May 29th, 2010
Wedding Day
We’ve only been in Valencia for a few hours and all ready I’m sorry we won’t be staying longer.
As we strolled through the plazas that surround the cathedral in the center of town we saw not one, not two, but eight pairs of brides and grooms with photographers (and sometimes whole wedding parties) in tow. We even saw one pair being photographed in front of a fountain featuring Bachus in the Plaza de la Virgen (insert your own joke here).
Something cool we haven’t seen before: in front of the cathedral is a small scale model with signs pointing out all the relevant bits in Braille. There was also one behind the cathedral for the L’Almoina, the roman ruins under the Plaza del Arzobispo.
We just had the beat meal of the trip so far at the Cafe Paris, which, despite it’s name, had nothing to do with French cooking. It was as Spanish a meal as we’ve had so far.
One last thing before I go to bed: Valencia has some great street art.
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May 28th, 2010
Ylang Ylang and Jacaranda
In the Prado de San Sebastian park surrounded by the blooming purple Jacaranda trees there is lovely little oasis where one can get a drink and recline on couches like a sultan in days gone by.
Today was our first day alone as my parents set out for Barcelona in the early hours of the morning. We slept in for the first time this trip and headed out late for another first: churros and chocolate. We will be having it again.
We strolled along both sides of the river venturing into the Triana district across the bridge.
Our main tourist activity was the Flamenco Museum. Very high tech but I’m still not sure what all of it means. The Flamenco show we attended last night was actually pretty good. Even if it was one of the seemingly hundreds put on around the city for the soul purpose of entertaining tourists. The performers were all very good and enthusiastic except for one portly bearded singer who seemed bored by the whole affair.
The only male dancer in the show was an extrememly tall, lanky fellow who seemed to take it all very seriously. Now having visited the museum I see that that is the point. Intensity and passion and a serious expression inclusive of an arched eyebrow.
In the evening we again met with Estefania, this time with her boyfriend Pedro. They took us over to the Triana for tapas. We stopped a couple of different places. The first was so popular we were lucky to grab a standing table out front. We had a Solomillo on toast. Very tasty.
At the next atop we had tortilla al whisky, solomillo al rocquefort, and huevos frittas with chrizo.
When we were in Italy I would do a daily Gelato flavor update. I feel like in Spain I shoul do a daily tapas update.
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May 26th, 2010
Bitter Fruit
Sevilla is repleat with Seville orange trees, a bitter fruit not fit for consumption. They are instead harvested by the city and sold for the making of marmalade. Right now some of the trees are burdened with full ripe oranges and some just with little green pre-oranges that fall on you when the wind passes through.
These oranges can also be found in the local sangria we found out today at lunch.
So you know how in movies and tv shows when someone goes to a bar and orders a beer they never specify which beer they want, as if the bar only had one kind? Well in Spain it really seems to be like that in most places. You say “una cerveza” and you get whatever they serve. Usually you don’t have anyway of knowing. Fortunately none of it has been Bud or Coors so it’s been working out ok.
Last night we met with Estefania, a friend of a friend who had spent a year living and studying in Sevilla. She was kind enough to meet with us and show us around even though she hadn’t spoken to my friend in 16 years. He’d tracked her down when he heard we were coming through. She took us to a good bar for tapas and ordered us a wide variety of very tasty dishes. It was the kind of tapas experience you are supposed to have in Spain but can be surprisngly difficult to have if you don’t speak the language and don’t know where to look. After, we went to a place for dessert that had the most amazing looking (and tasting) concoctions. We ordered some to share and I ordered one made with the local oranges. It had a slight bitter edge off set by the sweet merangue and cake.
Today was laundry day and a bit of a revelation. The place that our hotel sent us to had a drop off and pick up service for the bargain price of 6€. Considering the time saved (and the fact that in Venice we spent more than that just trying to get our clothes dry) it was more than worth the price. I’m never going to do my own laundry in Europe again if I can help it.
In the afternoon we took a guided tour of the Alcazar with Concepción Delgado (suggested in Rick Steves). It was well worth it. Simmilar in styling to the Alhambra but not moorish. It was mujahideen. That is: remodeled and built atop a 10th century palace by arabic workers left behind after the reconquista at the behest of Christian king Pedro I.
The extensive gardens were quite lovely.
Tonight we are going to a flamenco show (because that it what one does when visiting Sevilla) and tomorrow my parents head off to Barcelona while we stay here for another day. Saturday we fly to Valencia.
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May 26th, 2010
Toro, Toro!
After making an early evening of it we set out in the morning for Sevilla by way of Ronda, one of the white hill towns of Andalucia.
We only had a few hours there before needing to move on so our first stop was the bullring. It dates back to the early 1700s and is the largest in the world (according to the audio guide), which is kind of surprising as it really not very big.
The arena serves as a museum of the history of bull fighting as well as being an active arena, as evidenced by the blood stains left on the sand. The experience was pretty good. It gave a peak into the history and pagentry without having to experience any of the brutality of actual bull fighting.
Adjacent to the museum is a park overlooking the valley and has a spectacular view that stretches for miles.
Around the corner from there is the Puente Nuevo (New Bridge) which spans a deep river gorge. It was completed in 1793 and replaced the old bridge which had been built in 1735 but collapsed six years later. Apparently they learned a lot about bridge building in the intervening years because the new bridge is still here.
After a quick lunch of pizza we headed off to Sevilla.
Oh yeah, we have been seeing a lot of this sign:
It makes me laugh.
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May 25th, 2010
This Spain Fling
It’s our first early night back at our hotel since we arrived, and wifi in the room gives me a chance to add a word or two. Unbeleivable, all– in a good way– that’s how it’s going. Ken gets high marks for navigating city streets and attractions alike. Unlike in Italy, the tourists we’re among seem more mixed. We’re surrounded by many different languages, and Americans are less the rule. In other words, it’s easier to lose myself in being somewhere else. Somewhere other than where we’re from.
Now we’re relaxing at the end of our romp around Granada. The pomagranate being the symbol of this city (so sayath Rick Steves) we postulate grenadine must be named for this place. But I swear I’d always known the name Granada. I just can’t remember how.
To the lady at the shoe store who gushed at the very mention of this town: you were right. The Alhambra is magical. Mythic-seeming, it had been conquered so long ago, I can’t relate to the timline. It’s a contradiction too. A palace of impossibly intricate design, it was ruined and restored by a culture that simulaneously rebuked yet revered its past. All that to say: it is worth a trip around the world and back again.
So the Alhambra. Yes. Sublime romanticism for the taking in a modern world. Not to forget, we’re not the only ones discovering this daily. Tourists outnumber locals in such places. And lest I sound too high-falootin’, I are one. Well, we are a tour group of four. Before this trip, and for the first time, I abandoned all pretense of blending.
Because I don’t.
Shoe fashion here includes Greek-style sandals with buckle anklets. I’ve never seen harem pants worn on the street before coming here. I’m wearing tennies (my feet are thanking me for it) and wearing my backpack across my front (thieves beware). I really don’t care how I look; I’m here to see–not to be seen. It’s just…8,000 tourists a day hit this town by storm. The town don’t mind; tourism is important for business. I only wish we could relate better to the place we’ve come so far to visit. Being a tourist, that can be quite a trick.
So to Warren: Thank you for connecting us with Estefania whom I very much look forward to meeting tomorrow night. Before we rendezvous with her in Seville, we’ll sample Ronda with its bullring, its street cafes, and its scenic bridge.
Let me end with a callout to my favorite food and drink which is to be recreated on the otherside of This Spain Fling. Last night’s tail of toro was a melty geletin carnivore’s delight. Salmorejo will be prepared (by me) in the dog days of summer with Spanish (I-can’t-remember-the-proper-name-of-them-now-but-the-sell-them-jarred-at-Trader-Joes) peppers. And… Sangria, why had I forsaken you?! Never again, O paramour of the parched and palid pilgrim. Never again.
The salvation-giving banos arabes will forgive me for not telling about our 2-hour-long soaks and quarter-hour massages. And I’ll remember the double-scoop of coffee and pistaccio ice cream from Los Italianos around the corner from the Chris Columbus statue, even without blogging about it.
I do detest travelers who go on and on expecting others to read about their vacations. Don’t you agree?
Hasta luego!
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