Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Lovin' La Rioja


After soaking up all the culture, lovely architecture, and jamon we could stomach in Barcelona we set out on our next adventure: wine country in Northern Spain. It’s no secret that Christian and I love all things wine country. We hoard our precious (and dwindling) supply of Napa Cabernet, we look back at our wedding photos with Sonoma as the backdrop and wistfully sigh, "someday". There’s just something about a countryside dotted with grapevines that beckons to both of us. The juxtaposition of all those old gnarled vines sitting in rows of natural orderliness, bearing a fruit who’s slightness yields abundance. If I could look out on that scene for the rest of my days, I’d die a happy woman.


We left Barcelona, picked up our convertible and took off to take
in the countryside by way of the Pyrenees. We zigzagged along the border of France and Spain for miles and miles. The scene was a desolate desert (and freezing due to Christian’s insistence on keeping the top down), but we had our tunes, each other, and our palpable excitement to keep us occupied. As we left the rugged North we felt the temperature rise as we hit the Spanish plains south of Pamplona. We were headed to La Rioja, Spain’s own Sonoma. Although, to give credit where credit is due, La Rioja has been around for literally ages. Time to get our medieval drink on! 

As we drove closer to our final destination, we took in a region awash with glorious vineyards, sunburst colors, dreamy landscapes, Gothic monasteries and enticing wine towns. And finally after several twists and turns, we approached the town of Laguardia, our home base for the next three days. The teeny tiny fortress town of Laguardia is a blip in La Rioja’s wine region, but it’s a walled village dating back to the 1300’s so we decided this was the port for us. For this portion of the trip, we would call the Hotel Castillo de Collado home. Our hotel, a converted castle, sits proudly on a rocky hilltop ensuring spectacular views of the Sierra de Cantabria mountain range and miles and miles of vineyards.


When we pulled into our temporary abode, we were greeted by Xavier, the hotel's owner (also concierge, butler, coffee-maker, housekeeper, and chef). Xavier, who had grown up in the hotel, looks like a character from a movie. Probably in his seventies, he is long and lean and full of charm and charisma. His aged face is kind and his mouth appears to be wrinkled into a grin after years of smiles. We liked him immediately and though he hardly spoke English, he'd take wonderful care of us over the next couple days. While Christian parked the car, this thin, wonderful old man carried our massive suitcases up to our suite, which happened to be up several narrow, stone spiral staircases. I never would have let him, but he waved me away with a gentle authority that I knew I shouldn't question. After that, we did whatever Xavier told us to do and he never steered us wrong.

While we got settled, Xavier brought us two glasses of Rioja (fitting) and explained by gesturing how to work the various components of our room. Next, we set off to explore the village. The town is more like a square. A walled in village with pedestrian only alleyways consisting of a handful of small hotels, restaurants, and wine and specialty shops. In the center of town is a square where people gather and socialize. Somehow there seems to be quite a few locals and tourists about, which is surprising considering we walked the entire town in about 10 minutes and there is nothing around for miles. I'm beginning to wonder how we ever even ended up here, but I'm glad we did.

Laguardia's population seems to consist mostly of old folks sitting on benches, snacking on baguettes and locally made cured meats, taking in the sunset at dusk or watching the oversized cuckoo clock in the town square strike six. During this ceremony, which we're told happens nightly, everyone gathers in the square and the kids jumprope and dance while the elders look on. The whole scene is so picturesque you can't help but imagine the scenes of prior evenings and wish so badly you could have grown up here, too.

Our days in Laguardia started early. We were still a bit wonky because of the jet lag and time change, so we’d wake up in the dark and try to be quiet until we heard Xavier stir downstairs. Once we knew he was awake, we’d stumble downstairs and he would joke with us that we needed to go back to bed, that I was still sleepy. It felt as though we were kids spending the weekend with our beloved Grandfather. I wouldn't have been surprised if he started sneaking us a few Werther's Originals from the candy bowl or pulling quarters from our ears, but instead he’d make us our coffee and tell us where we should go once the village was awake. Considering we had already conquered Laguardia (in our first 30 minutes there), we spent the next couple days driving around and taking in the surrounding villages and their amazing hundreds year old churches.

And of course, no trip would be complete without us stuffing ourselves to sickness on the local cuisine. In basque country, food is quite different and more mountainous than in the more populated and coastal regions of Spain where seafood reigns supreme. Think hearty lamb stews, beef dishes from nose to tail, rich rice dishes, and a smorgasbord of small plates, like meatballs and lots of baked legumes. It was in Laguardia that we started implementing txikiteo, or the tapas crawl, where instead of wasting our precious stomach space on just one restaurant, we'd wander from bar to bar, nibbling on different specialities until our bellies were full. It was also around this time that we started to feel our pants tighten and our fingers swell.

Our stay in La Rioja consisted of a lot less wine sampling than I expected and a lot more driving with the top down, heading wherever the wind would take us. And with a little guidance from our friend, Xavier, we were always guided somewhere delicious. Next up, San Sebastian! Someone pass the tums.

More pics from our time in La Rioja can be viewed here.