Days 24,25 & 26 

The blog got away on me a  little while we were in Ronda. We were pretty busy trying to see as much and do as much as possible in this amazing place.

Remember when I said it was just a short jump from Granada to Ronda though? Well, it’s not far, but the travel connections are crappy. 

As I type this we are sitting in the Renfe train station on Antequera Santa Ana waiting two hours for a train ride to Malaga that will take 26 minutes. Oh well, it’s an opportunity to catch up on the blog. We had to take a bus from here to Ronda a couple of days ago, which we hadn’t anticipated. 

The good news is that the bus trip between here and Ronda took us through some of the most beautiful countryside we have seen yet. It’s primarily agricultural land, with grazing cattle, grain fields that are on such steep hillsides that you really have to wonder how they harvest them, the omnipresent olive trees set out in spectacular geometric patterns, and all of it punctuated by small mountains. 

The bad news was that on today’s journey the elderly lady sitting across the aisle from us as we were waiting to depart Ronda on the bus vomited all over herself. The poor lady was so distraught. We had some wipes on us, but not enough to deal with the mess she found herself in. Anyway, she had someone take her off the bus and help her out. The bus driver did a very slaphappy job of cleaning up the mess with a mop, but we most certainly have vomit embedded in the soles of our runners at this moment (sorry). To add to the misfortune of the trip as we were leaving Ronda, we passed  an accident scene involving a motorcyclist. It looked pretty bad as they had set up visual barriers.

Before we embarked on this trip, I read that Spain was the most mountainous country in Europe. I found that hard to believe, but now I understand why that is. It’s not that there are big mountains in Spain, they are just everywhere.

So Ronda… 

We arrived pretty late in the day and in the rain, so we weren’t off to a great start. We punched in the coordinates of the Airbnb and started hoofing it there. The route it gave us, while probably the most direct, did nothing to hint at how beautiful the town was. Once we arrived at our digs and got checked in, we headed out to explore. We quickly discovered the streets in the area with all of the beautiful shops and many Tapas Bars.  But that was just the very surface. We walked a bit and found ourselves standing at what we thought was a spectacular viewpoint. Again, we had no idea.

The whole reason we came to Ronda was because we ran into some Canadians at the first train station we went to in Malaga. They told us we HAD to go there. So far, I was wondering what the big deal was. It wasn’t until the next day that we found THE viewpoint, and it was literally two minutes from our door. How to describe it? Sheer cliffs several hundred feet high on either side of a gorge with a stream running through it way down at the bottom. Farmland in the near distance with sheep grazing peacefully, a patchwork of olive groves and crops, and in the distance the aforementioned mountains, but bigger ones. Hopefully the photos below will do it justice.

Once again, there were many old buildings,  Catholic churches built on the site of mosques. Remnants of ancient Moorish structures galore, but for me the most spectacular was the Puento Nuevo bridge. Literally translating to “New Bridge”. It was completed in 1793, so that’s what they call “new” around here. Spanning the gorge, and 390 feet high, this bridge is just spectacular to look at.

On our one full day in Ronda (again, wish we had more), we took in the bridge, the viewpoint, the lower bridges and ruins, and the Plaza de Toros, probably the oldest bullfighting ring in Spain. We got there early enough that we had the place almost to ourselves. We didn’t realize that in an hour or so it would be crawling with tour groups, but we took our time there learning as much as we could about this traditional site and how it factored in to the lives of Spaniards all the way back to the 1600’s. Perhaps earlier. Bullfighting is all but phased out now, as most people do not look upon it favourably, and rightly so.

Last night, Carla, Fran, Dan and I had dinner at a restaurant terrace overlooking the bridge as the sun began setting. As we were finishing up, a full moon rose. Several drones were whizzing back and forth over the gorge, their operators trying to capture that perfect moment. I would like to see that footage, but was glad when they eventually  packed it in, leaving us to enjoy a glass of port, the moon and the silence.

As I sit here on a hard train station seat typing this, I have a few things to summarize about Spain:

Spain feels very safe to travel in. Only when we were in Barcelona did we ever feel like maybe we were somewhere where we might get robbed or taken advantage of. Of course, that could just be simple ignorance and naivety. I felt much safer in Big Spanish cities than I do in even smaller Canadian ones.

Spain is not as expensive as one might think. Especially things like groceries, liquor, clothing etc. Hotels and other accommodations  options are probably on par with most places in Canada. Gas is considerably more expensive at 1.35 to 1.50 Euros per litre. That works out to about $2.15 to $2.40 CDN/ litre.

Tipping is not expected in bars, restaurants etc. If you do tip, it’s customary to just give say a few Euro on a 50 Euro bill. People are actually paid well in service industry jobs.

Public toilets are virtually non-existent. Toilets in businesses are generally broken to some degree. You almost never get paper towels in a washroom. It’s hard to get out of most washrooms without touching something someone else has touched. This place must have been fun when COVID was full-on.

Free water in restaurants is pretty much non-existent. This is puzzling because water is safe to drink pretty much everywhere. In fact, must places have drinking water freely available in public spaces.

People are pushy here. Very rarely does anyone let you go first through a doorway, or get on a bus or train before them. Having said that, people seem much more chill and patient about waiting in lines, driving, etc. 

Police and first responders must have to maintain a certain level of physical fitness in Spain, because they generally all look like they could be fitness trainers. The population, in general, seems much more fit than North Americans.

Tonight we are back in Malaga and have one full day there before a very early start to our day on June 6th. This has been an incredible trip, but I must confess, I am looking forward to being home again.

Our last full day in Granada was a full day indeed.

We hiked up to the Alhambra, a combination fortress / palace and one of the best preserved palaces of the historic Islamic world. The Alhambra is situated high atop Granada, an imposing limestone edifice whose construction began in 1238. Hundreds of years later, in 1492, after the the conclusion of the military campaigns waged by christians against the Moors, the site became the Royal Court of Ferdinand and Isabella. It gives off a real “Game of Thrones” vibe.

While we were unable to get tickets to the interior of the palace proper, we did get access to the gardens and the fortress, which is what I really wanted to see. 

The gardens are probably the most impressive we have seen yet on this trip.The sculpted hedges, towering trees, gajillions of flowers, pools, fountains, waterfalls, all were mind-blowing . The delivery of water to different parts is accomplished via a blending of 14th century and modern technology. As you are ascending stairs to new levels of the site, the handrails contain troughs which water is running through to supply lower reservoirs. Everything is  so intricate, so meticulously maintained, it’s almost overwhelming to decide where to look next. We could have spent several days just seeing the gardens, I think.

The fortress was also impressive. Climbing up to the top levels and looking out over the city below and the Sierra Madres in the distance was an unforgettable experience.  

After a couple of hours of rest, we took another walking tour in the evening. This one focused on the outer and upper levels of the ancient city, and took us up to the outer edges of the city where homes are actually carved into rock of the hillsides. We toured through ancient streets that hadn’t changed since the 14th century, all the while getting views of the Alhambra from a different perspective. Our guide gave us a lot of information on how life was for people living in these areas over the centuries, how the neighbourhoods evolved, and what it is like to live in these areas today.

By 9pm, I was about done with tours for the day and we stopped in to a tapas bar to grab a few beers. An interesting custom in this area is that tapas (snacks) are automatically included in the price of drinks. You don’t get to choose what they bring you, but it’s usually good. For example, ordering a couple of small beers at one place got us bread, sausage, almonds, and olives. Another place, it was corn chips, ham, bread, some sort of fritter, then springroll – type things that were filled with a sort of mystery cheesy filling. So long as you keep ordering drinks, the tapas keep on coming.

Eventually we ended up back home at our nice apartment where we visited and listened to music until late. The 20,000 some steps and 15 or so km we walked had me ready for bed.

We rolled into Granada yesterday and after a bit of confusion, managed to find the Airbnb we booked. It’s a very nice place. What a nice treat to have a bit of space, and a washing machine that actually works properly.

Our friends, Dan and Fran, were a bit behind us, as they finished their bike loop back in Malaga and took a train from there to Granada, arriving a bit later. When we were reunited, over beers, of course, we excitedly exchanged stories of our separate experiences.

This continued well on into the night with tequila eventually replacing beer. It was a fun night.

In the morning, we were all in pretty good shape despite the activities of the previous night. We had breakfast and then set off to join a  free walking tour (pay by donation at the end, really). It was really good, though. We saw many remnants of ancient moorish architecture and got the lowdown on the various power moves that happened over the centuries in the region. We toured through much of the old part of Granada finally winding up high on a hill looking (still up) to the Alhabra, an ancient palace and fortress set high up on a hill overlooking the city. This is probably the most visited location in Spain, according to many. It’s difficult to book tickets to this, but we managed to secure some for tomorrow. Dan and Fran were able to get in on it this evening and we have yet to hear from them how it was.

We parted ways with Dan and Fran so they could catch their tour. We continued to wander around the old town for a while, shopping and exploring the Cathedral as well as the adjoining royal chapel (photographs prohibited). It was weird going down into the crypt and seeing the caskets containing the bodies of Queen Isabelle and King Ferdinand. They’ve been laying there since the 1500s. Wild.

After a while we headed back “home”, picked up a few things at the market across the street which we TOTALLY got lost trying to find the day before. I don’t even want to tell that story as it’s so embarrassing. I blame Apple Maps, OK?

I had a bunch of stuff to work on to plan even more travel I’ll be doing after we get back to Canada. Logistics to figure out, flights to book etc. I feel better now that I have gotten that (mostly) off of my plate.

We have another full day in Granada then we’re off to Ronda, a much smaller, quieter place that’s a short hop by train away.

 

 

 

 

I’d like to say today was a good day.

The plan was to get moving earlier than usual and to visit at least a couple of must-see sights before we move on to Granada tomorrow. The best laid plans go awry, as they say.

Before getting up, I grabbed my phone to check on our return flights, just to remind myself what the times were. Malaga to Zurich – good. Zurich to Vancouver – Good. Vancouver to Edmont…..

Hold up.

Our flight to Edmonton out of Vancouver departs at 3PM and our Flight from Zurich arrives into Vancouver at 2:55 PM.

W…. T……..F………

There’s no way we can make that connection. 

How did I screw this up? What a monumental eff-up.

I check my emails for the booking confirmation. Wait…. It says right here in the email  that I got when I booked the flight out of Vancouver that  it departs at 5PM, not 3…..

Then I remember an email I got from Westjet telling me that they had made an itinerary change.  That was for the outgoing flight from Edmonton to Vancouver right? Yes, but they had ALSO changed the time of the returning flight, which I had. not. noticed.

OK, OK, this wasn’t my mistake. I had booked a flight for 5.  They will surely help us out with this because it was THEM who changed the itinerary, not me!

Long story short: 

NOPE.

Several calls were made to Westjet explaining the situation we are in and we got the same answer each time:

“This is a minor change to your itinerary (being under a certain amount of time)  so our policy states that we are not required to accommodate any changes.”

We wasted the entire morning trying to get Westjet to rebook us on a later flight, which we can SEE is an option when we go on booking sites, but they tell us “ We can’t help you.”  

When I was told that by a customer service rep on the phone I said “No, what you mean is you WON’T help us, not you CAN’T help us. She hung up on me shortly thereafter.

This left us with no other option than to book another flight ourselves for a later time, which I then set about doing. I found a ridiculously low fare from “Vancouver” to Edmonton, so I booked it. When the confirmation came through, I saw that the flight departed from Abbotsford, not “Vancouver”.  Hey people who live in Abbotsford, do you go around telling people you live in Vancouver? Yeah? Then you’re an asshole.

So then I had to get back on the phone and cancel that one and rebook…… with the only option I could find… effing Westjet.

So, wish us luck.

Needless to say, that whole debacle kind of set the tone for the day.

We tried to make the best of it and went out to see about visiting the Royal Alcázar of Seville. This is a must-see according to every write-up on visiting Seville. 

We headed out to the location and found a great jeezly long line. This must be the line to get in, right? I mean, you can book tickets online, so people surely wouldn’t be lined up just to buy advance tickets, right? Heading up to where the line bent around the corner ahead to view some typically vague Spanish signage, it became clear that we needed our passports to get access to this. Crap. Why???

Anyway, no point in asking why. Gotta have em. Luckily, the Airbnb isn’t that far away. Carla stood in line while I booked it back, grabbed the passports and then, looking like a total jerk returned with the passports to cut the line to where she was standing. It turns out that I wasn’t the only one having to do this, though, which made me feel better.

When we finally got closer we realized that people weren’t going in. They were booking advance tickets. Something we could have just done online. Fantastic.  We booked for 4pm.

Luckily, we saved a whopping 4 euros on an “administration fee” by standing in the scorching sun for about an hour. We immediately blew our savings on alcohol.

I will say though, the Royal Alcázar of Seville is definitely worth the visit. It was truly magnificent. As is the case with many Spanish relics, it is a hodgepodge of architectural styles slapped together over the span of many centuries, depending on who killed who and when.  I won’t get into all the details. They’re available  on Wikipedia. The gardens were stunning. The buildings, too. We did our best to enjoy it all, despite still being pissed off about how we had to spend our morning.

After a couple of hours at the Alcázar, we had about an hour to spare before the start of a free walking tour of Seville that we had booked earlier. Well, not really, because to get to the start of the tour, it would be about a 1.7 km walk.. to start walking.

We were hot, still somewhat disgruntled and kind of done with running around both literally and on the phone and online. We took a break and then decided we’d try to have dinner at a place that was recommended by our host. It was a fair haul to get there, but we were up to it after a short rest.

The walk there turned out to be the best part of the day. Much of the route took us along the river, then across the beautiful Puente de Triana bridge. There was lots of  river traffic, from kayakers, to rowing teams, to tour boats. Once across the river, we entered a much more “real” part of Seville. You could tell there were way more locals than tourists here.  

We arrived at the restaurant to find it closed until 8 . Checking the menu, we decided that we weren’t up to dining on the house specialties which were things like “smoked eel eyeballs” (or similar fare). We stopped into a little bar and had a drink next to a table full of middle-aged guys who were clearly all good buddies. I really enjoyed the atmosphere there. Then, we started heading back toward the river. Carla spotted a burger king. She was hungry. The type of hungry that is dangerous.  So in we went. Don’t judge us.

After stuffing our faces, we continued walking back toward the other side of the river. As we crossed the bridge, I noticed a  bunch of guys with fishing rods  down below . As we stopped to watch, I could see that a couple of them were exchanging words, which quickly escalated into fists. One guy was clearly taking more hits than he was giving, but he seemed completely unfazed. They moved apart but the verbal exchange continued. Once we were across the river, I looked back and could see the two of them still waving their arms and yammering away at each other. We continue walking, slowly, until we got back “home”.  

Tomorrow, we leave Seville. We didn’t see it all, but we saw a lot, I figure.  Soon we will be reunited with our friends Dan and Fran who will arrive later in the day to Granada tomorrow.

Oh, and Westjet: You can go eat a giant bag of donkey dicks.

Day 19 

We woke this morning to the sound of rain. This is not a sound that makes you want to hit the ground running, not that we’ve been doing that exactly, but it makes for a good excuse to sleep in a bit.

We had picked up a few groceries the day before. Breakfast items, like beer. Seriously though, you see people drinking breakfast beers all the time here. What a country. After some toast, fruit, yogurt and coffee the rain had stopped and we headed out. 

First stop was the nearby Cathedral. This is the largest gothic cathedral in the world. Construction took over 100 years, from 1401 to 1506, so slightly less time than Edmonton’s LRT system. It sits on the site of a mosque that predates it by about 300 years and incorporates some of the structures of the original mosque such as a 300 foot tall tower.  Inside, it is astounding. The massive stone columns, the stained glass, the arches. It was built as a symbol of Seville’s wealth at the time. 

Outside the cathedral, an ultra-modern  tram runs silently by every 10 minutes or so. I wonder how many people get killed by this thing as they are gawking at the sights around them  and taking those perfect instagram photos.

A brass quintet was playing and we stopped to listen to them for quite a while. They were amazing. Intonation, dynamics, expression were all there. A fun repertoire as well. They gathered quite a crowd and the Euros were flying into their open suitcase.

We walked a while, getting thrown off by my incorrect entry to the Maps app trying to find some of the attractions. It rained again, heavily and we ducked into a restaurant for a beer until it stopped. More walking followed, more rain, more beer, it was kind of a pattern.

Eventually, we had our 10,000 steps in so we figured we’d have a siesta and we retreated to our tiny pad for a while. By this time was about 5pm.

The weird thing we are finding is that it’s always later than you think it is here. It’s also kind of strange that it stays light as late as it does here considering we are very close to the southernmost point in Europe. In fact, we’re just a hop skip and a jump from Africa here.

After resting up, we headed out again and found a place to have dinner. It was a magical setting sitting at an outdoor table on a narrow street, with throngs of  people walking by, a crescent moon overhead and the lit up cathedral behind us. 

All in all, an amazing day again despite the rain.

After a restful night, we were still not in a great hurry to get going this morning, so we spent some time just hanging out in our tiny but comfortable space. Eventually, we showered and dressed.

Before we headed out for breakfast, we attempted to wash some clothes. The washing machine in this tiny place looks like something from soviet era Russia, complete with frayed wiring and rust spots. We threw in a load and when we returned it was still  soaking wet and we were not convinced it had actually been washed.  I once again found myself looking for the manual online and managed to put it in spin mode, but things were still soaking wet after that. We wrung them out as best as we could, and hung them on the lines that were outside our tiny apartment on a slight higher terrace. To get there, we had to go down a  flight of stairs, down a long hallway, up a flight of stairs and then another walk to get right back to right around where our apartment is, just slightly higher. How bizarre!.

Following the host, Manuel’s recommendation, we wound up at a tiny little cafe that was crammed with people. We ordered a couple of breakfasts including what they call locally an omelet, but is more like a potato-egg dish. We also had Churros and chocolate sauce again. These were different from the ones in Tarragona; much lighter and more porous. Not as sweet, either. But oh so good.

After breakfast, we wandered the streets , visited shops, and looked at the sights. We were not particularly interested in doing any tours. Not yet, anyway. We saw what was obvious a bunch of young guys out on some sort of stag pub crawl. The groom to be was wearing a ridiculous pink outfit and his buddies wore matching shirts, Speaking of clothing, there are so many beautifully dressed people here. Fashion is clearly more important to Spaniards than it is to us in North America.

After wandering for a while, we went back to the apartment and just in time, because a big thunderclap signalled an incoming rain. I wasn’t in a big rush to pull the stuff down off the lines, but Carla’s instincts were spot on that we’d better hustle. It started raining pretty seriously. We pulled everything down and brought it inside to hang it on a drying rack inside. It’s odd to us that dryers are not a thing here, Imagine never putting on a pair of underwear right out of the dryer, or having a warm fluffy towel.

We hunkered down to wait out the rain and watched some Netflix. The thunder was constant for about 45 minutes. I had never heard such continuous thunder before. It was like being in God’s bowling alley.

After the rain, we headed out to buy a few groceries with stops for a beer in both directions. OK, there were tapas as well. So much for maybe coming back skinnier from this holiday.

The good news is that our clothes are drying quickly and we still have a couple of days to explore beautiful Seville.

Another big travel day today. As I write this, we’re about 2/3 of the way to Seville, By that, I mean we are  on the third of three trains we have to take today.

The first was the metro from l’Almir to Alicante. Our host, Gary graciously arranged for a friend of his,  a barrel-shaped Englishman whose name I unfortunately did not catch to drive us to the metro station in Benidorm. He’s been living in Spain for 30 years, but his accent was thick enough that you needed a chainsaw to cut it, so I didn’t catch everything he was telling us. Nice guy, though.

We felt like pros as we bought our metro tickets and found our way to the right platform. An hour or so later, we were back in Alicante. Thanks to Carla’s impeccable sense of direction, we found our way from the metro station to the Alicante train station in no time. 

With an hour to kill, we went to Tim Hortons at the train station for a coffee. The signage there advertised it being Canadian but those of us in the know are aware that Burger King bought Timmies for 11 billion dollars and now both are majority owned by some Brazilian mega corporation. Oh well, the coffee was predictably mild. Quite a change of pace from the  Defcon-9 caffeine level coffee we’ve been served in many places in Spain. There was a public piano in the station which I attempted to play, but what keys weren’t missing were broken inside, so that was a bust. It saddens me that people would mistreat and neglect a musical instrument of any kind. Savages.

The ride from Alicante to Madrid was uneventful. We rolled through mostly agricultural land. Things are looking much greener after th. e recent rains. I ventured into the cafeteria, bar car to get us a couple of beers. It was a real party atmosphere in there. Only one guy was working the counter and he was up to his ass in alligators thanks to a trio of twenty -something young guys who were ahead of me in line ordering enough food and beer for a platoon. It was wild being in a bar moving at 300km/h.

We had to change trains in Madrid. We’d been to the Madrid station before . That was on the way to Barcelona, where I thought I had left my phone on the train. On that occasion, we had exited the platform area into the terminal, then walked to another platform entrance on the same level. The doors opened automatically and we boarded our train. Easy peasy.

Figuring, stupidly, that we could just do the same thing again this time, we entered the terminal, found out we were supposed to depart from platform 6, and went to that door. We walked up to the giant sliding glass doors, but they did not slide open. We could see further down the platform that people were walking toward the trains on platform six, so that was puzzling.

We approached a Renfe employee who was busy social-media-ing on her phone to ask if she spoke english, Nope. We told her we were going to Seville – platform six. “No, no no, she said and pointed to the far side of the terminal, down near the 10 yard line. She walked us partway there and pointed toward a lineup that we  joined… but these people were going through to platform 15. What the hell? We asked another employee who said “No,no no”, and pointed us to a staircase going up to the next level.  Up we went. Then back down to the end zone where we went through the now magically opening glass doors and down an escalator to platform six.  

The good news is that these trains are getting progressively more posh. The train we’re on now as I type this has nice brown leather sets and looks a lot newer and cleaner than the others we’ve been riding so far. The olive trees are whipping past us as we rocket at 300km/h through the Spanish countryside. Two hours to Seville, then, according to Google Maps a 28 minute walk to our Airbnb.

We rolled into Seville on time and Started walking. As we approached the place we booked, the streets narrowed and the density of the crowds increased. Sidewalks were virtually non-existent and all kinds of cars, scooters and bicycles were competing with us for the narrow streets. Eventually we arrived at the door, which we had to open via a link that the host texted us. That was a first. It was weird to be buzzing open this 19th century iron gate with a smartphone, but that’s Spain for you.

Our place is tiny, and old, but clean and well equipped. We had a shower and put on clean clothes to go out for dinner. There was a nice little outdoor cafe  just around the corner. A bit of a wait to get a table, but that’ always a good sign. We ordered way too much food. I had a gigantic beer (must have been about 2L). Our young waiter had obviously never opened a bottle of wine with a corkscrew before, so we watched with amusement as his older counterpart gave him a lesson on the spot.

Afterward, we walked around for a while, through the throngs of Friday night revelers, many of whom were beautiful people that were beautifully dressed. The nearby Cathedral was amazing to look at against the backdrop of the streetlights, the lights from cafes and bars, and the dark sky. It had been a long day, we went “home” to get some rest.

 

We got up about 8am after a not very restful night. Among other things, the neighbors (in the house next door) partied  noisily until well after midnight, and the toilet ran all night. With my hearing impairment, I thought it was someone snoring in the next room.

The next day dawned spectacularly, though. Sunny and warm. We were expecting rain, so this was a nice surprise. We got up, had a couple of cups of coffee produced by a very reluctant drip coffee machine and then set out to find a hiking trail to a lighthouse that Gary told us about the day before.

As we walked through the streets of this town looking at the beautiful homes,  each with it’s own small but private pool, we were both thinking the same thing: We could live here.Housing in  l’Albir is quite l’Expensive, though. Better have a million bucks to spend if you want that pool.

There is a cool little main street with lots of nice shops and restaurants, and on the other side,a  long and spectacular beach.It was a very sunny and hot day, so we popped into a grocery store and bought some snacks and water for the hike. We brought some bananas to the till and got a rapid-fire verbal Spanish assault from the cashier because we hadn’t weighed them in advance and marked them with a sticker. OK.. we’re still learning how things work here.

After some fumbling around, we found the trailhead for the 2 mile or so hike up to the lighthouse. It was an easy and paved path and we were sharing it with many other walkers of every age. People here stay active well into their 70s and 80s, it seems.

The views along the way looking back on l”Albir, the bay and the beach were amazing. Along the way there was plenty of interesting signage pointing out caves, an ochre mine, and historical remnants of observation towers dating back to the time that pirates hid out in these coves. No pirates now, just expensive looking boats.

After making it up to the lighthouse and taking in the spectacular views, we headed back down. It started to sprinkle rain and we were hungry by this point so we stopped in to a little Carribean cafe next to the ocean and had a couple of magical drinks and some food. We made it home just in time before it started to rain for real, so I took the opportunity to update the blog and get a couple of business things sorted out. I don’t know what Carla is doing , but I imagine it’s siesta time for her. The rain is tapering off now, so I will sign off for now.

(Later)

It rained again for several hours this afternoon, quite hard. It was nice sitting outside listening to the rain pelting down on the canvas awnings covering the outdoor seating areas. There’s something about that “rain on a tent” sound that just feels so calming. Maybe it’s because when you’re in a tent and it’s raining, you just need to settle in and wait it out. It’s a feeling of resigned calm.

We went back to the Jungle Joy Thai restaurant again tonight after the rain stopped. Such great food and fun people there. Their #4 level hotness curry had me wiping my nose and mopping my forehead, but oh so good!

Another big train day tomorrow, so we are hoping for a good sleep tonight…..

 

 

This holiday is like playing a jazz tune. 

In jazz, you play the head (melody), improvise in the middle and then play the head again going out. We knew we were flying in and out of Malaga, but what happened in between, we hadn’t decided in advance. Today was going to be a very jazzy day.

I woke up early and reached for my phone to see what the logistics looked like for our day. We’re heading for Alicante, or so I thought. Our train tickets are for Alicante, the city. Which is in the Province of Alicante.  It’s like if in Alberta, there was a city also named Alberta. It might get a bit confusing to the somewhat unprepared traveller.  

Our Airbnb, however, is in L’Albir. This, I did not notice when I booked it. I only saw Alicante.

I punched in the walking directions for Alicante station to our Airbnb. 10 hours. Okay. That’s going to be a problem.  L’Albir is about 53km from where we get off the train. Oops. 

Now what? I did ask the host, at the time of the booking to supply directions from the rail station, but they didn’t reply to that. Instead, I got what looked like a generic message asking us to give them an ETA. I messaged again, specifically asking about getting there from the train station. Another generic looking message followed telling us to park our car out front. 

The host had provided us with a number to text him, so I gave him a call. A friendly Australian sounding voice answered. I explained the situation to him and he told us that we could get on the L1 tram destined for Benidorm, where he would meet us and drive us the rest of the way. He also told us that it is very stormy and rainy there, which is unfortunate, seeing as it is such a beautiful day in Tarragona.

As I write this, we are on the train. Despite the fact that we made seat  reservations days ago, Carla and I are in the same car, but sitting about as far apart as is possible. My seat is the very last one in the entire train and is situated as far back as is possible. Since it is a single seat, I have space for my pack on the floor next to me which is nice. I’m also right next to the washroom.  We’re on board this train for about another 2 hours. 

(Later)

We arrived in Alicante about 1/2 an hour late.  We got vague directions from a non-english speaking security guard at the train station to find the metro station. Luckily, it was not far away. We managed to figure out how to buy tickets from the machine and found the platform for the train to Benidorm.  This train, like the last one we were on was running late, and by the time we got to the last stop on the line, which took over an hour, we were done with trains for the day.

Our host, Gary, who as it turns out is Irish, not Australian, met us right outside the metro station and loaded us up into a Chrysler minivan. We drove through a fairly industrial looking area while chatting and learning much about each other during the 15 minute trip to the Airbnb.

Gary has a lot of irons in the fire. He runs multiple properties here in l’Albir as well as a cleaning business. The place we are staying at is very nice. Lots of common spaces both inside and out. Three friendly cats, and a very nice bedroom /private bath with two private balconies just for us.

the town of l’Albir is very nice. It seems to be all very new, and is what can best be described as a beach town for fairly well-off people to retire to. According to Gary, there are many Norwegians and English people living here. He doesn’t think much of the English, as a hardcore Irishman.

By the time we were settled and had freshened up it was nearly 9pm. We got a recommendation from Gary to go to a Thai restaurant a few blocks away. He said he was fussy about his Thai food, and this place was the best he had ever had, even after living in Thailand. Of course, we took his recommendation and we were not disappointed. The food and the atmosphere was great. It was also pretty reasonably priced.

It was a great way to end a long a trying day.

I love Tarragona. I think I could live here.

It’s not too big – Around 135,000 inhabitants. It has the ocean. It has a seemingly endless amount of history to explore. It’s got a friendlier, more relaxed vibe than the other major metropolitan areas we have visited. Real estate seems almost affordable. You can own a car here because there is actually parking in many places. What’s not to love? Sadly, we are leaving here tomorrow, but who knows? MAybe the next town (Alicante) will be even better. Hard to imagine, though.

After a relaxing morning at home, we ventured out. The entire town seemed to be crawling with school groups on tour. Teenagers everywhere.  It almost made me miss teaching for a minute. We headed into the local contemporary art museum, which was very good. They were featuring the work of several prominent Spanish artists. Time well spent.

But then it was time for something I had been wanting to try out. On some food shows I had watched, they said that many Spaniards enjoy churros with a thick hot chocolate to dip them in. I Googled up a place and within minutes we were watching the nice lady there deep frying a half dozen just for us. Sugar? Sure. I wasn’t sure if the chocolate was intended to be a beverage or not. I decided that I could make that work. I came to the same decision about gravy some time ago.

After this completely unnecessary indulgence, we began walking toward the ocean. Not with any real purpose, but on the way there.

We found our way to the train station that we came in on and verified that we would be leaving from the same one tomorrow. Good to know, because there are two in town. Then we continued walking toward the ocean and eventually wound up at the marina. There were a few fancy yachts moored up but, nothing quite like we saw in Malaga.

The day was getting pretty hot by this point and we started to think about the cold beers that we had in the fridge back up the hill toward our apartment near the Cathedral. There were a bunch of those little electric scooters you can rent there by the marina, so we downloaded the app and after some frustration that was caused by me having my VPN activated, managed to get signed up and jump on them. It was fun zipping back up the hill. A lot more fun than walking would have been in the heat. I know I could’ve used the exercise after the churros though. Still, we’ve been pretty active. I think it may even be possible that we lose weight on this vacation because of all the walking we are doing.

After a break back at home, we decided to go out and grab some groceries to cook a meal at “home”. We were in a  grocery store the day before, but damned if we could find our way back there. As usual, trying to navigate by the use of our phones produced very mixed results. Being those narrow streets with the buildings towering up above doesn’t contribute to very good data connections. Eventually we found the place and bought some fixins’ to cook up a couple of cheeseburgers – or Hamburguesas, as they call them here. Don’t worry, we’ve been steeping ourselves in the food culture of Spain. It didn’t kill us to have a simple (and affordable) meal at home for a change.

Last evening after I posted the blog, I headed out at dusk for a walk and it was magical. There were very few people out and about. Seeing the ruins at this time of day was a totally different vibe. I walked to some ruins overlooking the ocean, stopping to watch the bats flit about between the medieval remnants of the Jewish quarter and watched two tomcats growling menacingly at each other. I think I’ll go out again tonight.