two of us work). Plus I really enjoy public transit in foreign countries, especially trains. You really get to see the people and the countryside.
The train to Pubol was pleasant. The flat expanse gave way to scenic countryside, hills and mountains. We got off the train in Pubol, caught a cab immediately and made it to Gala's Castle efficiently. This is the least visited corner of the Dalianian triangle and there were maybe only a dozen tourists there. Dali renovated this castle as a gift to Gala and she only accepted it on the terms that he could only visit her there after having a written request approved by her. It is a gorgeous location, overlooking Mediterranean fields in the peaceful countryside, a tiny village that no one would give a second thought to if not for Gala's castle. The castle was rebuilt with Dalinian aesthetics, just like all of the corners of the Triangle - Dali's art was in every nook and cranny, his sculpture in the lovely gardens, his murals everywhere, his lamps and end tables, even the dishes were Dali designed. There was even an unfinished canvas because after Gala died, Dali left his home and lived here, to be beside her, even in death, and he was always working so he left a lot of unfinished pieces. I was amused to learn that they were both huge fans of Wagner, and Wagnerian opera filled Gala's vinyl collection, played like musak throughout the castle constantly, and Wagner busts adorned a huge fountain in the garden (one with an evil fish spout that Tara did not like at all). Every room, every spot in the garden, it was all quite lovely, the kind of spots that just invite you to sit down, have a cup of tea or a glass of wine, and enjoy the surroundings.
I've never quite understood Gala. She was very mysterious. Formerly the wife of poet Paul Elaurd before Dali plucked her away, she's not a stunning beauty, but there are many reports that she had a very penetrating stare, a sharp mind, and managed Dali extravagantly. She had a great booty - Dali painted and sculpted her butt a lot - arguably the most captivating derriere in the history of art. She rests in the cellar of her castle and it was a very solemn moment to stand there and gaze upon one of the greatest muses of them all. There are places for two tombs, but in the end, Dali was buried elsewhere.
We only saw a little of the gift shop until we realized that we had to go immediately to make the next train. We tried calling the cab at the number he gave us on a little card, tried to get assistance from the very unhelpful staff there, but to no avail. We were a few miles from the train station, and had no choice but to start walking, luggage in hand, knowing there was no way we could ever make the next train and get to Port Ligat in time...
The train to Pubol was pleasant. The flat expanse gave way to scenic countryside, hills and mountains. We got off the train in Pubol, caught a cab immediately and made it to Gala's Castle efficiently. This is the least visited corner of the Dalianian triangle and there were maybe only a dozen tourists there. Dali renovated this castle as a gift to Gala and she only accepted it on the terms that he could only visit her there after having a written request approved by her. It is a gorgeous location, overlooking Mediterranean fields in the peaceful countryside, a tiny village that no one would give a second thought to if not for Gala's castle. The castle was rebuilt with Dalinian aesthetics, just like all of the corners of the Triangle - Dali's art was in every nook and cranny, his sculpture in the lovely gardens, his murals everywhere, his lamps and end tables, even the dishes were Dali designed. There was even an unfinished canvas because after Gala died, Dali left his home and lived here, to be beside her, even in death, and he was always working so he left a lot of unfinished pieces. I was amused to learn that they were both huge fans of Wagner, and Wagnerian opera filled Gala's vinyl collection, played like musak throughout the castle constantly, and Wagner busts adorned a huge fountain in the garden (one with an evil fish spout that Tara did not like at all). Every room, every spot in the garden, it was all quite lovely, the kind of spots that just invite you to sit down, have a cup of tea or a glass of wine, and enjoy the surroundings.
I've never quite understood Gala. She was very mysterious. Formerly the wife of poet Paul Elaurd before Dali plucked her away, she's not a stunning beauty, but there are many reports that she had a very penetrating stare, a sharp mind, and managed Dali extravagantly. She had a great booty - Dali painted and sculpted her butt a lot - arguably the most captivating derriere in the history of art. She rests in the cellar of her castle and it was a very solemn moment to stand there and gaze upon one of the greatest muses of them all. There are places for two tombs, but in the end, Dali was buried elsewhere.
We only saw a little of the gift shop until we realized that we had to go immediately to make the next train. We tried calling the cab at the number he gave us on a little card, tried to get assistance from the very unhelpful staff there, but to no avail. We were a few miles from the train station, and had no choice but to start walking, luggage in hand, knowing there was no way we could ever make the next train and get to Port Ligat in time...
Shadow boxing the apocalypse