To Cordoba
Up at three like zombies. Cats confused. Into the car, and Lorraine driving us in the dark to Gatwick. The airport very busy at that time of day. Luckily the French air controllers strike didn't affect our 5:50am flight to Seville. Sleasy Jet not quite as cramped as last time. Poor Lorraine stuck between me, looking twitchily out of the window, and a nervously talkative farmer. The flight was fine, but I felt tense and weird and fuzzy as I had taken a diazepam.
Landed in Seville, which proved to be an easy to use airport. We caught an airport bus to the Santa Justa station. We managed to buy tickets to Cordoba in Spanglish, and some warm chicken and bacon baguettes in the station, which we ate hungrily with a couple of cokes. Three ticket checks before we were able to get onto the platform, and our cases had to go through airport style security scanners. The coaches were confusingly labelled. Several people including ourselves were ousted from their seats, by people taking their rightful places. We had in turn to oust some others from ours.
Journey to Cordoba speedy, the tilting train travelling it said at 220 kmh at some points. AN almost Japanese experience of train travel, leaving and arriving exactly on time too.
Once in Cordoba, we'd worked out that the hotel was walkable, and we wheeled our cabin cases by a green strip of park through the centre of town, and alongside the wall of the old town, and lots of water features. We found Las Casas de la Juderia fairly easily. A whizz past various gorgeous patios, and straight into bed for an early afternoon snooze, having been up for ages.
Began ambling through the old town, narrow streets with patterns of pebbles set in concrete. We are in the old Jewish quarter. Wandering through in a bit of a dream. Stopped at Salon du Té and drank excellent vanilla tea, and soaked up the Moroccan vibes. Lorraine ordered some hummus and flatbreads, drizzled in olive oil. Then we threaded back through the streets back to our hotel, and had a drink in the 'honesty bar' in one of the patios, and ate the mixed nuts that the sparrows in the courtyard hadn't already tested.
We wandered out again, and found a restaurant which had been recommended, but the staff were unfriendly, so we chose another which was friendly and fun. Several plates of tapas, the tortilla and the Iberian ham particularly fine, as was the rich bottle of house rioja. Back to the hotel, and slid happily into our very wide bed, and watched the second half of the European Cup Final, where Liverpool were beaten by Madrid.
Below through a doorway in the hotel; a typical street view; a statue; in Salon du Té; and through a doorway which just happened to catch the light and make it golden -- through the door are two folks dressed in clothes for what imagine was a fiesta.
Landed in Seville, which proved to be an easy to use airport. We caught an airport bus to the Santa Justa station. We managed to buy tickets to Cordoba in Spanglish, and some warm chicken and bacon baguettes in the station, which we ate hungrily with a couple of cokes. Three ticket checks before we were able to get onto the platform, and our cases had to go through airport style security scanners. The coaches were confusingly labelled. Several people including ourselves were ousted from their seats, by people taking their rightful places. We had in turn to oust some others from ours.
Journey to Cordoba speedy, the tilting train travelling it said at 220 kmh at some points. AN almost Japanese experience of train travel, leaving and arriving exactly on time too.
Once in Cordoba, we'd worked out that the hotel was walkable, and we wheeled our cabin cases by a green strip of park through the centre of town, and alongside the wall of the old town, and lots of water features. We found Las Casas de la Juderia fairly easily. A whizz past various gorgeous patios, and straight into bed for an early afternoon snooze, having been up for ages.
Began ambling through the old town, narrow streets with patterns of pebbles set in concrete. We are in the old Jewish quarter. Wandering through in a bit of a dream. Stopped at Salon du Té and drank excellent vanilla tea, and soaked up the Moroccan vibes. Lorraine ordered some hummus and flatbreads, drizzled in olive oil. Then we threaded back through the streets back to our hotel, and had a drink in the 'honesty bar' in one of the patios, and ate the mixed nuts that the sparrows in the courtyard hadn't already tested.
We wandered out again, and found a restaurant which had been recommended, but the staff were unfriendly, so we chose another which was friendly and fun. Several plates of tapas, the tortilla and the Iberian ham particularly fine, as was the rich bottle of house rioja. Back to the hotel, and slid happily into our very wide bed, and watched the second half of the European Cup Final, where Liverpool were beaten by Madrid.
Below through a doorway in the hotel; a typical street view; a statue; in Salon du Té; and through a doorway which just happened to catch the light and make it golden -- through the door are two folks dressed in clothes for what imagine was a fiesta.
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