Seville

It’s siesta time and we are back in our hotel room after a morning’s wander around the city.  There is some magnificent architecture, we started off at the palatial buildings of the Plaza de Espana and then drifted through the old streets in the vicinity of Alcazar and the cathedral.  We spent a lot of time dodging tour groups, horse and carriages, Segways and bicycles.  Every street corner had the usual tourist shop where you could buy a plastic fan or a polyester flamenco dress.

we decided not to join the lengthy queue for access to the Alacazar

We eventually managed to find our way off the tourist track and enjoyed a leisurely lunch of vino tinto and tapas in a street cafe. 

Tonight we are going to see some flamenco which I am really looking forward to but I guess you have to spend more than a couple of days in this city to discover the real Seville.

Spanish hen party

some amazing architecture

Arriving in Seville

We left Salamanca this morning and travelled  through a landscape of snowy mountains, neat stone walled fields (a bit like Weaver’s Yorkshire) and then endless groves of olive trees.  We arrived in Seville late afternoon. 

I felt a bit despondent as we checked into our hotel on the edge of the city.  We chose this place for its location and secure parking.  Paul didn’t fancy trying to negotiate his way through the narrow one way streets of the old quarter.  The hotel is big, modern and has very little charm but we do have a nice view over the river.  

We went out at 8.00 p.m. to find somewhere to eat.  It feels late to me but Seville is only just starting to come alive at this hour.  We walked along by the river to the local area of Triana where there are numerous tapas bars and restaurants.  We chose a quiet bar and it was warm enough to sit outside with our wine and tapas.  Crowds of local people of all ages were walking up and down the streets, everyone seemed to know each other and within minutes our quiet bar was full of chattering Spaniards and the pavement spilling over with tables and chairs.  It all felt very convivial.

Tomorrow we will cross the old bridge across the river and explore the old part of the city.

Smurfs and Tapas

I love this hotel.  What can be better than sitting at an open window overlooking a pretty cloistered garden bathed in sunshine? In fact I love Salamanca. 

We set out this morning to explore the old quarter of the city.  The architecture is amazing, examples of  Romanesque, Gothic, Moorish, Renaissance, and Baroque architecture everywhere.  Lots of students (Salamanca has some of the world’s oldest university buildings) but not too many tourists at this time of year.  We drank coffee sitting outside in the Plaza Mayor, a magnificent square with galleries and arcades.  We shared tapas in a local bar for lunch, struggling with our few words of Spanish.  This Spain is a world apart from the Costas.

I have taken far too many photos. Sadly they don't capture the warm, golden hues of the sandstone architecture.  I’ll leave you with a few, you can flick through them very quickly (or ignore them if you prefer).  Tomorrow we head for Seville.

Roman bridge crossing the Tormes River

one of the university buildings

 

these guys were actually dancing!

The Mayor's office (I think)

yes, that is a lady's corset!

random Smurfs

A Postcard from Salamanca

Couldn't resist this!

So here we are in Salamanca.  I really enjoyed the day and overnight cruise from Portsmouth to Santander.  Our cabin was lovely and there was a bowl of fruit and macaroons for us. As soon as we set sail we opened the sparkling blanc de blanc and had drunk the contents of the whole bottle by the time we passed the Isle of Wight.  We were having a fine time.

The Bay of Biscay was a pussy cat, hardly any waves at all.  Alas, Paul does not like cats and by dinner time he was looking decidedly green around the gills.  So I missed out on my fine dining experience and spent the evening in the cabin watching television and munching my way through the fruit bowl and macaroons while Paul suffered in silence.

This morning he was fine again, breakfast was served in our cabin and we were feeling very pleased with ourselves.  We docked at midday and were soon on the road heading for Salamanca.  We drove through some splendid countryside in Northern Spain; it was very mountainous before flattening out as we headed south.

Our hotel is an old convent situated in the shadows of the Cathedral.  We are just off for dinner and tomorrow we will explore the city.  Oh, by the way, it’s warm and sunny!

view from our hotel window

Packing and Wine

Three days to go until we load the car and head to Portsmouth to catch the ferry to Santander.  Alas, our cellar has run dry and we were forced to spend a small fortune today in the supermarket for some bottles of wine.

Daughter is unexpectedly coming for Sunday lunch tomorrow.  Roast dinner is not on the menu as I cleaned the oven this morning and refuse to spoil its shiny, sparkling interior.  Instead I shall prepare a sumptuous stove top coq au vin. Paul says that chicken stew is not a good substitute for roast dinner.

As per usual I have packed far too early and the flat is now in disarray with half empty suitcases and bags that I keep tripping over. I have vacuum packed (great fun with plastic bags and the hoover nozzle) most of the clothes to save room in the car.  Paul has just been out to buy a second warning triangle for the car, apparently Spanish law requires two instead of one if you break down. I don’t know if that applies to donkeys.

vacuum packed clothes

The weather forecast is looking good for our mini cruise across the Bay of Biscay down to Santander. We are planning to crack open a pre-packed bottle of Prosecco once we get into our deluxe cabin.  Hopefully we won’t need to take the Kwells (sea-sickness pills) otherwise I shall spend the whole voyage in a comatose state.

We tried one of the supermarket wines with lunch today.  Paul has an app on his ‘phone which tells you all about the wine when you scan in the barcode.  The ‘phone told us that the Carta Roja was a very good value wine.

“Where’s it from?”

“Sainsburys, you were with me when we bought it.”

“Noooo, which country does it come from?”

“Spain.”

For some reason this silly little conversation made us giggle like a couple of school kids.  I blame the wine.

 

Puedo tener más sangría por favor?