After a day sitting in the car we needed some exercise, so off we went. My watch says 20,000 steps covering 8 miles and 31 flights of stairs. Just think how many more steps we would have taken if it weren’t for the five Metro train rides. It’s 6:30 PM and our feet are some sore. So we’ll relax for a bit before hitting the sidewalk café just outside the hotel door. Is it any good? Who knows, who cares. We can’t walk any further.

Activity 1 was to find the Sagrada Familia basilica a half hour walk that we elected to do by Metro. We bought a T10 ticket that gave us 10 rides. Sharing, that equates to five two-person trips.

At the Sagrada Familia we hooked up with our “beat the lines” tour guide. The idea is that we not only get a guided tour but also quick access to the church. I’m not sure how much time we actually saved, this being pre-peak vacation time. The tour guide was OK but spoke with a distinct Catalonian accent, which made him hard to understand. People in this region introduce a lisp in their speech patterns: Barcelona comes out sounding like Barthelona.

To say that Sagrada Familia looks different than any other cathedral or church is to commit a grave misstatement. It’s an amazing structure from several points of view.

The origin of SF (if you’ll permit me to save a few keystrokes) was as a public project to build a church.Josep Maria Bocabella, a Barcelona bookseller, formed Spiritual Association of Devotees of St. Joseph, raised money through public donations and hired Francisco de Paula del Villar. Work was begun in 1882 but Villar quit a year later. Antoni Gaudi was brought in to take over as chief architect.

Gaudi took one look at the gothic revival design and said, “I don’t think so.” He threw out the idea of a gothic structure with its flying buttresses, etc. and came up with a design whose focus was uplifting glorification of God and worship of Jesus and his story. By eliminating the buttress design Gaudi was able to allow much more light to enter the church.

Gaudi was not just a wild-eyed artist. He studied the architectural engineering mathematical aspects of design to ensure that what he envisioned was practical and capable of being built.

When complete, Sagrada Familia will sport eighteen spires: one for each of the disciples, one for each of the four apostles (Mathew, Mark, Luke and John), one for Mary and the highest for Jesus. Its height will be slightly lower than the highest natural point in the area, so as to not overcome the work of God.

Construction was underway fifty years ago when Mom and I visited and completion is anticipated by 2026 (“or maybe 2030 . .  .” one guide said). The construction of SF continues to be funded by private donation and by proceeds from ticket sales and souvenir shop revenues. The Roman Catholic Church didn’t consecrate the SF until 2010.

Guadi was run over by a street car in 1926 when the structure was less than 25% complete (it was 70% complete in 2015). Even before his untimely death Gaudi recognized that this would be a multi-generational project. He started the original construction in a way, he felt, that would make it impractical for future generations to stop the project. He left behind models and instructions so that future architects could continue with his vision if not with details that he provided. Indeed, since his death multiple architects and artist have been responsible for the continued design and construction.

After touring until about 11:30 AM or so we had time to kill so I had the bright idea to use some of our Metro rides to ride the funicular to the top of Mount Tibidabo, which sports the Sagrat Cor church, an amusement park and spectacular views of Barcelona spread out in front of you. Today, unfortunately, we had spectacular views of an enormous smog blanket. Oh well, sounded like a good idea at the time.

We only spent a few minutes on the top before realizing we needed to beat feet to the Barcelona Cathedral for our 3 PM free walking tour. So down the hill we walked to the Tibidabo Metro station – maybe 30 minutes – and got off at Catalunya station, near our hotel. From there we walked another 15 minutes, grabbing an ice cream cone for lunch as we walked. We made it with 10 minutes to spare, which gave us just enough time to frequent the nearby Burger King.

And no, we did not break our travel record of never eating at an American fast food joint while traveling abroad (OK, maybe Judy got a Diet Coke in China that one time). We did however use their, ahem, facilities before hiking on with the tour group.

Our tour focused on Catalonian Modernism architecture, a style that is found throughout Barcelona and not just in structures designed by Gaudi. You’re learning from a novice, so take what I say with a shovel full of salt, but Modernism in Catalonia, which had its heyday in the 19^thcentury, is defined by three elements:

• Unusual use of materials. For example, a structure might include stone, iron, wood, tile whereas in more traditional designs only one or two elements might be present
• A connection to nature. This can be achieved by simply incorporating plant or animal sculpture pieces in the façade. It can also be achieved through asymmetry. Rather than regular rows of square windows of equal size, a Modernist building features differing sizes and shapes.
• A connection to the city’s cultural and mythical past. In the case of Barcelona, the favorite mythical creature is the dragon. You sometimes have to search for the dragon or dragons but it’s there. Apparently, the local folks were feeding a dragon two lambs a day. When they ran out of lambs, they drew lots and low and behold the princess was the lucky winner. Along comes St. George, who slew the dragon, saving the damsel just as he did in many other 15^thcentury legends across Europe. Out of the dragon’s blood sprang a rose. Guess what they sell on April 23 every year? Right roses. Hence the dragon.

We were taken to five houses, three by Gaudi and two by others whose names escaped me. You can see some of what I’m trying to decide in the pictures.

Finally, our guide took us by Metro back to Sagrada Familia where she pointed out some additional architectural elements that we missed this morning.

Tomorrow we’re off on a guided bus tour to Monserrate, a Benedictine monestary north and west of the city. Hopefully today’s tour planner will do a better job than today’s so that our step count comes in at a more reasonable level.

I’m sure the people of Catalunya and Barcelona are kind, generous, friendly, welcoming folks, but based on the first six eyeballs I stared into today you couldn’t prove it by me. OK, so I turned the wrong way down a three-lane one-way street in downtown Barcelona. Turning around in that predicament is something you don’t want to try at home. But I did it and we completed the last kilometer for our 2,530 km trip without further incident. We’ll except for pulling half way up on the sidewalk while Judy went in to find that the Sixt return garage was a block down on the other side of the street.

So our faithful VW is back where it belongs, in perfect condition. Oh, except for the several grains of 14^thcentury fortress I embedded in the rear bumper in Belmonte that day. But we had, contrary to my inclination, paid the extra bucks for complete coverage.

Would you believe Uber isn’t operating in Barcelona? The taxi drivers went on strike in February, blocking a major portion of downtown. The strike was settled when the city imposed a 15-minute wait on all Uber and Cabity pickups. Cabity found a way around the rule and is back in business. I was all ready to download their app and use it but right outside the rental return was a taxi stand so we took the easy, 6 Euro route to our hotel.

After checking in we rambled down Las Ramblas, the main pedestrian thoroughfare that leads from our hotel to the Colon (Christopher Columbus) monument at water’s edge. It took about half an hour and, once there we discovered a skyline boat ride. So we signed up and used the wait time to go for, you guessed it, an ice cream bar. The tour was OK but pretty far from shore and with no commentary. But the day was once again beautiful, and we enjoyed the ride.

I keep flashing back on my time with Mom, 50 years ago or so. Today, at the waterfront, I saw a building that made me think of the restaurant where I had my first paella with her. It probably wasn’t the same building, but it evoked the memory. I also recall how she walked me ‘til I dropped from one end of Barcelona to the other. I really got annoyed: “Aren’t you ever going to stop and rest, Mom?” It was a standing joke of ours for many years. Of course, 50 years ago she would have been 47 and I 21. And just tonight as I was typing this, I got a message from Facebook reminding me that I’ve been Facebook friends with Lilian Libby Rick for exactly 10 years.

The desk guy got us a reservation at a nearby Catalonian restaurant for 8:30 so we won’t go hungry. We’re getting stingy of both time and money so we’re eating breakfast and lunch out of our brown bags. You want to pay 17 euros for a hotel breakfast of hours-old scrambled eggs? Us neither.

And yesterday? The day without cameras and computers and blog postings? It went well and was quite pleasant. We did splurge on the hotel breakfast and tended to some traveling laundry and generally getting our act together for the last week of the trip. This was a scheduled “catch your breath” day before the challenge was thrown down.

By 11:30, though, we were on our way across the river in front of our hotel and hiked up a trail that lead to Llanos de la Larri, which turned out to be a beautiful alpine meadow bowl between two mountain peaks. We found lots of alpine flowers and a half-dozen horses munching on the grass. The trail itself followed a cascading stream of mountain melt. We had periodic overlooks of the crashing water.

The hike took about 4 hours for us, maybe 2.5 miles and 1,000 feet of vertical gain. That includes a side trip up another trail that was supposed to lead to another cascade point. We decided that in the interest of time and energy we’d turn back before finding the cascade. On the way we ran into two hiker groups who asked, in broken English and French, “Which way to the parador.” That led us to believe that they had come up the French side of the mountain and were being met at the Parador. In fact, from where we turned around, the French border was only one or two kilometers further up the mountain.

Of course, we didn’t take any pictures, so you’ll have to guess what we saw from the pictures we took in front of the parador this morning.

OK, yes, we cheated. But Judy didn’t shoot any video and I didn’t shoot any still pictures. I did the video and Judy the stills. But not many. Just a few to remind us of what we experienced. I’ll include some of the stills in tonight’s post and Judy will put up a video sometime soon, I’m sure.

The real benefit from our challenge day was the extra time we had that afternoon. The hike was strenuous for old geezers like us and the afternoon nap felt good. Instead of typing, we went out on the patio and had a beer and coke and nibbled on a few olives. Then we went back to the room and had a couple of hits on the port wine bottle with dark chocolate. We went for dinner at 8:00 and were in bed by 11, a good hour earlier than our average.

I’ll add what Judy wrote about the day off:

I did find it interesting.  We went hiking which is a good thing to do except the scenery was so beautiful as we were climbing up a mountain and along a river bed and beautiful waterfalls.  I kept wanting to capture the scenery on video so I could remember it all.  I also discovered that for me I do not think I miss a lot when I am hiking with my camera.  I seem to be even more aware because I see something through my video lens, zoom in on it and see more.  I also take a picture I had seen while doing the video.  Another thing about being in nature with my video camera is that I am keener on the sounds and want to record them.  By the end of the day I was a little sad as I thought about the possible pictures we could have for the wall of waterfalls, mountains, a rainbow at the waterfall.

The good parts were that I did not feel the pressure to get back to give Jon time to write the blog and I enjoyed time to sit out on the porch, have a drink and enjoy looking at the scenery.  I do love Jon’s blog, but this particular day seemed like it was a good day to take a break and have a day off.  On trips it might be a good idea to pick a day to skip a blog and just take less pictures and thinking about if this is a really important scene that needs to be to captured.  I would only want to take one day off because I suspect we both get great pleasure out of recording our adventure and isn’t that what it is all about.  Thank you, Rebecca, for encouraging us to try something different and I think we can incorporate some of it into our next trip.

Oh, we did take a selfie at a waterfall that all self-respecting tourist would do.  We also did two videos because we had to capture what we were seeing, any tourist would!

Bottom line: thanks, Rebecca!

Tomorrow’s a busy day. We go on a Sagrada Familia tour at 9 AM and a walking tour at 3 PM. Barcelona’s a big, bustling, exciting and challenging place. A big change from the Parador at Bielsa where the cow bells competed with the roar of the stream and cascading waterfalls.

*** 10:00 PM ***

A pan of paella and a pitcher of sangria and we’re back in the hotel ready for bed. The paella lived up to my recollections.

Google Maps says today’s trip should be 173 miles and take 3.5 hours, an average speed of about 49 mph.

We drove 210 miles and took 9 hours to do it, an average speed of 23 mph.

It wasn’t Google’s fault. At every turn in the road she would say, “We’ve found a shorter route that saves one hour and eight minutes. Would you like to take it?” “No, we selected the scenic route, an alternative that you, google lady, offered us. So shut up already.” Sometimes she’d switch routes without even telling us. We wanted to cross the Pyrenees from the French side to the Spanish side and see the sights. Eventually we put in a way point for Laruns, France, a town along our preferred route. That shut her up. Laruns turned out to be a very worthwhile diversion in its own right.

And what a drive it was. The extra mileage was worth it, even though most of the miles were on twisty, narrow, mountainous, bike and motorcycle infested roads. Photo ops plus a picnic cheese-and-crackers lunch under a shade tree at the summit of our mountain pass accounted for much of the extra time we used.

It’s hard to describe what we saw; we’ll leave it to the pictures and video. Of course, we saw lots of dramatic snow-capped mountains.

When we weren’t viewing mountains, we saw beautiful farm land. The first crop of hay was bailed in the fields and in some cases being hauled on trucks, another cause of delay as the hay trucks wended their way around the sharp curves and even through one-lane village streets. The fields have been mostly plowed and planted. We saw lots of corn shoots maybe six inches out of the ground.

And when we weren’t viewing mountains and farm land we were driving though one quaint town after another. I’d guess most have histories back to the seventeenth century, probably earlier. Again, see the pictures.

Another source of delay: At one point a flock of sheep – a whole bunch – came wandering down the highway. No shepherd, no sheep dog, just sheep. They very carefully stayed on their side of the highway, hardly ever crossing the center line. At another point several horses stood in the middle of the road smelling each other’s behinds. Ah, the pastoral life!

The first part of the journey was in French Basque country. We never saw a sign saying: “You are now leaving Basque country.” Instead, we almost immediately noticed that every house, restaurant, barn and outhouse changed from white with red shutters and trim to a variety of architectural styles and color schemes. I’d say the Basque people are a tightknit community.

We’re now at the Parador de Bielsa. Parador is to Spain as pousada is to Portugal (we stayed in a pousada in Belmonte, Portugal you may recall – or not). This one is 14 km up a narrow mountain valley from Bielsa. Bielsa is 20 km or more up a narrow mountain valley from the previous town. We’re settled in and plan dinner at 8:30 or so.

The last picture in today’s set shows the view out our parador window. Must be a half dozen waterfalls with maybe 500-meter drops. I hope they shut them off at bed time. They make a tremendous racket and I don’t know how we’ll get a wink of sleep.

Tomorrow there’s a three-hour walk from our parador to a small chapel with a side diversion to a waterfall. Maybe we’ll explore the village of Bielsa and other small towns in this area.

Speaking of tomorrow, our daughter Rebecca has given us a challenge on this trip: “Go for 24 hours without taking a picture or shooting a video, without writing a blog entry or even checking email or news. Cold turkey. See what it feels like for the rest of us when we go on vacation and just have fun and enjoy ourselves.”

So that’s it. After tonight’s posting we’re off the air until Tuesday when we’ll arrive and give up our car in Barcelona. I hope we can make it; the temptation to cheat will be strong. But we’ll sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast, take a hike, hug a tree, take a nap, get started on that bottle of port wine we’ve been lugging around for a week, whatever. Maybe read a book? Uh oh, our books on our iDevices. Does that count? Wish us luck!

We’ll, here’s another place we should have booked for a week instead of a one-night stand.  We’ve just checked into a farm house B&B in the heart of French Basque country. Rolling hills, beautiful farms wherever we look with our now-expected cloudless, blue skies. A bit warm – low 90s today.

Google Maps had trouble finding the exact spot but that was virtually the only navigational issue we faced today. We were greeted by a small dog about the size of a size-sixteen tennis shoe. He barked and blocked our way despite the commands of the lady who greeted us. She, it turned out, is the mother-in-law of the owner who speaks only a little English; the mother-in-law speaks none. Fortunately, the boyfriend of the owner’s daughter came; he speaks French, Spanish, Basque and a fair amount of English. He’s learning English through his work as a nurse in Bordeaux.

This is probably the least planned part of our trip. We added it on when Judy noted that we’d had lots of city time but not so much country time – her favorite. So, we tacked on this side trip into the French (north) side of the Pyrenees Mountains. And countryside it is. Every view is picture post card worthy. We’re going out for dinner at 8 PM at a nearby restaurant that serves traditional food of the area.

Our mission today was to see the Spanish side of the Basque region. We’d planned on at least driving through five towns before leaving for France. We bagged three:

Bakio turned out to be a very nice town, but really a beach town. There is a beautiful sand beach, maybe a kilometer long, with high-rise condos its entire length. Reminded me a little of, say, Clearwater Beach, except being on the Biscayne Bay there’s enough wave action for surfing. Being Saturday, the crowds were plentiful. We arrived early enough to snag a primo parking spot. We also tried to find the one cultural highlight of Bakio, a 17^thcentury hermitage (small chapel) but either it’s disappeared, or we can’t read the cryptic map so we failed. We did get a nice stroll among the houses of what is really a very nice Basque village.

The big tourist draw in this area is the hermitage at Gaztelugatxe, a small chapel that dates from the ninth and tenth centuries. It was actually sacked by Sir Francis Drake in 1593 and has burned to the ground several times, most recently in 1978. From the sound of it, visiting the hermitage should be a bit like visiting Mont St. Michel in France – a cathedral on a small island connected to shore by a causeway. And that’s exactly what it is except that it’s a small, nondescript building whose only feature is a bell that can be rung by the visitors. I wonder how many video clips of bell ringers hit Facebook or the European equivalents today. The other small difference is that to get there you must first descend maybe a half kilometer on a rather steep trail to the base of the causeway and then climb up 250 stairs (I counted them) to reach the hermitage. The reverse held true to get home: descend then climb.

The temperature today was 90 so Judy, wisely, decided to turn around before making the climb to the chapel. I, unwisely, did it. I’m glad Judy didn’t because there was nothing to see and the views from the coast line are as good as what you get from the islet.

After, I collapsed in the coffee shop with a couple bottles of water while Judy bagged us some Basque-ish sandwiches for lunch. Whatever they were they paired nicely with the Magnum ice cream bars we found at a kiosk outside the coffee shop.

Final stop: Guernica, Spain, a town with a sorrowful past. On April 27, 1937 the town was bombed by the Nazi and Fascist Italian air forces. The raid was carried out at the request of Francisco Franco as part of his drive to capture Bilbao in the Spanish Civil War. Hundreds of civilians were killed (the exact number is subject to debate). Guernica has become a symbol for the horrors of war. Pablo Picasso was commissioned by the Republican government of Spain to create the painting Guernica. Today a tapestry version of the original hangs outside the Security Council chamber at the United Nations in New York City.

Just our luck, we arrived at 3 PM and, naturally, the museum was closed from 2 to 4 PM. We walked around the Assembly House, the seat of parliament for the Bizkaia region, one of the oldest parliaments in Europe, and as such a symbol of the Basque people. It is symbolic not only for historical reasons but even today there exists a strong Basque feeling in this region. In the 1990s the ETA movement was a violent proponent of Basque separation. Even today the feeling of Basque uniqueness is strong.

Then, on to Souraïdel over mostly four-lane Autovias. Even more mountainous and twisty than before, and still posted most of the way at 120 km/hr (72 mph), the route was one of the prettiest we’ve driven so far. Not that the others haven’t been nice; this one was just a little bit nicer.

Dinner’s booked for 8 PM and I’m hoping we can drive a bit to see the countryside beforehand.

• •• After Dinner ***

I told the waiter, “I’m going to sell my house back home and move here so I can eat food this good every day!”

Dinner, at the recommendation of our B&B hosts, was at Hotel Restaurant Euzkadi in Espelette, France. We had a waiter with enough English to get by. Our needs were simple: food and wine from the local region. What we got: a first course of a scrambled egg, bacon and sausage dish with the local Basque red pepper – Espelette pepper it’s called – from the same town as our restaurant. Our B&B hosts actually have a hectare of land on which they grow the pepper – the new plants were just set out recently.

If that was the only dish, we would have gone home happy. But no, we added on a veal dish with potatoes for Judy and a cod and potatoes dish for me. Both were great but I liked mine because it came with a very nice tomato sauce. Dessert? We needed it like a hole in the head, but we had to try the Basque cake. And, of course a bottle of local sweet wine, which we mostly but not completely consumed.

We loved the town of Espelette almost as much as the pepper. We took some snapshots to show you what we mean. Being Saturday night, it looked like the social scene was about to pick up with an outdoor concert.

Tomorrow we’ll take a closer look at Souraïdel before heading south across the Pyranese for Biesla, Spain.

We’ve discovered that a glass of wine takes the rough edges off of our day. Another thing we’ve discovered is that a glass of sangria and a sticky gooey something or other at 4:00 PM is a sure fire sleep inducer. It’s now 6:30 PM and Judy’s asleep and I’m typing while fighting the urge to take my siesta. But your loyal ink-stained scribe will type on.

We’ve done the Guggenheim or at least we’ve absorbed as much as we can in four hours. Of course, the architecture of the building is what I, at least, came for and it lived up to my expectations. If you can’t make it to see this one, go to Minneapolis and visit the Weisman Art Museum. It’s got the same Frank Gehry look and its own collection of modern art, just like the Guggenheim. What the Guggenheim has is Basque culture and, we’re hoping, Basque cuisine, which we’re planning on sampling in a few hours.  The Weisman was completed in 1993 and the Guggenheim in 1997 so depending on how you look at it the Guggenheim is a mere copy of the original or; the Weisman was the prototype and that Gehry worked out the kinks before building the final version. I’ll let the pictures show what it looks like; describing it is impossible.

Equally impossible is describing in words the art we saw today. It’s even harder to describe in pictures because the docents were plentiful and a mean looking bunch who pounced with amazing speed on anyone who pulled out a cell phone to take a snap, to say nothing of what I got with my Fuji. We did get a few when they weren’t watching.

The exhibits were supported by portable listening devices with commentary on the artists’ work. The one general observation I’d make is this: Every artist in the Guggenheim had a purpose, an idea, a message in mind. Every stroke of paint, every chisel of sculpture, every element of every piece was deliberate. With modern art, more so than with “regular” art, the artist leaves it up to the viewer to find the work’s message. And because we’re all different and come to the work with different perspectives, life experiences and attitudes the message we uncover is often not what the artist had in mind. But that’s what the artist was shooting for in the first place – creativity come alive in the mind of the observer.

OK, that’s a retired engineer’s view of art. Here are a few of the artists that caught my eye:

• The Tropical Pharmacyby Allora and Calzadillo is a video of a pharmaceutical plant in Puerto Rico being demolished by a machine whose wrecking ball has been replaced by a large cast iron bell. The title evokes the idea of tropical plants providing lifesaving drugs. But this is the opposite: a major drug factory in the tropics is being destroyed. An accompanying short video shows a pig on a skewer being rotated over a bed of coals. The spit is being turned by an automobile: the spit is connected to a rear wheel and the rear end of the car is elevated. I’m still searching for the meaning behind that one (maybe a dinner hint?).
• Large paintings by the German Anselm Kiefer reflect on Germany’s role in WWII. One theme is a reflection on an earlier philosopher’s statement that every plant on earth is represented by a star in the heavens, thereby establishing the link between the temporal and the infinite (I think).
• Cy Tombly’s nine large paintings inspired by the life of the second century Roman emperor Commodus. This is one where the uninitiated says, “Looks like random splotches of paint to me.” But with a hint from the audio box, each panel depicts a conflict between Commodus and those who would eventually overthrow and kill him. The paintings suddenly have relevance to today’s situation perhaps.
• Andy Warhol’s 150 Marilyns. Warhol made mucho bucks with one painting of Marilyn Monroe, why not 150 variations on that theme spread across a 30+ foot montage. Really effective!
• A four-room collection of still life paintings by the Italian Giorgio Morandi. The idea here is to show how Morandi’s work evolved over the years and was influenced by the great masters of the 16^th, 17^thand 18^thcenturies from France, Italy and of course Spain. It’s hard to imagine how an artist could view a painting of a woman building a house of cards and create a series of still life images depicting four rather ordinary vases in muted, even dark colors. But if you think about it and view the original inspiration, you can see the connection.
• A whole floor of work by Jenny Holzer, an artist and social commentator from Ohio. The works spans everything from simple sketches to sculpture to neon creations to animated light shows, all with a social message. You can view some of her workhere.

The trip over from Gijon was uneventful (well, almost: we spent more than 10 minutes exiting the garage after paying so a rather perturbed man gave me two stern lectures in Spanish about exiting promptly before fixing the problem). The scenery was very nice – again, rolling hills and moderate-sized mountains with occasional glimpses of the ocean. We stopped an hour outside of Bilbao to have our crackers and cheese lunch at rest stop picnic area.

Today marks the midpoint of our trip: 10 days down, 10 days to go. We’ve covered just 1,000 miles with maybe 500 left before we turn in the car in Barcelona. Tomorrow is our last one-night-stand day. It’s a 3:30 drive that we’ll stretch into all day so we can enjoy the French side of the Pyrenees.

*** Dinner Report ***

What a pleasant evening! A thirty-minute walk down the river and over a picturesque bridge from our hotel to the old section of Bilbao and a large square surrounded by cafes and tapas restaurants and kids playing in the center. Hundreds of people out to have a drink, a tapas or two and talk into the evening. We arrived around 8:45 and had to wait for a table at the establishment recommended by the hotel front desk lady.

I’m somewhat embarrassed to report our evening intake: 7 tapas plates (scallop, beef, croquettes, calamari, sausage, olives and a cheese cake dessert) plus two drinks each – sangria and beer. We enjoyed it thoroughly. Then the reverse walk back, this time a bit further down river to catch one last view of the Guggenheim. A memorable evening.