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Our next goal was to travel to Sevilla via the AVE train. The trip took 2 hours and 20 minutes, the four of us had a cozy little table where we made a snack of Coke and jamon-flavored chips. Arrived at 5:30 and tried to reconfirm our reservations at Hostel Sierpes-no english-no reservation but they do have rooms available. It was an interesting conversation. Besides the good company, another positive of having a group of four travelers is that it is sometimes cheaper to travel by taxi than bus. It is a good thing we took a cab because we would still be looking for Hostel Sierpes. Seville is a very confusing mass of tiny twisty streets and squares tucked away where no one would look. Shannon and I took a peek at the room and didn't really like it so we left the guys and the luggage and hit the labyrinth of streets to look for an alternative. Found it-The Hotel Cordoba it was clean, new, atmospheric, and inexpensive. With difficulty we made our way back to the guys by using a series of landmarks; roman columns, busy bar, tiled sign, end of the sidewalk. We got very lucky to find our way back.
That night we ate an embarrassingly early dinner at the Alta Mira outdoor cafe. They served good food and good sangria. Scooter went home to work on the computer and the three of us went to looking for trouble but couldn't find it. We couldn't even find the giant cathedral in the middle of town, the world's largest gothic church. The maze of streets and walkways can keep you lost for hours. We where lucky to find our way home that night. Scooter was able to navigate us to the church the next morning without a problem must be his Engineering blood.
This morning began with a tour of that big cathedral, supposedly the 3rd largest church in Europe. All the cathedrals like to make some sort of claim on the biggest, oldest, richest or most stained glass. It seems a shame that the Catholic church doesn't have a better public relations department. The main tourist attractions in Spain and most of Europe are big beautiful churches filled with history. As a tourist you show up and you just wonder around on your own. What a great opportunity to offer spiritual tours by the priests or nuns of that church. It is a great opportunity to interact with the clergy and maybe pass on a spiritual message or two, maybe collect a small donation for a worthwhile cause. The Catholic Church is missing a great opportunity. The gold alter here is truly beautiful, Chris Columbus is buried here and they have quite a treasury containing crown jewels and the world's largest pearl. Seville was the capital of Spain during the 1400's and even though it is inland on the ships set sail for the Americas via the local river.
Next door to the church is the Alcazar, built by Moorish craftsmen for King Pedro I. It is a wonderful place to stroll casually stroll around Moorish tiled architecture and gardens. This was a major Moorish stronghold in the area before Ferdinand and Isabella reclaimed it in the name of Spain and the Catholic Church. They had no problem moving in to a beautiful Moorish castle and setting up the government. They even had to add on a couple administrative wings to handle all the new business created by the travels of Columbus. We took ourselves on a guided tour via an annoying self guided tape recording. The thing to do is a picnic in the gardens of the Alcazar and enjoy the beauty.
We ventured around the historic district of Seville in the Barrio de Santa Cruz, the old Jewish Quarter. It appears the Spaniards did not like members of the Jewish religion either and sent them on their way. The streets are too narrow for cars but not for the numerous hotels, cafes, souvenir shops and flamenco bars. In fact, tonight Wes and Shannon treated us to a Flamenco evening. We started at "the special drink" bar, a lovely setting with good music and overpriced drinks. Then we went for tapas and picked up another traveler along the way. As we strolled along the little alleys we noticed the same young tourist complete with map in hand pass us on numerous occasions. We had not deviated from our path and somehow the young tourist kept walking by us. Either she was lost or we were walking around in circles. We felt it was our duty to inquire if she was lost only as a reconfirmation that we knew where we were going. Her name was Heather, from Ohio, and she was very lost in the maze of Sevilla's street but was desperately seeking flamenco. We asked her to join us, she seemed relieved that she would have company and could put away the map that didn't work. We selected the Los Gallos show which seems to be highly recommended everywhere. Once there we could see why, the dancing is very intense and does not present itself as a hokey tourist show. There was real sweat being worked up and some really ugly and strenuous faces being made by the dancers. It was very entertaining but difficult to watch because we had know idea what they were singing about. It was a small crowd of twenty but a full house and I wanted to clap along with the guys on stage. Every time they would get the crowd worked up I wanted to clap but then everyone would just sit there. My rhythm is not very good and Scooter made sure we didn't get asked to leave for lack of coordinated clapping. From what I read in the guidebook every show is different and is suppose to tell a story. The guys who are clapping on the stage are directing the young lady who is dancing. As he changes the rhythm of his clapping or yells something out in Spanish she is supposed to perform. In the background a guy is going nuts on a guitar and his fingers must be covered with huge calluses because he was not using a pick. They had to bring in a new guitar player every two songs. The young lady who danced at an unbelievable tempo was replaced after every song. In the end they all got on stage and had kind of a challenge dance session. It appeared to be a family affair because you could see the resemblance with the young girls and the best dancer of them all "Mom."
In the morning, we made our way over to Seville's airport to pick up our rental car for the next few days. Shannon and Wes reserved the car from the US because the rates and insurance coverage are better. Map in hand, we set out toward Jerez (pronounced Hereth), sherry country and on to Tarifa on the coast. It was the Wes and Scooter driver/navigator team in the front seat. Shannon and I were happy to hang in the back. The drive was really pleasant though the grape vine covered hills. Unfortunately, we made a timing error by traveling on Saturday when the sherry estates are closed. But we did manage to find a roadside bodega for a little informal tasting and fresh shrimp salad. Perfect afternoon snack, fortified we drove on to Tarifa. Tarifa is a port town now turned windsurfing resort town. The wind here blows hard 40% of the year. We selected a hotel, Hostel Alameda (5,000ptas) close to the port and the old town.
ocean. We had silly medieval pictures taken at the local fort with the props provided by the caretaker. It seemed appropriate because today was Halloween. We didn't know if the Spanish celebrate Halloween and we hoped to find a good party in this sleepy windsurfing town. It turns out that Seville because of all the college students from American puts on a fairly big street festival/Halloween party. We would have to miss it because tomorrow we were going to Africa. After our quick trip around the town fort we headed for tapas at Cafe Central, the happening spot in town. The tapas were some of the best we had sampled with one plate of hot and one plate of cold. Scooter chose tonight to introduce Shannon and Wes to Red Bull, he guaranteed we would be up all night. Before things got out of hand Wes decided to call it a early night and the girls kindly asked Scooter to go home early for a little impromptu girls night out. He warned us to be careful knowing the full effects of the Bull. Shannon and I not wanting to disappoint Scooter stayed out all night or at least until 4:30 AM! Somehow we managed to find a Halloween party tucked away on a narrow street and danced the night away to bad American music. We wondered home and found ourselves locked out of the hotel but luckily after shouting enough times Wes woke up and let us in. If not we were sleeping on the bench. Got to stay away from the Bull.
After a couple of hours of sleep we walked across to the port to purchase our ferry tickets to Tangiers, Morocco. Of course I was running late and after trying to figure out what time it was we rushed down to the pier to catch our ferry. We called two days earlier to confirm the time and cost for ferries departing from Tarifa to Tangiers, "no problema", we were told. Despite the careful planning there seemed to be a problem. Upon arriving at the dock we were told, "today, no boat, inspection, maintenance check" Translated means, not enough passengers so we canceled the boat. Tarifa is not a major jumping off point for Morocco so we figured we would try again tomorrow from the Spanish port city of Algeciras. Oh well, regroup, we can go to Gibraltar instead and maybe catch a ferry from their in the morning.
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| This page last changed on 27-Apr-2006 23:36:23 EDT by 70.171.24.221. |
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