Ah, Melbourne in the Spring

There is nothing quite like Melbourne in the spring - unless it is Melbourne in the autumn. Both wonderful times of year here when the afternoons are warm and sunny and the populace heartened by it.

Last Thursday I led a small troupe of tourists on one of my favourite rides - from the city to Eltham. Helen and Kym are over from Adelaide with H's cousin Ed and his son, Chris, from Canada. We met at a local bike shop where they hired bikes and headed the short distance to the cafe in Albert Park for huge chocolate and raspberry muffins and coffee. While enjoying the lake and the sparkling sun on the water we settled on a ride along the Yarra river towards Eltham.

The Canadians are, of course, used to riding on the "wrong" side of the road so it was a little disconcerting heading up a couple of roads, and the bike lanes very welcome when they appeared. It was a perfect day for a ride and the scenery at its best following the recent rain. The river was up, Dights Falls looked like falls and the trees and grasses green as green could be. We didn't see any wildlife except the birds which were in fine voice all the way. The bellbird population seems to be growing.

We all marvelled at the river traversing the suburbs of Melbourne, stopped to admire the Children's Farm and the Abbotsford Convent grounds and headed off. Fuelled by the muffins we discussed where to have lunch - Heide gallery. When it came to it I missed the turn off and we headed past on to Westerfolds Park. Kym's bike had a puncture, quickly and ably repaired by Ed, and I did a quick recce to confirm that the cafe in the park was open. It was. However, as it is not yet the height of summer the only food available was scones, plain, berry or chocolate. So that's what we had for lunch.

Onwards to Eltham, and the coffee and book shop combined for another break before getting the train to Flinders Street. That is another much appreciated thing about Melbourne trails, they are so often near a train station at some point. Fortunately we were able to plunge through the peak hour commuters on the station to join yet another bike path and ride to St Kilda via Port Melbourne and the beach.

From St K I rode home picking up the final ingredients for our dinner while the others headed back to their apartment for a refreshing break before heading out to the wilds of Melbourne by car. Over dinner we relived the day (among other things ), made plans for the Australians to travel to Canada and the Canadians to return to Melbourne. I am sorry not to be heading to Adelaide to enjoy riding around that town over the next week or so with them.

One and all we had a joyous day, revelling in the bike trail, the variety in the landscapes we travelled and the perfect riding weather. Thank you, Melbourne

Touring by bike, heading south

Crossing the Parachilna Gorge, we head to Alpana station for the night, and seen to have left the rain behind at last. The run from Blinman to Alpana is a bitumen treat after the gorge, a very pleasing undulating run with the prospect of a cold beer and a hot shower on arrival. Then on the next morning to Wilpena Pound and a rest day. The vegetation in the flinders varies greatly, and the wildflowers are a sight to see as we traverse the country. There is an absence of road kill this time which makes for more pleasant riding. I presume this is because there is so much feed around and the animals don’t have to travel to get to it. We haven’t seem much wildlife at all, living or dead. That is we haven’t seen many animals, as we see plenty of birds and the birdsong is a joyous sound that accompanies us everywhere. Rest day - another massage to start the day, then a short walk to the old homestead and the lookout above it. Some of the riders head off to St Mary’s Peak, the higher lookout and a 20+K strenuous walk. I wonder what they think the word “rest” means? They do enjoy themselves though and was lyrical about the views from the Peak. The Pound is an extraordinary place, with a pretty primal feel to it, it looks like it is pushing upwards so it is a surprise to learn that what we see are the remnants of a much higher range of yore. Rested we head back across the Willochra Plain on this side of the range back to Hawker. Here my sister Emma joins us for the night. She and Cameron are driving the same area and our paths cross. As a former tour cyclist several are pleased to see her turn up. I certainly am though I have my tent up and have missed the opportunity to sleep in the rather spacious camper trailer. Ah well. It is hard to believe that the tour is coming to an end, one just seems to get underway and be enjoying oneself when the end starts to loom on the horizon. So we ride to Quorn for the last night dress up dinner, a last hurrah to cement new friendships and promises to see each other on the next ride - if not sooner. There is the offroad ride next year in the Flinders to look forward to in autumn. There is still a ride in the morning so I decide to call it a night early(ish). I don’t know why exactly but I am more tired by this tour than I have felt in the past. Perhaps it is just not riding this year as much as I would like to, perhaps something else. Who knows? I take the short option in the morning and miss the ride over Horrock’s Pass. I know it would have been wonderful but it was also wonderful riding down the Pichi Richi valley. This time the Gulf is sparkling blue and the sun is warm. A fitting end to yet another adventure on the road. Rob has arrived from Melbourne, and believe it or not we head back to Hawker for the night.....

Touring by bike, heading north

The Bicycle SA annual (onroad) tour headed out into the Flinders Ranges this year, a loop ride out of Port Augusta. Leisurely start to the day on day 1, with several people arriving from Adelaide by bus in time for picnic lunch and then heading up the hill. Great time to catch up with everyone from previous rides and meet a few new people. It is mandatory in my experience that the ride starts with a hill. You would expect this riding out of Adelaide as it is surrounded by hills and up seems the only way out, but I thought it was lat around Port Augusta - not so. We follow the lovely Pichi Richi valley, taken also by the stem train to Quorn, our first stop. Then over the Willochra Plain to Hawker and a night in the caravan park that remains a stranger to grassy sites. No grass here, only small pebbles and softer ground than you might usually find thanks to recent rains. So putting up the tent in the drizzle with the pegs coming out as fast as I can bang them in is just a little bit of a drag. Common sense prevails, change the angle, start again and get on with it. Hawker to Parachilna – only thing to say is that is is 90Km of slow steady uphill road. The rain cleared at lunchtime so we dried out riding along (we being those of us slow enough to take quite a while to get there). The Ranges are amazing to see, green and damp after the drought of recent years. I am sorry not to be travelling off road to see it all a bit closer, but glad to be on bitumen and not getting bogged in the wet spots. Parachilna is a dot on the map – a pub and not much else. We camp nearby with our shower truck parked in the middle of the road out the front. Delicious dinner at the local pub, which is a bit of a foodies haunt regardless of being in the middle of nowhere, accompanied by a wild thunderstorm which does nothing to dampen our spirits. The cycle tour fraternity are a hardy lot. Waking to a drier day we head out to cross the ranges via the Parachilna Gorge, confident about the roads and the creek crossings after a final report from the good Russell, who has completed a final recce.. Well it sounded good in theory. First creek crossing, make it almost to the other side aware of the creek bed and rocks shifting under my wheels. Almost, but not quite – I can report that the creek was a little faster and stronger flowing than I thought and the water very cold. As soon as I go in I leap out exclaiming at the temperature, pick up the bike, get a jacket on to avoid freezing as I dry on the road and off we go again with the friendly laughter and banter to encourage me. I walked the rest my confidence but not enthusiasm having dimmed a little. I am yet to see the pictures, but I believe they exist. The gorge is an adventurous ride that I would not have missed for all the tea in China. Thank you for the fluffy duck I have been awarded (suitably named Duncan). Duncan now resides firmly fixed to the handlebars and enjoys his travels immensely.

Beyond Paris

I didn't just stop dead in Paris, I went on from there to Dusseldorf to meet my old school friend, Dinah, and spend the week with her at the fashion buying fiesta. At the end of it we went for a couple of days to Koblenz, where the Rhine and Moselle Rivers meet. It rained like mad the first day there, but we managed to get to aldstadt and have a bit of a look around. The weather improved and we had a much better day the following day. Dinah had to fly out a day ahead of me so we got the train part of the way back to Dusseldorf and spent the day at Andernach - a town that had been recommended to us as worth a look. It was indeed. We left Dinah's luggage at the station after waiting for 20 minutes in a queue to ask the station master to look after it for the day. After a very pleasant walk around the town, along the river and lunch in the market place I farewelled Dinah and went back to the river having seen that there was a late afternoon trip to the local geyser. That was a surprise - I had no idea there was one in Germany. Then a quick train trip back to Koblenz and another trip to Aldstadt to find somewhere to eat. I am never good at deciding where to eat, and then I saw the Tapas bar/cafe so of course when in Germany eat Spanish. There was a Spanish family at the next table and they seemed to be enjoying their meal so I took that as a good sign. I had been sitting there for a while when I was finally noticed and the waitress took my order. I hoped that I had remembered enough to order something decent to eat (turned out I had). After quite a while waiting again I was asked if I would mind moving to a smaller table. There wasn't one when I sat down and of course I didn't mind at all. After that the waitress must have thought I was all right as she brought me a glass of wine gratis and my food materialised. Just as well it came when it did as I was very hungry by then. Next day, last one in Europe, I met Rob on his return from England, at the Mainz railway station. There had been a bomb scare in the locker room so we had to wait a little while before leaving our luggage there for the day. For the first time we could not find a map at the railway station so we loosely followed directions to the tourist information centre, which turned out to be a very small temporary office in a tricky location sort of near the river. Armed with the map we then found the Gutenburg Museum which was fascinating and during lunch worked out how to see the Chagall stained glass windows in a church on the way back to the station. Great finish to the trip. Then off on the quick train direct to Frankfurt airport and onto Soeul for a five hour break and home at last just in time for breakfast with everyone at the market and a couple of films at the film festival ..

Paris 19/7

Another begging first this morning as a man picks up a wedding ring and hands it to Rob who says it is not his. Oh well says the man, bonne chance, and starts to walk away. Just as I am saying to Rob this feels like a scam he returns to ask Rob if he can give him some money to buy his morning coffee. Rob tries to give him the ring, which he is refusing at this stage, but soon takes it and heads off as it becomes clear we have no intention of giving him anything other than short shrift. Our first stop this morning is to the Palais Garnier - the Paris Opera House. Fantastic hardly does it justice. It is so big, so lavish, so resplendent that we are quite taken aback by it. Our only disappointment is that the very very plain fire curtain is on stage. We are able to enter the auditorium only by going into one or two of the boxes so viewing is limited as the crowds increase during the morning but worth it indeed. We didn't see any phantoms. Back on our bus again we head off to the Arc de Triomphe to have a look at the restored carvings. Down the Champs Elysees which is very crowded and picnic lunch under a tree before we head off to the big one for the day - the Musee d'Orsay. Quelle horreur, it is closed on Mondays. Damn and double damn. Napoleon's Tomb then, which is open and is amazing. It seems to be a simpler design than most of the other constructions associated with Napoleon but it is still on a very grand scale - a scale he certainly favoured. When we get to the Metro station the train on the other side comes to a halt and there is an announcement over the PA that of course we don't understand at all. Several people around us start to leave, but some stay so we wait... for the next unintelligible announcement. More people leave so we go up to see what is going on. Very nice chap in the ticket office explains that there is a police matter at another station and recommends that we walk to another station which is actually on our line. He writes on our single trip tickets that it is ok to reuse them and we head out again. This time there is a bit of a breeze. We are beginning to feel that we have walked enough. Success, the metro at Invalides is all right and we are home in double quick time. Rob is now having a siesta and I am going to catch up with a few things. We split up tomorrow - me to Germany, Rob to England ..... Paris has been great, and of course all too short. It was too good an opportunity to miss when we realised that we could add it to the list for a day or so en route to our separate destinations. We have not done it justice but my impressions of Paris is that we would certainly be better off with at least a week here as there is so much to see. And we would have liked to add a couple of day trips - perhaps to Versailles and to Rheims to sample the champagne. Never mind, another time. I think, however, that I would prefer to go somewhere less noisy, less grimy. It isn't that the streets are awash with rubbish, or dog droppings as one always heard about in the past, just that there is a sort of grimy deposit over just about everything. Maybe it is the cars, maybe not. There is an installation that starts here tomorrow that I will be sorry to miss - Paris Plages. All along the Seine there are bathing boxes being set up along with other things that I couldn't see well enough to work out what they were for but the list of events sounded pretty good for both children and adults. We have missed festivals everywhere, often just before or after we were there. At least we now know what to look for if we make plans to return. It is a shame sometimes, but we had a great time anyway..

Paris 18/7

First glimpses of France as we hurtle towards Paris-Austerlitz station, arriving mid-morning. Takes us a while to find the tourist office and to get our bearings. We are not far from our hotel - called My Hotel in France Le Marais - so leap on the metro with our bags. We are glad not to have to change currency now that everyone uses the Euro. Dump our bags at the hotel as still too early to check in and head out for Notre Dame Cathedral as we can sort of see that in the distance. We have so little time here that we are loathe to spend the next 60minutes or more in a queue no matter how good the cathedral is and we take a few snaps and move on. Paris seems so grubby compared to cities in Spain, and we immediately put it down to the number of cars on which the Parisians seem to rely heavily. We have become unused to that over the past month. I have to say that it certainly is my preference to be without the cars. I haven't had any opportunity to ride any of the hire bikes in every town we have been in, and I don't think I will before we leave Europe. I am dying to get back on my own bike when I get home.

So, what does a poor tourist do with so much to see and so little time - get on a bus of course. We join the throng on the red bus, the ticket will cover two days, and hed upstairs to the open top to take photos as we go along and do a bit of a recce ("time spent in reconnaisance is never wasted" M.Craig). We do get off the bus a couple of times to see things but for the most part we stay on just having a look. We go to the Louvre, just to the outside and to have a look at the Pompidou pyramid. That has to be the most ridiculous construction and the most inappropriately placed I have seen in a while.

Walk back to the hotel, check in, shower and off again to dine at a cafe somewhere near Notre Dame on the river then we do what I have been wanting to do all along - head up the Seine on a boat. A very nice young woman points out all the wonderfully illuminated buildings and gives us a short history lesson along the way. You can almost hear the excitement build as we approach Le Tour Eiffel - and the oohs and aaahs as the lights start to glitter and rush up and down the structure. I shouldn't sound so cynical as I was ooohing and aaaahing along with the rest of them. It is terrific. We now know where we are going tomorrow - thank you Mr Bus Driver. We experience one more first along the way home - a very well dressed woman with a clear English accent approaches us and asks if we speak English. So we tell her we do, then she starts to ask for help - hmmmm... Rob heads off and I follow but not before she tells me that she owes money at her hotel and just needs a little to sort things out with them .. I also am out of earshot at this point.

Spain 17/7

Last day in Spain .. it has been a wonderful four weeks and we still have lots to see. As we don't have time to do them all we have settled on one - The Prado Museum. It will be a good place to spend the day if not for the art for the air conditioning. It is another hot day in Madrid. The Prado is, of course, more than somewhere to avoid the heat. We have found that the disadvantage of coming to Spain in July is that it is hot. Fortunately, we left the humidity behind in Barcelona and it has been a dry heat in Andalucia. The advantage however is that only the hardiest tourists seem to come out in the heat and the queues (if there is one) for the tourist hotspots have been mercifully short and we haven't felt that we have been overcrowded. This has been welcome relief as we read about queues everywhere and saw some long ones in Madrid when we first arrived. The Prado is an extraordinary art museum - and a fitting end to our trip we think. I am not sure we saved the best til last, but it would come close if the criterion was how many times you were stunned by a painting. We headed straight for the Velasquez, and then as we were leaving some five or so hours later we came across some more that we hadn't seen yet. We saw a lot, but not quite everything. At the last minute we headed back into a couple more rooms so that Rob could see the El Grecos. He did not want to leave without seeing them - though we had seen several already. When we got to Toledo the El Greco Museum was closed for renovations, so we saw some of their collection in another Toledo Museum, and a couple from their collection had been sent to the Prado for conservation work. So the end of Spain, one final beer in the plaza outside our hostal, pick up our bags and off on the Metro to Chamartin station, and onto the overnight train to Paris. How romantic you cry - but the romance dies a little when you hear that we are sitting up all night in reclining armchairs. All I can say so far is they are comfortable but the material in the cover is a lttle scratchy. I was surprised that there was no x-ray check of our luggage as there has been at our other stations where we get long distance trains. As I head towards the escalator to the platform I notice (along with quite a few fellow travellers) the woman standing at the top banging her suitcase on the 'stairs' of the escalator and yelling at it as she seems always to put it on the part of the 'step' as it separates. She gives up and LAYS HER SUITCASE DOWN on the escalator and sends it over the edge. It starts to slide down then roll down the escalator. We cannot see the bottom and I can tell from all the audible gasps - mine included - that we are shocked and imagine what will happen as the case ploughs into the people on the escalator lower down. As it turns out there were no people lower down as the suitcase owner had been banging and crashing and yelling while they went down and got off in their own good time. By the time I glide gracefully down the woman has gone off up the platform still talking loudly to all and sundry and I am left hoping that she is not in our carriage. Mercifully, she is not. We are right up near the engine, so walk miles along the platform to get to our carriage, followed by a cheerful group of women who settle in the seats in front of us. Then a group of backpackers get on with tickets for the same seats. Rob has read one tale of woe about this trip and starts to get ready for some sort of argument and delay .... which doesn't eventuate. Everyone is polite to ech other and the conductor has a good look at all the tickets. The women have arrived a day early - even my very limited French stretches to "demain". That was about the only word I did understand through their laughter as they got off the train again. The carriage is full, but everyone has enough room and we all settle into our seats to watch the countryside go by. We climb into the mountains and go through tunnels and watch out the window as Spain slips past us. A quick bite in the cafeteria car to watch the sunset over a glass of wine and a bocadillo then with any luck sleep... and waking up in France. Just as we return from the cafeteria car the young woman with the group in front of us is in tears. Her boyfriend, as I assume he is, was asleep when we left , is tring to comfort her. I have no idea at all what brought that on, but she eventually falls asleep - as do I.

Spain 16/7

We get a move on today as we are doing another day trip - this time by fast train to Toledo. There are regular trains from Madrid and they take only half an hour to get there. Toledo is another of those trips recommended to us as a "must see" and it looks good in all the guide books. Fortunately we read carefully about it before we get there and so are not surprised to discover just how hilly it is, and how steep the climb into town is. But before we get anywhere we are at the most beautiful railway station we have seen yet - the interior is just stunning. The ticket windows in the picture are not used anymore, but I am delighted to see them retained. they are sonderfully built and look just wonderful. We also read about the tourist buses that meet each train. We could have taken the local public transport but as our time is short we opt for the "turistic" bus, including a walk around the historic part of the city. The bus takes a long route to town stopping at a lookout spot or two for everyone to take photos. All around the world there are thousands of tourists with exactly the same shot among their souvenirs. I am sure that the ticket seller told me our guide is Gore Vidal, but I never have an opportunity to confirm it. Gore rattles off a lot of instructions as we get on the bus, which I promptly forget for the most part so at the picture stop I chack with him. Yes, we get off the bus at the main square for the walking tour and again he talks very fast so that even in English I miss the next bit. We got off the bus at the mainb square where Gore started talking in Spanish and for a moment I thought we were going to be in real trouble. Turns out that the tour commentary is in Spanish followed by English and then another Spanish dialect. Everything takes a while and there are no pauses so you have to concentrate to catch the start of the bit you will understand. We walk into what is (accurately) described as a labyrinth of narrow streets, some so narrow that you will be able to touch both sides with outstretched arms. Gore points out the various highlights and goes into some detail about how to get back to the station at the end of our day There are several options and he gives us the price of reach, finishing with the walking directions. Then suddenly we are at the Cathedral and he asks those who have green tickets to accompany him into the Cathedral. We are not sure that this is the end, do we wait for them to come out so that we can be shown more than the very little we have to this point. No - that is the end for us, we are on our own. I am keen to see the Alcazar, but it is shut for renovation. Rob is keen to see the El Greco paintings, but the El Greco museum is closed for renovation. Fortunately for him the most important paintings are on temporary display at the Museum de Santa Cruz. We wander around visiting various things and to our delight come across the Arabian baths. We couldn't get into the baths in Cordoba and we missed out on them somewhere else too so we are glad to visit these baths. We have seen some in the Real Alcazares but didn't think that was the same as visiting what had been public baths. In their heyday the baths must have been wonderful. What we see are the remains of the baths' rooms and enjoy sitting in the very pleasant courtyard with water in it - not running unfortunately. So we tick off Banos Arabes and move on. Toledo is tourist heaven, and I thought I would look at the carving knives on sale. There were so may artesan shops - and they each seemed to be full of Toledo jewellery, other artefacts, Moroccan pearls, swords and hunting knives and a few kitchen knives. Obviously tourists are more interested in flick and hunting type knives and swords. By the way, middle aged women are invisible over here too. I don't seem able to attract anyone interested in serving me and give it up. As well as the El Grecos the museum houses some Roman pieces - especially sarcophagi, gravestones and some statuary. Also hanging are a collection of tapestries that were Flemish in origin, by design and/or manufacture. Some of them seem to be inexcellent condition and some I find fascinating as they seem to have been repaired with completely different pieces of fabric. Rob has picked up the brochure about the tapestry collection, which unfortunately does not say one single word about these tapestries and so we have no idea when the repairs were made and can only presume that there is work yet to be done on them. Return to Madrid, straight to Mercado San Miguel for a dinner grazing from the stalls, off to Plaza Mayor for an ice-cream, or in my case a cup of mint tea and that's that except for a discussion about the next day .... Prado day.

Spain 15/7

Rob has been reading dire warnings about what might happen to our goods and chattels carried on our persons if we dawdle through some particular areas of Granada so today we don't go quite as far as we planned originally. Which is never a bad thing in the heat. We do however tick off one of the things I want to do while we are here. We have breakfast at a churreria, specialising in churros and chocolate. The churros are light and fresh - and we eat them in the traditional way by dipping the end in chocolate biting into them. I have seen them served with chocolate sauce poured over them, but this is the real way to eat them our waiter tells us. The chocolate in the cup is rich, too rich to finish it in my case. As it cools off a little and I have a final spoonful just to confirm my thought that it tastes very like melted chocolate instant pudding if such a thing is possible. Then we tick off a chore we have set ourselves. We post back to ourselves about 6Kg of books and other bits and pieces. The women in the local Correos are very helpful and I for one am greatly impressed with the first one's expertise in getting things to fit into the box size he has decided we need. I realise halfway through the exercise that she thinks the things of mine (that are not books) which I brought along to post back are not included. I didn't like to interrupt her while she was doing so well so I get to carry them home. The second woman we deal with must be good at charades, we opt to send the package by sea based on the waves she makes in front of us as there is nothing urgent in the parcel. Beats the risk of excess baggage and the fees we could be charged for that, not to mention making our bags lighter which is always a plus. The historic area of Albaicin is a bit of a test of one's sense of direction (which I seem to lack at the moment) as it twists and turns up and down some of the steepest hills we have come across recently. We took a bus up to what we thought would be the highest point intending to maintain a downhill direction, but it didn't quite work out that way. Walking through ancient arches, among myriad tiny plazas and up and down narrow streets we stop to marvel at yet another view of the Alhambra, this time from the St Nicholas mirador which is in a perfect position to view the length of it from below. The constant surprise is how close to the city centre the Alhambra is. From this vantage point in Albaicin it seems that Granada has spread out in every direction except around El Alhambra. Below us is a patchwork of tiled roofs broken up by church towers and spires and a little further out taller blocks of flats. In every direction there is something worth looking at, town, country, mountains, sky - all beautiful to see. Rob thinks the blue of the sky here is deeper than at home but I disagree. It is, as he says, a sky you feel you could just dive into - deep deep blue and cloudless, endless. If you are given to dawdling, as we are, the opportunity that presents to drop into local shops to buy water, ice cream and/or beer always results in some interesting contact. We have had some interesting moments as we play out what we are trying to buy and have come across many interesting people - I know that we could have that experience at home but we don't really dawdle much there and the small shops have all but disappeared. We appreciate a return to "strip shopping" which prevails here alongside the markets. We may not have gone to the right place yet, but we haven't seen any gigantic supermarkets and other shops causing the demise of small local traders. In fact the reverse seems to be the norm. We also tick off another box for ourselves fianly visiting some Arabian baths. We have made a few attempts to see some, and we did actually see them under the Real Aclazar in Cordoba but didn't feel that was the same as seeing the public baths. We didn't make it to the former public baths in Cordoba as they were never open at a time that suited us to visit them. We particularly enjoy sitting in the courtyard there soaking in the cool atmosphere. This site has done something that some others could learn from - they have their information pamphlet available in several languages (as others do) but instead of giving everyone a copy they have several copies laminated and available to read while you are there. I have thrown away so much paper that has been handed to me as I enter various sites and establishments that I fully appreciate their efforts to cut cost and wastage. As we leave Granada by train for Madrid we climb up into the mountains and into the sunset. It is funny, but heading out on the Metro at midnight returning to the hostal we first stayed in in Spain feels a little like coming home - and then we are given the same room so it feels even more like it. As we are able to we dump our bags and head on round to good old Plaza Mayor for an ice cream, a beer, a cup of mint tea - whatever takes our fancy as we arrive there.

Spain 14/7

The Alhambra overlooks Granada and dominates a lot of tourist planning and everywhere we have spoken about it we are told to prebook. You cannot however prebook at the tourist information centre - you can do so only by phone or online. Online we go, and at the conclusion of the transaction are advised to go to a particular brand of ATM to print out our tickets. How efficient - and when I do put in my card and ask for the tickets out they come. I don't like to sound as though I don't have faith in the system but I am a little wary I must admit. Off on the bus, earlier than our admission time of 2pm but there are areas for which you don't need a ticket. The scale of the Alhambra is amazing, particularly when you realise that once again the whole thing is not exposed. Carlos V (he of the extravagant wedding in Seville) liked staying here so much he built his own palace. Everything we hear about Carlos V leads us to see him as an extraordinarily arrogant King, and the most amazing show off of all time. I am not going to go into a blow by blow description of the various palaces, gardens, miradors and pools of El Alhambra but will simply say that if you are anywhere near Granada it is not to be missed. And, as we were told, you need to prebook and to spend as much time there as you can. If you are told to be at the entrance point to the Nazrid palaces at a particular time, because the number of people allowed in at any one time is severely restricted, do so. You are reminded every step of the way how much this matters and it is interesting to see what happens to people who don't turn up at their time or who try to get in early. We followed the advice and started queuing about 20mins ahead of our appointed hour and it was worth it. El Ahambra does us in, particularly Rob's feet which need a real rest so quick meal as we arrive back in town, up to the terrace here for a final mint tea then bed. Granada is the first place since the day we got to Barcelona that we have been able to sleep with the windows open and caught a bit of a breeze at night. It has been a welcome relief. Back to Madrid tomorrow on the evening train, it feels a little like coming home as we are back to the same hotel we stayed in the first time.

Spain 13/7

More trains, more countryside - travelling into the hills this time headed for Granada. I am hoping that the height above sea level will reduce the temperature a bit. We have coped pretty well with it but it is a bit draining after a while, as anyone who has been in a Melbourne swelter will know. Em tells me this sounds bit like what I did in my holidays essay. Oh, well, that's what it is in a way. We have so little news from elsewhere - all the TV channels in the hotels have been in Spanish. We watch anyway and try sometimes to work out what the news is about. All this week it has been about bull running in Pamplona, we just cannot tell if they are running them over and over, just reporting on this year or trying to have them banned. We have picked up enough Spanish or can work out enough words to sometimes have a real stab at it. Of course there is no one to correct us so we must be right. We have a look at the Age from time to time, and Rob has bookmarked the football results page. He bought the English Daily Tele and I bought The times to read last time we had a train ride. Today it is the Tele, but I buy nothing. I have also finished the three books I brought with me and will have a look for something else. Not easy in the Spanish book shops. Perhaps I should have bought that e-reader after all. Train trip is very different this time as the terrain is not flat by any means. We are obviously climbing up and up. The station in Granada is very small we think for a town this size, but I suppose it really depends on the number of trains that stop here each day really. We can see the Sierra Nevada of course and the exposed rocks at the top look a little like snow. No hope of snow this time or year of course. The town is hilly and we are not used to hills. Feel different muscles as we walk around. We hit the Cathedral of course and marvel at its opulence and the fantastically ornate altar pieces and vestments,etc. This is the first time we have not been allowed to take photos inside the church - or the Chapel Real attached to it (literally). Up until now we have been able to do so with abandon, no flash. It is a great shame as there is a lot worth taking pictures of. We give up the hunt for a small out of the way restaurant/bar to have lunch and fall prey to a rather charming young man who picks us as an easy mark for his restaurant. We do enjoy the food on the 'menu del dia' so it all works out of course. We wander around the alleyways and plazas as we meander back towards siesta. This seems to be much more a tourist town than the others we have been to, many more trashy souvenir shops and a lot of 'fly by night' traders. These are really 'fly by foot' traders as they have all their wares ready to gather up in a sheet or firmly attached to a board so that when they sprint off at the approach of the police they don't waste a minute getting out of the way. We have seen some of them who actually have everything displayed on the sort of circular mat with a drawstring around the edge that we had for lego in the good old days. Walking down to the river always seems like a good place to promenade but the locals seem to prefer the main street - probably because the shops are still open, or mayby just because. When we get to the river we see for the first time a crowd of young people just hanging round there with quite a lot of hard liquor. We move away from the river and promenade through a local park to a particularly attractive cafe in the park with plenty of shade. Shade is becoming our favourite thing everywhere. Fortunately there is plenty of it, to the extend that some shopping streets have shade cloths erected along them. Most of the streets are narrow enough to provide some shade most of the day. We have particularly enjoyed just meandering through towns with no real destination in mind, until we get hungry and then start looking in earnest for somewhere to eat. This time it is a small bar next door to a huge cafe. We order small and enjoy it. We refuse the offer of a menu in English, rising to the challenge of guessing what the Spanish menu is really offering. Success! We get exactly what we expect to get. We plan to come back to the huge Futbol Cafe before we leave. It looks bright and wonderfuland we wonder what it would have been like on THE futbol night of nights.

Spain 12/7

We slept in this morning - big time. We had thought that we would either take a bus or hire a car and go to have a look at the town of El Rocio, a "white village" that looks like a wild west town. When we got to the tourist information office we found that we were really too late to take a bus and the car hire was just too much - money and effort. So we went off and had something to eat for breakfast and decided to visit the Real Alcazares, a palace that is really three palaces in one, with very extensive gardens around them. We got our first bus in Spain and on our arrival at the Alcazar we were approached, nay accosted, by Maria Teresa who realised that we are english speaking and told us that she was about to start the last tour for the day with english commentary - well, we were sold. We joined the others, who included a man who used to live in Carnegie, and off we went. Maria Teresa has been a guide around Seville for 26 years, and knows her stuff. We were treated, and I mean treated, to some wonderful commentary from her about the palaces which are an Arab palace extended by various caliphs, then extended further by the Christian kings in the 14th century, capped off by Carlos V in the 16th century who seems to have made some rather arrogant extensions to celebrate his wedding. Maria T seems to disapprove of most of his work, lovely though it is, as it showed little respect for the previous artisans and incumbents. We also got a history of Seville - as a liberal minded town tolerating all peoples and all religions right up to Isabella, the first queen, who added the title Catholic to her nomenclature. Isabella was an intolerant woman who single handedly destroyed the freedoms of the inhabitants of Seville - for Seville read Spain - imposing Catholicism on everyone and getting rid of the rest. According to Maria Teresa Spain was not liberated for another 500 years with the end of Franco's reign. Now thanks to Juan Carlos Spain is at last free again. The palace was extraordinary, and extraordinarily beautiful. The preservation is quite remarkable as one of the signigicant problems is rising damp. Seville is barely above sea level and is earmarked for drowning if the seas continue to rise with global warming. Maria Teresa pointed out to us some preservation work on murals that is destroyed again within the last five years. The last decade has been a time of extensive restoration of the palace, and includes the opening up of the Arabian baths below the palace and the exposure of courtyards that were covered by Carlos V with white marble brought in especially for his wedding day. That must have been some wedding as he went to a lot of trouble to show off what he could afford and command. As Maria Teresa left us to our own wanderings in the grounds we headed off for lunch and then the gardens. The gardens are also a collection of various gardens - those closest to the palace buildings are the Arabian gardens and then there are extended French labyrinthine gardens, a garden installed by Carlos V with a summer house, English gardens from the turn of the century and a maze - and more.... We spent pretty well all day there, and decided to get the bus home again. That turned out to be a very good decision. We got the same numbered bus we had in the morning as it does a circuit of the city and travels in only one direction. The trip took us across the river and through the suburbs on that side and then we headed towards a very extensive technology and science park with streets names like Calle de Thomas Alba Edison, Calle de Leonardo da Vinci, Marie Curie, etc etc. At one point the driver got out to check the notice on the back of the bus stop wall - which we took to be a map of a diversion for some reason. Off we went again through nore of the technology park, and at one point realised that the young passenger at the front was giving the driver some instructions. Interesting indeed. The next thing we knew the driver stopped in an area that had extensive construction work going on and was deep in conversation through the window with a security guard. We went a few feet further, stopped again, and you didn't need any spanish to interpret the sign we could see through the window. The road was closed at this point. A second security guard arrived in a car and more conversation ensued - they were obviously talking about backing the bus up and turning it round somehow. Did I mention yet (I don't think so) that we are on an articulated bus - the sort that has a sort of concertina section in the middle? Worse than backing a trailer I should think. Back we went and then around a tight corner giving us a clear demonstration of how efficiently the bus turns - one side squeezed up tight and the other extended as far as it can go. Neat. Oh, I forgot to say that while the driver was getting in and out to discuss various points with various people he seemed to be a bit hot under the collar, banging and crashing in and out of his enclosed driver space and at one point having great difficulty getting his door open to get out of the bus to see what was going on with traffic behind him. We of course are completely unconcerned about any of this and nor are the other handful of passengers. We just found it comic and a bit of an adventure. The security man with the car pilots the driver out of the construction zone and when he is out of the way the driver revs up the engine and takes off making up for lost time. We are soon down to three passengers, a young woman who is on her phone and the two of us - all towards the rear of the bus. When the bus pulls up at some stage behind another bus the driver tries his door again, but he is locked in. Rob rushes to help him and the driver sends Rob off to the bus in front. Rob goes to try and get the other driver to help the first. Meanwhile our driver starts frantically making signals which I interpret as we should all get off the bus so I tap the young woman on the shoulder and in my best English suggest that to her. She looks bewildered but realises that something is up when I am pointing to the driver. So I gather up Rob's bag and join him on the other bus with the young woman in tow and we abandon the driver to his fate. We see him heading off as fast as he can now that we are out of his hair and hope that he manages to get help from someone at some stage. We cannot stop laughing at it all. We fortunately do not miss our stop and head off to pack up our bags before dinner as we have an early train to catch. It is hot of course walking a few blocks so luckily we pass a cerveceria and stop for a beer. Packed and ready we decide to go and get a quick bite somewhere. Monday is a day when lots of places, including our now favoured local bar, are closed. We walk to the corner - three doors - and immediately decide we have arrived at just the right place for a meal. What we didn't know until later is that caracoles (snails) are THE speciality of this restaurant and people come from all over Seville to get them there. Never mind, we did discover another treat - montaditos. These are a small soft bread roll served toasted with various fillings - rob had vegetal (potatoes, tomato, etc) and I had chorizo picante. Along with a tapa plate of gambas - prawns. The montaditos are so good that I order another chorizo one and one with queso cabales. I am not sure what that is but it isnt manchego cheese so I hope it has a bit more flavour. It is blue cheese and delicious. Along with the drinks we are served some beans to have with it. We are not sure what they are, but they taste all right so if you recognise them let me know - I think they are chufas, or earth almonds, from which the local drink "horchata" is made. So the end of another great day, and a train trip at the crack of dawn to take us to Granada.

The Game

ESPANA! ESPANA! ESPANA! We are in a local bar in Sevilla with rans galore watching the game. It is half time and all around us people are dissecting the play. The owner(?), or at least the man with the remote has changed the channel and we are treated to live crosses to cities around Spain where the fans in the streets watching on large outdoor screens all look the same. As do the fans in Amsterdam as Spanish TV is good enough to cross to the same thing happening there. Everyone is excited. The barman tries to get the original channel back but cannot quite find it. The owner arrives back just in time and goes straight to the right one. That is between doing runs for some of the clients to the local fish shop who seem to have somehow conveyed their order for mixed fried fish to him. It is quite wonderful. Our barman recommends a ploate of gambas to us - delicious small prawns and some very good patates. 77mins in and the air conditioning is not quite coping with the swelling crowd. Luckily I carry my fan everywhere. It is still in the mid 30s outside and rising in here. 87 mins and you can cut the air with a knife. Getting tense now. Time on and we cannot understand it. How have Espana not scored. So close. So far. Spain are running at the goal. Yes. Yes. This time......NOOOOOOO. Half time time on. On for young and old now. GOAL!!! ESPANA!!! That's it - all over red rover! I am so happy for everyone here in the bar with me - all my new friends.

Spain 11/7

Today we had the best train trip - Seville to Cadiz. A couple of stations along a biggish group got on - mothers and children heading for a day at the beach. All noise and excitement and a good deal of jolly talk as they realised they were not all sitting together. Some were in the next carriage. Lots of juggling seats and who will sit on whose knee and so on. The conductor was on hand and took it all in his stride - helping to organise swapping of seats with passengers in our carriage. At the last move a couple of boys came through with the esky, which one of them then sat on in the aisle. They are of course like travelling with the boys when they were younger - the noise and the excitement just don't stop. You begin to feel part of it just sitting nearby - language barriers don't exist. So i will gloss over the children getting restless and the mothers getting a bit short as when they got off the train at the beach none of that counted for anything anymore. Cadiz is the smallest town we have been to and I thank you Rob McConchie for telling me about the train as day trip. The tourist office very helpful and the guided walking tours a great idea. The 'guides' are coloured lines on the footpath colour coded for the various walks a bit like heading for pathology or x-ray in a hospital. We take route 3 which takes us around the defences and therefore the perimeter of older parts. We only take 2 1/2 hours for the recommended 45min walk and so stop for lunch in the appropriately named Barrio de Vino. We pore over the map and join up with the walk that refers to the 'shippers to Indies' past various sites and end up in the Cathedral square. I sit on the steps with quite a few others and make use of the wifi to check my email (on my trusty HTC) phone. Michael has sent me some information that rocks me - Stephen, who owned what I always think of as MY bike shop, has died overseas in a cycling accident. I have been buying bikes from them for about 25 years. I won't be back for the commemorative ride later this month unfortunately and will miss Stephen sorely. I am now sitting in the Cadiz station waiting for our train. We expect to sleep all the way home and then go to a very pleasant local bar for dinner and THE GAME. Vamos Espana. Vale Stephen Hart.

Spain 10/7

Up early and off to Seville on an early train to avoid the heat. We get breakfast of cafe y tostadas at the station and i get out my tube of vegemite. Delicious. We check in early and head into town. We got a bit confused when we got a ticket for the cathedral, the bell tower and the collegiate church combined. We thought we headed into the collegiate church which was so very ornate that we wondered if we had actually entered the cathedral. We realised we hadn't after a while. Between the two churches we just stopped at the nearest cafe for something light. I don't think we ordered enough for the waiter who was particularly offhand with us. I got my plate of delicious grilled mushrooms and luckily Rob had one to taste as his Russian salad never arrived. He crossed the square and had dessert at the icecream stall anyway. The cathedral - I think the guide books have said pretty well everything to be said..but will add my two bob's worth anyway. Stupendous. Christopher Columbus's mausoleum! The Naranja courtyard! The altarpieces - plata and the main altar! Rob decides to climb the bell tower while I sit quietly downstairs only to return moments later to discover that his hat is missing. He had removed it and left it in one of the pews and when he realised its absence it had already gone. We asked one of the staff about lost property and she got on her radio - to no avail. It is a great shame as it was a good hat and it suited Rob. He gives up La Giralda (aforementioned bell tower) in favour of looking around at people's heads. He returns triumphant bearing the hat which we think someone took, tried on as he was leaving the cathedral and discarded on the ground in the courtyard. What? He didn't like the hat for a large head with the sweaty band - what's the matter with him? As it was the second hat Rob had lost in Spain we are delighted with its return. On our way back to have a rest i go and have a look through Casa Pilatos - so named as it is erroneously thought to be based on the house of Pontius Pilate. This is yet another remarkable building with tiled walls, cool verandahs and courtyards, one of which houses a well established vegetable garden. It also houses the city's first staircase. I walk around just marvelling then join Rob patiently waiting and bore him with its wonders. In the evening we enjoy a stroll through parklands to the Plaza Espana, built to impress at an exposition in the late nineteenth century. And it is impressive! It is huge and even has a sort of moat with bridges reminiscent of Venice. Unfortunately it is also being restored so the plaza itself is fenced off as a construction zone full of materials and machinery. The boat canal is drained and being fixed up. None of this deters the two bridal parties who have come her to be photographed in the main buildings on the tiled staircases as none of it will show in the snaps. I have never seen a city where so much reconstruction and restoration is going on all at once preventing viewing and enjoying the sights. It is quite extraordinary. Much better waiter tonight - if you don't count the first one to approach us and left in a hurry. We found out later he had abandoned us halfway through ordering to hand us on to another waiter with a smattering of English.

Spain 9/7

We made it - the Alcazar opens at 8.30 and we are at the gates ready and waiting. It is mercifully cool this morning, though another 40degree day is forecast. This one feels a bit different, less humid. The Alcazar de los Reyos Cristianos (Palace of the Christian Kings) is a well preserved 14th century palace which was used by various Christian Kings, then the Inquisition and finally as a prison until the 1950s. There are no signs of the prison life here. We spend a very pleasant hour wandering through the rooms, one of which contains some fabulous mosiacs which were found under the large plaza we visited yesterday. I love the way so many places are connected one to another in this way. And that we have been to them. This palace also contains Arabian baths which must have been wonderul to bathe in, in a shaded courtyard like small swimming pools but not as deep. Then the gardens, where you are never out of earshot of water - including small aqueducts running the length and breadth of the gardens. There are fountains and pools everywhere and long colonnades of trees. An avenue with orange trees on both sides was the shadiest place I have been in as the trees are grown and maintained to ensure that the pretty well shade the entire path at all times. Wonderful! The reason we rushed to the Alcazar is because we have tickets for the 1030 bus to Madinat Al-Zhara, ruins of a small town built in the 10th century by the local potentate to display and assert his power and authority. Only about 10% of the city has been excavated, and that is of course still going on around the tourists. Before we get there however there are a couple of things to do - our prepaid bus drops us in the carpark and tells us to be ready at 2 sharp to go back to Cordoba. OK. We go into the museum building only to discover that we have to queue and buy a ticket to allow us into the museum and into the grounds up the hill. We are directed back to the car park to wait for the regular museum bus that ferries people up and down the hill. We are suprised to be accosted by the driver as we get on as we didn't realise that we have to pay separately for the ferry bus. All this has eaten into our time by about half an hour so it is a relief to get out at the top of the hill and actually enter the ruins area. Sadly the walk through the ruins is all downhill and the bus only goes from the top. I imagine that we are not the first tourists to immediately see a more efficient way to operate things and avoid all the waiting and the queues and the getting boiling hot on a 40deg day trudging back up the hill to get the bus. We don't tell anyone but each other though. As it turns out we made the right decision to do the ruins first and then back to the air conditioned museum complex. All that aside, the ruins are remarkable when you see what must be the underground extent of the city. Some of the walls and paths have been reconstructed using a mix of original and modern materials. Both Rob and I have mixed feelings about this as at times it is difficult to work out what is ancient and what is modern - and does it really matter? Is the point to display ruins or to give a more complete version of the ancient city? I suppose that it will depend on the final result, and how far they go with the excavation and the reconstruction. It is hard to imagine that the entire city will ever by revealed other than by the existing infra red and other high tech satellite pictures which show the full area and its layout. I don't have the same ambivalence to the "restoration" of ceramic bowls where fragments are combined with plain reconstruction pieces so that the fragments can be displayed "in situ". There are some ornately decorated column capitals which are also part original and part undecorated simulations. On our return to Cordoba we pass the Arabian baths which are now shut of course. Siesta is all that is left to us now. While Rob sleeps I get up, after a shorter sleep, and walk to the station to change our tickets for Sevilla to an earlier train tomorrow. I also want to book our train from Granada to Madrid. I strike a man at the ticket office who has no English, I tell him I have no Spanish and we agree that it is "no problema". This proves to be true. We have made a couple of changes to our tickets along the way and at each turn the various ticket offices I have dealt with have been "no problema". The staff have been helpful, with varying levels of English, and cancelling tickets and getting a refund certainly never a problem. That was a relief. I can manage tickets and transport all right, but cannot read any of the fine print on the reverse of the tickets. I was never sure if there would be a penalty for cancelling or a refusal. As I say - never a problem. We have at times been encouraged to look at cheap internal flights, but have not wanted to do so. Train suits us, gives us a rest and we see the countryside - we have perhaps seen enough of it now to feel that it is becoming a bit familiar but who cares? Not us. The change means that we will now travel at a cooler part of the day - leaving at 0925. That confirms it - no Arabian baths for us. Luckily we have seen some at least as part of the Alcazar. After our evening walk as we head back to the hostal we agree that what we would like more than just about anything else is a swim. Not likely in the hostals we are in however, nor have we seen any pools nearby.

Spain 8/7

Rob and I spend a bit of time asking each other what day it is - just to be sure we are keeping track of them. Today is Thursday - at least I think it is, yes of course it is we arrived yesterday and that was Wednesday. Then we check what time it is as we are not too good at judging it here. The sun doesn't quite sit in the right place in the sky, it is at a different angle and we are only just starting to get the hang of it. Meals are at the "wrong" times, but they are of course only wrong if we are trying to fit them into our experience at home, nothing wrong with them at this end. This morning we accepted the concierge's offer of a cup of tea and coffee and toast for breakfast. I didn't accept his offer of whiskey in my tea though. More hand shaking to celebrate Spain's win and more chanting as the final is still to come. He has told us that if we go to the cathedral mosque before 10 entry is free - and that it opens at 8.30. We follow his advice and work our way there. The cathedral is amazing, it is a cathedral built by the catholic church imposing itself on an existing mosque which is built over the top of a church which in turn was built over the top of a roman temple. There are some excavations exposed to display the tiled floor of the earlier martyr church of St Vincent. The size and scale of the building is vast with row after row of graceful columns supporting the roof. At one point I could hear mass starting over the speakers, but could not for the life of me work out where it was being said. The mass turned out to be in the centre where the main altar has been built under the most magnificent mosque dome. The mosque minaret has been covered up by the cathedral belfry. It is an extraordinary place, not quite one thing or the other but a bit of both, with some areas set up as museum spaces and others in the throes of restoration. Outside there is a beautiful courtyard with trees and water features of course - a very moorish thing. As we move through the town we glimpse refreshing cool courtyards through a lot of doors. We pass through the dense tourist shops in the old jewish quarter of the town on up to a large enclosed plaza very like Plaza Mayor in Madrid. Lunch of menu at a restaurant up a side street then siesta. The weather seems not to be as hot as forecast today and we even get a few spots, and I mean a few, as we walk around. I know you won't really care but I am having trouble with email on my phone. So far it has been handy as we only have Rob's netbook between us. Until a couple of days ago I could email my blog. Will have to sort that out sometime. I know I can upload it anyway. Then I found the wifi in the hotel foyer is painfully slow. We have been spoiled so far with good connections. Ah, well. This evening we head in the opposite direction wandering through another part of the heritage area - San Basilio. The terrace houses again have inviting areas inside. We are very surprised to look through one doorway to a small supermarket. There is nothing on the street to indicate a shop of any sort! The tabernas don't open until 8.30 and then seem to close at 10.30 or soon after. We go out the Puerta Seville and walk along a wall that I think is 14th century as it seems to at least match the walls of the Alcazar nearby. Then we head through town, hoping to find somewhere to have a bite to eat. We realise that we haven't hit the shopping area yet and so head off in that direction. We traverse Gran Capitain which is busy with shoppers and diners and seems quite a lively part of the city at night. As we wend our way back to the hostal we find that all roads seem to travel through the Juderia, the Jewish quarter around the Mezquita. We hope to see inside the Alcazar tomorrow .... so far we haven't been able to get there when it is opened, nor the Arabian baths. Both are just arouhd the corner from the hostal so you wouldn't think it difficult. It would be easier if the baths would put their opening hours up somewhere. I ask the girl as she is closing up the tourist information kiosk nearby - all I find out is that they open at 8.30, not how long they open for. Bit of a gamble ...

Spain 7/7

Valencia to Cordoba, by train - a journey that took up most of the day. We had a leisurely breakfast at the bar over the road from the hotel and then off to the station, pulling our luggage behind us. It was a little confusing as their seemed to be two trains leaving the same platform at the same time, but eventually light dawned - the train would split in two at some point and travel in different directions in Andalusia. We found our carriage and just got our luggage sorted, which didn't quite suit a voluble spanish woman but we couldn't make out what she was saying so left her to it. All seemed well enough in the end. We had bought some bocadilla and couple of other things for lunch on our trip as we were not sure that Spanish train food would be any better than Australian train food. When Rob went up to get a couple of beers for us to have with lunch he reported that the attendant was making up what looked like quite good bocadillos (baguettes) in the cafe car. Hope for the sake of the other passengers that they were as good as ours. The trip was uneventful as we travelled through some very flat farming land, olives, orchards, sunflowers in spots and some wheat. Large areas looked like home, and just as dry. We saw irrigitation channels and dams and wondered how these farmers were getting on. How was their water going? Kate told us that some time ago Barcelona had eventually been reduced to buying a shipload of water to ensure that the city had any supply - and the day the ship came in the skies opened and the rain came down. Two weeks later the announcement was made that the drought had officially broken. It was interesting to watch a restarauteur last night hosing down the tiles in front of her premises with a ton of water washing over them. We hadn't seen that in a long long time at home - or anywhere else for that matter. We had been warned that the temperature was going to be above 40 when we got here and it was. This time our hotel was just too far to walk in the heat so we took a cab, with a very nice, very solicitous driver. Our Hostal Alcazar is lovely to look at, sort of shabby gentile, and the concierge a very cheery man delighted to hear that we are going to barrack for Espana in the semi final of the soccer tonight. Much shaking of hands and chanting, Espana, Espana. The room is once again small, with a tiny bathroom built into one corner, and is clean and cool. The furnishings are sparse but the mattress is firm and comfortable. We have been in twin rooms until now and have had pillows that are the width of the bed and the pillow cases open at both ends which I think must make them easier to put on and off. It was a surprise however to find that our double bed also has one pillow the width of the bed, something we hadn't come across before. Comfortable though - so another welcome siesta. We arose and decided to walk towards the river hoping for a bit of a breeze, it was very slight when it was there at all. We crossed the old Roman bridge and walked back along the river to the next bridge and found a quiet taverna where we settled in to have a bit to eat, a glass or two and to watch the all important football. We moved on at half time, but happily passed another bar just as the cheer went up for Spain's match winning goal so we didn't miss anything. We sauntered about a bit but the heat did us in and we took ourselves off to our air conditioned room for the night.

Spain 5/7

Adios Barcelona, Hola Valencia. We have time for one final leisurely cafe con leche, or cafe con hielo at the excellent Cafe Ernesto just around the corner and next to the market. I buy a couple of bocadilla (my new favourite food) and a couple of paraguayas to sustain us on the train, we collect our bags and walk to the station. It is sad for us to say goodbye to Kate and Stig, who have been so very generous to us over the last week, but I am sure they welcome the next few days to themselves before the next lot arrive. We are very very grateful to them, and will miss them as much as we have in Melbourne. Trains in Spain (so far anyway) are comfortable, cool - which is all important - and leave on time. We made sure this time we get onto the platform earlier than last time so that we can get aboard and stow our luggage on the racks at the end of the carriage. And away we go. I have heard that Valencia is not the most interesting place in Spain, but we are going anyway. Anywhere we go has to be interesting in part just because it is somehwere new and that has its own interest. Rob is keen to go a particular art museum and I just want to walk around. The hotel is near the station so we check in and head straight out for the centre of town looking for 'menu de dia'. We find somewhere promising (which means it has Gazpacho) and settle in. We are in a side street off one of the main pedestrain thoroughfares through the old city. All roads seem to lead to the Plaza which houses the post office building with its beautiful facade and clock tower. It is hot here, hotter than Barcelona, but not quite so humid. So of course - SIESTA! Then we take a stroll down along the river and see some of the places we think we will explore tomorrow, enjoy a beer and walk back through some of th 10km of gardens along what was the river bed. We pass some sort of festival and it seems to be something along the lines of "miss valencia" but we cannot tell. I had read that an event was happening in these gardens at 9.30 and was glad I asked someone about it. It turned out to be a card playing tournament, and a game that is special to Valencia. Not quite what I thought it might be. We stop for a quick bite and then done in by the heat we head back to our "High Tech Hotel" and its high tech shower and air conditioning. I am not kidding about the shower, it took a little while to work it out. Top tap manages the water source, either overhead shower, handheld shower, bath tap or 6 massage jets facing you. Middle tap for pressure, and bottom tap for temperature. Quite a lot to manage altogether. When I got it worked out I had a lovely hot shower with a burst of massage jets. Then blessed sleep on very firm mattress. Buenos noches, mi amigos.

Spain 4/7

Our last full day in Barcelona, and we head straight back to Montjuic to the National Museum of Catalonian Art thinking we would spend a bit of time there and then move onto another gallery. Well, the Museum is about as extensive as a museum could be and has some extraordinary displays. Some of the earliest art is from churches all around Catalyuna and are murals and paintings on beams as well as some statuary and church artefacts. The sections of wall containing the murals have been brought in and the walls rebuilt according to the original church. They are, in the main, amazingly well restored and preserved and a fair number of them. Perhaps you are getting an idea of the scale of this museum. We travelled through the galleries in chronological order - Romanesque, Gothic, Baroque and Modern. The range is mind boggling. I lost Rob somewhere along the way so when I was gasping for a cup of something I tried ringing him and sending him a text message telling me where he is. He didn't arrive before I had finished it so I went and had a look at some more and then went into the shop for a quick look there. Rob found me, which was nothing short of a miracle as he didn't have his phone on him and wasn't at all sure where I was. We started to head out, only to be distracted by a temporary photographic exhibition. That put paid to going anywhere else - but never mind, instead of that we enjoyed a glass of cava on the terrace outside the museum. Very pleasant sitting in the shade with Barcelona spread out before us. Picking up Stig and Kate, off for lunch at their favourite square - this time at Angelo's restaurant which Kate tells us is known for their fish. We have the "menu" and I order a rice dish that is a speciality of the house. It was a bit like a small paella, or a risotto - rice in a rich tomato sauce with a lobster claw, some gumbas (small prawns) and some pork in it. Delicious. As Angelo was serving Kate's fish he stopped at a small service table to take the bones out before putting it on the table - I wish that was a service one could get at home. I am not keen on fish bones at all. We finished off the meal with a 'digestif' bright yellow liquer - none of us knows what it is called, nor are we sure what was steeped in the unlabelled bottle, but we all agree it is delicious and a fitting end to this our final lunch. After the usual siesta, we have a very light, very quick bite to eat and then take the metro to where we think the building called "the torpedo" is as Rob is particularly keen to see it at night. It is a bit similar in shape to the crystal egg in London. As Rob is going to see that in a few weeks he thought he should see this one to sort of round it out. Well, we came into the street and thought we headed in the right direction after we clapped eyes on it. We began to feel that we had walked miles and should just about be underneath it but Stig pointed out that it is the tallest building in Barcelona and so will probably be further than we think. So after getting some local advice, off we go again - more walking for miles and then lo and behold there it is, right in front of us looming large and colourful towering over everything around it. Out come our cameras and we marvel at it, taking pictures both clear and artistically diffused (or wobble cam) and then decide to head over to have a look at Sagrada Familia close up at night as there is a metro station there and we can head home on that. More walking, and would you believe it, we walk past a bar so we all refresh ourselves there before taking off again. The bar is next to Momumental - one of the working bullfight arenas in Barcelona. The one near Plaza Espana is now closed and is being renovated as an office and shopping complex. The bullfight season starts soon, but not that night. Sagrada Familia looks absolutely fascinating at night, in a way that differs greatly from the daytime viewing. Stig points out a donkey statue on the nativity facade and tells us that Gaudi went into the countryside to find a donkey he liked, brought it into the workshop, shaved it and took a cast of it for the statue. I had noticed when we were there earlier a sequence of photos for the creation of one of the angel statues that started with an actual skeleton so was not surprised to hear about the donkey. Authenticity is all apparently. Exhausted from all our walking we hop on the metro, walk the last kilometre or less home from the station and fall into bed. Tomorrow we leave Barcelona ,,,,

Spain 3/7

The weekend - and there is some serious shopping to be done. After breakfast at the local market. There doesn't seem to be a single shopping area, like "going to town" in Melbourne, but there are areas which apear to be centres for similar sorts of shops. On the grand Passeig de Gracia the big international labels have their shops. We didn't go there. We went instead to an area that Kate knew had some smaller local designer shops and we had a good look through them. I love it all. Best of all was the opportunity to go to a dress shop for a label that is not available in Australia. The designs are colourful and well made - good double. So of course we bought something in their sale. I now think that i will be able to hold my own in the fashion buying week in Dusseldorf. At the back of my mind is the thought that my casual travelling gear might not quite cut it in among the fashionista. I usually recover from that thought pretty quickly - and now it doesn't even cross my mind. We met up with Rob and Stig again as they made their way from their various excursions and thought about having lunch in the Quatres Chats - where Picasso and his artist mates hung out. We had a good look around the interior which was fascinating but decided against eating there so off we wandered to find a plaza with a table free. There is always a plaza, always a restaurant, but not always a table free so we settled for an inside table at a modern looking place with a good looking menu de dia. I can't remember what we all ate, but I do remember that Kate and Rob ordered Emperador - the fish dish. It was a fillet of white fish with a salsa verde and for the first time for both of them it was as tough as could be. We speculated about hw it was cooked, and came to no conclusion really. Rob ate some of his, Kate decided the way to approach it was not to think of it as fish but as some other white meat and just eat it that way. That worked .. Glenys - we went to the espadrille shop and it is fabulous as you said. I had the address in my calendar so that I wouldn't forget it, and by coincidence the five top shops for shoes were written up in onle of the local papers the week we were there. There is was, taking pride of place amongst them. I did buy a pair, but even if I had just gone in to have a look at the shop I would have loved it. It is busy, noisy and colourful. I could have stayed for quite a while just enjoying the atmosphere, but "the boys" were at a bar around the corner just catching the soccer score, so when my turn came I owned up, got on with it and did the business. Standing in the queue at the checkout I stood next to some good straw hats, and liked the first one I put on my head so I got that too. Rob had bought a straw hat a few days earlier (after leaving his own hat on the turistic bus) Three nights a week over summer there is a wonderful sound and light show on Montjuic at dusk running from the Museum of Catalyunan Art at the top to plaza d'Espanya at the bottom. The waterfalls come on in sequence cascading down the hill with a large fountain at the foot and then a row of smaller fountains each side of the avenue leading to the plaza. The sequence changes every minute or two in the central fountain and sitting in the crowd is wonderful as people respond to the changes much in the same way as we did to the fireworks of last night - oohing and aaahing. This night there was also a bit of a music fiesta all around Montjuic - the fountains and the avenue in front scored the techno dance/rap dj so we left them to it and walked home to bed.