Figueres, Cadaques. In the footsteps of Dali European trip. Part 6
In the morning we woke up around five, we quickly packed our backpacks and headed to the subway. In the still sleeping dark city, we came across a group of young African gop-stoppers who caught every drunken passer-by and demanded something from him. They tactfully did not approach us, which did not prevent us from mistaking the entrance to the station and overpaying the fare twice.
Arriving at the station, we rushed to the ticket office. Back at home, we prepared all the data we needed for the trains that run between Barcelona, Figueres and Girona (http://www. renfe. com). We gave our printout to the sleepy cashier and pointed to the train number we needed for Figueres. The cashier asked for 10.55 euros each and gave us a small piece of paper.
We stuck to this "ticket" for a long time. We barely made out on it the direction of travel, the number of our train, the price and date. The train number in our printout and on the ticket was slightly different.
Taught by Indian trains, I assumed that in Europe they could change something in numbers. But in order not to get on someone else's train, near the entrance to the piron, we caught a fat Spanish woman and asked: “Figueres? ". After the ensuing answer of "Sisi", we boldly stamped our tickets in the turnstile, and went to the platform. There were very few people, mostly a group of young guys. The time of departure was approaching, but there was still no train. At that moment, an indistinct muttering in Spanish mixed with English was heard from the speakers, and everyone who was waiting jumped up abruptly and ran away somewhere. We sat and looked at each other. I looked out to the next platform and saw our train! ! Quickly grabbing our things, we flew into the first car that came across. It's so easy in Spain to change the train number and platform number, and if I hadn't looked out, we would have been sitting in Barç a.
The road to Figueres took about three hours.
The stops were not announced, and in order to somehow navigate the road, we sat down near the route map and counted the stops. Figueres greeted us with a drizzle.
The purpose of our trip to Spain was to visit the museum and Dali's house. Naturally, the Dali Theatre-Museum was the first according to the plan. I saw the first "living" painting by Salvador Dali in the Cologne Museum. She shocked me. There was so much emotion in her, so much purity and beauty. I sincerely hoped that visiting the places where he lived and worked would impress me even more.
Guided by signs in the city, jumping through the puddles, we swam to the Museum. At the entrance we were greeted by the first sculptures.
Entrance to the museum costs 12 euros. We left our backpacks in the luggage room and headed out to join the art. At a young age, Dali exhibited his first picture in this theater, and later rebuilt it and donated it to the city.
It contains a variety of sculptures, paintings, works by other artists that Dali collected, gold items created according to his sketches. Many paintings depict his beloved wife and muse Galla (a simple Slavic woman Elena).
The museum-theater is very original, completely saturated with surrealism. Even outwardly, it stands out from the general gray mass.
It took us about an hour or two to visit the theater-museum. Our next stop was the city of Cadaqué s. Back in Kyiv, we bought tickets for the Figueres-Cadaques and Cadaqué s-Figueres bus on the website http://www. sarfa. com. A one-way fare for two, including payment via the Internet, came out to 11.20 euros.
Since to visit Dali's house in Cadaques, you need to pre-register on the website http://www. salvador-dali. org, we tried to calculate the time as much as possible. The bus was redeemed at 13.45, travel time - an hour. Checked in at the Dali House at 16-30. The return bus from Cadaqué s (the last one in the off-season) left at 18.15.
Looking ahead, I’ll say that we were lucky and we were allowed to enter the House with a group much earlier, which saved us from being late for the last bus. In the House itself, we climbed for two or three hours, and if not for this luck, we would have spent the night in empty Cadaqué s.
Cadaques is a small resort town located on the coast. To get there, it is worth overcoming a serious mountain serpentine. Even though I'm not afraid of heights, I sank into my seat and prayed that we wouldn't be swept away in the pouring rain around corners. The city in March was very deserted, it seemed to have died out. Many small white houses, bald trees, closed restaurants, mountains, sea, boats on the shore. The city was incredibly beautiful and, despite the serious waves and light rain, it evoked some incomprehensible calmness. It was clear why Dali preferred to live here, away from the noisy city. appeasement.
We had to wander a bit through the quiet streets before we reached Port Ligata, where the House where Salvador Dali and Gala lived is located.
Entrance costs 11 euros, we paid part of it when registering via the Internet. The guide gathered our small group, checked the tickets and let us into the house.
It is rather difficult to describe the whole building. I will say one thing - in this house, in this place, I would gladly stay to live. The house was built in tiers, small passages, secret rooms, open terraces, huge windows, fireplaces, tiny bathrooms, Gala's room ...It is so unusual that looking into every corner you feel that it has its own aura. But most of all I was captivated by the pool, hidden from the prying eyes of neighbors. You look at these pillows, sunbeds, and imagine what a bohemian atmosphere there was.
We left the house-museum with an incredible sense of calm.
The beauty of Port Ligata, the incredible Dali House, rare sunbeams, tangerines on the trees, seagulls. . This day was the birthday of my beloved friend, eternal companion and contemplator of my crazy life. I hope this birthday was the best for her!
On the way to the bus station, we stocked up on groceries at the supermarket, and then jumped like crazy at an empty station, waiting to be let into the bus. Since there was no one at the station except us, the driver, an elderly Spaniard who had not lost his charisma, decided to pass the time and made eyes at me. He furiously offered me something in Spanish, and I laughed and answered him in Ukrainian. A little more and we would understand each other.
After returning to Figueres, we again went to the railway station, which is located immediately next to the bus station. We took train tickets to Girona (4.80 euros) and waited. Again, there was confusion at the station.
People ran in search of this train, asked each other. The train itself was not renumbered and during the movement the stops were announced late. The road took about 30 minutes. A strange Spanish torturer, having heard that we need Girona, shoved me on the shoulder and pointed to the exit.
We left the station and ran into a printout of the hotel reservation. According to the map, the hotel was on the outskirts. It was nine o'clock in the evening outside. Dark and wet. At first we tried to find at least some street name and figure out where we are. Since we didn’t really succeed, I stuck with an elderly Spanish couple who were going to meet us. They looked at the addresses for a long time, then got into their smartphones and shouted “We live there! They said they would take us. Our gratitude knew no bounds! The newest snow-white BMW jumped out of the parking lot and we left our backpacks in the trunk and went on a mini-tour with our new acquaintances.
Very good-natured beautiful Spanish couple. I hope that fate will bring us together again and someday I will be able to help them.
The Etap Alojamiento hotel met us with emptiness. After our twentieth "Hallow" a bitchy receptionist deigned to come out to us with a clearly readable question on her face: “What HE did you come to? ”, and which subsequently demanded to re-pay for our stay in their “wonderful” complex. Remembering how difficult it was for the hotel to make contact to pay for our reservation at the request of the embassy, I took all the supporting documents with me.
Having received the coveted key to the room, we burst into the room, and then into the bathroom, and almost shouting “I'm the first! »enjoyed the delights of civilization. And in the morning the old city of Girona was waiting for us .. .
