¡Feliz Día de San Valentin!

It's been nearly a year since I was last boyfriended and I must confess that it has been a  bit of good, a bit of excellent, and the smallest and occasional bit of utterly lame, this road of singledom. But for Valentine's Day 2012, it was not to be a fact of consequence. Instead, I got two entirely platonic British valentines and spent the most wonderful of days with them. It was, without a doubt, a superior Día de San Valentin. 

But, you know, in a BLIZZARD
(Montaña en Arnedo)

We started off the day by meeting up in a pastelleria (a small, basic café that serves delicious pastries), a coffee, a coffee with brandy, and a hot chocolate assigned to each of us, respectively.  Afterward, we piled ourselves into the rented car that the boys, brothers Niall and Myles, had taken out for their trip into Spain. The original plan had been to drive up into the mountains and take pictures of the gorgeous views of La Rioja, so far below, maybe walk a bit ourselves up the peaks that cars can't quite pull themselves to. Unfortunately, this turned into a near death experience, because the incline on the mountains is already deadly, and far more so when covered with fresh snow and gathering ice. We made it about 3/4 of the way up and then crawled down the descent at 2 miles per hour. It was absolutely terrifying, but more or less supercharged us for what followed. That will always be remembered as the second single most frightening car ride of my life- at least until I experience a more frightening one. On the way down, we would stop at random wherever there was good grip and jump out of the car to take pictures, sprinting back to the car before the brakes gave or some policeman had the peon task of patrolling the mountain pass. This picture of complete adolescent idiocy is easily explained away by the increasingly apparent fact that two individuals of the party have an overactive immortality complex. That would be Myles and myself, of course. Niall was game, but spent a lot of time with a stiff jaw, slowly steering us back to safety. When we'd finally made it, there was much high-pitched hysterical laughter, of the variety that issues out of people who have recently been made re-aware of how truly great [still] being alive is.

Afterward, we still had several hours before I had to be back for work, so it was to the village where their father lived when they were children. It is the most classic of wine villages, tucked into the shadows beneath craggy mountain faces, and nearly abandoned at this time of year.  The people that live in this particular area are not grape (wine) and olive (oil) people, simply the most purely dedicated of grape people. Even though the place was an utter ghost town, which had its own charm, we were bound for different ghosts. 

If one hikes for about 45 minutes, down a choice of one path or another, one can reach two abandoned and decrepit chapels. It used to be that religious men of all walks of life would come to these monasteries in the mountains and hole themselves up in them until they thought themselves sufficiently cleansed of the world below. Even with the ruins themselves covered in snow and only three of four walls still standing, you can imagine the degree of solitude that these men must have experienced, and what a different sort of home that the chapels must have been to them when they stood. We decided to hike this pass, despite the complete lack of proper footwear, and to go to these chapels. It was much more taxing than expected, as the natural springs had frozen and we were stumbling through snow and hidden roots. But it was more than worth it when we finally reached our destination. The chapel itself is beautiful, with dying bunches of flowers slipped between holes in the stone by devout villagers who make the climb for just the purpose of honoring history, and a single small glass window, a weather-beaten stained glass Virgin Mary, standing out over the entrance. She stands as if to bless the place, and there really is more than a lingering sense of the sacred to it. But more incredible than the chapel is the view that lies just over a small bump. It's all of La Rioja, stretched out and free of snow beneath you, while you stand calf-deep in the stuff. And there, just on the point that stone juts farthest out over open air, there is a small iron cross set into the ground. Intense imagery, I'll tell you that. I can't imagine what the sunsets are like, although someday I would like to return and find out. Pictures were taken and laughter was had, but at this point, it was precipitating in earnest, an unfortunate mix of snow and sleety rain. Soaking wet already, we decided to not get MORE soaking wet and headed down the mountain.

It was a mountain goat race down the mountain side, punctuated with cries of panic and victory when those moments of panic didn't pan out into something negative. Doubtless, the best moment was when Niall put"Boys are Back in Town" on his cell-phone and then turned the volume up and held it over his head as we careened on treadless shoes down the snowslide, then mudslide, of a steep path. When we reached the car, shoes went into a bag and we all sat in utterly soaked happiness. But, before heading home, there was one more stop.

Hotel y bodega Marqués de Riscal
Diseñado por Frank Wright

We went to see the bodega, Marqués de Riscal, that was designed by the man who designed the Guggenheim in Bilbao. When you see this thing, you are not in the least surprised by its architect. It has his genius fingerprints all over it. Upon getting home, Myles carried me to my door, instead of making me put my soaking wet boots back on (yeah, those things will never quite be the same), which was a lovely Valentine's gesture, and Niall carried up my things for me. Really, these boys are wonderful catches and they come with accents! Ladies! Over here! REAL gentlemen!

The work day went by quickly, probably because I was in such a wonderful mood, and then it was back to my apartment for my Valentine's Day Dinner. Around ten the boys came by, with an excellent bottle of Rioja wine, two bricks of chocolate, oreos, biscotto cake, and these incredible chorizo sandwiches. We ate, we laughed, we told stories, we reminisced about the morning. Finally, we sat in the "living room", watched Mulan on my computer, and played Truth or Dare like eight year olds. 3 AM, my Valentine's was well over, and I sent two droopy-eyed Brits back to their hostel for the night. Still, we all agreed that it was the best February 14th that we had ever experienced and that the future would be hard-pressed to come up with one better.

This morning? I had the remainder of the Biscotto cake for breakfast and a wake-up glass of Rioja wine to chase away this totally unexplainable respiratory cold that I seem to have picked up overnight. Luckily, the fun isn't over. The boys are off a-rambling today in the countryside, but tomorrow night will be a fiesta in the main city, an all-nighter of dancing and such, which is, as you know, more or less my favorite thing to do. Then it's a sad goodbye, until we see one another next- God knows when. Saturday is Carnaval! Which I will cover in depth after it happens. Shhh, my costume is a secret.

Photos will come of my Valentine's Day adventuring at some point- you'll be the first to know, readers!

Also, if you're interested in photos of La Rioja that are far more beautiful than any I could even hope to take, I direct you to this adventurer's Flicker account. Beautiful captures!


And have some Thin Lizzie, to make your day better.