Gracias, Espana

By EWAN McDONALD

Maybe they missed out on the OE 30 years ago - too busy raising kids, wrapped up in a career - so middle-aged New Zealanders are spreading their wings. Within a few years they'll go to Britain and Ireland, look up where the family came from and down a pint of Guinness in Dublin. Do Provence, following the Peter Mayle trail, pop into Poilane and Printemps in Paris. Totter around Tuscany, see Siena, fluff about in Florence.

We're in that demographic division, that sociological statistic: we like food and wine and Antonio Carluccio and Elizabeth David, we admire art, don't mind a decent duomo.

Every few years we treat ourselves to a European holiday. We pick a region, sort out a couple of country towns or villages where we can base ourselves (look at the "What it'll cost" information on this page and you'll realise why), pick up a car and amble around for a few weeks.

So, as we planned last year's trip, the question was: where to next?

We'd always had a hankering to see Spain and Portugal. Both have long and fascinating histories - Moors, wars, cathedrals, castles, the great artists and voyagers. And port, of course.

Everyone keeps writing that Spanish food is going to be the next big thing, so we had to check that out and find if it really was, or just something that's always about to take off, like K Rd.

First funny thing we found was, when you go to Dymocks or Whitcoulls and amble through the aisles, there are not many titles such as The Joy of Spanish Cooking, The Most Beautiful Villages of Andalusia or A Year in Castile-Leon. (Well, there was one of those but it was written by a guy who used to drum for Genesis so his memory was clearly suspect.)

Surprising, when you consider that more than 45 million tourists visit Spain each year, making it one of the three most visited countries in the world.

Perhaps that's because many of those visitors are Brits and Germans burning up the autopista on their annual pilgrimage to the beaches, no time to stop for the white villages or the black Goyas, packing the togs and not the laptop.

Flying into Madrid (we changed planes at Amsterdam; Frankfurt and London are among other options), the first impressions of Spain remain for the trip. It's a big country. It's a sun-bleached country, especially in late summer. There are a lot of mountains and a lot of plains and not a lot of trees or rivers. Not a lot with water in them, anyway.

In most countries, the first thing you do on landing is adjust your watch to local time. Here, you adjust your lifestyle.

Spain wakes up around 10am, for coffee and pastry or churros (deep-fried doughnut strips), yawns, closes down completely - apart from the bigger, air-conditioned department stores and some museums - from 2pm until 5pm. Siesta, which means a long lunch and a break from the heat of the day, rather than the common image of a drowsy kip, is complete.

The nation wakes up around 7pm, but you don't go to dinner (a lighter affair than lunch, often bar-hopping for tapas) before 9.30 or 10. Even toddlers are often playing soccer in the streets at midnight. Or later. Often, much later.

For the first few days it's a culture shock but, hey, you're getting over jet-lag anyway, so go with the flow. The flow of people, that is, walking the pavements and the plazas until well into the small hours, dressed in their Monday-to-Sunday best, chatting, gossiping, catching up, nibbling, laughing, kissing, hugging, dancing: it's the paseo, and it takes place in every village, town and city, every evening.

If you can't speak the language, it doesn't matter. The paseo is the cheapest entertainment in town.

Speaking of the language, you'll probably be surprised at just how much you recognise. Then again, there are about 20 languages, or dialects, or variations, so no one really speaks the language. Let's not go into whether Catalonia, or Catalunya, the region around Barcelona, is damn-near a separate country. Suffice to say that the locals sign their internet sites as ".ct" and not ".es" (for Espana).

Without pausing to think, you'll know words like hola, adios, si, non, por favor, gracias, buenos dias, vino, paella and possibly the most important on those hot afternoons, "dos cervezas" and good beer it is.

Spaniards, perhaps because they're used to their country being overrun by tourists who are often less than gracious visitors, genuinely seem to enjoy helping the lost, stranded and distressed to find their way around or to buy their goods and food.

Once past the tentative "Por favor, senor ... " you'll find some English or a patient, painstaking effort to give directions or service.

So, is Spanish food the next big thing? Well, it's like New Zealand: you can eat at Vinnie's or you can eat at Wendy's. Looking at the dollar against the euro, chances are you'll be eating with the locals in cafes, many of which look tiny but have a hidden "comida" or dining room out the back, upstairs or downstairs.

In Italy and France, we like to go to the village market or city shops, buy fruit, cheese, bread and wine and head into the countryside or a park and picnic during the day. Apart from the fun of shopping and communicating with the locals, we see more of the countryside and stretch our budget. In Spain, it's not quite so easy.

The wine is fine (well, it's often rough, but you know what we mean), but much of the best fruit is exported, trundling up the motorways every night to the markets of Paris and Berlin and London.

Spanish bread - once every bite as good as French - is now largely mass-produced cardboard. The cheese? An epicurean friend insists that Spanish cheese should be eaten only within 30 miles of its home village, so unless you happen to be in a dairy area and have a very detailed map, give it a swerve.

Unlike their neighbours, Spanish roading engineers don't regard picnic stops as a priority, so it may also be difficult to find a picnic stop with an olive tree to lie under.

Again, it's a cultural difference. Spain loves socialising in cafes. So you go to the nearest, or nicest-looking, and thank Franco for getting one thing right. The dictator passed a law ordering every eatery to provide a "menu del dia" or worker's lunch that's the best bargain in Spain. Three courses, wine and coffee at a cut-rate price. And it's not any old nosh.

In Cordoba, we enjoyed a glorious pisto manchego (Mediterranean vegetable stew), pork loin in three cheeses sauce, fruit salad; in Granada, a shimmering gazpacho, chicken stew, rice pudding, all for about $20.

In the main, though, tofu-eaters should turn back at the border. This is carnivore country. Few menus include vegetables, even on the side. Much of the meat is grilled, dusted in salt. Fresh-ground black pepper is a foreign concept, as are herbs.

Expect to see a lot of steak, which probably cleans up what's left over after the bullfights, and pork loins or chops, because they have to use the rest of the pig after they've made the hams.

Aaah, the hams. Especially if Madrid is your first stop, you'll find shops named the Museum of Ham, the Palace of Ham, the House of Ham. It's not the ham we think of (that's at the bottom of the blackboard, under "York-style").

This is jamon serrano, made from a special breed of white mountain pig - the hoof is left on, to prove its authenticity - and air-cured for nine months according to centuries-old traditions. Up to 1000 will be hung from the ceilings of delicatessens, above diners, who crowd at bars, next to glass cases filled with cheese, chorizo and salchichones (spicy salami), eating the rich, salty, thinly sliced slivers between slices of dry, crusty bread.

One last hint: take a decent guidebook with restaurant recommendations (Frommer's is one). People who do not follow this advice may, day after day, eat steak, chips and pork chops. Note to self: remember to pack Frommer's next time.

A superpower for centuries, Spain's treasures lie thick on the ground. They are ancient, some Celtic and Roman, others marvellous and mysterious Moorish (Moslem Arabs from North Africa), or ornate from the days of the monarchs who explored and plundered much of the planet when few dared, when few could stand up to this nation's might.

Two cities - Seville and Barcelona - have spawned modern metropolises next to their historic heritage.

Those cities, and Granada, are heavily touristed, so prices are high. So are curiosities such as the breathtaking Ronda, Toledo and Cuenca, each on the edge of a precipice.

You will have to queue for many attractions and some prefer you to book in advance. If you're not au fait with the language or history, it's a good idea to hire a guide.

It might sound a tad formal for a get-away-from-it-all holiday, but most of them are knowledgeable and friendly enough to enjoy a coffee during the morning.

Outside the cities, the scale and rawness of Spain enthrall. Vast plains. High passes and steep ranges. Long distances with few settlements (and even fewer petrol stations).

Perhaps this is a legacy of the brawling city-states and dukedoms that feuded over this land, perhaps a legacy of landholding laws that concentrated estates the size of small nations in one pair of hands.

This lack of villages can mean that regions don't feel as romantic as the French or Italian countryside. Many farmhands live in town and drive out to work each day on tractors or in Peugeot 206s, of which there are even more than in Ponsonby.

Driving is generally easy, once you're outside the chaos of any European town of more than 2000 people. Country hotels (see "What it'll cost") were spotless, right down to the one-star truckstops that we used when we were caught short on Sunday nights.

If you don't fancy the stress of driving yourself, research each long-distance trip. Generally, if you're travelling to or from Madrid, you'll find that the train is more convenient and probably cheaper; cross-country routes are often better served by comfortable, faster and more regular buses.

Compared with other European destinations, especially England, this was a cheaper holiday for a couple of middle-aged Kiwis who like reasonable comfort, but don't insist on luxury.

Bills include service and if you want to give the cabbie or the waiter some change, feel free to do so. It's not expected or demanded.

Oh, what happened in Portugal? That's another story.

Case notes

* How to get there: Return low-season economy-class fares start at $2449 excluding insurance surcharges and airport/government taxes.

* When to go: You'll want to plan your trip around the weather (some regions boast "nine months of winter and three of hell") and the tourist peaks. Ideal months are May, June and September. You can expect good weather and you will avoid the extreme heat and crush of July-August and get better deals.

* What it'll cost: These are the prices we paid for two people in Spain in September-October. Bear in mind that hotel rates vary considerably, depending on the month, festival, conferences, weather and proprietor's frame of mind. Meals are for two people with glass or carafe of house wine.

Three-star hotel, Madrid: $260; three-star hotel, Barcelona: $285; two-star hotel, country town: $85. Breakfast (coffee, pastries): $12; three-course dinner, Barcelona: $100; three-course dinner, country town: $50; three-course menu del dia, Granada: $40. tank of petrol, 1100cc car: $67.15.

* On the web: Each of the regions has its own website; so do the Prado and other major tourist attractions.





* Ewan McDonald travelled with Cathay Pacific and oneworld partners, BA and Iberian, to Madrid.