When the coach heads out of Malaga, there is a depressing plethora of bars promising the best night in Spain, Irish bars and British breakfasts. But by the time they thin out things seem a bit more Spanish. The bus deposited me, not as anticipated at a coach station, but by the side of the road, luckily very close to a sign for my hotel. It had taken me weeks of going back and forth to the Avanza website to try and get details for this bus journey to ensure that having booked to stay on the coast that I could, the Avanza site never worked properly in the end, but the actual journey turned out to be easy and I even arrived an hour earlier than expected. My pension was just a nice simple Spanish building, run by a nice Irish woman. I had a nice basic room and bathroom and the whole place was my sort of place. Out of season San Pedro was also my sort of place. I met my friend, Liliana, a few minutes after my arrival and we talked and walked to the coast and then sat in a nice restaurant to really catch up. Our meal was really simple starters of olives and prawns along with a glass of wine and a delicious pepper salad. Meal over we returned to our respective homes and the plan for the next day was to meet later on in the posh resort down the coast, but I do not know if it was my timing or her speed but we missed each other which is a shame as it is a nice walk. However, we met up again in the evening for a cuppa. It is very nice on a warm February evening to just be able to go out of an evening and enjoy a cup of tea and then potter back to one's hotel.
Tuesday morning I was back by the side of the road and again had an easy journey this time to Seville, so early that we seem to arrive before we had left Rhonda - the en route stop off As my phone had not changed time I had spent the first three days adding an hour to get the right time each time I had looked at it. When I waited for the San Pedro bus to Seville I added an hour to get to the bus stop at the right time, yet, when I got to Seville all the clocks were showing 2.30 which was the same time on my phone. I still do not understand it. Suddenly my phone was showing the right time, it was very disorientating and very hot. And as I arrived at a different coach station to the one expected even more confusing. However, getting on the tram line heading in the right direction and using the helpfully placed street maps I finally got to my hotel which was very near to the art gallery, which very helpfully was free to EU citizens. They had a lovely display of Murillo pictures, and I popped into the museum both nights I was there. As it was still warm I pottered out and found a street cafe and ate a very nice plate of beautiful Spanish jamon on bread, which was surprisingly expensive, but still nice. The following morning my attempts to get a simple breakfast were slightly flawed by not spotting the "breakfast" menu till after I had been tempted into Spanish omelette. However, as the latter,with mayonnaise was delicious, it was a nice mistake. One of the joys of travelling is that even in theory simple things like ordering breakfast can go array. It was freezing that morning so I was happy to watch the whirl of people coming and going, having a shot of coffee and then out again into the cold. But by the time I had had a second leisurely Americano it was beginning to warm up. I had spotted what seemed like a very important place to visit and decided to head over to the park in which I thought from the description it was located. This meant trundling past the queues for the cathedral and another building, which I thought was the place I was heading towards but which was therefore not where I expected it to be. Huge queues even for the booked places left me scratching my head as to how one was supposed to get in so I decided to carry onto the park and still check out that area. The sun had brought loads of people out and the park was charming. The stamp of feet and the plaintive sound of Flamenco attracted me and I was happy to be able to watch buskers promoted their evening show with a freebie for visitors to the Plaza de Espana, set in the Maria Luiza Park. I was happy to wonder through to one of the museums, which was being re-jigged. It has elements of Moorish style in the architecture, which is why I had clearly confused it with the place I had really been trying to get to, which had been next to the Cathedral. I decided to re-check all the tourist info on this place, The Alcazar Palace on my return to the hotel, but in the meantime it was so warm I was happy to stop for a cup of tea and a delicious tapas of freshly cooked chick peas and spinach in the little park outdoor cafe. Heaven. I then happily wandered back to my hotel, via a nice Bodega and more tapas, where it became clear that I somehow could not book the palace so would either have to forget it or go out very early to be the first in the queues.
As I awoke early on the Thursday morning,that is what I did. I got there about 8.50. It was very cold, and I was the only person there except the staff putting out the barriers, but it meant that I was sure to get in. I did have to wait for about a 100 pre-booked people to get in first and I could not visit the royal apartments as they were fully booked for the day but for two and a half hours I was able to happily immerse myself in Moorish and Royal Sevillle. Definitely a treat. It is a delightful mix of Moorish architecture and Spanish. The tiles were especially attractive and of added interest was the filming going on in the gardens despite the large number of tourists.
My plan was to spend the next 8 hours going ot LIsbon recovering from my early morning. However, by the time I had stopped chatting to the nice American Mexican woman who I sat next to we had crossed over into Portugal without even noticing it and even got to LIsboa early. I felt a bit dazed by how much I had done in a relatively short time. In contrast my plan for Lisbon was Mooji, Mooji and more Mooji.
No comments:
Post a Comment