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Published: October 21st 2009
About two weeks ago I railed out of France at 200+ KM/Hour towards the Spanish border using my second much-discounted Eurail pass. Three hours later I was in Barcelona without an expectation in the world except that I would be rusty at Spanish (learning French seems to have shoved much of the Spanish out of my head). But the good news is that foreigners struggling at Spanish is not something new for Barcelonians (note: the natives speak Catalan; also note: the natives are buried under Americans and Australians, for the most part, so Spanish is refreshing to their ears after so much English around).
The city earned its reputation as a lovely, relaxed place, with Tapas bars and a hot sun making for lazy siesta-filled afternoons and fun-filled nights. I spent five nights in Barcelona, taking in a lot of Gaudi creations, some early Picasso, and many Cervezas with new friends.
But of course, all good things must come to an end, and so 15 minutes late for check-out I flurried out of the hostel and was on train ride #2 to Valencia with a fierce stomach ache. Scratchy voiced and grumpy, I decided to treat myself to a
private room and to spend most of my evening time lying in my underwear watching bad movies I had put on my computer before leaving France, which suited me just fine (I also got fast-food for, I think, the first time ever outside of Canada. Like I said, I was in rough shape - probably delirious, given the number of Whopper wrappers strewn across the floor of my cozy little room.
And so, to make a fresh start, I left two nights later for Seville after a tip from an old timer at the hostel. I find that with gray hair comes two things: way too long stories and good travel advice, the later justifying the former. And here I sit, in Seville, four nights after almost dozing off to tales from that old fella.
But good advice it was, since Seville has a ton to offer. It was a city ruled by the Moors for centuries before falling to Spanish hands, giving the town a very Muslim feel. The highlight of the city has to be the Real de Alcazar, a palace built by the Moors in the tenth century. I have never seen a more impressive
display of Muslim architecture and their geometric-style art. Add it to the "Noel says you gotta see this before you die" list.
But now, I gotta run. I have a bus ticket for Lagos, Portugal which is my one stop en route to Lisbon, from which I fly back to Lyon on the 26th. After a few busy days, some of which spent with two adorable "keeper" sort of new friends from Belgium, I am planning on having a quiet night. Sticking to plans, however, is not my forte...
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Adam
non-member comment
Sounds like fun!
Looks like you're having a great time. I wish I could be there to see it all with you. Since you've seen lots of europe, would you consider Africa? If so, I have a diamond trader buddy who could show you the ropes... Where is the third eurail pass going to take you?