TF (Part II: ...With a Chance of a Fairy Dusting)

We booked a flight to La Coruña that left on Friday. Once again my mental whirlpool caused a travel wave. I did extensive planning to figure out what time I had to get up in order to run, get ready, walk to the bus, take the bus to Sevilla, wait for the airport bus, travel to airport on that bus and be at the airport at noon (45 minutes early -according to the airline rules). It would have been a great plan, except for the fact that I forgot to take into account that the time we got off the Alcalá bus had to coincide with a time that the airport bus passed the nearby stop. This meant that we had to take the slightly earlier bus out of Alcalá. When I realized my mistake about 9:45 AM we had little time to discuss it. We threw the rest of our stuff together and ran out the door (as best we could weighted down by several packs/suitcases).

This is where our transportation fairy (TF) made her appearance. When we got to the bus stop in Alcalá the bus was waiting for us. When we got to Sevilla we barely waited for the airport bus. When we got to the airport there was hardly a line at check-in. We flew through airport security check-point and checked our watches on the other side: 20 minutes until our flight left. 

The Fairy Dust storm didn't stop there. When we got off the plane in La Coruña, we picked up our suitcase and then waited in line at the information desk for a map of the city and airport bus information. We were told that the bus left every half hour from the bus stop 'over there'. We walked outside, found the bus, and paid our fare. As we found seats the bus driver shut the door and started the venture to the city. It was as if the bus had been waiting for us to get there. 

Flags of Galicia, Spain and the EU at the airport.

The information I had from the Internet about the airport bus stops was not helpful (aka accurate, as far as I could tell). We didn't really have any idea where to get off. I was waiting for a sign or a familiar street name to come up, but the road we were traveling down was supposed to be the third stop. After a few stops and a little sweating we realized there was a map of the stops posted above the back door. I got up to look at it at the same time that a woman was asking an old man on the bus where her stop was. (First she asked if he was from there and then she asked where her stop was.) Based on the answers he gave her, I determined that the next stop was ours. 

Once we found the right stop, getting to the hostel was no problem. Working the intercom to get buzzed in was the challenge. The sign said to press the # sign, call the number and press the bell symbol. That's what I tried to do, but never got an answer. I gave up and used my cell phone to call the front desk to tell them we had arrived. The woman was amused that I couldn't work the intercom and after a little chuckle she let us in. Once upstairs (no elevator, as seems to be a requirement to be called a 'hostel'). We checked in and the hotel clerk took several minutes to recommend good places to eat and and the best way to get to them. We dropped off our bags in the room first and decided we would take the long way to one of the restaurants so we could see some of the sights of the city. First stop was the beach. It was an unusually hot and sunny day for April and especially for Galicia, so the beach had some life.

Second stop was the restaurant, but by the time we got there it was closed for the afternoon (It was about 4 PM). We found another non-recommended restaurant close by and ordered wine and a few tapas. I got shrimp with saffron rice (arroz con gambas) and Anna got chicken with a cream sauce (pollo a la crema) that also came with french fries. We shared the zorza de cerdo, which seemed to be spicy pork with french fries.

Recharged and energized, we continued our tour of Galicia:

Torre de Hercules- the oldest working lighthouse in the world.
It is Roman and dates back to the first century.

Bagpipes at the soccer game. I could hear him, but couldn't see him.
I stuck my hand through a bush and took a blind photo.

That's Anna in the center of the compass rose.

The climb back up from the compass rose.

Perhaps I should tell you, if you haven't already Googled it, that La Coruña (or A Coruña) is in the Northwest part of Spain, above Portugal and on the Atlantic. It is much greener and rainier than the southern part of Spain where I currently reside. They also speak Galician and, from our experience this weekend, it seems the bagpipes is their instrument of choice. I hope I just shattered all your stereotypes about Spain (or at least one).

A young lady getting First Communion photos taken.

We were exhausted from taking so many pictures, so we sat by the water and talked and rested a little bit.  For dinner we opted for a low-budget option: empanadas (essentially the original 'Hot Pocket', but without cheese) from the grocery store and ice cream from the best looking ice cream shop we could find.

We made it an early night. The next morning I got up and ran along the beach/coast. We then went walking along the coast in the direction we hadn't yet covered.

The Torre de Hercules from a distance.

There wasn't much going on in this area, so we walked back to town where we stopped for tea for me and hot chocolate and a churro for Anna. Around 11:30 we headed back to the hostel to pick up our bags then went on to the bus stop to catch a bus to the train station. (We were going to Santiago de Compostela, another city in Galicia.) We knew where the train station was (and I remembered seeing it when we were on the bus the day before), but we didn't know exactly which bus would get us there directly. But who needs that when you have a Transportation Fairy?

There was an older lady in sunglasses waiting at the bus stop (The TF herself?). When we couldn't figure out the stop from the information that was posted, it was time to practice my Spanish. I said, 'Pardon me, but do you know which bus to take to get to the train station?' She looked at me for a moment and then removed her sunglasses. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her regular glasses. She asked me what I had said. I repeated it. She explained that the 1A (I could write any bus number and you'd believe me, wouldn't you?) would take us to the train station. She said that was the bus she was taking and that she would tell us when we needed to get off. So we followed her on the bus and she alerted us to the stop. She told us to take the bridge over the road and then we'd see the station on the left. Anna thought she said something in English, but I can neither confirm nor deny why I understood what she said.

We hadn't yet purchased train tickets for the journey. When we arrived at the train station we discovered that we had about 10 minutes before the train left. It took a lot of time to decide which return train to take and the ticket machine didn't like the credit card we gave it, so we had to cancel the transaction and start over. The clock was ticking so we decided to just buy one-way tickets and worry about getting back later (this is NOT foreshadowing by the way). The tickets printed out and we walked to the correct platform and onto the train. Not two minutes after finding seats did the train leave the station. And so began Anna's first train ride.

Part III (Santiago de Compostela)...

When we met the transportation fairy (Part I: Foggy...)

I'm kind of forgetful sometimes. Maybe spacey is the better word. My mind is a perpetual whirlpool of facts, ideas, thoughts and songs. There is no 'off' position on my mental whirlpool, so I sometimes forget things, am foggy on the details and/or confuse the facts. I had it in my head that Anna would arrive on the 7th. When I re-read the itinerary she sent me I discovered it was actually the 6th. Luckily I caught it in time so I didn't leave her stranded on the airport. However, my Spanish class ended at noon and her flight got in at 12:50. Getting from the University to the airport in 50 minutes via two buses would take a miracle or maybe just a lot of luck. It wasn't impossible, just unlikely.

I got to the bus transfer point at 12:30 and on the airport bus at 12:50. Needless to say, I was late but fortunately Anna's flight was too. I was relieved to see it marked 'delayed' on the flight status board. It would have been horrible for Anna to have traveled for a day only to arrive in Sevilla and have me nowhere in sight, even though she knew I might be late. When the plane finally did land I thought she might have lost her luggage because she was nowhere to be found. Eventually she appeared, luggage and all. While she may have thought her journey was over, she actually had an hour and a half of bus-riding and a half-mile walk to get to the piso in Alcalá ahead of her. These last legs of the journey went well, except that I had some difficulty steering her suitcase down the sidewalk (suitcases with wheels and Europe do not mix). Anna was able to stay up long enough for some lunch and until I had to go to work. Then she, like so many before her, succumbed to the weight of her eyelids while I went to work. She woke up again when I got back from school and we had some bonding time with my roommates. Anna got to meet Cone (that's co-nay, as in conejo (rabbit)), José's pet rabbit, and show off photos from her trip to Africa (to my roommates, not to the rabbit).

On Thursday morning we slept in but managed to make it to the bank before it closed (at 2). Anna needed to exchange American Dollars for European Euros. To exchange money at a bank you have to have a bank account there, so I got to pretend that Anna's Andrew Jacksons belonged to me. The teller totally fell for it.

At the bank, Anna not only got Euros, but also got to experience some important aspects of Spanish culture. First was the experience of waiting in line. There were maybe ten people milling in the vicinity of the two tellers. You can never tell who is waiting for what or what they are doing there. You just have to take a number and wait until it's called. When it was our turn we went up to the teller and told her we (I) needed to exchange money. She said I had to have an account to do that. I told her I did and so the transaction commenced. (This is Anna's second lesson: random questions and behaviors- at least from an American's perspective.) She asked if I wanted the money in cash or in my account.
'In cash,' I said.
'All of it or part of it?' she asked.
'All of it,' I said.

I had to sign something saying that she was going to give me all of the euros except for 33 cents. I didn't understand why she didn't want to give me the change but I didn't press her for answers. Maybe 'todo' didn't mean what I thought it meant. She then proceeded to give me the (whole number) Euros and we were on our way. Turns out that she deposited the 33 cents in my account and gave us the rest of the Euros in cash. (I owe you, Anna.) Apparently I failed the bank transaction comprehension test.

After the bank we went to school so I could plan out my lesson for later that day and make any necessary copies for it. Anna met a few of the teachers, saw a little of the school and even got to help me find videos for the lesson! The topic was science experiments, so I was going to use videos from MythBusters for a discussion. She got to search for good ones (we decided on an experiment to see if eating poppy seeds made you test positive for drugs and whether or not a ceiling fan could decapitate someone, as you see in horror films). We exited the building around two when the school closed for the afternoon.

We made our way to the bus stop to Sevilla. It was a quick visit. We took a short tour of the cathedral and Barrio Santa Cruz area. Then we had lunch in the Barrio, ate ice cream at my favorite place in Sevilla and then headed back to Alcalá for class.

Fried goat cheese, black olives, bread and a tomato jam.
Anna banished the olives to my side of the plate.

Tortilla Española with a sauce.

Artichokes and ham

The 'Take Anna to Work Day' activities continued with two classes: a fourth year and a second year. In the fourth year class we did the aforementioned MythBusters activity. In the second year class we did two activities:  one with weird US laws (and they had to restate them using 'you must' or 'you mustn't') and a role play shopping activity. You'll have to ask her what she thought of them.

After class we needed some nourishment so we went out to eat at the Mexican restaurant in Alcalá (along with Megan, José, and Clarisse). It was here that I began my longest stretch of days with at least one glass of wine and simultaneously disproved my theory that I couldn't drink wine and run the next day (breaking point TBD). The waitress came by to get our drink order and Anna ordered a 'Dos Equis' without batting an eyelash. She even tackled her meal order in Spanish, including asking for a 'side of guacamole' (with ayuda from her wordsmith friend, José). She fooled me with her skills because a few minutes later I looked right at her and said something to her in Spanish. She started laughing, along with Megan and Clarisse. The comment I made wasn't funny (save your jokes, people) so I didn't understand why they were laughing. 'Who are you trying to talk to?' she asked. I'm a little foggy on those details.

(To be continued...)

But how do you say it in British English?

As I've said before, the students are learning British English and I am learning it right along with them. True that I have a slight advantage because I know American English, but I still learn new words/phrases every day. It's sort of a testament to the fact that the two are different. And the students want to make sure they are learning British English because that is what they will be tested on. If they say something the American way, like: 'At the university you can study Urban Geography,' they would be wrong. They have to say 'At university...' (without the 'the'). They also say 'at hospital' and 'at weekends'. There are differences in verb conjugations too. Learned and learnt, for example.

One day in conversation class I felt like I was being set up. A student was talking and asked how to say 'cola' in English.
"Line," I said.
"Queue," said another student.

Then the speaking student asked how to say 'galleta' in English.
"Cookie," I said.
"Biscuit," said the other student.

I thought the third time would be the charm, but "¿'Farmacia' en inglés?"asked the speaking student.
"Pharmacy or drug store," I said.
The other student shook his head, "Chemist," he said.

So you can see how easily I can lose credibility in a short amount of time and why students are skeptical that the answers I give them are correct.

But there have been a few 'in your face' moments too (I say it all in good fun, of course). The other day students from the second year class were talking about their families. One student asked how many brothers (hermanos) her partner had. 'Hermanos' can mean either 'brothers' or 'siblings' in Spanish so I thought it would be a good opportunity to teach them the word 'siblings'.

"Siblings?" one student asked, "is that British or American?"
"Both," I said.
"But what do they say in the UK?"
"Siblings," I said.
She reluctantly wrote it down. I could see her making a mental note to look it up in her British dictionary when she got home though.

My favorite moment when I was right was in a first year class. The students were going a role-play activity wherein one person was a store clerk and the other was a customer. The script read, 'Hello, how can I help you, Sir.' As you might imagine there are some females in the class too, so they wanted to know how to say the feminine form of 'Sir'.
"Ma'am," I said.
"But what do they say in Britian?" asked the student.
I considered for a moment if there was a more British alternative.
"They say 'Ma'am'," I said.
"Well I'm going to ask José (the teacher) when he gets back." (He was downstairs making copies at the time.)
When José came back the student waved him over to her desk. By this time I was helping another student, but I had one ear on the conversation.
"Ma'am," José said.
"Yesssssssssss," I said to myself.
"I just had to be sure," the student told me. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."
"It's ok," I replied. "I understand."
And believe me, I do. I don't want to learn the South American word in Spanish. I want to know the Spain Spanish word.

All the way to the bank (cities)

I finally made it up to Northern Spain. I have been to Barcelona several times, but I don't count it as northern Spain. I think of it more as 'right side Spain'. My trip to Bilbao and Santander (March 11-13), however, allowed me to finally check 'Northern Spain' off my travel list. In addition to their location, these cities also have another common thread: they both have banks named after them. BBVA stands for Banco Bilbao Vizcaya Argentaria and Santander for Santander (it's sort of like New York, it's the bank so nice they named it twice).

Tallest building to the right is the BBVA building in Bilbao.

Santander headquarters in Santander

I started my journey in Bilbao (which I'm sure I will spell wrong at some point in this entry. Sometimes I can't remember if the 'o' or the 'a' is the last letter), I arrived at about 10:00 AM at the Bilbao airport. I was mapless, as you might expect, but this time I actually stopped at the tourist office in the airport to get one. I obtained both a map and directions on how to catch the airport bus into the city. It came at a price though; I had to disclose my nationality for their statistics ('I'm just another Canadian tourist,' I said).

Onto the bus and into the city I went. The second bus stop was just feet from my hotel. I was allowed to check-in early (woo-hoo!) so I went up to my room, examined the map, took a nap and then went running. I was scared to walk out of the hotel in the middle of downtown Bilbao wearing my yellow running shorts and blue running top. I was expecting the stares I usually get here in Alcalá. To my relief people acted like I wasn't even there. It was a breath of fresh air.

A small part of my run in Bilbao.

I spent the afternoon walking around Bilbao, checking out the architecture, visiting the Guggenheim museum and getting my bearings. I also took a trip to the bus station, where I bought a ticket to Santander for the next day (Saturday).

After a run on Saturday morning, I walked a mile to the bus station and took an hour-long ride to Santander. I attempted to get a map at the information desk in the Santander bus station, but there was a sign posted that said that they didn't have maps. I tried to use the station's free wifi to pull up a map on my iPod, but I was unsuccessful. My third idea was to walk outside and follow the yellow signs pointing to the 'tourist office'. Unfortunately I could only find signs that had other words on them. It didn't matter though. I just wandered around and found churches, squares, outdoor escalators and great views without a stinking map. (Although, I never gave up the search.)

Cathedral of Santander- Nuestra Señora de la Asunción

Escalator up the hill

View from the top of the escalator.

I walked around Santander all day. I stopped for tea and read the paper (I learned that the US was appalled and disappointed with Gwyneth Paltrow's most recent appearance in Glee and that there was an earthquake in Japan). For lunch I went here:

The waitress here was super duper nice. She got the table all set for me, brought me a drink and answered my questions about the menu. I decided to get the three-course menu that included a a drink and bread for 9€.  The first course choice was simple- the lentils. But I wasn't sure what to get for the second course. I didn't know what a few of the choices were, so I chose one and asked the waitress.  I asked what 'callos' were. She couldn't explain them every well except that they were cow meat in a tomato sauce and that they were typical of Spain. And so, against my father's golden rule of never trying anything new, I ordered them.

Had I been a better Spanish student I would have known that 'callos' also means 'callus' or 'corn' (as in feet) and that an edible equivalent to the word couldn't possibly be a delicious decision. So when it came out, I tried it. It was slimy and chewy. It had absolutely no taste, just texture. After a few bites I convinced myself I had given it the ol' college try but ultimately didn't like it. So I left the rest.

mmmmmm.....?

I had a feeling I didn't want to know what I ate and I was right. My Grandma (Wehrmann) would have been proud of me (and would have laughed at my expense) for eating it. That is not a good sign. 'Callos' in English is 'tripe' or (according to thefreedictionary.com) 'the rubbery lining of the stomach of cattle or other ruminants, used as food'. Please note that it is not defined as 'food' but rather as something that is 'used as food'.

Luckily, I had the first course of lentils, the half bottle of wine (Don't judge me. That's what she brought me when I ordered red wine, I didn't ask for a half bottle) and ice cream to fill me up. The waitress also saw me drinking the bottled water from my purse and said, "I saw you drinking water from your bag. Do you want a bottle of cold water? It's included in the meal." I accepted her offer.
She forgot to bring me bread and remembered when she cleared the callos off the table. She asked me why I didn't remind her and I said that I had plenty of other food and I didn't need bread. She said, "Yeah, it's fattening anyway, it's better not to have the temptation" (or something along those lines).

After lunch I started walking again. At a crosswalk I met up with a little boy (he was maybe 2 or 3) and his mother. He saw an older lady cross the street on a red light and asked,
"Mamá, why did she cross the street?"
"Because she's in a hurry," the mother replied.
A few steps later, at another crosswalk, I took out my camera to take a picture.
"Mamá, why is she taking a photo?"
"Because she is visiting and she might not be back, so she wants to take a photo so she can remember where she was."

I walked back to the bus station and went the opposite direction I went the first time. Not long after my second departure from the bus station did I find the tourist office sign along with a touristy area. I walked down along the ocean/tourist area for about twenty minutes. The sun was setting and the sky was incredible. I'm glad I didn't find this area until dusk; the photos just wouldn't have compared to these.

I got on the bus back to Bilbao at 8 PM and walked back to the hotel where I watched the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on TV (in Spanish).

The next morning (Sunday) I took another walking tour of Bilbao. I walked outside the Guggenheim museum, crossed several bridges and walked in the historical downtown area, which was in stark contrast to the other more modern part of Bilbao I'd seen. It was almost like I was in another city.

Puete de la Salve

Mamá (the spider sculpture)

Me with the Guggenheim
museum in the background.

Zubizuri (White Bridge)

Puente de Deustu (Modeled after the
Michigan Ave. bridge in Chicago)

Yoga in English...for children.

The Way of St. James marker in on the sidewalk.

Plaza Nueva

Bilbao Summit of Way of St. James

I entertained myself by saying 'Bilbobus' over and over.

My favorite part about Bilbao was the name. You can put 'Bilbao' in front of every word and it makes it more fun to say: Bilbobus, Bilbao tao, Bilboa boat, etc. I also like that the Basque language uses the all too underused or forgotten letter 'k'. But I'm not the only one who likes the Basque language. Your favorite second president, John Adams, was also a fan. This monument in Bilbao displays his quote about the Basque people:  "While their neighbors have long since resigned all their pretensions into the hand of Kings and priests, this extraordinary people have preserved their ancient language, genius, laws, government and manners, without innovation, longer than any other nation of Europe."

John Adams in Bilbao.

Shortly after I left President Adams I took the bus back to the airport for my flight to Sevilla.

Bilbao, bye.

R-M-S: an unsinkable itinerary

Another plane carrying carrying someone I know from the US arrived in Sevilla around 9 AM on March 3rd. I was at the airport waiting when she arrived (true story). Once in Alcalá, we headed to school for my one-hour meeting which gave Deb the chance to meet some of the teachers and see the school. We ate lunch with Shaelyn in Alcalá and then Deb took an extended siesta while I went to class. 

Solomillo in Alcalá

The next morning/afternoon Megan help us finalize our travel plans (namely, where we were going to stay on Saturday), escorted us to the Sevilla bus station and even took this fine photo:

We moved before that truck hit us.

We had an agenda in Sevilla. First, we had to buy bus tickets to Ronda. Easy, right? Not when the ticket seller is in the middle of a heated argument with some other worker. While muffled by the pane glass ticket window, it was still quite clear that neither of them were happy and neither of them were focused on selling tickets. The girl in line in front of us tried to get the clerk's attention but the clerk was much too involved in the argument. Through sleight of hand and a twist of fate (sprinkled with a lot of patience and 'oye's) the girl managed to get her tickets and then I was up to bat. I tried to convey that I wanted two tickets on the 6:15 bus to Ronda. That girl deserves a raise because somehow she got me the right tickets through the static of my less-than-perfect Spanish, the sound-shielding window, the man was arguing with her, and her return argument. Without looking directly at me and without skipping a beat in the argument, she accurately keyed in the information, took my money and handed me the tickets and the change. Look for the word 'multitasking' on her resume.

Second, we wanted to check our bags until the bus left so we wouldn't have to carry them around Sevilla. There is a bag check right at the bus station. For 2€ you can leave your bags for the day (it closes at 9 PM). The nicest, cutest old man was working there. I told him we wanted to check our bags and he responded, 'Well, that's what I'm here for.'

The third task was to buy the textbooks for my Spanish class (I needed them for class on Monday). So, billetes in hand and bags in holding, we headed to the bookstore. I feared it might be closed because two o'clock was approaching quickly, but we made it in time, they had the books and I had the credit card.

We walked around Sevilla a little bit and ate tapas at a restaurant in Barrio Santa Cruz (not the barrio that has a program about all the puppets that live there) near the Catedral. I made Deb try tortilla Española, among a few other things.

After an unsuccessful attempt to get ice cream at the usual place (because it was inexplicably closed), we settled for a place on Sierpes street (or somewhere thereabouts). It was time then to head back to the bus station to get our bags and hop on the bus to our first destination: Ronda (pronounced Rhone-Duh).

RONDA

Interesting fact: Michelle & Sasha Obama visited Ronda in August of 2010. Another: Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles each spent a few summers in Ronda.

The bus ride was about two hours and I don't remember a lot of it because I dozed off. When we got to Ronda it was dark and we were map-less, as is becoming the trend when I travel. We sort of had directions. We knew that it was close to the Palacio de Salvatierra and the Casa del Rey Moro. We headed in what we thought was the right direction. After about five minutes I stopped and asked a woman at a shop how to get to the hotel. She said it was far away, but that we should go straight and then turn at some point and then ask for more directions. I asked if we should take a taxi instead if it was so far, but she said no. I've had this experience before in Spain. The time/distance to a destination has been severely exaggerated. I'm not sure what they do that it takes them 40 minutes to get to a place and it takes me 15 minutes, but I'm kind of curious. Anyway, since it wasn't much further we continued on on foot. When we reached a plaza we went into the five-star hotel (next to the McDonald's and the tourism office), where I (again) asked for directions and also obtained a map. We were about two minutes from the hotel at this point. It was like a magnet was pulling us right there. Map, who needs a map? Maps don't test my conversation and Spanish comprehension skills. The more times I have to stop and ask for directions, the lower my comprehension skills.

Our hotel was more like a bed and breakfast. The front desk attendant/owner/housekeeper showed us to our room and pointed out the amenities. What I remember most of all about the hotel were the towels: brilliant white and fluffy as a kitten.

As exciting as they were, I tore myself away from the wonder of the towels and we went in search of food. There weren't a whole lot of options but what we found had delicious tapas and sangría.

The next morning we went out exploring. First stop was a sugary breakfast:

Next, we checked out the town:

OOOOOOOOOOO...

AHHHHHHHHHH...

Puente Arabe

One of our stops was the Casa del Rey Moro. It was a dangerous place for both Deb and me. Deb tripped and almost fell in the small ditch at the entrance. She grabbed onto the wall for support, causing a framed article on the Obama's visit to Ronda to go crashing to the ground. Inside, while trying to find our way around the maze of the garden, I went down some stairs to what I thought would lead to the mine (mina). To my surprise, the steps ended at a rocky 'Slip 'n Slide'. Although I kept my balance (thanks to the poise and grace I learned in over a decade of dance and gymnastics), my Slip 'n Slide moves were like an interpretive dance with the message 'wrong way'.

The rest of the Ronda visit included viewing the Arab baths, the Puete Viejo and Puente Nuevo, (note: puente = bridge), stopping for lunch at a nice restaurant in a plaza with a musician (of the kindly-request-a-donation, outdoor and street-performer variety) and a great view. Our stomachs happy, we headed back to the hotel to pick up our bags and then on to the bus station. Next stop: Málaga.

Down the mine's ~200 steps.

The light on the end of the tunnel.

The Arab baths.

Puente Viejo.

Tuna and red bell peppers. Classic.

Paella!

MÁLAGA

Although I'd been to Málaga just a few months earlier, I still didn't have a map of the city. (Map, schmap.) I had the advantage of a general idea of where we were going though. We walked to the hotel (using my hotel-finding skills, Deb's information from the Internet and a map provided on the street). It was during this (15 minute?) walk on cobblestone sidewalks and roads that Deb decided we would be taking a taxi back to the train (yes, train) station on our way to Sevilla because her wheeled suitcase was just too annoying. This brought back memories of my trip to Nerja in 2001 where I cursed my own suitcase with wheels and vowed to purchase a large backpacking pack like those possessed by my traveling companions, who floated down the sidewalks of the city while I foundered.

We had decided to stay Sunday night in Málaga as well and take the early train back to Sevilla so I could attend Spanish class on Monday morning. We made arrangements at the hotel for another night stay, checked in and unloaded our suitcases in our room. We rested a bit and then went to check out 'Carnaval' which was going on that weekend. Oh, and we ate ice cream.

Back at the hotel the room was so warm that I couldn't sleep. I thought I had turned the heat off, but it still seemed like it was on full blast. There was also a strange light flickering going on in the windows across the patio. I couldn't figure out what would cause them to go on and off at varying intervals, but usually about 10 seconds apart. I thought maybe someone was trapped on the other side of the building and trying to send a Morse Code message with the lights. I don't know Morse Code though.

On Sunday we first visited the Alcazaba and Teatro Romano. At the entrance to the Alcazaba there was a ticket machine where you paid your admission. There was an guard standing at the entrance helping you make your purchase and, I'm sure, assuring that there wasn't an unusually high number of senior citizen and student visitors. I have a student ID, so I whipped it out and showed it to him to confirm I could enter for the low price of 1€. He looked at it and said, 'Oh, una Sevillana.' (A resident of Sevilla.) "Yes," I said. "Is there a special price for Sevillanas?" He didn't answer, instead he just helped me select and purchase the student-priced ticket from the machine. "Entra Sevilliana," (Enter Sevilla Girl.) he said. After that, we walked around the Catedral, saw the apartment where Picasso was born, saw the Mediterranean Sea, ate tapas, had another drink and saw more of the Carnaval festivities (including a parade).

Look how pretty the Mediterranean Sea is at 9 AM!

The Alcazaba de Málaga

Deb's Breezy...

Tapas/drinks in Málaga

I forced Deb to try more Spanish beer.

How Deb learned that Spain won the World Cup.

After the tour of the city, we returned to the hotel and I decided to ask the front desk attendant how to turn down the heat and what the explanation behind the light show was. He said he would send someone up to check it out. The person that came up to check it out said we had the heat on, so he turned it off (it didn't seem to make any difference whether the switch was up or down. I don't think there was an 'off' position on that heating switch.) As for the light show, he said it was the motion-detector lights in the hall across the way going on and off as people passed through the hall. It was a valid explanation, I suppose, but I was skeptical and curious about the amount of movement on the other side of the building. What was going on over there? Why was it so much more happening than our side? Was someone trapped and pacing back and forth and that was the reason for the constant flickering? I still wonder.

SEVILLA

We took the first train to Sevilla in the morning (bright and early). From the train station we took another train back into the city where we found a hotel where Deb could stay for her last night in Spain. Her flight left at 7 AM and she didn't want to have to worry about getting from Alcalá to the airport by 7 AM. You know how arduous the trip can be, especially with a heavy suitcase. So she got a room and we dropped our stuff off there. I went to Spanish class and she caught up on the sleep we missed by getting up so early.

At noon I returned to the hotel and we walked to the main entrance of the University of Sevilla, where one of my 5th year students (and a member of my conversation group) was waiting to give us tour of the highlights of the city. He showed us the entrance to the university (the old tobacco factory), Hotel Alfonso XIII, the Puerta de Jerez, Torre del Oro, Plaza de la Maestranza (the bullfighting ring), the Catedral and Giralda and the Alcázar. Then we had lunch in Barrio Santa Cruz ('the Barrio' as Deb called it) before parting ways.

Torre del Oro

Giralda Tower

The last part of the day was for exploring the 'Barrio', walking to the Plaza de España and then walking back to the Catedral area for one last Spanish bowl of ice cream.

Plaza de España (also where I picked up
my TIE card way back in December)

We walked back to Deb's hotel and said our goodbyes. Deb was going to check out, walk to the bus, get on the bus and get to the airport the next morning using the Spanish and universal hand gestures she knew. I had no doubt she could handle it. So I off I went back to Alcalá (mapless).