Day Seven: a day with Dali

Salvador Dali lived here. He had his first exhibition here. He is buried here. And he built his own museum here. You know there is a lot of Dali going on when the artist gets to build his own surreal museum. Built in the old, burned out ruins of the community theatre that staged his first exhibit, the museum itself is the largest surreal structure anywhere. From sculpture to sketches, from furniture to ceilings, it is an opulent extravaganza from start to finish. Many of the 3d object d’arts are coin operated to raise funds, but all are worth it.

The crowding is a little disconcerting. It takes a lot of work to try and absorb art when surround by every kind of tourist and art lover you can imagine but it is way better than the Picasso museum was.

Next door is the Joie Dali exhibit: a series of jewels designed by Dali. They were exquisite. The beating ruby heart was absolutely surreal, which I guess is the point. I’ll add some links when I get Internet or at home. The line for the museum when we exited was triple what we had waited in so good thing we got an early start. We stopped upon exiting for some sangria and a light lunch.

Afterwords we walked down to the market for olive oil and vino. The wine is incredibly cheap: .95 Euro for a bottle of rosé. The real good stuff we bought was only 8.50 euro. If we are lucky it will last the trip home undrunk.

The temp is currently 35 and the hot sun on our burns is pretty intense. Time for some agua and ice cream as we wait for our train to Narbonne. Temp peaks at 38… Woot!

Our train is full so it’s a good thing we booked ahead. Train travel is mildly confusing with so many different types of trains and tickets and stations. But we made it on the train and are on our way. I look forward to a drink in the bar car, just to say I did.

Figueres, Portbou, Cerbere (France), Perpignan, Narbonne.

Upon arrival in Narbonne we book tomorrows ticket to Montaubon and head into the parking lot. After we identify the taxi stand we espy the sole taxi start up and head off into the sunset. 40 minutes later there are still no cabs. There are also no signs and no phonebooks. And when we decide to phone our hotel we discover all the payphones use calling cards. And everyone we ask says that the cabs are always out front. Eventually a stranger in a nice VW asks me if I want a ride. I reply indeterminately. Later Leslie and Carmen head across the street to try the bar and emerge minutes later with my friend who will take us for 20 euro.

We didn’t die. But the hotel is in an industrial area which only I knew and made others nervous as we left the main roads.

Our hotel is nice enough and we are out of here at 8:30 tomorrow.