Lorena had been planning our trip out to Cava Land for ages. After some confusion about getting on the correct train we arrived at a sweet little town. In the town cava, cava, cava signs all over the place. You could tell in tourist season the place was probably hopping with visitors but today it was very quiet.
I have wanted to do a winery tour for a while. I thought about a formal tour, but those are very pricey, and it seemed doable on our own. The absolute easiest would have been Freixenheit Cava, which is right next to the train station in a town on a line from BCN. But there’s another Cava winery outside of the same town, and it is one of the most historical. Their history begins contemporaneous with Copernicus. Caves Cordorníu seemed fairly straightforward to get to: a train from Provença went straight there, and then a two mile walk.Of course, little is as it seems. At Provença we were sent to Sants Estaçion and it was confusing—we hopped the wrong train but luckily in the right direction, but then got off at the first stop and finally got the proper train (R4 towards Manresa) to the little town in the heart of Cava country, San Saudurní. It was just over a 30 minute ride.
We had to hike a couple of miles or so outside of the town to reach our destination. It was hilly which I was not expecting. I instantly starting scheming on how to get a ride back into town. We did pass wine fields with sheep and goats and mountains in the background. The beauty was distracting.
We got coffee at a simple café and Kitty read a map. We walked up the to the town. It was cold enough they had put down salt for ice, but the sun was rising in a bright blue sky. The town was very sleepy. We then went to the winery, about a two mile walk through scenic vineyards.
We sat and waited for about an hour for our tour, which started at 13.30. I watched a preposterous man partake of a wine tasting of about 12 bottles. He got all kinds of attention and just got more inflated and more inflated. I was ready to leave the tasting area and see the caves. Our tour guide, Alex, was smooth yet dramatic. He was always in a hurry. He would rush along with the group lagging behind and grow impatient, but it all felt as though we were in a play. At one point Kitty runs outside to stand by a giant urn and he gets real performative watching her: “Oh no! Not in the grass!!!” he cries with the entire group watching and laughing as Kitty, oblivious to the drama, starts posing for her picture. He calls her back inside and she runs and one of women in our group says, “You get a red card! You are out of the game!” Alex laughs and all is fine. It’s clear Alex is a bit of a drama queen and had enjoyed the whole thing. He just wants the tour to be memorable and Kitty getting busted is the one thing everyone will remember.
After the tour during the champagne tasting I struck up a conversation with a couple from Scotland. They were in Barcelona for four days before departing on a Canary Island cruise. This is the same as Eileen and Donald have planned this year. “Did you rent a car?” I ask coyly. Actually, they took a taxi form the train station. They had wanted to walk but could not figure out how to do it because the road seemed so busy. I puffed up, well we went to the tourist office and got directions and it was a sweet walk with sheep and goats. Kitty the helper moves into full gear, “we can show you how to walk back.” But then they disappeared. Wait I wanted to help them. Walking back was actually pleasant and much less stressful because I knew where we were going.
It was getting close to 4:00 when the tour ended and we walked back to town for a late lunch. We landed in a timeless restaurant off the main square where we got their daily menu. My tuna was pretty awful, and Kitty’s chicken wasn’t much, but it was only 11.00 EUR with split bottle and decent salads. I dozed on the train home and then Kitty cooked up great sausage, potatoes, onion and peppers. We are getting solidly on BCN meal times.
K & L's Travel Blog 