A One Night Fling With Sevilla

(I’ve been back from vacation for 11 days now, and while my body is back in Portland, a significant part of my heart and mind are still in Spain. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about our time there – four days in Madrid, followed by seven days on the beautiful Costa de Luz. But nothing haunts me more than Sevilla, a magical city where we only got to spend one night.  Following are some photos and impressions of this fascinating and beautiful little city.)

After two very busy days of driving to Arcos de la Frontera and the Rock of Gibraltar, Mallory and I spent all day Wednesday relaxing in the sunshine on our balconies – the back one first for morning sun, and the front one last for afternoon sun. The most taxing thing we did all day was wander down to the beach for a little rock skipping, picture taking, and playing in the water.

Our wonderful apartment, in the yellow building on the top floor.

The next morning, however, we had to face the reality that our time on the beach was over (just as the weather was starting to get nice, too) and we had a 90 minute or so drive ahead of us to our last night’s destination – Sevilla.

We made it out of El Puerto fairly easily, thanks to Mallory’s navigation skills with the iPad. Once I hit the highway, I again began to enjoy driving in Spain – the freeways are really the nicest I’ve ever seen, and the scenery is beautiful. As we pulled into Sevilla, however, I started to tense up again. Driving in foreign cities is still intimidating for me, but we made it to Santa Justa train station and the Hertz car lot none the worse for wear.

Except it wasn’t the Hertz car lot anymore. Where there had been Hertz spaces a week ago, there were none now. I thought perhaps I was losing my mind, but no – we were in the exact spot we had picked up the car a week ago. We finally found an employee of another rental company who told us that Hertz had “moved”, and so we drove around looking for new Hertz spaces that we never found. Finally, in frustration I just parked the car and we walked with our suitcases through a deluge of rain and up about a thousand steps to Santa Justa.

We get inside and find that there is a different car rental company where Hertz used to be. Or where I thought it used to be? I was really starting to wonder what was happening to my brain. I stuck my head inside the door and inquired “Donde Hertz?” and was given some vague directions to go out the door and to the left. Still no Hertz. We finally called the number and found out that they were now located in what was essentially a trailer ACROSS THE STREET from the train station. Of course it was pouring buckets and my cute new wedges got soaked as we hauled our suitcases over to the new Hertz office, but we finally found it. Such relief!

Our relief didn’t last long. We were stuck behind an extremely high-maintenance American couple, asking all manner of stupid questions, and I was wondering if I would ever get to turn the keys in and enjoy our limited time in Sevilla. Finally, a woman came out of an office and helped us, and it didn’t matter that we had parked the car in a space that wasn’t theirs – I think she could sense my frustration at the run-around we had been given – so with a quick signature and drop of the keys, we caught a cab to the Hotel Amadeus located conveniently in the Barrio Santa Cruz.

A beautiful retreat in the heart of Sevilla,

Walking into the lobby of the hotel provided an immediate sense of relief. Friendly front desk personnel who spoke excellent English, oh and by the way, we had a cancellation so we upgraded your room – for free! Our room was a beautiful retreat – spacious and inviting with a comfy king bed, claw foot tub, and a rain shower, and a ton of space. There was even Mozart playing softly on a CD player when we arrived – perfection! But as tempting as it was to linger, it was already afternoon and we had some shopping and exploring to do.

We set off with a map but without a sense of direction. As such, we spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out how to get to the sights, but we soon set off in what we thought was the right direction. But first, a stop in a little tapas bar for some cervezas and a light lunch. As we ate, the downpour stopped and we continued our exploration.

The Metropol Parasol, the world’s largest wooden structure, houses the central market and an underground archaeological complex.

The appealing Plaza de San Francisco.

After shopping at a couple of clothing stores (including Zara, of course!) we stopped at an adorable little spot on the Plaza de San Francisco, where we shared a couple of amazing desserts.

Delicious Tarte Limon.

And a decadent Coco Loco.

After getting our strength back with the infusion of caffeine and sugar, we tackled the larger sights of the Sevilla Cathedral, the Alcazar, and the Plaza de Toros (bull ring).

I have no idea how this hottie snuck into my photo … they are just EVERYWHERE in Spain!

The Cathedral is so big, it’s impossible to capture in one photo.

The Plaza de Toros.

Walking around Sevilla, I was extremely sad that we only had one night there. It was tempting to walk around for the rest of the night, but we were getting tired and hungry and so walked back to the Hotel Amadeus to shower up and change for dinner.

After getting cleaned up, we headed for the lovely rooftop bar, where we enjoyed a cheese plate, some cava, and some conversation with an older couple from Canada, and later an older couple from Vermont. Both couples were quirky and cute and interesting to talk to, and we got an excellent tip on dinner from the Canadian couple.

Hunger barely addressed by the cava and cheese, we walked towards Bar Europa for some inventive tapas and a celebratory bottle of – you guessed it – cava! We sat at a sidewalk table since the rain had long since turned to sun, and enjoyed watching Sevillanos and tourists as they strolled by. Our waiter was very friendly and brought us each a glass of dessert wine – on the casa! I could have lingered forever, but we had a 5am wakeup call for our journey back home.

On the short walk back to the hotel, we encountered a group of two dozen or so men, playing guitars and singing in harmony. They were incredibly good, and the atmosphere was electric. I was somewhat mesmerized and could have stood there forever, but we tore ourselves away and headed back to the hotel. The 5am alarm came way too quickly, and we reluctantly packed up the rest of our belongings and headed for the airport. It truly seemed as if our two week adventure was over as soon as it began.

Testing My Limits: Day Trip to Gibraltar

It is now Sunday, May 6, and I’m writing this from the comfort of my couch at home near Portland, Oregon. I’m still feeling tired and jet-lagged from  26 hours of travel between Sevilla and Portland, but I wanted to finish this write-up on our amazing day trip to Gibraltar while the details were still fresh in my mind.

Very out of character for us during our trip thus far, Mallory and I were up and out of the apartment well before 11am on Tuesday to make the 2+ hour drive to the Rock of Gibraltar. After eating a hearty breakfast of fruit salad, greek yogurt, eggs with manchego cheese, jamon, and loads of coffee we set off on the long drive to the very Southern tip of Spain.

As we drove through the Spanish countryside, we were again blown away by how beautiful it was. The natural beauty of the green hills and wide-open meadows were enhanced by hundreds and hundreds of graceful white windmills, gracefully and quietly performing their honorable job of generating clean power for the citizens. I didn’t get any photos, unfortunately, but Mallory did capture a short video of the windmills, here.

Our first peek at the Rock of Gibraltar came a full 30 minutes before we arrived at our destination, and every now and then we would receive another peek at it – taunting us as we wound along the twisting coastal highway. But, soon enough, we rolled into La Linea, the Spanish town just across the border from Gibraltar, and parked the car. This turned out to be an incredibly smart move, as the backup of traffic to cross into Gibraltar had to be at least a mile long.

The Rock as seen from La Linea.

Backup at the border.

Besides, by walking across the border to Gibraltar, you also get to walk across the runway of the Gibraltar airport – how many people ever get to do that?

Runway model.

Crossing from Spain into Gibraltar (which is an overseas territory of Great Britain) we had to show our passports, but disappointedly did not receive a stamp, only a wave-through.

It was a good 15-20 minutes walk from the “frontier” before we reached Casemates Square, an overly commercialized circus of mediocre fish-and-chips shops and tacky souvenirs. However, we were famished from our trip, so we plopped down at a free table on the square and split an order of fish and chips which we washed down with a couple of small beers. Definitely nowhere near the best meal we’ve had during our travels, but it gave us the necessary energy to walk up Main street to the other end of Gibraltar to catch the cable car to the top of the rock. It was not a fun walk at all, unless you count watching thousands of sunburned and overweight tourists buying a bunch of crap they don’t need as an interesting anthropological study. Also, Mallory and I seemed to be the only people headed towards a destination, and thus exerted a lot of energy swerving around large groups of people ambling aimlessly side-by-side in the middle of a crowded pedestrian street.

We finally arrived at the cable car station and bought our tickets to the top. Although I was anticipating the experience would be great, I was not fully prepared for how amazing it turned out to be.

Gibraltar town and La Linea.

Looking South, you can see the continent of Africa in the distance.

Two of the Rock’s furry residents.

The cable car ferries visitors to and from the top of the Rock.

After a couple of hours of admiring all the views but mostly spending way too much time ogling the adorable monkeys, we took the cable car down and had an enjoyable conversation with a couple of retired British gentlemen who looked to be in their 70′s, who had stopped in Gibraltar as part of a 6 week holiday trip they were on. One of the men had last been in Gibraltar in the late 1960′s, and was saddened by all of the commercialization. I could see where that would be depressing, but at least the primary reasons for coming to Gibraltar – the “apes” and the incredible 360-degree views – remain unchanged.

We made our way back down Main street, crossed back over the runway (after a brief stop for a couple of small military plane exercises), and into La Linea. We popped into McDonald’s for quick refreshment in the form of chocolate sundaes, and then made the long trek back to the car and drove back home. It was an exhausting 4+ hours of driving and lots of walking crammed into one day, but it was an experience I will never forget, and one that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

April 30 – Exploring an Andalucian Hill Town: Arcos de la Frontera

With my confidence in my ability to drive in Spain growing by the day, on Monday we set out to visit one of the Andalucian white hill towns, Arcos de la Frontera. Arcos is about a one hour drive inland from El Puerto de Santa Maria, and was recommended by the Rick Steves guide as a particularly stunning representation of an Andalucian hill village. As we approached the village, I knew that Arcos was not going to disappoint.

Arcos is split into two towns – the “new town” and the “old town” on the hill. Following the advice of the guide, we parked in an underground parking garage in the new town and hiked about 15-20 minutes up the hill to the “old town”.  It was a good thing we didn’t try to drive up there, as the ancient cobblestoned streets were just barely wide enough to accommodate our little Volvo.

As we wound our way up through the old town, I was reminded of the first time Michael and I visited Venice and would have to stop and take a photograph of something amazing every five feet or so. Arcos had a similar effect in that it was a photographer’s dream – so many interesting angles and textures and gradations of light. Absolutely stunning.

After a couple of hours of climbing up and down (but mostly up) very steep inclines and taking in a lot of breathtaking views, we were starting to need a little pick me up and so headed back down the hill to the new town for some café con leche. We found a sunny table on a pleasant little square and soaked in the atmosphere for awhile, then got back into the car and enjoyed a scenic drive back to El Puerto where we enjoyed a beautiful sunset from our balcony, and rested up for the next day’s long drive to the Rock of Gibraltar.

The Young and the Restless: Day Trip to Cadiz, Spain

After two days of sticking close to our home in El Puerto de Santa Maria, we started to get a little restless for more adventures. So, we struck out on our first day trip – a ferry ride to the city of Cadiz, just across the bay from El Puerto de Santa Maria. I hadn’t heard of Cadiz prior to researching this vacation, but after our visit there I believe Lonely Planet’s description sums it up best:

“Cadiz is a city that rewards those who linger. With extraordinary monuments, high-above-it-all vantage points, fantastic places to eat, beaches and a fun-loving spirit renowned throughout Spain, a day is an absolute mininum for soaking up it’s charms”.

Although we didn’t have the luxury of a full day to soak up all that Cadiz has to offer, we did find this to be true, and I definitely left Cadiz wanting more …

Anyway.

We drove into El Puerto and found the parking for the Cadiz ferry easily, and as luck would have it, there was a ferry to Cadiz within a few minutes. As we boarded the ferry, both of us took notice of one  extremely good-looking man (we nicknamed him “Pablo”) working on the ferry. More on this later.

We stepped off the boat and started working our way through the maze of streets, not sure what to expect. Our hunger soon took over and we agreed to look for a specific restaurant called “El Faro” that came highly recommended by Lonely Planet as “the” place that locals consider to be the best in Cadiz. We found it easily, bellied up to the bar, and with help from a friendly waiter ordered up a couple glasses of cava, and a selection of amazing tapas. Our favorite was the manchego cheese wrapped in bacon – so good we had two orders!

We were soon joined at the stand-up tapas bar by three Spanish men in their 40’s, all very nice, all handsome and fit, all with a decent command of the English language, and all very intrigued by the two “Americanas” in a decidedly non-touristy area of Spain. We had a great time practicing our Spanish with them, and they apologized over and over for their “terrible” English, although it was better than our Spanish! They shared their tapas with us and refilled our empty glasses of cava, and invited us to a gathering at a restaurant in El Puerto de Santa Maria later that evening. As charming as they were, we of course knew that this wasn’t a good idea, so we said our goodbyes and went on our way.

We were so taken by the cute cats, that we almost missed capturing this awesome skyline,

On the waterfront in beautiful Cadiz, Spain.

OMG Kitties!!! Feral cat colony in Cadiz, Spain.

We headed towards the water and were delighted to come across a feral cat colony. Both of us are cat lovers and have been missing our kitties a lot, so this was a welcome sight for both of us.

After spending probably way too much time ogling the kitties, we decided to head back towards the ferry so we wouldn’t get stranded in Cadiz. But we had some time to kill, so we ordered up a couple of cervezas and enjoyed what was left of the beautiful Cadiz sunshine blanketing the main square,

Not long after we sat down, a street performer started playing “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash. Within minutes, another performer in a bad Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses joined him, forming a duet much to the delight of the crowd. We managed to capture some of it on video, a truly delightful performance that I will share at another time.

We caught the 8:30pm ferry back to El Puerto, and our blue-eyed Pablo was there to greet us. I was so flustered, I dropped the ticket as I boarded the ferry, and he picked it up for me, staring at me intently with those beautiful blue eyes.

I suddenly felt like a dirty old lady, especially since he is much closer to Mal’s age than mine. But I’m happily married, so it’s all just fun and games anyway.

After driving home from the ferry terminal, we walked downstairs to the little pizzaria located below our apartment, and enjoyed Margherita pizza and a delicious salad as we took advantage of the free and functioning WiFi. Another amazing day in Southern Spain has come to an end!

Laying low in El Puerto de Santa Maria

During our first two days in El Puerto de Santa Maria we stayed fairly close to home, venturing out only for food, to visit the local supermercado, and to take advantage of the (weak) WiFi connection provided by a nearby hotel bar. The long travel day on Thursday was tiring, and the stormy weather has also been contributing to our malaise. Still, we are living in an oceanfront apartment with an incredible view, in Spain (!!!), so it’s hard to feel too sorry for ourselves despite the fact that it still hasn’t been warm enough to take advantage of the beautiful nearby beach.

On Friday, we woke up late and had greek yogurt and moka pot coffee for breakfast. After lazing around the apartment for awhile we stopped at a little restaurant up the street for some albondigas (meatballs) and then decided to try and find the local supermercado, SuperSol. Fortunately, it was very easy to find and had plentiful parking.

One of my favorite things about visiting foreign countries are shopping in the grocery stores. We were able to find most everything we needed – the only hiccup being we didn’t weigh our produce and label it prior to visiting the checkout counter. The clerk called the produce guy over (who was, as you might expect by now, very good-looking) and he helped us out.

After lingering for a couple of hours at a nearby bar with (weak) WiFi, we came back to our apartment and enjoyed a snack of manchego cheese, jamon, and some tempernillo red wine on the balcony as we looked out on the ocean, enjoying an all-too-rare sunny evening here in El Puerto de Santa Maria.

Saturday started similarly to Friday – yogurt, fruit, moka pot coffee, and no particular urgency to get up and do anything. However, we were both itching for some real exercise (loads of tapas and endless glasses of wine have a way of making one crave a good workout) so we put on our running shoes and headed up the boardwalk for a four mile run. Our route took us through some beautiful neighborhoods with drool-worthy architecture and lemon trees. If I lived here I think I would need to go running every day just so I could enjoy the scenery.

After our run, we got cleaned up and headed to the city center of El Puerto. I drove around the narrow street maze for what felt like forever looking for parking, but we finally found a space and walked past the Plaza de Toros, and the Plaza de Espana.

We somehow found our way to a crazy pedestrian street filled to the brim with restaurants, bars, and loads of mens in tight-fitting leather.

No, it wasn’t a gay scene, but rather crowds visiting from the nearby Jerez Motorbike Festival. As we walked through the crowds looking for an open table, a huge group of men broke into song and started clapping  as we walked by. This made us feel uncomfortable and anxious to sit down, so we grabbed the first open table we saw. We enjoyed some amazing chicken albondigas and patatas bravas washed down with cerveza.

After stopping for some delicious gelato, we headed home to meet Javier so he could troubleshoot our WiFi connection. No luck, so we are still without WiFi in the apartment and need to find it wherever we can, which doesn’t seem to be much of anywhere in our immediate area.  Had a dinner of manchego fondue with chorizo, bread, and roasted red peppers at nearby Crefoundie, and then finished the night with healthy salads and lemon cake here at the apartment. We collapsed into bed around midnight, which is an early bedtime for us here in Spain.

Madrid to Sevilla to El Puerto de Santa Maria

When travelling, I prefer to feel more like a temporary local than a tourist. Group tours, fancy resorts, and chain hotels are not my thing, instead, I like to stay in characteristic rental apartments and wander about at my own pace. And although the benefits outweigh the drawbacks, there are definitely more potential points of failure when you choose to travel this way.

The biggest vulnerabilty involves “transition” days – when you’re moving from one “home” to another. Not being able to catch a taxi, missing a train, losing important documentation, dealing with frayed nerves – all of these things can happen when you leave the comfort of a known location for an unknown one. It was with all of these things swirling in my mind like some kind of stress stew that I woke up on Thursday and prepared to leave Madrid for our oceanfront apartment rental on the Costa de la Luz.

We checked out of our apartment around noon, carrying our suitcases down the five flights of stairs we had carried them up just days before. Walking the short distance to Puerta del Sol (ironically, in the rain), we were concerned that the rain might make it difficult to find a “libre” taxi but one rolled up almost immediately and we hopped in. A few minutes later, we arrived at Atocha station and located the ticket windows to purchase two second-class tickets to Sevilla on the 1pm train. Except we didn’t. Second class (the least expensive option) was sold out until 5pm. After some back and forth, we managed to get two “preferente” class (somewhere between second and first class) tickets on the 3pm train. For some reason, the trains were more full than usual, likely due to some Spring festival happening in Sevilla.

Fortunately, Atocha is a nice train station and we found the nearest wine bar (of course) and passed the time with a couple of glasses of red wine.

One of the AVE high speed trains at Atocha station.

We boarded the AVE train for Sevilla and I was super excited. I LOVE the European high speed rail system, how it carries you so quietly and efficiently through the continent. So much more civilized than air travel.

Whizzing through the Spanish countryside.

The seats were comfortable and the food was decent, but our experience was dampened by the two people sitting across from us who smelled like they hadn’t had a bath in ages. We were relieved when the train pulled into Sevilla Santa Justa station and we could once again breathe through our noses. We found the Hertz office and I could feel my heart rate quicken as we walked up to the counter. I was nervous about driving in a foreign country where I didn’t know the language that well, with unfamiliar street signs. I also hadn’t driven a stick shift for two years. But I knew a car was necessary to effectively explore the area we were headed to, and so I summoned all my courage and hopped into the waiting Volvo.

I quickly figured out how everything worked, and even felt comfortable immediately with the clutch and shifting again. Except for that all-important reverse gear. More on that later. Somehow we found our way to the A4/E5 highway which would take us to our apartment, except we were headed the wrong way. We stopped at a gas station to buy a map, and some bottled water, and get directions from a guy who spoke no English. I think we were somewhat of a novelty – probably the first Americans that he had encountered in a long time.

We got back on the A4/E5, this time in the right direction, and I started to relax a bit. As I had heard, the highways in Spain were well-maintained and well-signed, and there wasn’t much traffic. As we approached El Puerto de Santa Maria, though, I started to get stressed out again. The signs we were seeing on the road did not match the turn-by-turn directions that I had printed from Google Maps. Mal fired up the GPS on my phone, and somehow between that, the map we had bought at the gas station, and a dose of good luck, we found our way to the apartment with only a couple of wrong turns. Okay, maybe five or six, but I was still amazed that we actually made it. I called the caretaker and told him we were in the area, but there was still the little problem of not knowing how to use the reverse. In every 5-speed car I have driven, the reverse gear was ALWAYS reached by going to the right and down. But in this Volvo, it showed upper left. When I shifted to the upper left, I would only get first gear. I was starting to freak out when we spied a couple in a Volvo nearby, and I ran over to the car and explained my problem to the man. He was so nice, and jumped in our rental and showed me exactly what to do – apparently you have to press DOWN on the gearshift and THEN up and to the left. So easy, but this critical instruction was not anywhere to be found on the car.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and then promptly almost knocked over a motorcycle behind me – thank goodness I caught myself in time and nothing happened. Our caretaker, Javier, met us and showed us the apartment. We were grimy and tired and wanting to settle in, but we had just 20 minutes until the little market closed, and we needed coffee, water, and something to eat in the morning.

Our beautiful view.

We headed up the street in the Volvo (me a total expert at driving it now – so proud) and bought our needed supplies with minutes to spare. We then stopped in for a bite at the restaurant next door and met Manolo – a delightful man who was both the cook and the waiter that evening. Fortunately, it was just us and one other dude. We split a green salad and a chicken dish with some kind of gravy and fries. It was simple but hearty, but the best part was our interaction with Manolo. Though he barely spoke any English, we made the most of our limited Spanish and managed to communicate surprisingly well. He offered a drink on the house, but we were tired and promised to come back on an “otra dia”. We then drove home and soon collapsed into bed – tired from a day of travel but looking forward to exploring new surroundings.

Last Full Day in Madrid

We started our day warm and clean, thanks to the fact that our hot water and heat were repaired this morning. As we stepped out of our apartment, it became apparent that my light jacket wasn’t going to be enough protection against the cool temperatures and wind, so we decided to stop by Zara to purchase a jacket. However, the entrance to the store looked closed, so we walked through another store called “Berschka” instead. This turned out to be a good thing, as I found the perfect light denim jacket for only 29 Euros. Score!

With another layer now to protect me against the temperamental Madrid weather, we walked to the modern art museum – the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. The Reina Sofia houses a great collection of 20th century art in what used to be a public hospital.

The Reina Sofia.

Since there were four floors chock full of art, we didn’t get to see everything, but did see some fantastic works by Picasso, Dali’, and a memorable display of some 700+ black and white photos of New York City from the early 1970’s. Then we saw some head scratchers like a dot matrix printer producing endless reams of paper and a sheet of white cloth with a portable fan running under it so it resembled a wave.

Um, okay. Modern Art.

After an hour and a half or so, we were starting to get hungry, so we headed down the street to a Thai restaurant we had seen earlier. The food was good and a nice change from our diet of jamon y queso, but not as good as Thai we’ve enjoyed in the U.S. Bellies full, we headed off to explore the Royal Palace, which we both wanted to return to after seeing it on the bus tour a couple of days before. The Royal Palace did not disappoint. It’s impossible to describe the scale of it here, except to say that it has more than 2000 rooms and was built as King Philip V’s own version of Versailles. We didn’t go inside, but walked around the grounds, took in the great views, and snapped some photos.

A wee bit small, but I could make this work.

Nice digs.

All that walking around had made us hungry again, so we stopped at a “Chocolate and Churros” place that we had been drooling over for a couple of days. We split an order of four “churros” (fried doughnuts) and a cup of thick dark chocolate to dip them into. It was delicious, and I was glad that we had split the order instead of me giving in to my piggish desires to eat an order all by myself.

Afterwards, we walked across the street to visit the Mercado San Miguel once again. It was Happy Hour time, and the place was buzzing. We each ordered a glass of red wine from one of the stalls, and then walked around the market, wine in hand, admiring the stalls chock full of fresh fruits and vegetables, cheese, meats, ice creams, and all kinds of delectable treats. At one of the stalls, we met a very handsome Italian man named Guiseppe who invited us back later for a drink, but we pressed on despite his charms. It was soon after our encounter with Guiseppe when I was attempting to balance my glass of red wine in one hand while taking a photo of one of the stalls with the other when the unthinkable happened … the wine tipped over and spilled all over my brand new light denim jacket, my white linen jacket underneath that, and my yellow tank top.

We tried to sop up the mess with some woefully inadequate paper napkins, then walked back to the apartment to attack the stains with soda water, salt, liquid detergent, and whatever else we could find. I threw the whole lot into the washing machine with some extra soap, crossed my fingers, and made an offering to the laundry gods.

After a couple of hours, we changed and headed over to the Café de Chinitas for a Flamenco show on a tip from a friend of Mallory’s. The dining room, and the waiters, looked like a throwback to the 1960’s. We ordered a bottle of Cava and a pan of chicken and vegetable paella and hoped for the best. At 10:30pm, the Flamenco troupe took the stage. For an hour and a half we were entertained by a hardworking and extremely talented troupe of dancers, singers, and guitarists.

Mal's "boyfriend" is on the right, standing up. We named him the Spanish Steven Tyler.

Not gonna lie, I had a bit of a girl crush on this dancer.

Even though we didn’t understand a word, we enjoyed it immensely and felt it was the perfect accompaniment to the delicious paella and cava. The show ended around midnight, and we headed off towards the apartment. Along the way we were stopped by two men who seemed friendly enough, one who insisted I take a yellow scarf he had purchased. I told him I didn’t have any money. He insisted it was a ”gift” and I was of course highly skeptical, but I held onto it for awhile as we chatted. At first we thought perhaps he was another friendly Madrileno, but neither he nor his older friend would tell us where they were from, and then he started making references to coming back to his hotel room (um, do you NOT see the wedding ring on my hand???) and so we threw the scarf back at him and hightailed it back to the apartment. After a Facetime session with my mom, brother, and nephew, we collapsed into bed around 2am, sad that we were leaving Madrid the next morning, but looking forward to exploring a new part of Spain.