Madrid: My trip started poorly, early on March 19, when for 2 hours I was stuck on a plane on the tarmac of the airport in my home town, Tucson.  After returning to the departure gate to disembark, we learned the destination airport in Dallas had closed several runways for excessive wind. That put my arrival in Dallas back by hours, thus missing my next connection to Heathrow, London. Upon arrival in Dallas the airline, American, texted me that they had changed my flight to a later one going direct to Madrid. I wound up in Madrid 3 hours early – Amazing. A day later I read the news that Heathrow was totally shut down for days due to a fire, occurring just hours after my connection was originally scheduled there, thus had I still been routed through Heathrow I might have been stranded in London for an unknown number of days. Wow. I have had, at least 3 times, major international flight disruptions in the past, but this could have been the worst. I arrived in Madrid so early that I could not re-book my airport pick-up and transfer to my central apartment, so had to use the metro subway system with my luggage in tow, which was very crowded as usual.

The Spain apartment was nice, just two blocks south of the city central Sol Plaza, and dead in the middle of the highest concentration of tapas bars and dining in Madrid. I was pretty much out-of-it the first day due to the 8-hour time change, but was fine after several glasses of red wine, a meal and 11 hours of sleep.

Daily, on the Jacinto Plaza just a half block south of my apartment, gathered the usual groups of young black men, undocumented migrants from across the Mediterranean, with their knockoff items for sale (t shirts and purses); they work in large groups – some always on the lookout – with their items spread on sheets with the four corners tied to rope cords held by the men. When the national police make their routine appearances, the men pull up the ropes, enclosing the fake goods in the sheets now slung over their shoulders, then take off running.

Cadiz: On Wednesday I took the train from Atocha Station to Cadiz – it was not an Ave highest speed train, but still plowed along at 160 Km/Hr (100 mph) on the high-speed rail system – past Sevilla on older tracks it slowed to about 80 mph. I last visited Cadiz in 2012 and arrived then just before they held a grand prix motorcycle race, so the town was packed and I only could get a room for 2 nights. This trip I booked 5 days, and had time to look around. Cadiz is the oldest continuously occupied city in the Western world. It became the major Western port of the Phoenicians around 800BC, then became the major Western port for the Romans around 100BC, and finally became the major sailing port for several hundred years for all Spanish trade with the New World – Columbus sailed from here on his second voyage. The old town used to be an island 3,000 years ago, now lying entirely on a circular peninsula of about 1 mile in diameter, with only a very narrow tongue of land connecting it to the marshy mainland. Most streets really are passageways, pushing traffic pretty much to the exterior. Stone bulwarks still form much of the sea walls, defensive against pirate attacks during the trade with the New World. Cadiz now is visited almost daily by giant cruise ships – the main squares fill with tourists during the day. The ships sail in and out at night.

I visited the Cadiz Museum again. The terrific art gallery was closed for repairs, but the Archaeological section was open, and I once more was awed by the Phoenician artifacts from the period when “Gadir” was the major Eastern port – from about 800 to 300 BC. Here are displayed the two astounding sarcophagi from the 5^th Century BC, each weighing about 4000 lbs. and carved from marble mined in the Greek Cyclades Islands. Also displayed, the fine 5^th C BC terracotta Phoenician Gaditanas in emulation of the Goddess Astarte.

My apartment was 4th floor with balcony doors opening onto the cathedral square, with views of the Eastern Cathedral tower and the crowds below. After the Burmese earthquake, I woke occasionally at night with fear of an isolated earthquake (the town is earthquake prone) because my building was falling apart. It had dangerously steep and narrow stairs up to my 4^th floor apartment, with no lights at night (I used a flashlight). The interior of the apartment itself was new and quite nice, but the building’s stairwell and outer interior walls were in bad repair. I believe the owner is an elderly lady who lives on the ground floor. I was checked in by, I think, a son-in-law. Booking.com does not give that type of detail.

Sanlucar de Barrameda: I traveled by bus from Cadiz north to Sanlucar, a smaller port town where the Guadalquivir River (which flows through Cordoba and Sevilla) flows into the Atlantic. Magellan’s voyage, the first to circumnavigate the world, sailed from and returned to Sanlucar. Today, the Guadalquiver River has silted up the port and so it no longer can handle larger ships. It is surrounded by marshes and a national park for bird-life; unfortunately, the ferry boat to cross the river to the park is permanently closed. The great fort also is closed for repairs, leaving not a lot to do or see in Sanlucar. Still a delightful town, full of tabancos and sherry cellars, with a couple of better than decent Indian restaurants. My Hotel Barrameda is lovely, with patios covered with tiles, and a roof-top outdoor area with fabulous views over the Plaza Cabildo with its fountains and tapas bars.

Tomorrow I travel a short distance inland to Jerez, the great center of sherry bodegas, with the wonderful but strong white finos. Till later. Dave

 

I took a local bus from Sanlucar on the Atlantic to Jerez, the town which originated and gave its name to the fortified wine known as sherry. It is a pretty town with a wonderful cathedral and Alcazar (fort). I last spent some time at one of the tabancos (sherry houses) with the owner who spent a great deal of time explaining to me how all the various types of sherry are produced (these include “fino”, “oloroso” and “Pedro Ximenez” among others). Personally, I have found I prefer the dry fino of Cordoba, which cannot be called a sherry because it is not produced in the township of Jerez (similar to permitting the names “Tequila” or “Cognac” only for that produced in the region).

I took the train from Jerez to Cordoba, an Alvia train which “only” travels at 275 kph rather than 320 kph as does the Ave (for the metrically challenged that is only 170 mph). I have written many times over the years about Cordoba, which for a time challenged Mecca as the most important holy city of Islam in the 9^th to 12^th Centuries. The great mosque, the “Mezquita”, at its current size covers almost 6 acres, and, of course, is a World Heritage Site. As I have written much in the past, I will not repeat here the many attractions of Cordoba. I did, as usual, eat a number of plates of Berenjenas a la Cordobesa, deep fried thin slices of eggplant drizzled with honey; I also ordered many times the famous local Salmorejo Cordobes, a cold tomato, bread, garlic and olive oil mix blended into a thick consistency and garnished with hard-boiled egg and bacon crumbles.

My last report included two photos of me seated with refreshment – one with a local red wine and the other with a Spanish beer. The attached photos below include yet another such pic, but this one with the Cordoban fino – just so you know the photos are varied.

As I on this trip have been doing less photography and tourist site visits, I have made it a “reading” trip. I started with Cervantes’ “Don Quixote”, translated to English in the 19^th century by Ormsby (considered by scholars as the most faithful translation, and by me as the best because the use of 19^th century scholarly English I think best captures the scholarly old Spanish of Cervantes). I have finished Part 1, and am halfway through Part 2; I find the first more enjoyable and much funnier – the second is drier and seems to me a little more plodding. All in all, the book is one of the longest and most widely read and translated classics in existence. I checked an online source (reliability uncertain) where the claim is the book only is about 20% shorter than War and Peace, perhaps the longest classic ever. Anyway, a number of the stories had me laughing out loud. Sancho telling the story of the shepherd trying to cross the river still makes me chuckle every time I think of it.

I also have just finished reading a translation of “Lazarillo de Tormes”, author unknown, published about 40 years before Don Quixote and referenced by Cervantes. Lazarillo is from Salamanca where the story begins, and has a famous scene at the huge carved rock bull (a “veraco”, one of pre-Roman stone carvings found in central Spain) which still stands at the beginning of the Roman bridge over the Tormes River. Lazarillo perhaps is the second best known ancient Spanish novel, much shorter than Don Quixote, and the writing set the design for “picaresque” novels where the protagonists basically are lovable scoundrels (Huckleberry Finn is such a work).

Finally, I also brought Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises” to read a second time when, and if, I go to Pamplona, where Hemingway wrote much of the book sitting in the Café Iruna where I also like to sit and drink beer on the main plaza. I am reading also crime and sci fi novels but they do not relate to my travels.

I now am in Salamanca spending 2 weeks in a lovely 2-bedroom apartment, with 6 glass doors opening onto balconies over the Plaza Sesmeros and the 12^th century church San Julian & Santa Basilisa. The weather for two days has been almost freezing, with on and off sleet or small hail showers and high winds – the reports say it should start clearing today and get warmer and more spring like. Later. Dave