We Went to Portugal

My my, but time passes! Early in January we spent four days in Portugal and we’re only getting around to the blog entry now!

Our ambitions for Portugal were mild. We didn’t want to spend a lot of time in the car, so we figured we’d go to a near-by city (nearby to Seville) and just stay there. The city that seemed good to us was Lagos, only about three hours away (due west, in fact). We thought about Lisbon, but reviews seem mixed; from what we’ve read some people find it extraordinary, others find it more a case of faded glory. We decided to save the extra few hours of driving and spent our four days in Lagos, near the western end of the south coast.

Lagos is a small town, and a pretty town. There is harbor, and an active fishing fleet; some interesting buildings and lots and lots of shops, most of which are closed this time of year! We checked into our bed-and-breakfast, a small place just outside the old city walls. There was a great terrace on the roof, where breakfast was served, that gave an outstanding view of the old town and the harbor. After consulting the map, and getting some great advice from Fernando, the owner of the B‑n-B, we put together a plan to visit along the coast.

The ancient city wall of Lagos and the old town beyond, from our B-n-B terrace

Another view from the terrace, with the towns of Torralta and Prainha far across the bay

Portugal is at the south-western corner of the Iberian Peninsula, south and west of Spain. It has a long coastline, and in the 15^th and 16^th centuries was a major naval power. Portuguese navigators, including Vasca de Gama and Henry the Navigator, were at the forefront of European exploration during this Age of Discovery.

A building in Lagos covered in glazed tiles; unusual, but seen occasional in Portugal

We spent our first day wandering through the town, quiet on the off-season. Most of the interesting-looking restaurants were closed; options for dinner were few! But we managed, and the next day we drove along the south coast. This is an area that has seen some significant growth in the last couple of years. New towns, and large apartment complexes, are all too evident. On the way to Lagos we passed a new Ikea store, opening in the fall of 2017. It was a big store; a sure sign that many new households are forming, and many people are looking for furnishings and housewares.

We came eventually to Farol Cabo de São Vicente, the lighthouse at the westernmost point on continental Europe (or so we are told). It is at this point that the coast turns. North of this point and looking seaward means looking west, towards New York, some 5500 km (3400 miles) away. South of this point and the beaches are south-facing, with the next landfall Morocco, in North Africa.

The sign said there was a megalith nearby, and this sure looks like one. Ever since Brittany we're always on the lookout for ancient stones, and we found this one just off a narrow road in southwest Portugal. Sorry, no other information available...

Turns out the lighthouse wasn't all that interesting, but this ceramic octopus sure was!

A grouper, I think, also in ceramic. Doesn't look too happy.

And, the two coasts are dramatically different. The west coast is subject to the full force of the winds off the North Atlantic, with long, wind-swept beaches and dramatic waves. It’s somewhat milder on the south coast; much rockier, with many small, hidden beaches.

 Cabo de Sao Vincete and its lighthouse: westernmost point on continental Europe
Not my picture, haven't got my drone working yet. For more info and great videos look here:  https://www.facebook.com/Portugalvistodoceu

Looking north from Cabo de Sao Vicente along the rugged west coast

One of the best things we did while in Lagos was to take a small boat ride along the coast. Our second evening in town we drove to the lighthouse to see the sunset, and discovered a maze of trails and stairways leading down to numerous small, hidden beaches. The water was clear, and very blue. This is best explored from the water, it seemed!

The rather unromantic Farol da Ponta da Piedade/Lagos, the lighthouse of Lagos
(photo by Pedro Geraldes, Google Photo Sphere)  

The Lagos lighthouse may be unromantic, but the views from the cliffs are fantastic!

I came down these steps, see...

... and this is what I found! Kayaker's dream.

The streets near the port are lined with booths selling boat rides and other tourist attractions; we normally ignore these “opportunities,” but we’d been told that exploring this coast in a small boat was a must-do experience. And, it being the off season, the tourist count was low. So we signed up, and were the only two passengers on this particular excursion.

Our skipper spoke excellent English, and told us of his experiences growing up near Lagos and fishing in the area for decades. He considers himself quite fortunate to be able to live and work in such an extraordinary area. He was clearly very familiar with the caves and hidden beaches, and also an excellent boat handler, important when maneuvering through the currents in the narrow passages between the rocks.

Our very cool Portuguese tour boat captain, leaving port

Man-made bridge to the former mayor's house

One of a number of hidden beaches just south of Lagos

And a little movie showing highlights of our boat ride

Click here for the Logos Boat Ride Video

It was a completely satisfying ride! The rock formations are amazing, the water shades of blue and green, with great stories and commentary by our highly-skilled skipper. If we had more time, or were to come back, I’d love to kayak this coast, and visit some of those beaches. Generally, though, beach-going is not one of our goals when we travel; I grew up in California and have spent my hours in the sand. And it was December. While the weather was really great, sunny and not cold, it was not beach weather. (And, these days I’m generally better off visiting my dermatologist than lying in the sun!)

Yes, we went through that hole in the rock!

Another little cove we visited

The next day we were back in the car, driving north along the coast to the village of  Vila Do Bispo, then following tiny roads until we got to the ocean. Or rather, a cliff overlooking the ocean. We were told that it was in this area that Christopher Columbus, discoverer of America and so forth, came to realize that the earth was round, and he could get to the East by sailing west. We also learned that Columbus attended the navigation school in Sagres (a city on the western end of the south coast) started by Henry the Navigator, aka Infante Henrique of Portugal, Duke of Viseu. (Although we’ll note here that Henry’s Wikipedia entry calls this school “the legend of the School of Sagres, which is now discredited.” Oh well.)

Legends aside, as we stood on this plateau a couple of  hundred feet above the ocean and looked out at the cliffs stretching north and south, and contemplated the New World far off to the west, we were thrilled by the thought that Chris Columbus may well have trod these same stones that we were collecting. 

Looking toward Praia da Cordoama, Cordoama Beach, about 4 km from Vila Do Bispo

Sunset. Looking south down the coast from near Praia Da Bordeira, not far from the village of  Carrapaterira

After exploring the coast for bit, we stayed to watch the sunset. Normally while travelling we like to get “home” before dark to avoid issues with traffic and the complications of getting lost, but we violated our rule this time. Gorgeous sunset. Totally worth it!

The next day was our last in Portugal, and we took our time going home, taking roads through the coastal towns. This is a bit of a mixed bag, since so much of this south coast is (over) developed. Not at all as bad as Spain’s Costa del Sol, but plenty of new, modern apartment complexes and a few high rises. And as  he driver, I got frustrated with the short stretches of “high speed” (90 kph, 55 mph) followed by yet another roundabout, soon followed by yet another town with traffic. Well, traffic was modest this time of year, but I can imagine in the summer trying to get anywhere along this coast would be time consuming.

So, we hopped on the highway. It’s a toll road (hey, the tourists use it, let them pay for it!), almost empty this time of year and worth the 10€ or so to save an hour or more. Then it was 120 (about 75 mph) all the way back to Seville.

Portugal? Yes! Great weather, incredibly friendly people. Low prices (always a plus). Beautiful beaches and stunning scenery. We will be coming back!

A Little of This, a Little of That... Part 2

            We Went Grazing

It was called “VIII Feria de Gastronomía Y Artesanía,” the Eighth Gastronomy and Craft Fair. Artisanal foods from around Seville and Andalusia, this part of southern Spain, were on display.  And for sale. 

The venue was relatively small, much smaller than the Independent Wine Sellers convention we went to in Paris this time last year. But it was reminiscent of that event, with eager-looking venders in each booth anxious to show off their wares and provide us with samples. After a quick overview we got started. First off, the gin distiller.

What? I didn’t even suspect there was a gin distiller in Seville. (In fact there are at least two; at the far end of the display room was another gin booth.) Ever since our first stop in England, where we toured what might be the oldest gin distiller in England (and, hence, the world, probably) we’ve been running into artisanal gin. In the Lakes District; in Dingle, Ireland; now in Seville. So we’ve decided to become gin aficionados.

It seems that Gin & Tonic is the new martini: the cool thing to drink today, with many variations. Many of the supermarkets here sell “botanicals” (dried herbs and plants) to be added to your own G&T creations. And, there is now flavored gin. This particular vendor had about six different flavors, including strawberry, blueberry, orange, and combinations, each delicately colored. Not being fans of flavoring, we bought a bottle of the clear stuff. (Turns out it’s not quite as good as the Plymouth Gin, but much cheaper and, hey, available!)

 There were olive oils to sample, and olives. We learned that the Spanish consider black olives to be inferior, which explains why we only see green olives in the market. (Their olives were good, but I prefer the spiced black olives we found in such profusion in the South of France.)

There was honey, and various sweets. And ham. The fabled Iberian ham. This seems to be highly regarded here in Seville; we see it everywhere: the hog leg, complete with black hoof, hanging in cafés and every supermarket (even at the Seville Costco, which stocks mostly North American goods). Not being ham eaters we can only speculate, but a bit of research shows that the legs come from the back end of hogs that roam freely in oak forests in the west of Spain, along the border with Portugal. Apparently acorn consumption (by the pigs, not the ham eaters) is a big part of the equation of extraordinary ham, as is being free-range (again, the pigs…). Prices for one of these hams run from €150 to €500, so they must be something special. 

Typical supermarket display of Iberian ham

And this ham is very popular. Every café has them hanging, and I have often noticed the waiter slicing off paper-thin strips of ham with a razor-sharp knife; plates of sliced ham are standard fare at most cafés. While at the food festival I was able to get a short video of ham being expertly sliced…

                                   https://youtu.be/-IfPyhrZBGI

The Guy waiting to slice more ham

OOPs, this one is almost gone! Time for a replacement...

In an attempt to better understand this ham thing, we talked to an olive oil representative who spoke good English (he’d spent a year in Southern California, and was really stoked by the experience). Turned out he was a vegetarian, so we didn’t learn much from him about ham. But he did slip us a few extra sample bottles of olive oil, and give us other insights into the culture of Seville.

Update: on Christmas Eve I had an opportunity to taste a bit of this fabled ham. Nominally a vegetarian, I’m not interested in ingesting large quantities of ham, but hey, a little taste? How can that hurt!

Surprisingly enough, I could taste the acorns. Of course the predominant flavor was salt – not unpleasant, but decidedly salty – and under that a flat, almost chalky taste. (Of course, to be sure I should taste ham other than belota – acorn, signifying that the pigs were allowed to eat the acorns as well as… well, whatever pigs eat in the wild – but I’m really not that into it!)

Then there was the Sherry. We did want to continue our Sherry education, so we stopped at a couple of booths to sample their product. The ladies presenting the products were quite nice, and gave us generous samples of some very good Sherry (I had to be a little careful since I had yet to recover fully from the gin samples). We took an immediate liking to the sweeter Sherries, but the dry ones will require a bit more time for us to fully appreciate.

           We Went to the Market
Farmer’s Markets are increasingly popular in the US; in Europe, it’s How it’s Always Been. We haven’t really found a good open-air market here, but there is a fabulous indoor market about a 20-minute walk from our apartment (seems like everything is a 20-minute walk – only a 20-minute walk – from our apartment). The Mercado Triana is, like most indoor markets, a large high structure full of stalls for the vendors. Here the same vendors seem to have occupied the same stalls for years: they have their names and stall numbers in glazed tile work above the stall.

One of the produce aisles of the Marcado Triana 

Beautiful, fresh produce, in January!

We like to go there for lunch, as there’s a couple of cafés that serve great, fresh seafood. We even have a favorite café there; it’s closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, as we found out last Tuesday.  It’s a joy to walk through the market, past stalls overflowing with bright, fresh produce, and fresh iced fish, and take our table in back. Things are a bit quieter there. The beer is cold, the food good. The waiter is attentive, the people friendly. 

The fish aisle, where the cafes get their fresh fish!

Ah, but no trip to Mercado Triana is complete without a visit to the fish lady. There are several fish vendors (do we still call them mongers?), but only one sells the fresh tuna steaks we like. She took the trouble to explain to us, in her expressive and expansive Spanish, that her favorite part of the tuna comes from the body; the nose meat is slightly less expensive but not, in her opinion, nearly as good. (And how did we understand all that, anyway?)

The Fish Lady at Triana Market

Here's lookin' at you, squid

            Next stop, the pasta maker from Milan. We spent some time talking to him, too. His pasta machine is in the back of his stall, so we know his ravioli is fresh! We spoke with him a bit after our trip to Rome. He, of course, is familiar with Rome; NOT his favorite city. There’s a reason why he lives in Seville, a much smaller and quieter place than Rome (but still lively!) 

Paula has offered – only half joking – to become his unpaid assistant to learn how to make fresh pasta. He just laughed and muttered something about how then he could go off to Costa Rica. In any event, we bought some salmon ravioli, opting for the ones that were black on only one side, passing over the ones that were colored with squid ink on both sides. And, we ordered some vegetarian lasagna for Christmas Day dinner.

Finally, we reward ourselves for a fine day of shopping with lunch at the bar in the back of the market. A small glass of beer, a glass of wine, and a couple of tapas. Perhaps tuna, or some other local fish. After a leisurely and relaxing lunch, we pay the (quite small) bill and wander back through the market. We might pick up some vegetables. Or, perhaps we just look at the amazing displays.

Then it’s out the door and back on the street, across the bridge and back into the always crowded, usually amazing, and often very surprising city of Seville for the 20-minute walk back home.

View from the bridge of La Giralda and the cathedral on such a winter's day...

We Went to the Dentist

One thing we are concerned about as we travel along is our health. In general we are quite healthy but after 60-plus years things do start to wear out. And we want to stay on top of the wear and tear. Before we began this extended trip we kept up with regular doctor visits, and we certainly wanted to continue that.

The medical system in France – in fact, in Europe as a whole – is less formal and considerably easier to deal with than what we are used to in the US. We just found a doctor with office hours and walked over. After the usual wait in an overheated room (some things are the same everywhere) we met the doctor, a very nice young woman. She asked the usual questions and gave us each a quick physical exam, then the prescriptions. I think we paid her a total of $50USD. After that, with signed and stamped papers in hand, we made appointments with the required specialists, a physical therapist for me, and fot specialist for Paula.

And how did we find the required specialists? Well, that took some time. We did the usual: asked around, talked to locals we knew, and walked in off the street to offices we passed on our wanderings. We found some practitioners near our apartment and made appointments. It was a bit confronting to take up our “travel time” with matters such as physical therapy and foot examinations. On the other hand, it was also incredibly empowering to meet these challenges, find the resources we needed, and ensure we were taking care of ourselves. And we found the examinations and treatments we received were of high quality, and very much less expensive than what we’d pay back home! Physical therapy for my leg was about $30USD per session, while Paula's new orthotics were a bit over $100, examination included.

So now we are visiting a dentist in Seville, a lovely young woman from Peru who came to Spain to finish her PhD, and ended up married to a local. We got our teeth cleaned (at first, she had a hard time understanding why we were there: apparently, very few of her patients are so proactive!) and our teeth checked out; no problems. We’re good for another six months!

OK, so this photo has nothing whatever to do with our theme. But I like it!

Another nice off-topic photo

Christmas and Kings in Seville

            
          Christmas in Seville, Take Two

The Christmas holiday in Spain lasts a good long time. It starts just before the 25 of December, and extends for two weeks until the 6^th of January (the Epiphany, or Kings’ Day, as it is known here).

In a previous blog we talked about Christmas in Seville, and the length and extensive preparations, including the surprising effort the Sevillians put into their Belén or Nativity scenes. (See Boots of Spanish Leather -- admittedly a somewhat misleading title. ).Well, holiday events here are pretty much over. We saw the town’s astonishing Beléns; we’ve been to a couple of events at the Cathedral. Spain is something like 96% Catholic, and there are many religious events. But there is a strong secular component, as well.

Street musicians, for example. Oh, there's street musicians all year long (and in every city we've been in!). But here is one group that caught my attention.

                                             Christmas Street Muscians

I’ve lived in Californian all my life, and Paula has been there for the last 30 years, so we’re both used to the wintery images we hold of Christmas: snow men, snow-covered Christmas trees, snowflakes, Currie & Ives images of sleigh bells in the snow. The reality, of course, is that in many parts of the state Christmas is bright and sunny, often warm. And we never actually see snow in California! (OK, in the mountains, but that’s always a few hours away from where I’ve lived.) Still, we cling to these cold-weather images at Christmas time, against all climactic reality.

So it seems quite normal to see images of snowflakes and snowmen here in Seville – again, against all climactic reality (it’s warm here!). What I was NOT prepared for were the ice skating rinks. With real ice. And augmented by polar bears, igloos, and Eskimos. (So maybe I should say Inuit or some such. But let's be clear -- these are non-denominational statues dressed in parkas surrounding a fiberglass igloo, not actual native peoples. OK?) All in the bright, warm sun of Andalusia. Oh, and don’t forget the palm trees, and the orange trees, laden with bright, cheery fruit this time of year. It’s a bit of a head snapper. Go figure!

An Eskimo family that has somehow settled in downtown Seville??

A polar bear hiding out among the trees waiting for an unsuspecting skater

I love to see La Giralda, especially with penguins in the foreground!

And in another part of the city we find... another ice rink! And a Ferris wheel! And, oranges!

The night-time Avenida de la Constitucion in all its Christmas glory

More Christmas lights, La Giralda behind

We Go to the Parade

What is the terminal velocity of hard candy thrown from a float fifteen feet high?

I have no idea, but I can tell you if it hits you, it hurts! We are at the annual Three Kings’ Parade, a Big Deal here in Spain. It has all the usual components of a parade: marching bands, floats, even horses. And, in this parade, people on the floats throw candy into the crowd!

Christmas is a long holiday here. The day itself, December 25, is important, but the really big day is January 6, the Epiphany, celebrating the visit of the three kings (three Wise Men) to the newborn Jesus. In Spain it marks the end of the holiday season, and is the major gift giving day, in memory of the gifts the Kings brought. These days, though, the 5^th is the big gift-giving day, since the kids then have one more day of school holiday to enjoy their presents! In any event, the parade is held on the 5^th, possibly because the 6^th is such a special holy day, here in very Catholic Spain.

Back at the parade route, we are all eagerly awaiting the arrival of the first float. In front of us we notice a family with protective booties on their shoes. What? Why? Paula asked, pointing to the booties, What’s up with that? or gestures to that effect. And we're told, Because the street gets very dirty, what with all the candy and all. (The lady used the word carmelo, which brought to mind sticky caramels.) Then we noticed another family with ordinary plastic bags tied around their feet to protect their shoes. What are we missing here?

The crowd had gathered, filling the entire street. And this is the modern, four-lane road, not the tiny lanes of the old city. In fact, the parade avoids those streets, and follows a route that takes it around the historic town, keeping to the newer part of the city with wide roadways and accommodating sidewalks. And this route is lined with five- and six-story apartment buildings, the upper balconies filled with eager children and interested adults. They’ve got a good view, I’ll bet; from down here at street level we can only guess at what’s coming.

Eventually the parade arrives, making its slow way down the street, stopping often as parades do. We see the giant star balloon with its long balloon tail marking the beginning; marching bands; horses. And, the floats. Most with kids, some with adults, everyone enthusiastically throwing handfuls of candies. And sometimes, they don’t even wait to take them out of the bag! With every float that passes, candies rain down. We disdain these candies – bad for the teeth, it’ll ruin your dinner, etc. etc. Then we notice that everyone else seems more skilled at catching them than we are. Challenge accepted! Paula proves adept at pulling candies out of the air, and half-way though the parade my pockets are bulging, in spite of the ones I’ve “sampled.”

Finally, the parade arrives! I have no idea what the "100" stands for...

One of many floats

Another of the many floats

There are “brotherhoods” and community groups that put together the floats and the marching groups, selecting a theme and designing their costumes. Black face (on men) is common; not a racial comment, just a recognition that the Kings came from the East.

                                                              Kings' Day Parade Video

Finally the last float passes, the strains of the last fife and drum team fade; the parade is over. Well, not quite. Men in Day-Glo yellow vests – utility workers – come by, holding back the crowds. Six sweepers, three on each side, with huge brooms shove the remaining candies and wrappers and empty bags into the middle of the street. Then a phalanx of huge orange street sweeping machines passes, and nothing is left in their wake but crushed candies ground into the pavement (ah, the reason for the shoe booties!). Then we have the balloon sellers, fellows holding so many helium balloons it’s a wonder they don’t float away. And finally, people squeezing one last fine memory out of the day before heading home, sacks bulging with candies.

No waste time! Clean it up NOW!

We, too, head back to our apartment. I leave handfuls of candy on the sidewalk café tables that are just a bit too far from the action, to a chorus of Gracias! from the patrons.

The sun sets and parade goers head homeward

                              Next up: Holiday is over, we're going to Portugal!

A Little of This, a Little of That... Part 1

     We Went Walking
One question that must arise when people think about our travels is, what do you do all day? If we were here for the two or three days that Rick Steves (one of our favorite travel writers) suggests, we’d exhaust ourselves running around to see everything. But we have the luxury of time; what we don’t see today we can see tomorrow, or next week, or even next month.

So what, then, do we do all day? Sometimes it seems we spend a good part of the day staring at computer screens: planning future trips, or the next stop (we need to think three to six months out to get good, affordable places to stay); examining, sorting, enhancing, and deleting photos; writing blogs; keeping up with our friends and the news. Of course, the first week after arriving in a new place is spent organizing and storing our things (as is the last). But we’re well past that point now!

Every day, though, we do make it a point to get out and explore. Our apartment is in the old Jewish section of Seville, the area called Barrio Santa Cruz – lots  of saints’ names here, just like in California! (Oh, Barrio? Means neighborhood.) The streets are narrow, the buildings three or four stories. Some streets are mere pathways, dark and cool. Others are wide enough for a car… just. Tourists and us newcomers step up on the very narrow sidewalks and scrunch against the wall as the cars pass; locals ignore the cars, forcing them to slowly follow the pedestrians. (And I must say, drivers here in Seville, even on the larger four- and six-lane roads, are very attentive to pedestrians, stopping carefully even for the rare idiot who insists on crossing against a red light.)

Streets wide enough for a car -- sort of

Paula checks. Nope, no cars on this street!

One of our least-favorite routes. No room for walkers, but we walk it nearly every day!
 (Another driver cursing the GPS!)

We pass cafés at every corner, and often in between. In the evenings customers spill out into the street, drinking, talking, laughing, smoking. The tables filling the sidewalk are likewise jammed. At other times things are quiet; there will be only a few customers with a waiter cleaning up, or standing by awaiting the flood that will come later. Last Friday night we were out for an hour or so, making a big loop through the area. There were thousands in the streets and cafes, sitting on the church steps (bottles all around!), just enjoying a pleasant December evening.

This plaza is busy all. the. time!

The Thursday street market is a happening place

Things are typically quieter during the day; people are working, at least those fortunate enough to have jobs. But the shops are open: the clothing stores, the bridal gown places, the shoe stores, the opticians; the beauty salons. This is the time to get stuff done! And, there are always people in the cafes, for a quick coffee (well, “quick” is relative, this is Spain), or perhaps waiting for friends or a business associate. But life is never dull here.

Getting married seems a popular pastime in Seville. (I fret about the white trains, on those dirty cobbles!)

This morning we went out for an hour or so to enjoy the sunshine. We got back home about four hours later, having discovered a whole new area of large parks and incredible buildings.

The Cathedral and La Giralda (the tower), still one of our favorite street scenes

Old grinding wheels (I guess) re-purposed as building materials

Our goal for the day was the Plaza d’Espagña, an incredible structure intended to demonstrate the magnificence and diversity of Spain for the Ibero-American Exposition World's Fair in 1929. (You may have seen it in Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones – perhaps the only good thing in that movie).

Rental boats available, too!

The level of detail atf the Plaza d'Espagne is astonishing

Anyway, the building is quite amazing, very stylized, constructed of brick and covered with classic Spanish tile. Today as we re-visited it we found there are a number of other buildings also constructed for the Fair, in a similar classic style.

We finally made our way home through the long park with the monument to Christopher Columbus (he sailed from Seville in 1492, and his remains, what little there is, are in the Cathedral here). We leave the major, busy streets and slip into the tiny lanes of Barrio Santa Cruz and find our way back to our apartment.

One of the many near-by parks. That's the Chris Columbus monument in back (he sailed from Seville in 1492)

   
     We Went Sherry Tasting
Now, I've never really thought about sherry much. Heard about it, know how to spell it. But being here in Seville I have slowly become aware that we are in sherry country! Here it is a Big Deal. So maybe we should learn something of it.

Sherry comes from the town of Jerez de la Frontera, about an hour and a half south of here (Sevilla). The name Sherry derives, somehow, from Jerez, and is now a protected domain name, like many other wines. The grapes must come from a specified area, processed in a particular way, and the resulting wine is aged in new oak barrels for a time corresponding to the class of sherry. (What happens to the used barrels? Whisky distillers want them!)

Some Sherries are dry, and some sweet; Bristol Cream is a very sweet sherry that has been a favorite in Britan for generations.

There are Sherry tours, where a knowledgeable person takes you to a bar to sample various types of Sherry; and if you go to Jerez there are endless tastings at the wineries. (Just like the many wineries in Paso Robles!)

But we wanted something a little lower key. After all, our neighborhood is full of tapas bars, all of them offering many kinds of wines and spirits. So Paula went on-line and found one bar renowned for their sherry collection. And, it was only a few blocks away!

We headed out into the on-going Disneyland that is Seville at night, and showed up at the bar around 8PM. That’s pretty early for the Spanish, and things were slow. We explained what we were after to the waiter, a young guy who spoke excellent English, and he said,  sure, have a seat! He brought us a couple of glasses and a splash of dry sherry (as with all wines, one always starts with the driest and moves towards the sweetest, otherwise the taste buds get clogged up). He kept bringing fresh glasses with each new bottle, suggesting foods that would go well. We were full from dinner, so declined the food, at least this time around. (At the waiter’s mention of Manchego cheese, though, I suddenly realized that Sherry with food would be a very different experience!)

We got to the sweet wines, and agreed to a cheesecake; very good, and very appropriate with the last two sweet Sherries.

The waiter was quite nice, professional yet very friendly, listened to what we wanted and made suggestions. When we were finally done, we got the bill. A whopping $20USD!

Sherry seems to be an acquired taste. I must admit that I am not currently a fan. The dry Sherries are a bit too light, and there is a flavor I do not favor. However, we are looking forward to returning to try again, this time pairing the Sherries with appropriate foods. I expect that will be a worthwhile experience!


 

We Go for an Evening Stroll

We hear the music, and are drawn to it. Like the Pied Piper, I think. Except this is high-pitched intense R&B from an electric guitar, not melodic flute music. We cross the bridge, moving ever closer to the sounds.

We’re in Rome, taking a short walk before retiring for the evening. As we stroll, the sounds draw us on. Our apartment is only a block or so from the river, so we naturally head that way. Once on the bridge, the same one we had crossed a day or two ago on our way to the Vatican, we realize the sounds are coming from the other side.

Immediately in front of us, on the far bank, is a huge cylindrical structure called Castel Saint'Angelo (which is to say, we are on Ponte Saint'Angelo), like a giant wedding cake made of red brick. We pause, crossing the bridge, to admire the sculpted angels spaced every so often along the roadway. The source for the bridge name, perhaps? While we’d crossed here before, this time we are not focused on our destination and spend more time examining the sculptures. Each angel has a distinct personality, and each seems pretty happy (except for that one; I don’t know what his problem is).

Castel Saint'Angelo a summer's day, with people; from Google Street View (not my photo!)

Looking upriver from the Ponte Saint'Angelo...

...and looking downriver

A happy angel on the bridge (well, the statue of an angel)

As we approach the far bank the music stops; it is apparent now there is not a band but only one fellow, sitting at the base of the massive brick wall that forms Castel Saint'Angelo. We follow the river, passing some distance from the guitar player, who is now tuning and plunking the strings. We look across the river, to the city lights – our neighborhood, come to think of it – and downriver, to the next bridge, also well lit. A classic scene in Rome!

We briefly consider crossing back at the next bridge, but that looks too far; drawn by the mysterious music, we’d already come further than we had expected this short evening stroll to take us. We turn around and pass back in front of the monstrous brick castle, lit by the garish orange-yellow light of the sodium vapor street lamps. Actually, I’ve always detested these lights; they seem to steal all the color; impossible to find your parked car when lit by sodium vapor (their popularity in modern cities is due to their extreme efficiency – they use less electric power than almost any other light source – and not for the quality of the light they provide). Yet I learned in Seville that the color exactly compliments the soft, warm tones of ancient stone buildings, making for night scenes that are almost fairy-like.

But this night we are away from the tight lanes and close streets; instead, we face long distances, large areas, few lights, extensive shadows, and dark brick, not light stone. The whole scene is surreal: the lone guitarist, sitting on his substantial amplifier, almost disappearing against the massive wall. And but for him (and us!) the area is deserted. It’s like he is the Last Man on Earth. And to complete the absurdity, we finally see the sign propped up on his tip bucket: “I need money to fix my time machine to get back to the ‘50s.”

Just another night in Rome…

We went Rome'n TAKE TWO!!!

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to publishing this blog: NONE OF THE VIDEOS WORKED!!

Sorry about that, here are links to the vids so you can go directly to the YouTube URL. (And please do, we worked SO hard on putting these together....)


Trevi Fountain:

         https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i61rZkV03I

Roman Forum visit:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HT286BV0Eec