Lies, Damn Lies And Statistics

Well, faithful readers, we have arrived: we have now surpassed #400 on the GonzoPR blog, established in 2008, when I retired from Eugene Water & Electric Board. A humble operation at first, it has since turned into a monster. My favorite subjects are travel, sports and, much to the chagrin of some of my friends, politics.

However, a funny thing happened on the way to determining statistics as laid out by Google on GonzoPR. The rankings are the same but the numbers vary widely. In other words, they don't exactly jive. Be that as it may, here are the top ten posts, the greatest hits as it were, on Gonzo PR, starting with Alpine Adventure, the clear winner.

The post presaged our trip to Zurich to take in the sights of the mostly the German side of Switzerland. On this trip, we stayed at the Hotel X-tra in downtown Zurich. We visited the Jungfraujoch, Lucerne and Interlaken, Reinfall and Schaffhausen, Liechtenstein, Heidiville and much, much more.

Number two is King Of The Blues, a missive on Riley B. King, otherwise known as B.B. King, an American guitarist, singer and songwriter. I've seen B.B. a number of times over the years, the first time at Springer's Ballroom in the hinterlands of southeast Portland near Gresham on the path to Mt. Hood and Central Oregon.

Next up on the hit parade is Defining Public Relations, a treatise on the subject of public relations, a practice and profession that I became familiar with as an undergraduate and graduate student at the University of Oregon School of Journalism in the 70's and early 1980s, followed by 33 years as a professional and instructor.

The Trinity Mine is next, a failed experiment to mine precious metals near the Glacier Peak Wilderness, where I toiled as a ranger while working my way through college. Having worked previously on the Malheur National Forest, I was smitten with a girl who worked seasonally on the Lake Wenatchee Ranger District.

Weighing in at number five is Berchtesgaden And Eagle's Nest, which described our time in Munich and our exploration of the castles of Mad King Ludwig, and his suspected murder. We also spent time in downtown Munich and explored the city known for Octoberfest, when an additional six million people cram into a city of two million.

Rounding out the top ten starting at number six is Willkommen Bei Den Bayerischen Alpen, which presaged our trip to Munich. We visited castles, toured The Eagle's Nest, saw the BMW headquarters, toured the Paulaner distributor, visited biergartens, ate at the finest restaurants and stayed at The Hotel Deutches Theatre.

Number 7 is Castle Keep, part of our tour that included visits to Mad King Ludwig's castles, including the Neuschwanstein and Linderhof castles (above) and Hohenschwangau, an older castle where Ludwig grew up. As part of that tour, we also visited Oberommergau, a small town that resembles Leavenworth, Washington.

Coming in at number 8 is the Italian Riviera And Cinque Terre from one of five trips we took to The Motherland to locate our cousins, the Sanguinetis, who live in the hill country of Liguria in a little village called Isolona in the district of Orero near Cicagna, where my beloved grandmother lived before escaping Italy for Portland, Oregon.

Next up, at number 9 is Getting Around: Plane, Trains And Automobiles, a missive about how to get around while traveling in Europe. I never rent a car; I guess I'm paranoid. But the public transportation options in Europe are simply wonderful, whether you're in Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Spain or anyplace else.

Finally, weighing in at number 10 is Der Zugspitze And Garmisch-Partenkirchen, another great adventure to Germany's highest peak and the little town with a ski resort that sits at its base. The cable car ride (pictured) is not for the feint of heart. And now, as Porky Pig would say, "that's all folks." That's GonzoPR's top ten.

Catalonia: Random Ramblings

Reflecting on Catalonia, several memories stand out. Arriving at the Barcelona airport, only to be “taken” again by moneychangers claiming “no surcharge” but getting hosed with a nine percent fee. Rolling into the city after 26 hours of travel to a see a “super moon” rising while discussing jazz guitarist Pat Metheny with my cab driver.

Arriving at the Hotel Axel Barcelona, dumping my bags in my room and sucking down my first cerveza. Then hitting the streets in search of German beer and spotting Paulaner at a nearby restaurant. Eventually finding a Spanish beer worth its salt in Voll Damm (below), brewed right in Barcelona, though unavailable in the U.S.

Receiving a warm welcome by two million of my closest Catalan friends on La Diada (September 11), the 300th anniversary of the region's National Day as they hit the streets of Barcelona to protest for a right to vote on independence from Spain -- turning the annual celebration of Catalan culture into a politically charged event.

Ironically, unlike Independence Day in the U.S., La Diada marks the occasion of a military disaster. Catalan troops fighting Spain were defeated after a 14-month siege of Barcelona, marking the dissolution of the autonomous Catalan institutions, the removal of Catalan as an official language, and new laws from the newly centralized Spain.

Braving the crowds at La Sagrada Familia for a picture of Gaudi’s unfinished cathedral, and learning that the goal is to have the magnificent structure completed on the 100th anniversary of the architect's death in 2025. Enduring 90 degree temperatures with 85 percent humidity while walking the streets of Barcelona.

Absorbing the spirituality of Montserrat while marveling at the wonderment of rounded rock weathered by millions of years of wind, rain, snow and sand. Hearing the beautiful voices of the lads who comprise the choir of L’Esclonia and hiking the trail along the life-size statues of the Stations of the Cross adjacent to the cathedral.

Fretting about clouds on the bus ride to Costa Brava, only to experience the most sunny Mediterranean climate on a September day one could hope for. Riding the waves on the tour boat to Illes Medes and witnessing the sort of natural environment that Alexandre Dumas must have imagined when writing The Count of Monte Cristo.

Marveling at the steep pitch of the grade and rocky outcroppings along the path of the funicular from Queralbs to Vall de Nuria. Chatting it up with the Aussies about politics in the U.S. and Australia while walking down from the top of the chair lift, then having them help me find the right size shirt for Rebecca in the lodge gift shop.

Hiking up to the top of Montjuic to view the site of the 1992 Olympics at the crack of dawn while much of Barcelona still slept after a night of partying and revelry -- and thereby having virtually the whole place to myself. Sneaking into the Olympic Stadium with two full busloads of Japanese tourists for a picture.

Sitting in front of my favorite restaurant -- El Secret Dell Tall, Bar Brasseria -- where the proprietor, Alan, would cap off my Paulaner with a free shot glass of peach liqueur. Watching all the people walk by in the neighborhood know as Eixample, the district of Barcelona between the old city and surrounding small towns.

Witnessing a typical Monday morning at the Barcelona airport on my way back, with everybody looking like they hate their jobs -- from the check-in attendant to the barista, and even the gal in the gift shop who sold me a couple of refrigerator magnets. Retreating to a quiet spot to watch incoming planes landing while listening to my iPod.

All told, a fantastic trip to the Mediterranean side of Spain that I would recommend to anybody. Barcelona had the feel of Genoa, Zurich and Munich -- all hip, urban spots in their respective countries. While the food in Spain was very good, I still have to give the nod in the cuisine department to Italy for both variety and taste.