Girona is Closed

Bob wants one more adventure out of Barcelona and we are considering going to Figueres to visit Salvador Dali’s Museum there in his home town.  This can be done as a day trip out of Barcelona as it’s about a two and a half hour train ride each way.  But one night while we are at Schilling’s we ask Cristo if he knows anything about the museum and he says he’s never been there but that he’s always heard good things about it he thinks it worth the trip.  He doesn’t know the name of it but he’s also heard of a hotel in the Girona area where you can stay in a tree house.  Girona is about half an hour from Figueres.

What a tree house!!  Now this has my complete attention and Bob also thinks that it would be fun but we all agree the chance of our being able to get a reservation would probably be impossible.  When we got home that night I searched the internet and had no trouble finding ‘Cabanes als Arbus’ in Sant Hilari Sacalm.  Their webpage was intriguing and I learned they indeed had 12 real true tree houses hanging from trees 15 to 25 feet off of the ground with no electricity and no running water but absolutely adorable and amazingly interesting.  I needed to stay at least one night in one of these tree houses but being a complete realist I knew I had absolutely no hope of there being an availability within the next week before Bob went home.  But also being an optimist I started to query for possible openings and low and behold there was one tree house available for the night of Sunday August 13^th.  We could train to Girona but would somehow have to get ourselves the 35 kilometers farther to Sant Hilari Sacalm.  Still using the internet I discovered a bus that operates between Girona and Sant Hilari Sacalm and that was it we reserved the tree house and went to bed quite pleased with ourselves and our upcoming adventure.

We always knew we didn’t have a perfect plan.  For one thing Girona gets great reviews for being a charming little town known as the ‘Little Barcelona’ but we would be there on Sunday and as we already know many things are closed here on Sundays.  Okay, so we expected that we might not get the full experience of Girona but that would be a small price to pay for a night in a tree house.  We were also a little concerned about the bus to Sant Hiari, the webpage said they had Sunday service but there was no way to buy tickets online so we couldn’t assure it.  Oh, well we agreed we’ll just take a taxi if we had to.

Sunday morning went well, each of us packed light knowing we’d be carrying our luggage for the next two days and set out for the train.  The train was empty except for a delightful Canadian family of four travelling with us to Girona.   Upon arrival in Girona we got our first whiff of trouble.  To start with Girona was closed……not just a few things, or most things, but everything!  Secondly we had almost no ability to communicate with anyone.  Girona is in the heart of Catalan country and they don’t speak Spanish but instead Catalonian.  For some reason you think they are going to be very similar, they are not.  

We find the bus station right next to the train station but with only two companies open.  Both tell us they don’t go to Sant Hilari and don’t know of anyone that does.  They suggest we just watch the moving board until we see one come up.  We watch for a while but alas no Sant Hilari or the destination city which we think might work of Vic appears.  So a bit hungry and getting just a little nervous we decide to speak to the taxi drivers in from of the train station.  None of them speaks English at all, there is only Catalonian with a splash of Spanish but even with the lack of language we understand none of them wants to take us to Sant Hilari.

We’re hungry and need to think about this so we walk around Girona’s isolated streets looking for a place to get a sandwich.  After about an hour of walking we come to the only open place we have seen so far so we go for it.  It turns out to be a Chinese bar in the middle of Catalonia where the customers are all black and the smiling Asian bartender speaks only Catalonian.  Bob tries to order ‘cervezas’ but she doesn’t understand finally one of them hits on beer which they both understand and we get our beer and a couple of the worst ham and cheese sandwiches ever toasted.

With a little space from our problem we decide we have two choices.  One is just return to Barcelona on the train and forget the whole thing or go back to the taxi drivers and try to negotiate with one of them.  We opt for the second choice.  We quickly realize we are going to have to negotiate with the first driver in line because here they never go out of turn.  She is a middle aged woman with a somewhat silly look, a nice smile, the strangest lipstick either of us has ever seen and absolutely no English.  The other drivers huddle around and help in our negotiations.  It’s iffy but one of the other drivers convinces her that she can take us to Sant Hilari and they estimate the meter with be $75 euro, we have a deal.  At this point she doesn’t realize that we are not going into the city of San Hilari directly but instead to a tree house somewhere in the wilderness.  Fortunately I have written down the driving instructions off of the web and we all pile in the taxi.

The ride goes well and I am assured as we are following the directions I have until we get to the exit off of the highway for San Hilari which is number 209.  ‘Aqui’ our driver says and we reply, ‘no aqui, numbero dos zero dos’, no aqui she says and doesn’t like it at all but keeps driving. Finally we come to exit 202 and of course there is construction so it is difficult to get off but we finally do.  Once off of the highway my directions say a roundabout but there isn’t one because of the construction, Bob spots a small sign to Placa de les Arenes and starts pointing, our driver is not at all sure but makes the turn.  We are now headed into an unpopulated area of the lower Pyrenees Mountains.  We are on a road through nothing but trees and with a twist and turn every 20 feet.  We are all delighted when we find our next turn toward a place called Sant Sadurni D’osormort but suddenly we are now on a deeply rutted gravel road and with each new bump and dip our driver lets out a yelp.   She wants to quit, we all know she wants to quit but she’s come this far and doesn’t know how to tell us to get out of her taxi. I’m sure she would have right there and then if she could have.  Finally the last sign for our tree house hotel appears and it’s just one more turn this time onto a dirt even worse road or maybe a trail would be a better description.  Okay we’re all thinking we’re here but no we drive and wind and drive and wind straight up hill.  It is impossible to know what our driver is thinking at this point but when we spot the hotel’s farm house and yell aqui she takes her hands off the wheel and is clapping and yelling with relief!!

The meter reads 87.60 and we are delighted just to be there.  It took one gutsy, brave, Catalonian woman with a great disposition and the calm of a saint to get us there.  We ask if we can take her picture and she becomes shy but I think is complimented we’ve asked.   We all kiss each other on both cheeks, smiling and happy as we say good-bye.  We are both going to be telling this story for years, that’s assuming she found her way back home!!