My last full day in Spain was spent with the lovely and always entertaining José Vaquero, whom I met at camp.
August 4 and 5, 2008.
I left the hotel and got into a much friendlier cab than my first in Cordoba and made it to the train station just in time. The high speed train from Cordoba to Madrid was like silk. It travels at 270km/hr (they have a little spedometer you can watch) and has very roomy seats in tourist class (2nd class). It got us to Madrid in an hour and a half. That is unbelievable! To drive would be like 4 or 5 hours. I napped a little bit, and couldn't believe it when we got there ahead of schedule.
I had planned on taking a cab to the bus staion, but I thought, heck, I am making such good time, why not save some money and take the metro. I actually managed to take the correct train in the correct direction to get from Atocha to the bus station. This is a feat for me in the Madrid metro, especially when I have all my luggage with me.
I got to the bus station at 11. My bus was at 11:30, all I had to do was buy my ticket. The line ups in the main madrid bus station are something that should be legend. I got into the ALSA, I was probably the 30th person. Unlike at the train station, they don't have a "next bus" line so if you need to get a ticket ASAP, you can. I got to the front of the line at about 11:22, keep in mind I was wearing my pack the whole time, the woman told me "We don't have a bus that goes to Navalmoral". CRAP.
I looked over at the line for AUTORES (the other company) at least 20 people. There was no way I could get to the front of the line and down to the bus in 7 minutes. Sometimes, you can buy your ticket directly from the driver, so I ran (with my GIANT backpack) down to the terminal to see if I could do that. The driver was not friendly and was not about to help me out. A woman tried to console me and said "don't worry, there is another bus at 2!" I appreciated the sympathy, but having to wait an extra 2 and a half hours AND be late for José after I got up early in Cordoba and packed up all my stuff? I was not a happy camper.
I went upstairs and couldn't handle getting into line right away. I went and sat down in the cafeteria and put my stuff on the floor. A friendly Spanish man nearby suggested that I put my backpack and stuff up on a chair, as that would be easier and more comfortable for me than having it at my legs. I didn't do this at first, but when I wanted to buy a sandwhich, which was about 3 meters from my table, I decided it would be a good idea, so I could keep a constant eye on my stuff. I got my sandwhich and got back to eat it, when this odd lady sat down beside me. All of a sudden, she asked me if I was Spanish, (remember all these conversations are in Spanish) there was a big Canadian flag on my suitcase, so maybe this was a rhetorical question. I told her no I was not, and then she went into a huge diatribe about me putting my suitcase on the chair and how if she sat down in the chair her pants would get dirty and what was I thinking, and something about me not being Spanish (that part wasn't really clear to me). Just to get this wacky lady to shut up, I moved my suitcase to the floor, but I left my backpack, it is usually on my back, not the ground and it is friggin heavy. She seemed pleased, I was not. I am looking forward to coming home and being able to tell weird opinionated people to sod off, something I am not comfortable or that adept at doing in Spain.
The friendly man who told me to put the stuff up there in the first place gave me a very sympathetic look, that was nice.
After leaving the lady who needed to be in my business, I went to get into the line for AUTORES, which sadly, had doubled in number since I left. It now had about 40 people in it and I waited there for half an hour. Something with my backpack cuts off some of the circulation to my hands and so while standing there, my hands kept going numb. I got my ticket and when the bus came I got on without much ado.
I arrived in Navalmoral de la Mata, José's town and he was there at the bus station. He insisted on carrying my backpack to his apartment, which was only a 5 minute walk, but which he immidiately regretted. He later said for the trip back we would drive, I wouldn't allow it, and instead just insisted I carry the pack.
José is a wonderful host. He first let me have his bedroom and he slept in one of his guest rooms. Next, he had lunch all preprepared, pasta salad WITHOUT TUNA, because he remembered I don't like it, and GAZPACHO because he remembered from one of our outings that I did. What a guy!! The gazpacho was even home made from one of his friends, just for me! And it was delicious!
After lunch, we cleaned up and he asked me what I wanted to do. We decided to drive to a nearby town to go swimming. Where we went was a mountain stream coming off of the Sierra something or others in Extramadurra (the province we were in). It was gorgeous! It was also full of Spaniards, including, many of José's neighbors. José complained about how it was soo cold (it was warmer than lakes in Canada, but not bath-like, like the mediterranean) and I told him with the heat it was lovely. We swam around, well I did, he mostly stayed in the sun. Then he took me to a small mountain town to see the town and the church and the castle.
We went back to his apartment where we got ready for dinner, then hit the town! We went to a couple bars, I met his friends and we had dinner. José insisted that I try all of the local specialities. These included fried pigs' ears, which I informed José that only dogs eat in Canada. They were okay, a little too crunchy though, but mostly just tasted like bacon. Also on the menu was sheeps stomach cut up into sqaures and cooked in a thick tomato sauce. The flavour was okay, but soo fatty and just too mooshy. I am pretty adventurous, but the texture was just too much for me. I stuck to the bread and mushrooms mostly.
We went back to José's apartment and after about half an hour in his room, I couldn't take it and slept in the living room, the only room with air conditioning. His room was so hot my face was sweating just lying in bed. He told me the night before he was so hot he couldn't get to sleep until 4am. This meant that on this evening, he slept fine, despite the heat, in the guest room because he was exausted.
I woked up when José was going to work at 8:30 (I think) while he was doing something to the air conditioner and generally trying to make me more comfortable. I fell back asleep until 11:30, when I packed up my things, had some Cola cao (basically nesquick), got dressed and washed a pair of underpants for my last day. He got home about 2:15 and began to put the last of the lunch together. We had homemade pork and zucchini sausage (delicious!), french fries which we made from some very soft potatoes, and a special dish José made ahead just for me, red peppers stuffed with cod! After he was such a good host, there was no way I was going to say anything about the truth of me and peppers. I ate two or three of them until I was stuffed. Everything about the dish except the peppers was extraordinary, the cod was in a creamy sauce with potatoes and cheese. He is an excellent chef.
After that, we looked at each others photos on facebook and his computer and then had an argument about how we were going to the bus station. I won. I put on my backpack and started walking so there wasn't too much he could do. He carried my purse.
The bus ride was great and I slept soundly for most of the way. I made it to Madrid and had a classic Sumantra-Kate cell phone conversation while I tried to navigate the two story Lacoste in Madrid. At one point someone started asking me about sizes, like I worked there. What kind of shop employee wanders around on their cell phone, speaking obnoxiously in English while they are supposed to be working? Well, then again.... it is Europe.
Now I am off for dinner with my old friends, Julian and Lidia. We all worked together at the camp in Salamanca two years ago, and have kept in touch since then, thank you facebook!
Tomorrow morning I am spluring on a cab to the airport, I can't take anymore metro trips with my stuff. I fly to Frankfurt and then to Toronto. Here's hoping it is without incident or excitement. I saw a news report today that said "Atrapados En Barajas" which means "Trapped in Barajas (the Madrid Airport)" unfortunately I didn't understand what they were saying in the story, but I hope everything is alright.
See you soon,
Kate
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Cordoba and José
Well, savour the flavour, because this will be one of the last blogs of the trip, as my 7 weeks in España has almost come to an end.
Cordoba! Aug 3 and 4, 2008.
After writing that last blog to you on Saturday night, I returned to my room and my tapas turned on me. Yikes! I was lying in bed watching Star Wars in Spanish, when suddenly I didn't feel so good. Then it was one of those intense, horrible nauseas where you think you might just yak all over the room. Mercifully, I did not. I found my gravol and then called Jay. He theorized about the cause of my probable food poisoning and when it was time to go, wished me well and that I not "puke in [my] hair, because that is just awful".
Once the gravol kicked in, I was in a gravol induced coma, common on this trip. Those of you who know of my taste for gravol, know that I am a seasoned user, and that I can usually predict it's effects rather accurately. Not the case on this trip. Any time I have taken the stuff I have been in a sleep so deep, waking up feels like rising from a grave. This was what happen at 3:30pm on Sunday when I awoke and it took me a second to remind myself that I was in Spain, in a hotel. After rising from the grave, I called my grandmother to wish her a happy 80th birthday (yowza!) and set out to see what I could.
Sunday turned into Kate's Day of Arab Hedonism, save the harem. First I went for breakfast, which was really a late lunch at Catre D'Or, dulce de leche ice cream and a crossaint. Sunday was the hottest day I have felt on my trip yet. It was at least 40C in Cordoba, meaning that even the shade afforded little comfort. So since most of the sites were closed, I went from tea room to tea room.
First, I ventured over to the Salon De Té, the tea room suggested in my Let's Go!, it was okay, A lot more open and a lot less opium-den like than the one I visited on Saturday, but also a lot less comfortable. I had the mint lemonade reccomended by the book and yelch! gross, except for those yogurt beverages in Granada, it was the worst drink of the trip. I left there and it was soo hot, that I couldn't make it back to my hostel before going to the other tea room I had discovered and having a pot of jasmine tea, an orange juice, and a bottle of water. I sat myself right by the fan and read about Spanish history while I sipped my tea for almost an hour.
After that I returned to my hotel, got cleaned up and headed out for dinner and to the Arab Baths. Yes, I visited a bath house, but not the kind we have in Toronto. After a delicious kebab and some hummus (I had to keep with the theme) and went over to the baths. Everyone was told to arrive ten minutes before their scheduled time, 10pm. I walked in and was handed a towel, and a bracelet with a number and told to wait while I read the directions. The men were taken in to change, though the change rooms were seperate, there wasn't exactly a ton of privacy between them so the two genders were brought in seperately.
I was then herded into the tiny women's changeroom with about 15 other women. It was a cramped sea of bathing suits and towels and flip flops. Eventually we all made it out wearing our bath suits and the bathing adventure could begin! There were three rooms, all quite dark, and all containing baths with a different temperature of water. The 'baths' ranged in size and shape. In the cold room, there were two long rectangular tiled tubs, about 3 feet by 6 feet. In the warm room, there was a large sqaure pool, probably at least 12 feet by 12 feet, maybe more. In the hot room, there were two squarish tubs, about 5 feet by 6 feet, and a door to the turkish bath (steam room). After several rotations through the cycle (warm, then hot, then cold) I was called for my massage.
There were 6 massage tables in the warm room where one by one everyone is called up for their 15 minute massage. They cover you in oil and proceed to very lightly rub your skin. It is a little strange because you are lying there in your bathsuit with the back undone in a huge room full of people, getting greased up. It is relaxing but not really as enjoyable as a real massage and mostly you are just really oily in the end. I couldn't help but laugh during my massage, because the masseuse at the table beside mine called out "Silencio por favor!" in an almost Gregorian like chant every two or three minutes to the bathers who were not keeping the level of decorum required. Much like the children at the camp to whom I made the same request, they didn't listen.
After the massage, I took another quick dip, changed and headed back to the hotel. Monday morning I woke up packed my things and made my train for Madrid. The story of my travels and visit with José will come later.
From José's living room in Navalmoral de la Mata,
Kate
Cordoba! Aug 3 and 4, 2008.
After writing that last blog to you on Saturday night, I returned to my room and my tapas turned on me. Yikes! I was lying in bed watching Star Wars in Spanish, when suddenly I didn't feel so good. Then it was one of those intense, horrible nauseas where you think you might just yak all over the room. Mercifully, I did not. I found my gravol and then called Jay. He theorized about the cause of my probable food poisoning and when it was time to go, wished me well and that I not "puke in [my] hair, because that is just awful".
Once the gravol kicked in, I was in a gravol induced coma, common on this trip. Those of you who know of my taste for gravol, know that I am a seasoned user, and that I can usually predict it's effects rather accurately. Not the case on this trip. Any time I have taken the stuff I have been in a sleep so deep, waking up feels like rising from a grave. This was what happen at 3:30pm on Sunday when I awoke and it took me a second to remind myself that I was in Spain, in a hotel. After rising from the grave, I called my grandmother to wish her a happy 80th birthday (yowza!) and set out to see what I could.
Sunday turned into Kate's Day of Arab Hedonism, save the harem. First I went for breakfast, which was really a late lunch at Catre D'Or, dulce de leche ice cream and a crossaint. Sunday was the hottest day I have felt on my trip yet. It was at least 40C in Cordoba, meaning that even the shade afforded little comfort. So since most of the sites were closed, I went from tea room to tea room.
First, I ventured over to the Salon De Té, the tea room suggested in my Let's Go!, it was okay, A lot more open and a lot less opium-den like than the one I visited on Saturday, but also a lot less comfortable. I had the mint lemonade reccomended by the book and yelch! gross, except for those yogurt beverages in Granada, it was the worst drink of the trip. I left there and it was soo hot, that I couldn't make it back to my hostel before going to the other tea room I had discovered and having a pot of jasmine tea, an orange juice, and a bottle of water. I sat myself right by the fan and read about Spanish history while I sipped my tea for almost an hour.
After that I returned to my hotel, got cleaned up and headed out for dinner and to the Arab Baths. Yes, I visited a bath house, but not the kind we have in Toronto. After a delicious kebab and some hummus (I had to keep with the theme) and went over to the baths. Everyone was told to arrive ten minutes before their scheduled time, 10pm. I walked in and was handed a towel, and a bracelet with a number and told to wait while I read the directions. The men were taken in to change, though the change rooms were seperate, there wasn't exactly a ton of privacy between them so the two genders were brought in seperately.
I was then herded into the tiny women's changeroom with about 15 other women. It was a cramped sea of bathing suits and towels and flip flops. Eventually we all made it out wearing our bath suits and the bathing adventure could begin! There were three rooms, all quite dark, and all containing baths with a different temperature of water. The 'baths' ranged in size and shape. In the cold room, there were two long rectangular tiled tubs, about 3 feet by 6 feet. In the warm room, there was a large sqaure pool, probably at least 12 feet by 12 feet, maybe more. In the hot room, there were two squarish tubs, about 5 feet by 6 feet, and a door to the turkish bath (steam room). After several rotations through the cycle (warm, then hot, then cold) I was called for my massage.
There were 6 massage tables in the warm room where one by one everyone is called up for their 15 minute massage. They cover you in oil and proceed to very lightly rub your skin. It is a little strange because you are lying there in your bathsuit with the back undone in a huge room full of people, getting greased up. It is relaxing but not really as enjoyable as a real massage and mostly you are just really oily in the end. I couldn't help but laugh during my massage, because the masseuse at the table beside mine called out "Silencio por favor!" in an almost Gregorian like chant every two or three minutes to the bathers who were not keeping the level of decorum required. Much like the children at the camp to whom I made the same request, they didn't listen.
After the massage, I took another quick dip, changed and headed back to the hotel. Monday morning I woke up packed my things and made my train for Madrid. The story of my travels and visit with José will come later.
From José's living room in Navalmoral de la Mata,
Kate
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Dog and Pony Shows
July 30 - August 2, 2008
Seville, or Sevilla as the Spanish say, is where I spent 3 interesting days. As I mentioned before, my hostel was the most beautiful one of the trip with interior courtyards awash with plants. My first day there I saw the art museum in the afternoon and then had dinner and wandered around a little bit.
The next day, Thursday, I was planning on getting up early to go to the flea market then go to the Cathedral and then shop. I slept in, and instead, skipped the flea market (who needs fleas anyhow?) had a coffee and went straight to the Cathedral. Oddly enough, after lunch I was so tired, that I went back to my hostel, and slept some more. I got up, walked around for a while before I had dinner, (I didn't think it was right to eat, sleep and then eat again right away) and then I returned to Fres.Co the basically giant salad bar buffet I had eaten at the night before. (€9.95 for all your courses and as much gazpacho as you want?!!? Can I buy a franchise?) After the salad feast I used the internet until the desk guy told me it was time to go to bed (I was writing the last blog entry) and then I talked to my folks.
Friday morning I slept in again and this time just went straight to lunch. After lunch, determined not to be a sloth, I went directly to the Alcazar (okay I shopped a little) and did the full audioguide tour. The Alcazar is Islamic converted to Catholic palace in Cordoba (they pretty much have one in all the major cities of Andalucia). After the Alcazar I had some water and went to visit an old hospital for for old, decreped, poor, ill priests. It wasn't so much a hospital as an old folks' home. It was very beautiful though, and contained an impressive interior courtyard and church with more reliquaries than you can shake someone's tibia at. After that I took myself on the walking tour described in my Let's Go! (my travel bible) which included a bar that had the best tinto de verano (Sangria's less boozy cousin, the wine sprtizer) I have had yet, as the book promised and found Calle Susona. The full story on Calle Susona is in the captions of the pictures of it, found on facebook, or by following the links in the Pictures entry from yesterday.
After the walking tour, I went searching for Lactose, as I have been told it is very cheap here and since Jason and Sumantra are both partial to it, it seemed like a worthy quest. Unfortunately, someone's directions were incorrect and I did not find it, and now, there is no Lactose in Cordoba.
I was supposed to go to the Arab bath in Seville this morning before catching my bus to Cordoba. I did not. I was up late talking to Jay and I had to pack up all my stuff and I just flaked out.
Instead of taking the 2 hour bus to Cordoba, I took th 45 minute train ride, which would have been about the same price, had I not accidentally purchased two tickets. I was too embarassed to correct the mistake, and instead, enjoyed the space my extra seat afforded me.
I got to Cordoba and had the rudest cab driver I think I have ever encountered. First he was convinced I scratched his car with my backpack ( I did not) then when I was digging through my wallet, looking for a tip, he yelled at me to get out of the cab quicker because I was holding up traffic. Maybe if he hadn't stopped the car in the middle of the street, and pulled off to the side like a real driver, the traffic would not have been a problem. Unfortunately my Spanish is not good enough for me to have told him where he could have put the tip.
Cordoba is wonderful, it is much smaller than Seville and has a mosque turned cathedral that can accomodate something like 20,000. I toured it today and couldn´t believe how intricate and beautiful it was. While wandering around the souvenir shops afterwards, I was harassed by gypsies for money. I was actually surprised that I have been in Spain for 61/2 weeks and this was the first gypsie harrassment I have encountered.
After excaping creepy old ladies, I made another appointment to go to Arab bath's here, which I had to pay for in advance, so it looks like I am going. Then I got cleaned up, had dinner and went to the Andalucian horse show!
The horsemanship and dressage was spectactular. The combination of flamenco and dressage was odd. The flamenco itself was bad. Just plain bad. I walked back up here and now here I am typing this to you.
It is time for bed, more Cordoba tomorrow, then José on Monday and Inés on Tuesday and home Wednesday.
Later Alligators,
Kate
Seville, or Sevilla as the Spanish say, is where I spent 3 interesting days. As I mentioned before, my hostel was the most beautiful one of the trip with interior courtyards awash with plants. My first day there I saw the art museum in the afternoon and then had dinner and wandered around a little bit.
The next day, Thursday, I was planning on getting up early to go to the flea market then go to the Cathedral and then shop. I slept in, and instead, skipped the flea market (who needs fleas anyhow?) had a coffee and went straight to the Cathedral. Oddly enough, after lunch I was so tired, that I went back to my hostel, and slept some more. I got up, walked around for a while before I had dinner, (I didn't think it was right to eat, sleep and then eat again right away) and then I returned to Fres.Co the basically giant salad bar buffet I had eaten at the night before. (€9.95 for all your courses and as much gazpacho as you want?!!? Can I buy a franchise?) After the salad feast I used the internet until the desk guy told me it was time to go to bed (I was writing the last blog entry) and then I talked to my folks.
Friday morning I slept in again and this time just went straight to lunch. After lunch, determined not to be a sloth, I went directly to the Alcazar (okay I shopped a little) and did the full audioguide tour. The Alcazar is Islamic converted to Catholic palace in Cordoba (they pretty much have one in all the major cities of Andalucia). After the Alcazar I had some water and went to visit an old hospital for for old, decreped, poor, ill priests. It wasn't so much a hospital as an old folks' home. It was very beautiful though, and contained an impressive interior courtyard and church with more reliquaries than you can shake someone's tibia at. After that I took myself on the walking tour described in my Let's Go! (my travel bible) which included a bar that had the best tinto de verano (Sangria's less boozy cousin, the wine sprtizer) I have had yet, as the book promised and found Calle Susona. The full story on Calle Susona is in the captions of the pictures of it, found on facebook, or by following the links in the Pictures entry from yesterday.
After the walking tour, I went searching for Lactose, as I have been told it is very cheap here and since Jason and Sumantra are both partial to it, it seemed like a worthy quest. Unfortunately, someone's directions were incorrect and I did not find it, and now, there is no Lactose in Cordoba.
I was supposed to go to the Arab bath in Seville this morning before catching my bus to Cordoba. I did not. I was up late talking to Jay and I had to pack up all my stuff and I just flaked out.
Instead of taking the 2 hour bus to Cordoba, I took th 45 minute train ride, which would have been about the same price, had I not accidentally purchased two tickets. I was too embarassed to correct the mistake, and instead, enjoyed the space my extra seat afforded me.
I got to Cordoba and had the rudest cab driver I think I have ever encountered. First he was convinced I scratched his car with my backpack ( I did not) then when I was digging through my wallet, looking for a tip, he yelled at me to get out of the cab quicker because I was holding up traffic. Maybe if he hadn't stopped the car in the middle of the street, and pulled off to the side like a real driver, the traffic would not have been a problem. Unfortunately my Spanish is not good enough for me to have told him where he could have put the tip.
Cordoba is wonderful, it is much smaller than Seville and has a mosque turned cathedral that can accomodate something like 20,000. I toured it today and couldn´t believe how intricate and beautiful it was. While wandering around the souvenir shops afterwards, I was harassed by gypsies for money. I was actually surprised that I have been in Spain for 61/2 weeks and this was the first gypsie harrassment I have encountered.
After excaping creepy old ladies, I made another appointment to go to Arab bath's here, which I had to pay for in advance, so it looks like I am going. Then I got cleaned up, had dinner and went to the Andalucian horse show!
The horsemanship and dressage was spectactular. The combination of flamenco and dressage was odd. The flamenco itself was bad. Just plain bad. I walked back up here and now here I am typing this to you.
It is time for bed, more Cordoba tomorrow, then José on Monday and Inés on Tuesday and home Wednesday.
Later Alligators,
Kate
Friday, August 1, 2008
Pictures!
I am too lazy to write about Seville yet, but on facebook I have posted oodles of photos.
They are from Madrid, Cuenca, Ronda, Arcos De la Fronterra, and Seville. Sadly, the photos of Valencia and the camp were lost. Each album holds 60 photos, so there are 3 albums, and thus three different links below, all of which will link you to a different album.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=123547&l=5c871&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=124833&l=6dfda&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137499&l=bd020&id=827495345
hasta luego
kate
They are from Madrid, Cuenca, Ronda, Arcos De la Fronterra, and Seville. Sadly, the photos of Valencia and the camp were lost. Each album holds 60 photos, so there are 3 albums, and thus three different links below, all of which will link you to a different album.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=123547&l=5c871&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=124833&l=6dfda&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137499&l=bd020&id=827495345
hasta luego
kate
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