Monthly Archives: January 2014

Uncategorized

Things I learned on my trip to Spain and Portugal…

I am a firm believer that you learn a lot when you travel to new places.  While I had been to Madrid and Seville before we took our trip, Lajes, Lisbon, and Rota were all new to me.  I love it when I experience new and exciting things when I go abroad.  So, since I think I’m pretty much done with the story of our most recent “seat of the pants” trip, here’s a list of things I learned in Spain and Portugal.

1.  Spaniards are not rude.

The last time I was in the heart of Spain– meaning not Barcelona– I picked up sort of a negative opinion of Spain.  I think part of my problem was inexperience.  Another part was that I was traveling with my older sister, who didn’t seem to like Spain much.  Somehow I came away with the idea that Spaniards are rude.  I am happy to report that on the whole, they are very warm and pleasant.  They seemed to like Americans, too… or at least, most of them seemed to like Bill and me.  I didn’t feel like I needed to tell anyone I was Canadian, for instance.

2.  Donuts are a big deal in Portugal!  

I had no idea how much the Portuguese like donuts, but I saw them offered everywhere.  I didn’t partake of any donuts in Portugal, but I did have a couple in Spain.  They put Krispy Kremes to shame!

3.  Portuguese restaurants bring out food that appears to be free but isn’t.

Food wasn’t all that expensive in Portugal, but they do make you pay for everything, including butter.  If you eat the bread or dig into the octopus salad or crab dip, you have to pay for it.  If you leave it untouched, you don’t have to pay.

4.  Siesta still goes in Spain, but not Portugal.

I’ve heard that the siesta tradition may be going by the wayside because of business.  However, I did notice that shops shut down at 2:00 so people could have lunch.  I didn’t see this in Portugal as much and was told by a travel agent that they don’t do siesta there.

5.  You have to pay to go into the Seville cathedral.

As a matter of fact, I didn’t see too many churches open in Spain or Portugal like I have in other European countries.

6.  Trying to speak the language is a good thing.

My Spanish sucks, though not as much as I thought it did.  I charmed more than a couple of people by trying to speak it, even though I probably sounded ridiculous.  I have found in other European countries, if you try to speak the language, people will either appreciate it or immediately shift into their far superior English.

7.  Tipping is appreciated.  

This is especially true among cab drivers and carriage drivers.

8.  Don’t take the rosemary.

If you’re in a touristy area and pushy women try to give you anything for “free”, be sure to keep walking.  Chances are excellent that they will either try to pick your pocket or will demand payment for what they’re giving you for free.

9.  There’s a lot of value in just people watching.

Sure, it’s great to see the sights and shit, but I get a huge kick out of just watching people and listening to snippets of conversations.

10.  Street musicians selling CDs are awesome!

Some of my favorite mementos anywhere are CDs I’ve bought from buskers.  I highly recommend supporting street artists if you like what they’re doing.

11. Spanish orange juice is amazing!!!

I miss it.

12. Spanish ads are awesome!

I got a huge kick out of the one featuring the naked guy running through the street with his private parts blurred out.  I also liked the one for nose spray that apparently is so powerful that you can suck up a couple of pencils into your nostrils after using it.

13. Space A trips are very cool! 

Some people are planners, but I love traveling by the seat of my pants.  I love planning things on the spur of the moment.  I also love flying to and from Europe for less than $50.  If you are in the military or retired, I urge you to take advantage of this benefit and see the world.

14. Sometimes you have to trade one travel memory for another…

I’m sorry we lost our wee Scottish umbrella in a bar in Madrid, but I’m not sorry we spent an evening in a seedy local bar, watching the locals mingle and staring at a woman with huge tits.

15. Hit the spa.

I loved our experience at Aire.  I loved goading Bill into it, too.

I learned more than this and I’m sure I’ll write more about it later, but right now I have to snuggle Arran, who begged to get into my lap.  I missed my dogs like crazy while we were gone.

Standard
Uncategorized

Back to America…

Our flight from Rota was pretty awesome.  It was very smooth and I was able to sleep for a good part of it, despite lying on the floor and being a bit cold.  We landed at Whiteman Air Force Base at about 9:00 in the morning.  It was absolutely FRIGID there.  The temperature was about one degree and the wind was blowing like crazy.  We were on the plane as the load masters removed the chains and cables from the helicopters, so it was cold as hell.  An airman came on the plane to clear us through customs.  It was a very laid back interview and the guy who did it was quite cool (in a good way).

A bus was waiting to take us to “base ops”, which is a very small lounge with TVs and couches.  Someone in charge at the base explained to us that there was no support for Space A people and taxis were not allowed on the base, so we might have to walk to the front gate, which is not close to base ops.  It was also freezing!

Fortunately, the guy who drove the bus was available to give us a lift to the visitor’s center by the gate.  Bill and I and the Seabee called Enterprise and they picked us up, not realizing that there were three of us going instead of two.  For some reason, the sales agent from Enterprise had a driver, so we all had to squeeze into the car for the twelve mile ride to Warrensburg, Missouri.  We got our rental cars and said our goodbyes.  The Seabee was planning to drive to Virginia, while Bill and I planned to get a commercial flight out of Kansas City, Missouri.

I had booked us a room at the Embassy Suites at the airport because after some cursory research, it was clear that trying to get home on Friday would cost significantly more and wear us out.  As it was, we were already pretty tired and needed to sleep.

Bill started the 90 minute drive and we stopped in Independence, Missouri for a bite to eat at a place called The Corner Cafe.  The parking lot was absolutely full of cars and it was barely 11:00am.  I figured that was a sign the food was going to be good.  I had never heard of this place, but it’s obviously a chain in Missouri.  We walked into the place and it kind of made me think it was what you’d get if a Perkins and a Cracker Barrel mated.  The menu was full of comfort food and there were a lot of pies.  The clientele appeared to consist of a lot of people with walkers, blue hair, and oxygen support.

 

Lunch!

We bought this to go and ended up eating it for dinner.

The food was indeed quite good.  We were hungry and I was ready for something comforting.  I had fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and some surprisingly good green beans.  The meal also came with a roll.  Bill had a sandwich and fries.  Walking into the restroom, I could hear the 50s era rock and roll playing.  I took note of the toilet and realized that this was the kind of place that served food that led to taking a big dump.  I saw evidence of that…  ’nuff said.

I had to take a photo of this huge American flag on our way to Kansas City.

Bill after we checked in at about 1:00pm.

A folksy note left for hotel guests…

One thing I noticed about Missouri is that everybody seems really down home and “folksy”.  Another thing I noticed is that obesity is a significant issue there.  I mean, I am by no means thin, but I was feeling almost petite in The Corner Cafe, the hotel, and even at the airport.  I saw a lot of people using canes, walkers, and oxygen, too.

Anyway, when we got to our hotel room, I took a shower and started watching college gymnastics.  Bill went to bed.  I joined him about an hour later and promptly fell asleep.  The bed in our room was surprisingly and delightfully comfortable.  We slept through the manager’s reception and didn’t feel like going out for dinner, so we ate the pie we got to go at The Corner Cafe.  Then we went back to bed and slept until about 5:00 Saturday morning.

Bill was fretting a bit about what he was going to do with the rental car.  It turned out it wasn’t an issue.  We ran into another guy, obviously military, who told us he works in Hawaii.  We found the rental car facility and got the shuttle to the terminal driven by a kindly older gentleman named John who was very chipper, especially for the time of day it was.

We went to get our boarding passes and drop our luggage.  Since Bill is active duty military, he can check two bags for free on Delta.  So we checked in and it turned out our flight was so packed that we were assigned seats at the gate.  The agent who helped us then said that only Bill was entitled to get free bags.  Bill said he knew, but since he’s allowed two bags, he claimed mine as his.  I’m not sure why this was an issue for the agent.  I mean, in his shoes, wouldn’t she do the same thing?  Who wants to pay $30 a bag?  She let it go and then asked us to take the shoulder straps off the bags.

Our bags dropped, we headed toward security, where I noted that I had been pre-selected for “pre-check”.  That meant I wouldn’t have to remove my shoes or jacket, nor did I have to pull out my electronics for security, as long as I made it through the metal detector.  Well, I was wearing two jackets because it was so goddamn cold outside.  I took one off and left the other one on.  It had a metal zipper, so I set off the metal detector.  So then a member of the security force came over to escort me to get my hands swabbed.

I initially thought these people were TSA, but it turns out the Kansas City airport is one of the few airports that doesn’t have official TSA people on the payroll.  Instead, they have a private security force that follows the same procedures as TSA does.  Anyway, the young woman who was to swab my hands came over and asked me to go with her.  I reached for my stuff and she said that she had to carry it.  I still had my passport and boarding pass in my hands and set it down while she prepared to test my hands for nitrates.  Her machine wasn’t working, so another security person had to do the test.  I went to grab my passport and boarding pass and she said she had to take them.  We went to another testing site and the guy swabbed my hands.  Naturally, I came up clean.  The experience made me think it would have been much easier to just go through the regular screening.

We ended up getting seated in the exit row at the ass of the plane.  A very sunny flight attendant confirmed we were willing and able to help the crew if we should crash.  The flight was basically very pleasant, until we were about to land.  I had left my purse on the floor for the entire flight because I couldn’t hear the announcements very well where we were sitting.  It turns out that if you sit in the exit row, you have to put all your stuff in the overhead bin.  A different flight attendant came over and asked me if she could put my purse in the bin.  I said, “If you must.”

I really wasn’t bitchy about it.  My voice was matter-of-fact.  I know they have their rules.  However, the damn purse was on the floor for the entire flight and no one said anything and I honestly didn’t hear them say that it had to be in the bin.  I had put it under my seat when we ascended.  So then the flight attendant said in a preachy voice (as if talking to a child), “I must because you are sitting in the exit row!” Fine.  The explanation wasn’t necessary, really, and I could have done without the holier than thou tone.

The other flight attendant who had been so nice made an impression on me.  I actually went to Delta’s Web site and sent a note complimenting her.  I had made a note of her name and wrote that I hoped they’d let her know that a passenger had appreciated her very pleasant personality.  Maybe random praise will help her get a promotion.

We were supposed to have a two hour layover in Atlanta.  Bill and I decided to have lunch at the Sweetwater Tavern.  Sweetwater is a craft beer made in the Atlanta area.  We used to drink it a lot when we lived near Atlanta.  The waitress ended up chatting with Bill about home brewing, which Bill started doing in earnest when we lived in Georgia.  We gave her some tips and it turned out the guy sitting near us was also a home brewer.  It was kind of neat being around all the beer geeks.

We left the tavern with a few minutes to go before we were supposed to board our flight.  It looked like we were going to get home early.  But then, just after Bill called the kennel to let them know, we got word that the plane we were supposed to board had a maintenance issue.  Once again, we were going to be delayed.

So then Bill struck up a conversation with a guy who turned out to be a lawyer in San Antonio.  Bill is taking a computer law class, so they had something to chat about.  I sat there and played with my phone.

Naturally, the plane was packed.  It was a very obnoxious flight and we were in the second to the last row, so there was a parade of people passing to go to the bathroom.  Some Army guy reclined in my lap and there were conversations so loud I could hear them through my noise canceling headphones.  That flight could not have ended soon enough.  And then, once it did, it took awhile to get our bags.  Mine came out quickly, but Bill’s took much longer.

When we got to the parking lot, we couldn’t find the damn car…  And then the road we needed to get on to get to Camp Bow Wow was under construction, forcing us to take a detour.  But we did finally get there and the boys were delighted to see us!  I even filmed our reunion.  There wasn’t any barking or howling, but there was a lot of kissing, tail wagging, and genuine happiness at being sprung from the joint.

Arran welcomes Bill home.

It always takes me days to get everything back to normal after a trip.  However, I always learn a lot when we travel.  This trip was no exception.  I think my next post will be about all the new things I know, now that I’ve gone to Spain and Portugal!

Standard
Uncategorized

Flight time!

Thursday, it became clear that we had some options for getting out of Spain.  Rota was offering two flights that would work for us.  One had a “showtime” of 00:10 very early Friday morning.  The other had a showtime of 5:55am.  Of course, I was inclined to choose the later flight.  Both were supposed to stop in Bangor, Maine and Warrensburg, Missouri.  The earlier flight had a final destination of Travis Air Force Base in California.  The other had a final destination of Charleston, South Carolina.  Bill and I ended up in Charleston the last time we did a Space A flight.  Of course, at that time, we were living in North Carolina.  Landing in South Carolina wasn’t such a great thing, though, since we left our car at BWI in Baltimore.  We ended up having to fly from Charleston to DC, where we took a series of subways and buses to get to the airport.  Yes, we could have flown directly to Baltimore from Charleston, but that would have required going on Southwest Airlines and I preferred not to do that.

Now that we live in Texas, we figured it was better for us to go to Missouri.  Stupidly, we figured we could get a direct flight from Kansas City, Missouri, since we had done it before.  Of course, that was in 2007 on a now defunct/merged airline.  But we didn’t know Thursday what we know now, which was that in order to get to Texas, we’d end up going through Atlanta again.

Anyway, Bill walked to the terminal to speak to the Space A folks.  He was told that the earlier flight was going to originate in Spain.  That meant that they might skip the Bangor stop.  The later flight was originating in Turkey, so that meant the crew would need to rest.  We’d end up overnighting in Bangor and probably trying to get commercial flights from there.  We decided to go for the earlier flight.

It almost looks like you could swim…

In the meantime, we had Thursday to kill in Rota.  We walked more around the town and went back down to the beach area.  The weather was pretty good and it was almost warm enough to take off our coats.

We stopped at a cafe and had a nice lunch.  I had ham croquettes and Bill had beef with Pedro Ximenez sauce.  I later learned that Pedro Ximenez refers to a sweet type of grape used to make wine.  Again, the area we were in is noted for its sherry.  Sure enough, the beef had a sweet sauce with raisins in it.  We both enjoyed a couple of beers before we walked back to the base to rest up for the evening.  I had to pee like a racehorse by the time we got to the gate, so we stopped at Baskin Robbins to see if they had a restroom.  They didn’t, but we got some ice cream anyway.

We walked to our room and I took a nap while Bill washed clothes.  While I don’t really enjoy military lodging, I can’t deny that having washing machines available is a huge plus.  It really cut down on the wash I’d have to do when we got home.

At about 11:00 or so, we checked out of the hotel.  We thought we were going to have to walk to the terminal, but it turned out taxis can get on base.  One picked us up and delivered us to the almost deserted terminal.  Bill noticed an older couple sitting near the sign up area.  He noted that those same folks were there earlier in the day and perhaps either declined to fly out or weren’t able to.

There were fifteen seats available on our flight and only seven people claimed them.  One was a dad with his three kids, all heading to California.  There was Bill and me and a guy who was a Seabee.  His wife was in the Navy and stationed at Rota, while he was the equivalent of a Naval Reservist.  He had to go to Virginia to drill.  The elderly couple seemed interested in our flight until they were told we wouldn’t be stopping in Bangor after all.  I’m guessing they must have stayed in the terminal for the next flight.  If so, that’s a long ass time to sit around an airport.  The Rota terminal offers free WiFi, though, so that’s one way to pass the time.

In any case, the flight was free, save for the $12 Bill paid for two boxes of food.  We didn’t even have to do that, really, since we were provided with snacks that were pretty generous.  They also gave us blankets and pillows, which was a good thing.  It got a bit cold on the plane.  I also had my own blanket and pillow and was actually able to sleep for a few hours on the floor.  I almost never sleep on planes.

The box of food.

We were on a C17, which is a huge Air Force plane that usually carries cargo.  We flew on one on our last hop back to the USA.  That time, the cargo was “hazardous”… probably ammunition or the like.  This time, we flew back to America with two big Apache helicopters!  There were two female senior airmen who were the “loadmasters” and they were very professional.  I enjoyed the safety briefing one of them gave us about what to do if the aircraft depressurized.  We put in ear plugs because those planes are not as insulated as passenger planes are and they are very loud.  I also had Bose noise canceling headphones, which were a Godsend.

This is the plane we were on last time we went Space A… very similar to the one we got in Rota.

 

As far as I’m concerned, flying on Air Force planes is the best way to travel.  A lot of times, you sit along the side of the plane, so no one reclines in your lap.  The crew is very laid back.  No one cares if you listen to your iPod or play with your iPad as you take off.  When the plane is in the air, you can lie down on the floor and sleep if you want to.  Some people even bring sleeping bags or air mattresses.  Baggage limits are liberal and you don’t have to pay for them.  The food is usually pretty good or at least edible and doesn’t stink.  And you get to fly home with helicopters!  I love it!

Inside the aircraft!

I got a kick out of these ads, obviously targeting Americans…

Adios Espana!

Standard
Uncategorized

Off to Rota!

The morning of Wednesday, January 22nd, Bill and I finally ventured to the tapas bar directly next to our hotel, Las Columnas.  We had noticed the place was often packed with locals.  That shouldn’t have turned us off, since any place where there are a lot of locals is usually going to be decent.  But I don’t like crowds and the place looked like it was one of those establishments where you sort of stand at the bar.  Nevertheless, we didn’t feel like spending 20 euros for a hotel breakfast, so we went to this place a stone’s throw from our hotel.

We weren’t disappointed.  Granted, all we had was bread, butter, orange juice, and cafe con leche, all of which tasted fine.  What made this place a winner for both Bill and me is that it has a lot of character.  The guys running the bar had a lot of personality.  I’m sure they get a lot of tourists during the high season, but the guy who helped us seemed genuinely surprised to see us.

I got a kick out of watching the barman flirt with the ladies.  Two middle aged women sat near us and he said, “Hola, ninas!”  Granted, my Spanish sucks, but I understood that he was calling them young ladies.  They giggled at the joke, as did I.  When another table opened up that gave them more room, they moved and said to the barkeep, “Nos cambiamos.”  It was at that point that I realized that the few days we’d spent in Seville had been good for me.  Not as much English is spoken there, so I was forced to use my crappy Spanish skills.  I told Bill that he would get some brownie points at his job, since he works with people who speak fluent Spanish and Portuguese, since they work with militaries in Central and South America.  It’s nice to know that neither of us sucks at Spanish as much as we thought we did.

After breakfast, we checked out of our hotel.  The lady who checked us out told us that her family had a home and a boat in Rota, which made me think it must be a nice town.  We then got a taxi to the bus station.  There, we would buy tickets to Rota, since the little town near Cadiz is not serviced by a train.  I went to Cadiz in 1997.  It’s very close to Rota, though you’d kind of have to go over water to get there efficiently.  Anyway, we went to the wrong building first.  A lady working there said, “La proxima edificio…” and I understood that to mean “The next building.”  Yea me!

We spent about 22 euros for our tickets to Rota, which would make a stop in Jerez de la Frontera.  I knew that as the place where Harvey’s Bristol Cream sherry is made.  I remember seeing the vineyards for the sherry in 1997 as the train passed.  Since we were on a bus, we went through a different part of the city.  It took a little over an hour to get there… Bill and I were one of maybe a half dozen people who were on the full sized bus.  He sat next to me, which he didn’t have to do… but it’s nice to know he doesn’t mind sitting next to me and my substantial ass.

No, that’s not an actual bull on the hill…  It’s a big billboard looking thing.  Only in Spain!

 

When we stopped in Jerez, the bus rounded a corner where a guy in a leather jacket was unloading his car.  The bus almost hit him and the driver honked.  I happened to catch the disgusted look on the guy’s face.  Wish I could have seen the driver’s face.  I’m sure it said a lot.

Jerez has a lot of weird “art” on the road… like this disturbing sculpture in the middle of a roundabout, and the horses and waving Michelin Man below…

 


The rest of the ride to Rota was easy enough.  In fact, it kind of reminded me of Texas.  I saw lots of cactus and crappy little shanties on the side of the road.  We pulled into the bus station, which is tiny and very close to Rota’s main gate.  Bill had planned on us taking a taxi to the gate, but it was so close we just walked there.  We got our passes and, since we already got stamped into Europe when we arrived in Lajes, all we had to do was get passes so we could get on and off the base.

After that little detail, we approached the gate guard, who asked if I had my ID.  I did, but it was in my purse.  The guy shrugged and said never mind, which kind of surprised me.  We started walking to what we thought was the Navy Lodge, where Bill had made reservations for two nights.  I must say, hauling the bags wasn’t so easy, though I’m fitter than I appear.  We stopped at the first lodging we came to, which was right across the street from the Naval hospital.  It turned out we were at “Navy Gateway”, which is not the Lodge but offers rooms.  The ladies running Navy Gateway said they had rooms available; they were slightly cheaper; and the Gateway was a tiny bit closer to the PAX terminal than the Lodge was.  She said the Lodge was really more suited to families anyway.  So with our approval, she called the Lodge and switched our reservation.

The Navy Gateway in Rota offered accommodations very similar to the Mid Atlantic Lodge in Lajes.  We had a bedroom, a bathroom, and a sitting room.  There were two TVs, a microwave, a fridge, and the free laundry room (except for the soap).  Better yet, the toilet flushed better and there was a tub/shower instead of a tiny shower.  Even the toiletries were better.

I commented to Bill, “Looks like it’s true that the Navy offers better shit than the other services do.”  I was kidding, of course, but this lodging was slightly better.

We dropped off our bags and started walking back toward the gate so we could get a better look at Rota, which happens to be a cute town.  I was pretty hungry, since we had a light breakfast with no protein.  When I do that, I usually end up ravenous after a couple of hours.  We had to walk a ways before we finally found a bar that had food.  Once again, we ate meat on a stick accompanied by large Spanish beers.  The barman didn’t speak much English, but he did bring out some delicious carrots marinated in some kind of brine.  We had a beef skewer and a chicken skewer.  I felt much better after we ate.  I find as I get older, my tolerance for hunger and dropping blood sugar is not so good anymore.

Waiting for food and beer…

The view from where I was sitting…

After lunch, we walked down toward the beach and discovered that Rota has a big castle and a lighthouse.  There’s also a ferry, an Irish pub, and an American bar called “Honey Don’t Cry”.

Honey Don’t Cry!

Rootbeer signs on the wall near the pub…

Irish pub.  Would have liked to have tried this place.

Standard
Uncategorized

An extra day in Seville… and a run in with Romas…

Since we were originally planning to get to Rota Naval Base by Wednesday, the 22nd of January, we only booked two nights at the cute hotel we stayed in.  But then we realized there weren’t going to be any suitable flights out of Rota on Wednesday or Thursday.  I didn’t want to get there early and be stuck behind the gates of the base, because I knew we would be staying in Navy lodging.  I was also hungover as hell.  So I told Bill we should stay another day in Seville and check out the cathedral.  Bill was fretting a bit, but managed to get his office on the horn and get his leave extended.

A word about this whole “leave extension” thing.  It seems that if one is on active duty, in order to be eligible for Space A flights, one must be on leave.  If you let your leave expire before you get out of wherever it is you are, you can’t use Space A to get home.  So it was very important for Bill to get the leave extended through the weekend to give us more time to get a flight that would get us in the vicinity of where we needed to go.  There was a Wednesday flight from Rota to Germany, which we could have taken to get to Spangdahlem Air Base or Ramstein Air Base, both of which offer Air Force flights.  But we decided to take a risk and plan to stay in Rota.  More on that, later…

So, with the help of a former Army co-worker and Facebook friend, Bill got word to his office that he needed the weekend.  His request was approved and he could finally relax a bit.  We asked for one more night in the hotel and naturally got charged a higher rate since I had booked a cheap room and we were put in a superior room (and charged the cheaper rate).  I was surprised the room was considered “superior”, but then I realized that we had a window that actually sort of had a view of the street as opposed the inside of the hotel.

The nice thing about being in Seville on Tuesday is that the cathedral stays open a bit later.  So once I had recovered more from my hangover, Bill and I headed over to Seville’s gorgeous, humongous, impressive cathedral.  I had been in the cathedral before when I visited Seville with my sister in 1997, but somehow I forgot you have to pay to go in there if you’re just going for cultural reasons.  It’s worth paying, I guess.  There is a small museum you walk through before you go into the massive structure itself.

A daytime view of the cathedral…

 

An evening view of the cathedral from another angle.

As we were looking for the appropriate door by which to enter the cathedral, we were approached by several older ladies who were holding out rosemary sprigs.  I wasn’t sure who or what they were, though I have run into gypsies before, most recently in Athens, Greece, when one of them said I look like Angelina Jolie (I really don’t.  She was either trying to flatter me or had serious cataracts).  But I hadn’t run into the scam these women were running.  They could have passed for Spanish women involved with the church.

There was a little voice in my head telling me to ignore these women, but they were very pushy and before I knew it, I was reaching for the sprig. So was Bill.  Then one of the women started to talk about Romanian blessings and got too close to Bill, who still has a wee touch of PTSD from his time in Iraq.  She pushed him toward the wall, alarming him.  He yelled “No!” and held up his hand just as I also stepped away from one of the other women.  Bill’s reaction apparently startled the women and they quickly walked away from us.

The side door is where you go when you want to visit the cathedral…  This is close to where we were accosted. 

I was merely annoyed by the encounter, but Bill was really shaken up.  We went to the front of the cathedral and there were a couple of flamenco dancers performing beautifully on the street.  I was enjoying watching them, oblivious to Bill’s lingering discomfort over his run in with the Roma women.

Front door of the cathedral, near where the dancers were.  Wish I’d gotten a photo.

We finally got into the cathedral and I was wandering around, snapping photos and looking at all the stained glass.  Suddenly, I turned to Bill, who had tears running down his cheeks.  This is a normal thing for Bill in cathedrals.  He is usually overwhelmed by their vastness and ornate decor.  I’ve seen him cry many times in many cathedrals in Europe.  But this time, he really seemed upset rather than moved.  I put my arm around him and asked him if he was okay.  He told me that he was overcome by a combination of powerful feelings… the beauty of the cathedral and his usual reactions to such beauty was colliding violently with his perception that we had been violated by the Roma women.

God’s eye…

He said, “I haven’t felt like this since I was downrange!”

I wiped his tears and listened to him tell me how angry he was about running into these women, trolling the touristed area around the cathedral, which is supposed to be a holy place.  Shame on them for screwing with people that way.

I asked Bill if they had managed to steal anything.  He said they hadn’t, other than the positive experience he was hoping to have in the cathedral.  Although he was very shaken up, he couldn’t deny that Seville’s cathedral is amazing.  But I’m afraid those Roma women gave it an unpleasant color he won’t forget anytime soon.

Beautiful stained glass and ornate sculptures…

I would have loved to have heard this organ…

 

The courtyard… full of orange trees!

 

On the way out…

On a positive note, I think we had our very best meal of the trip on Tuesday.  We happened to find a small restaurant/bar in a quiet section of the Jewish Quarter.  I was attracted to it by the way it smelled.  Leave it to me to follow my nose to find the best food.  I was a little tired of tapas, so you can imagine how delighted I was when we sat down at a table and I noticed one of the specialties of the house was dorada.  

 
Bill was still a little upset…

I discovered dorada when Bill and I lived in Germany and frequented Greek restaurants.  It’s a delicious, mild, white, flaky fish that is usually pretty pricey.  We spent a lot of money on dorada at a touristy restaurant in Athens, though I’d had it several times in Germany for less money.  It’s still usually  a rather expensive dish by my experience.  But at this particular place, I could have it for about 12 euros.  Cheap!

I love dorada!

Bill ended up with a skewer of beef and vegetables that hung from a hook over his plate and came with delicious fries.  I love the way fried potatoes are done in Europe.

That hook looks like an IV pole.

Check out the huge wine glass on the bar!

We drank fizzy water, since I was still nursing a hangover.  The waiter in this place, which was overwhelmingly populated with locals, was just awesome.  He was quick, cheerful, and friendly and he brought out the best meals of our trip.  We finished with a round of espresso and a couple of complimentary glasses of orange wine.  Needless to say, I recommend Casa Antonio- Bar Los Caracoles to anyone visiting Seville.  Here is a link to another appreciative blogger’s post about this establishment.

Outside of the restaurant…

As the day wore on, we were starting to wind down.  As much as I like Seville, I was kind of ready to get to Rota.  I wanted to see a different place and there always comes a point in a vacation when you start thinking about getting home and getting back to normal life.  The longest vacation I ever took was a month.  As much as I enjoyed seeing all I saw on that trip, I also recognized that after a couple of weeks, I start longing for a sense of normalcy and the ability to do laundry at will… and I missed my computer too, since I was wanting to write and can’t really so well on my iPad.  I think I need to invest in a laptop for our trips.  That will take care of at least one issue related to staying on vacation for “too long”.  Of course, since Bill has to retire, these long and frequent vacations may soon be a thing of the past anyway.

Flamenco dresses…

To make matters worse, I started my period.  That seems to be my custom on these trips.  We went out to buy some Spanish feminine hygiene supplies and ended up getting sidetracked by my sudden desire to buy a silk flamenco shawl.  I had been wanting once since 1997 and almost got one in 2009 when we went to Barcelona.  But I was always put off by how expensive they are because they are made of silk and there’s a lot of handiwork on them.  You can get cheap ones, but I wanted one that was better quality.  I found one I loved in the window, but the price was 390 euros…  So I opted for a less expensive one that was on sale for 150 euros (a little over $200).  It’s turquoise and very beautiful.  Maybe next time, I’ll spring for the really expensive one.  Too bad I don’t have anyone to pass it down to when I die.

I thought about taking Bill to a flamenco show.  I went to one the last time I was in Seville.  But Bill wasn’t into watching dancing, so we skipped it.  I kind of regret it now, though.  Seeing those two dancers near the cathedral reminded of me of how graceful and beautiful flamenco is.

I had to take a photo of this horse.  I used to have an Appaloosa, which is a familiar spotted horse here in the United States.  I am not sure, but I think the above horse might be a Knabstrupper, which is a Danish horse breed that shares some of the same genetics as Appaloosas do.  I believe the Knabstrups were a bit endangered at one point, so I think some Appaloosas were imported to help save the breed.  Anyway, regardless of whether this horse is an Appaloosa or a Knabstrup, it was very cool to see a spotted horse among all the bays, grays, and chestnuts.

One last shot…

 

We ended up at yet another tapas bar for dinner.  It was probably my least favorite of all the places we went to.  The bartender wasn’t all that friendly and the menu and the wine wasn’t all that exciting.  In retrospect, we should have gone back to Casa Antonio- Bar Caracoles again.  Won’t make that mistake again if we go to Seville.

Our last dinner in Seville…

After we ate dinner, we had a nightcap at the first tapas restaurant we came to when we first arrived in Seville.  Props to the waiter for remembering us.  Even though there weren’t too many American tourists around Seville during our visit, I don’t think we’re that distinctive.  I got a kick out of using their restroom because the toilets had a little target in them.  I’ve heard of them in men’s rooms, but even the women’s room had one.  It was a picture of a glass of beer.  I’m guessing it was directed toward women who insist on hovering over the seat instead of sitting down.

Standard
Uncategorized

Hammam, carriage ride, funny bum, and way too much wine…

I booked our appointment at Aire for 12:00pm.  That left us with our morning to wander around Seville.  It was Monday and Bill was starting to fret about how we were going to get out of Spain and make it back to Texas in time for his leave to end at 11:59pm Texas time on Thursday, the 23rd.  I, of course, was annoyed with Bill for not arranging for leave through the weekend.  He later explained that he wanted to get to the office to take care of some stuff for a briefing with his boss.  But as we watched the flights leaving Rota Naval Base in Rota, Spain, it wasn’t looking like we’d be able to get out of Spain in time for Bill to get home before his leave ended.

Breakfast!

Because Bill is hyper-responsible, he was super stressed out.  So we went for a walk and ended up passing a bunch of guys with horses and carriages.  One of them approached us and asked if we wanted to take a carriage ride.  They started at 11:00, when the cathedral opened.  I asked how long the ride would take, since we had the hammam appointment at noon.  The guy said it took an hour.  I said we’d have to do it in the afternoon because we didn’t have time at that point.

Alphonso XIII…  A very expensive hotel…

As we headed toward the Guadalquivir River, we were accosted by a pushy woman wanting us to sign up for a Hop On, Hop Off tour.  I was immediately turned off by her approach and also realized that for us, the bus tour would not be a particularly good buy, since we like to walk a lot.  I listened to her spiel and finally said, “I don’t think we’re interested.”  That seemed to piss her off, but at least we were able to cross the street.

We walked past the naval museum and along the river, then crossed into the beautiful park near the palace.  Bill and I were engaged in conversation when I got bombed by a pigeon of some sort.  Then I spotted some swans and ducks, so we turned toward there, just in time to see some guy hastily zip up his pants.  Apparently, we had interrupted him as he took a piss.

Rental bikes in Seville…

Naval museum

We walked along the street in front of the palace, then headed back toward the hotel, so I could pick up my bathing suit.  We went looking for Aire and, of course, got a bit lost in Seville’s narrow streets.  I think we might have been a little late when we finally found the place.

Aire offers two hour sessions in which you can get massages or other treatments and soak in one of five pools or sit in a eucalyptus scented steam room.  You’re supposed to speak in a low voice, drink lots of water and tea, and relax.  It was just what Bill needed.  Of course, it turned out that many staff members at Aire didn’t speak much English, so we had to rely on our crappy Spanish skills to figure out what to do.  I actually could understand a lot of the Spanish, but my ability to speak it is almost nil now.

The outside of Aire…

I wasn’t completely understanding what we were supposed to do, but managed to get into my swimsuit and found my way around the peaceful facility.  The lights were dim; there was relaxing music; and had it not been for a couple of chattering Spanish ladies, it would have been a very calming experience.  Bill and I only got fifteen minute massages.  I kind of wish I’d gotten a longer one, but I’d read on TripAdvisor that the massages weren’t all that great.  I ended up with a pretty good masseuse, though.  We rotated around the salt pool, jetted pool, and warm, hot, and cold pools until we heard the chime letting us know our time was up.

After we went to the hammam, we visited what turned out to be a chain restaurant called Robles.  Once again, we ordered too much food.  The restaurant was pretty quiet and I noticed a manager type walking around, looking like he was proctoring an exam or something.

Where we had lunch…

Bill’s avocado and goat cheese starter.  I skipped this because I don’t like strong cheese.

My starter… fried prawns!

Bill’s beef and potatoes.

Chicken and garlic.

Dessert!  Everybody loves a parfait, right?

After lunch, we took our carriage ride, though not from the guy who had asked us if we wanted one.  Our driver did not speak any English, but we were able to understand much of what he said.  He had a grey mare who seemed a little nervous in the heavy traffic we drove through.  As he was pointing out places of interest along our route, the driver got a call on his cell phone.  Bill and I chuckled, since the guy’s ringtone was a horse neighing.  The driver insisted on taking pictures of me and Bill in his carriage.  I’m grateful they mostly turned out okay.  I hate the way I photograph.  When we got back to the starting point, I managed to tell the guy that I used to have a horse.  We bonded and he told me his mare’s name is Rosilla.  I petted the horse and we went on our way.

That evening, we ended up at this great bar near our hotel.  Bill and I wanted some wine, though we were still pretty full from lunch.  Our server was a fatherly man who was intent on teaching me how to order shrimp fritters.  I was enjoying the music in the bar, which was all from the 80s, so we sat there and drank a shitload of wine.  The second bottle was from Jerez de la Frontera, which is where Harvey’s Bristol Cream sherry is made.  The quality was excellent and the bottle wasn’t too expensive, but it packed quite a wallop at 15% alcohol.

I ended up getting pretty hammered… and when a bum came in looking for handouts, I ended up in a funny exchange with him.  He flirted with me as a means of mock begging.  I laughed in response and Bill gave him a couple of euros.  Later, when he continued to engage, I laughed again and told him to “beat it”.  He took his leave with a courtly bow.  Sadly, I don’t quite remember the end of the evening… at least until we got to the hotel and my body kicked out some of the booze.

Information center…

There are buildings related to Spanish speaking countries in Seville…

Beautiful park

Swans!

Palace views!

Standard
Uncategorized

Beautiful Seville by bullet train!

The morning of January 19th, we awoke to chilly, rainy weather in Madrid.  Not wanting to hunt around for food, we decided to have breakfast at Pans & Company, a Spanish fast food chain that emphasizes “healthy” options.  I discovered Pans & Company in 1997, when my travel buddies and I found it in Barcelona.  It’s especially known for its bocadillos, sandwiches that Spaniards like eating as snacks.

I had orange juice, coffee, and a chocolate pastry.  Bill had a more savory option.  While we were in there, a young couple with a cute little daughter came in.  I was heartened to see how her parents cooperated in looking after her.  She was basically well-behaved for her age, but I could also tell she was a bit of a handful.  For fast food, Pans & Company offers an inexpensive yet decent quality breakfast.  It was a lot more economical than the 10 euro per person buffet the hotel was offering.

Eats from Pans & Company…

We checked out of the hotel and took a cab to the train station.  I have to say, the Atocha station in Madrid seemed a lot nicer this time than it was when I was last there in 1997.  We were there a bit early for our train, so we hit a wine bar and enjoyed a nice glass of rioja.

Nice palm garden at the Atocha train station…

The view from our table…

 

Bill enjoys his vino…

After we had our wine, Bill visited the one and only pay toilet we encountered on our trip.  The train station had an automated toilet that cost 60 euro cents, but allowed you to go twice if you needed to.  Of course, once we went through security to get on the train, I noticed there were free toilets.  I guess they do that to keep the bums from abusing the train station’s public bathrooms.  

 

I had taken the AVE train to Seville before and it was in second class.  I remember it being a decent experience.  It was this time, too.  The seats were comfortable and our car wasn’t full of people.  The 300+ mile journey was knocked out in about two hours and twenty minutes and we whizzed through beautiful Spanish countryside.  I listened to music the whole way, enjoying the ride immensely.

 

Bill prepares to take his seat on the train…

We arrived in Seville to sunny skies and relative warmth.  It wasn’t *warm* per se, but it was definitely not as cold and bitter as Madrid was.  A cab took us to our hotel, Hotel Casa 1800, a cute boutique hotel in the Jewish Quarter.  I promised Bill he would love Seville.  It is my favorite Spanish city.

Bill’s first gaze at Seville…

 

After we checked in, we went across the street for a late lunch, where we were immediately confronted by a waiter who had obviously dealt with a lot of Americans.  He was kind of pushy about what he thought we wanted.  We had some cava and he was pushing a fish platter, but I opted for a meat platter instead, which Bill and I shared.  It was actually very good.  There was chicken, skirt steak, and pork, as well as salad.  It really hit the spot.

Mucho meat!

 

We walked around the Santa Cruz area and I showed Bill the very no frills hostel Becky and I stayed in during our last visit.  Then we ran across Aire, a hammam (Turkish bath).  I had read about this spa as I was researching our Space A trip in 2012.  I thought we might end up in Spain then.  But then I forgot about it.  This spa/hammam is located on a very secluded street.  I knew I wanted to try it.  Bill hadn’t brought a bathing suit, but the hammam provides them if you need one.  I booked us an appointment for the next morning.

Camembert and strawberry sauce…

Tapas sized paella…

Potatoes and cheese…

Ham croquettes

Later, we went to another tapas place and ordered way too much food.  We actually went in there because I needed to pee, but stayed because it was kind of an interesting place.  A street musician came in and asked if he could play for money.  He turned out to be kind of a funny guy.  We gave him a couple of euros and watched as people went to mass.  A large chapel was close to the bar and it was easy to see people come and go to church.

As we walked back to the hotel, I gazed around Seville at the bountiful orange trees that hung heavy with fruit.  Some of the oranges had fallen and were smashed by passing cars navigating the winding, tight streets of Seville’s barrio.  We passed Seville’s enormous cathedral and enjoyed the sights and sounds of mostly local people.  January is a great time to visit Seville.


These tiles are all over the place in Seville…

The tower at Seville’s cathedral…

I had to take a picture of this… it’s kind of a Carlin quote.

 
Standard
Uncategorized

Tickets to Seville and The Prado… and an amazing taste of real Spain

During my last visit to Madrid, my sister Becky and I visited the Prado museum.  I distinctly remember that we didn’t have time to see much because we needed to catch a train.  Also, Becky was in a foul mood and had pretty much cussed me out in a nearby park.  But Becky’s an artist and has the temperament to match her talent, so there you go.  Anyway, Bill loves to look at art and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more interested in it.  So we decided to go to The Prado and check out the exhibits.

Yummy churros con chocolate…

But first, there was some business we needed to attend to.  I wanted to go to Seville, which is my favorite Spanish city thus far.  So, after a cheap and very satisfying breakfast of churros and chocolate at an Asian owned bar near our hotel, we went by metro to the Atocha train station, one of Madrid’s two big stations.  It was interesting to take the Madrid metro again after so many years.  Bill observed that the machines offered directions in English, but there weren’t any attendants around.  So we had to be a bit more intuitive as we determined where we needed to go.

We got to the train station and made our way to the RENFE office so we could buy our tickets.  I sort of dreaded doing this, since the last time I visited Spain, I encountered some very unpleasant people in the Atocha train station.  I’m happy to report that this time, the woman who helped us was very nice and even admired Bill’s squiggly signature which doesn’t resemble a name.  She pronounced it “clever” and then made fun of all the people who signed so carefully on the credit card machine.  All the machine really cares about is that someone scribbled something in the right place.

We ended up with two tourist level tickets for the 1:00 train.  I would have opted for “club class” had the clerk offered it, but as it turned out, second class was a lot cheaper and plenty comfortable.  More on that in my next post about our bullet train ride to Seville.

Anyway, I remembered that the Prado Museum was very close to the train station.  My memory didn’t fail me.  All we had to do was cross the street and walk a little ways and there it was.

The Prado…

A cathedral near the Prado…

We got to the museum at 11:20 am and got tickets to the special temporary exhibit for 11:45am.  The exhibit was on the Velasquez family of Philip IV and it was surprisingly interesting.  Indeed, I was marveling at how much of art is also a history lesson.  After we looked at the Velasquez exhibit, we looked at some sketch books of Spanish artists who went to Rome to learn technique.  That was an even more interesting exhibit, given all that went into the training and the varying levels of talent among the artists.

The permanent exhibit is absolutely huge and takes hours to get through.  We saw a good portion of the  museum, but I finally wimped out after about three hours.  There was so much to see that I didn’t feel like my brain could process much more.  I’m really glad we took the time to see this museum, though.  It was well worth the price of admission.  One of the favorite parts of my visit was getting to see an amazing copy of the Mona Lisa…  Check out this link from CNN for a glimpse!

The walk back to Puerta del Sol…

We walked back to our hotel from the Prado, then headed for the Puerta del Sol area, which is sort of the heart of Madrid.  I found us a nice family owned restaurant not directly in the line of tourism and we had paella and beer for lunch.  I think it was Bill’s first taste of paella and he really enjoyed it.

Bill had chocolate and I had vanilla for dessert…

Mickey and Minnie Mouse were in Puerta del Sol…  So were Bart and Homer Simpson and Spongebob Squarepants.

We went back to our hotel, where I proceeded to take another long nap.  I guess the Prado affected me more than I realized.  Once I woke up, it was time for dinner and we went walking in search of a place for something to eat.  I didn’t want to go back to the Puerta del Sol area, because it was very crowded and busy and I didn’t feel like fighting crowds.  But I also didn’t want to sit in a crowded place near our hotel.  After walking around a bit, we finally stopped at a deserted looking bar.

The place was not the usual sort of establishment I would choose, but I was tired and just wanted to get something simple to eat.  Little did I know, that sad little bar would turn into an amazing cultural experience.  We walked in, sat down, and ordered two beers.  I ordered chicken wings and Bill ordered Serrano ham, which is just as good as Iberian ham, but less expensive.  The legs of ham were right up there at the bar and we watched the bartender carve some for us.  The bartender also brought us Russian salad and potato cakes.

Bill eats ham and bread…

Those chicken wings were delicious.

 It was pretty slow at the beginning of the night…

We drank beer and wine…

As the night wore on, we seemed to endear ourselves to the bartender, who brought us olives.  More people came in, including a guy who looked like he was into sports.  A little while later, his girlfriend came in.  She was tall, a bit overweight, and wore an extremely low cut blouse that showed off her boobs.  My face must have registered shock because next thing I know, she was whispering to her man.  He gave me a dirty look.  Then I saw her turn around and she had zipped up her jacket to cover her breasts.

I felt a little badly at first.  I didn’t mean to embarrass her.  But I honestly was surprised to see her boobs.  They left and Bill and I kept drinking.  The owner of the bar brought out more tapas we didn’t order.  It was clear that if you were drinking, they were feeding you.

I got up to go to the bathroom.  There was no toilet paper in the toilet, which was not very clean.  Fortunately, I had tissues that I had gotten on our Scottish cruise on Hebridean Princess in 2012.  They really came in handy.  I left a few for the next gal to come along.

The owner brought of empanadas and potatoes and bacon… I finally had to look up at him with a look that said I was about to explode…  though it was a lot of fun watching the crowd.  Football was on the TV and we got to see some Spanish ads, which are a hell of a lot more entertaining than American ads are.  One that we saw several times involved a naked man running through the streets.  His private parts were blurred out; but still, you’d never see that in America.

When we were in Scotland, a kind-hearted cabbie gave me a “wee Scottish tartan umbrella” to help fend off the frigid, damp weather.  Bill brought it with us on our trip and had taken it along on that night at the crazy Spanish bar in Madrid.  He was a bit buzzed and forgot to take it with him when we left.  I was a little sad, since that umbrella had sentimental value.  But then I realized we had traded one cultural experience for another.  And honestly, that bar was obviously run by guys who weren’t into neatness.  I bet the umbrella is still sitting where we sat and will be there awhile.  We noticed that there was a lot of trash on the floor and no one seemed too worried about picking it up.  On the other hand, we had a wonderful time.  When I protested all the food, the guy who was bringing it out gave me a “never mind” look and rubbed his stomach as he licked his lips.  Too funny!

The front of the infamous Spanish bar…

 We passed a gay bar on the way back to our hotel and I couldn’t resist snapping these photos.

Standard
Uncategorized

Air Europa and Madrid…

The last time I was in Madrid, it was September 1997.  I was 25 years old and broke, on my way home from my Peace Corps assignment in Armenia and traveling with friends.  We arrived by train from Barcelona and stayed in a cheap hotel in the Puerta del Sol area.  I remember hearing U2 play in my room, as they were promoting their album, Pop, at a concert that was playing in town.  My sister joined me in Madrid and I parted ways with my friends.

My sister and I were not particularly compatible travel companions and I don’t think I got as much out of Spain as I should have during that trip.  I was also preoccupied by worry and the prospect of finding a job and going home, where I would end up living with my parents for two arduous years.

Since Bill had never been to Madrid or any other city in Spain aside from Barcelona, I determined that we needed to go there.  The train seemed like it would take too long, so I searched for plane tickets.  As it turned out, Air Europa, a somewhat new airline based in Spain, offered cheap tickets from Lisbon to Madrid.  The catch was that the flight would leave early in the morning.  However, these tickets were over $100 less per person than the others I found for sale.  For about $200, Bill and I could fly from Lisbon to Madrid much faster and probably more cheaply than we could go by train.  Since there was a time change in Spain, we’d arrive at about 10:00am, giving us plenty of time to see the city.

I booked the tickets.  In retrospect, it was a good thing that I didn’t read the reviews written about Air Europa before I booked, or I might have been scared off.  Our experience was actually pretty decent.  We checked our bags and headed to the gate.  It turned out the plane was pretty small, with two by one seating.  Everyone with a bag of any size had to check it, so I was relieved of my carry on before I got on the aircraft.

Our flight was no frills.  The lone flight attendant didn’t pass out any snacks or beverages and there was no entertainment.  But honestly, I didn’t miss the lack of amenities.  We had a smooth, safe flight and all our luggage got to the destination.  We did have to pick up my carry on after we got off the plane, but the other two bags were at baggage claim, safe and sound.

The views on the way into Madrid…

We walked out of Madrid’s Barajas Airport and got a cab.  Refreshingly enough, our cab driver was female and very friendly.  It was 30 euros to get to our hotel, Hotel Atlantico, which was located on the Gran Via.  I didn’t know it when I booked, but this hotel used to be a Best Western.  But it was actually a pretty nice place to stay.  We booked a cheap room with a view into a shaft.  Since the weather was rainy and cold, that wasn’t a huge deal.  The room was ready on our arrival, so we dropped our bags and then went exploring.

I had forgotten how grand and ornate Madrid is.

I think this was a stage production of Dinner With Schmucks…

I had to take a photo of a restaurant called Nebraska.  It just struck me as weird.

Someone with a Jim Morrison fetish made this… “This Is The End”

We found a great restaurant here called Roll.  I think it might have been owned by Spanish-Americans, since it boasted a Spanish-American menu.  Plus, I heard a guy come in who obviously was important there and he had a distinctly American accent.

We got to Roll before 1:00pm, which is when the kitchen opened.  It was cold outside, so we decided to drink some rioja while we waited.

Bill and I enjoy munchies while we wait.  Unlike Portugal, it seems that in Spain, the pre-meal munchies are free…

First courses.  That tomato soup was absolutely delicious and perfect for a cold afternoon.

 
 

I originally ordered the chicken in front of Bill, but it was loaded with mushrooms, which I can’t eat. We switched plates and I got the fish and chips, which were surprisingly good.

We were too full for dessert, but we did enjoy coffee and another glass of wine.  The waitress had some leftover from a recent wine tasting.  All in all, it was a very nice meal and I’m delighted we stumbled across this place.  Here’s a write up by someone else who liked Roll, too.

The following photos were shots I took on the way back to the hotel.  We decided to go back and take a quick nap.

Ham is BIG in Spain… and it’s uniformly delicious.

Love the blurry photo of the Spanish dancer mannequin…

Fans!

At one point, we looked inside a cathedral and I took a couple of photos.

Right after I took a picture of the above cathedral, I took a picture of this door.  Suddenly, an older woman in a thick white coat started yelling at me.  I don’t know what she said because I wasn’t listening until I heard her say “camera”.   She seemed a bit strange, so Bill and I ignored her and left the area.  She must have lived in the area because we saw her several times over the course of our two days in Madrid.

Plaza Mayor

I was eager to show Bill this Spanish landmark.  The weather was chilly and rainy and the plaza was overrun with a lot of homeless folks.  However, there was yet another great street musician playing guitar there and the plaza is still pretty impressive despite the smell of stale urine and sight of the downtrodden seeking shelter there. The last time I was in Madrid, I stayed in a hotel very near this landmark.  I was surprised I still remembered so well how to get around.

Just beyond the Plaza Mayor, there was a great food market that had all sorts of tempting food and drink.  Bill and I went in there to warm up with some hot beverages.

My hot chocolate…

After we left the food market, we walked back to the area around our hotel and looked for dinner.

The storefront of El Corte Ingles.  This is a pretty cool Spanish department store chain that seems a lot like Harrod’s.  I remember stopping there when I was traveling with my friends in 1997.

We had dinner at a small bar called Desengano 13.  Bill ordered Iberian ham, which is made from pigs who have eaten acorns.  It’s quite delicious.

We also had fried cheese tapas dressed with balsamic vinegar…  I drank fizzy water and a little wine…  

All in all, it was a successful day in Madrid.  Stay tuned for my post about the Prado museum.

Standard
Uncategorized

Old town Lisbon and the Museum of Beer…

As much fun as we had in the Oriente area of Lisbon, I knew we needed to go to the old part of the city to truly get a taste for Lisbon.  Bill and I decided to take the metro to get to that area.  But first, I needed to find a post office, so I could drop a couple of postcards in the mail to a friend.  As luck would have it, there is a big post office in the train/bus/metro station in the Oriente area.  After we mailed the postcards, we went to the metro area and tried to figure out Lisbon’s subway system.  As it turns out, it’s not all that intuitive.  The ticket machines are not in English.  Bill ended up asking an attendant, who was very helpful and told us which trains we needed to take and the correct stop to get off on in order to be downtown.  It wasn’t too hard to get from Oriente to Rossio, but I must say, it was quite an interesting change of pace.

The area around the Rossio stop is nothing at all like the Oriente area.  As we emerged from the underground, it was like we had entered a new world.  Suddenly, all the buildings were old and a bit grimy.  A large castle sat on a hillside and there were many people begging for money.  It seemed a lot more like Europe.

Roasted chestnuts

We saw several people selling roasted chestnuts around the main square.  We walked down a crowded boulevard and ended up at yet another large plaza near the waterfront.  Guents Dy Rincon, A band from Cape Verde was playing music.  I was entertained, so I took a couple of photos.  The young black man dancing approached me and asked if I wanted to buy a CD for ten euros.  We ended up getting one because I like buying music from street performers.  The music is described as “spiritual traditional acoustic music”.  I haven’t had a chance to listen to it yet, but I liked what I heard them do live, so I’m sure I’ll like it.

Someone else shot this video and posted it on YouTube.  This is Guents Dy Rincon.

Another example of their music, shot by a different YouTuber.

The following photos are scenes of the old town area of Lisbon.

I took these two nighttime shots of the castle with different settings on my camera.  We had a beautiful full moon!

After we listened to the band and watched a guy in a wheelchair wheel himself backwards at a very high speed, we wandered over to what was advertised as a “Museum of Beer”.  On the way there, we heard a couple of vastly inferior street musicians trying to cover Bob Marley’s “Jamming” and doing a pretty piss poor job of it.  I was ready for beer by the time we reached the building, which turned out to be part small beer museum, part restaurant, and part bar.  For three euros, you get to see the exhibit, which includes a small beer sample and information about Portugal’s beer culture.  The Museum of Beer only offers beers from Portugal or Portuguese speaking countries like Brazil and Angola.  I was surprised not only by how good the beer was, but by how widespread Portugal’s influence has been.  The exhibit wasn’t large, but it was very interesting.  I’m glad we made time for it.

Here’s an interesting article about this museum…

Bill poses with a “monk” in the museum exhibit.

Part of the beer exhibit.  It was interesting, but I was much more inclined to hit the bar and drink some beer.

Sagres blonde on draft.

Sagres dark on draft.

Bill decides if he wants a draft or bottled beer.  The museum offers local beers on tap and bottled beers from other Portuguese speaking countries in bottles.  They also have very cool glasses that I kind of wish I’d bought for our own collection. 

A shot of the bar area…

I think the bartender got a kick out of us because we sure drank our fair share.  I knew I would regret it on the way back to Oriente, especially since none of the metro stations seemed to have any restrooms, even though they did have shops and cafes.  Needless to say, the trains didn’t have potties either.  Kind of made me miss Germany, where the S Bahns usually have facilities, even if they aren’t the most sanitary.

iPhone versions of the castle…

On the way back to Oriente, I really had to pee…  I kind of felt like this guy as I pranced back to the metro.  

 

I got a kick out of the notice at the bottom of the page of this menu, warning against alcohol abuse.  It was on every page…  Unfortunately, it didn’t work for me.  The Museum of Beer did me in.

Dessert!

 

All in all, we enjoyed Lisbon.  I wouldn’t mind going back, though I’d probably stay in a different part of the city.  When we got back to the hotel room, we decided it was time to go to Spain.  After a quick dinner at the Hippopotamus Restaurant at the hotel, we booked cheap tickets on an early flight on Air Europa to Madrid and two nights at Hotel Atlantico.

Standard