Kristina

I've been asked by the Fodor's editors to re-post my trip report with a new heading, so here goes!

<b>Confessions of a Travel Tyrant; Ten days of Tapas, Wine and Wandering in Spain</b>

Hello, my name is Kristina and I am a Travel Tyrant. They say admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, right? I'm going to try, but I imagine it will be a long, tough road, fraught with peril, setbacks and relapses. I may even fall off the wagon once in a while. The problem is that being a tyrant works well for me. I do all the research, planning, bookings, itineraries and everyone else goes along for the ride. I like it that way because I'm a control freak. My travel companions like it because (they're lazy and) it's easy for them. It's a win-win situation, right? I hate to admit it, but it is win-win, most of the time, because I'm usually well prepared and because I'm <i>always</i> right (just ask my husband, he'll tell you). The problems come when I don't know the answer to something, then I get this look of shock and disbelief from my companion, like <i>&quot;what do you mean you don't know?&quot;</i>

I love to travel. A lot. Some might say it's an obsession, but I prefer the word &quot;passion&quot;. As I said above, I'm also a control freak, so the planning is an absolute mix of agony and joy, pleasure and pain for me. I love the research and the discovery of what I hope will be the perfect hotel or restaurant, but I agonize over making the wrong choice. I rationalize it all by telling myself I like to be prepared, like a boy scout. For those who don't know me, perhaps a little background will help. I went on my first trip to Europe with my husband (then boyfriend) when we were in college, backpacks on our backs, &quot;Let's Go Europe&quot; and Eurail pass firmly in hand, and I never looked back. I've been to Europe almost every other year since then. In 1996, on a road trip to the Grand Canyon, my husband and I decided to take a year off and travel around the world. We spent 9 months traveling in 1998-99 though the South Pacific, Asia and Europe and kept an online journal of our adventures. I still keep my travelogues on our website, www.wired2theworld.com. I think it was those two plus years of planning, combined with the advent of the internet age that really pushed me over the edge into full blown obsession. I also used to be a professional chef, so good food, and food related travel plays a big part in what I do. Plus, I'm used to telling people what to do, hence the Travel Tyrant was born.

This year was a turn for one of the every-other-year trips I take with my mother, who provided the FF miles for this trip. In return for her miles, she gets my services as travel planner and guide. Our first choice was Turkey. Unfortunately, we could not find upgradable flights on United for the days we wanted. It all changes when you are trying to use FF miles for a free ticket or an upgrade. So, we decided to go someplace else and Spain became the next destination of choice. I've been a few times, including a 3 month stint of living in Madrid in the early 90's, but this was my mother's first trip.

Once we decided on the destination the obsessive-compulsive planning could begin in earnest. We were unable to get free tickets all the way to Spain on United (without flying to Germany first) so we took what we could get, free tickets to London. How hard could it be to get a cheap fight from London to Madrid? Harder than you think for the the day and time we arrived (a Saturday morning). Who wants to wait at Heathrow for 6 hours after a 12 hour flight? After much research and debate on where to fly in and out of in Spain, we finally decided on R/T LHR-MAD on British Airways as it fit our schedule best.

Kristina

Next, I took the task of finding and booking the hotels. After going to Sicily with my mom without reservations and on some days wasting hours trying to find a place to stay for the night, I decided to book all the hotels in advance this time. I did everything online, researching ideas here on the fodors message board, and heavily relying on www.tripadvisor.com for reviews. With one exception, I booked every hotel directly via the hotel's website, sticking with a &quot;budget&quot; of around 100 euro per night and in the end, it all averaged out right on target. We stayed in everything from 1 to 5 star, Spanish Government rating. For our final night in Madrid, I lucked out and managed to get the Westin Palace for $135 plus tax via www.priceline.com. This was my first experience with Priceline and I searched the message boards on www.betterbidding.com and www.biddingfortravel.com to learn the ins and outs of bidding before I lept in. In the end, my time paid off as this same room goes for $250 per night and up on their website.

I did most of my research into where to go and what to see via two Eyewitness guides (&quot;Madrid&quot; and &quot;Seville and Andalucia&quot and the on the internet. I used the message boards here (of course!), chowhound.com and madridman.com plus plenty of other spanish tourism websites. I also used Maribels's online PDFs (www.maribelsguides.com) which are invaluable.

We took almost every possible form of transportation; plane, train, automobile, bus, metro, taxi. We rented a car for 3 days from www.Autoeurope.com (for Granada to Cordoba), the same company we used in Sicily. There's no extra charge for a one way rental which is very nice. We took the high speed AVE train from Madrid to Sevilla and Cordoba back to Madrid (see www.renfe.com). I found the Spanish rail site to be very confusing, even in English, and certainly not as user friendly as the French rail site www.sncf.com. Instead of buying the tickets online, which would not allow us to print them out (unlike the French rail site) we bought them upon arrive at the Madrid airport where there is a RENFE ticket counter. We also took the bus from Sevilla to Granada since the bus left earlier than the train and took less time to get there (and bought our bus tickets when we arrived in Sevilla). In Madrid, we took a taxi from the airport and the metro back to the airport. I bought tickets online, in advance, for the Alhambra in Granada since I'd read they can sell out daily.

Finally, after trolling the internet months before the trip, I created my own guidebook of sorts by cutting and pasting information into a word document. I took various message board recommendations and our hotel info, and put them all onto pages separated by destination. That way, when we arrived, we'd have the info we needed onhand and we could take just those pages out with us. I also printed out the relevant pages from the wonderful Maribel's guides. I did this &quot;personal guidebook&quot; on my last trip to Paris, and it worked well. This time, it worked &quot;ok&quot; but not was well as before because I hadn't noticed that many of the restaurant recs did not come with addresses, so it was a bit more hit and miss (failure #1 for the Travel Tyrant).

I also pack as I plan, obsessively. My goal is always to blend in, rather than stick out. I know I can never do it 100%, but it's easier to do in Europe than in Asia, and I'm always flattered when someone takes me for a local.
Plus, since I only travel carry-on now, the Travel Tyrant insisted my mother do the same. A few days before the trip, I instructed her on the joys of zip lock bag packing and she did quite well. In fact, we both made it through the trip without running out of clothes, smelling bad, or having to buy underwear. My mother however, did have to wash some things out and left them drying in the trunk of the car as we drove. At least they weren't hanging from the rear view mirror.

Kristina

Day 1
Los Angeles (Burbank) to Madrid
Burbank-SFO-Not a bad flight. We sit in Economy Plus on United, thanks to Mom's United Premiere status. On arrival at SFO, we take the shuttle bus over to the International terminal. It's possible to walk, but then you have to go back through security again. We checked out the Red Carpet rooms in both T3 and International. Both are very nice and had free drinks, cheese, fruit and crackers, but we have no time to stay since our flight to LHR is boarding early.
For our trip SFO to LHR, we sit in Economy Plus again and fortunately get to board first. This is a good thing because the flight is full and most rolling bags do not fit wheels first inside the overhead bins, they have to go in sideways on the 777. We have seat-back video screens and watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith and Batman Returns.
Our flight from LHR to MAD is delayed so we go on what turns out to be a long walk in a big circle around Heathrow to find the United Red Carpet room. Once we get there, they tell us not to wait because it would take us a long time to get to our next gate. They weren't kidding; we go through security again, and get on a bus. Once on the bus, a woman's voice, in a lovely British accent comes on and tells us &quot;the bus ride will take 5 minutes, and then you will have to walk for appoximately <i>20 minutes</i> to your gate&quot;. No way could you do a tight connection in this airport. For some reason, they don't post the gates until they begin boarding, and then it's still a 15-20 min walk; there's no logic there, is there? When we arrive at the gate we have to gate check the roll aboards due to BA's uber-restrictive carry on policy but we had no problems getting our luggage back on arrival.

On arrival in Madrid, we walk out of customs and made an immediate left to find a cash machine just to the right of one of the money changing places.
Here's where the Travel Tyrant kicked in for the first time. I knew I wanted to buy our train tickets before we left the airport because I'd been told there was a RENFE office there and I didn't want to have to waste time going to the train station in Madrid. I had looked at the map of the airport terminal online before we left and I knew it was just around the corner from where we stood. My mother says, &quot;I'll go look for the train office&quot;. I say &quot;no, wait with me (fearing she'd get lost, I don't know why), the office is right around the corner&quot;. She says &quot;How do you know? <b>Are you sure?&quot;</b>
<i>Ummm, why is she questioning the Travel Tyrant?? </i>
She doesn't believe me and off she goes while I wait in line for the cash machine. She's back in under a minute with the information that it indeed is there. Sigh, it's tough being right all the time.

Kristina

The RENFE ticket seller does not speak English, so it was the first of what would become many conversations I had <i>en Espanol.</i> I'm proud of myself for not hesitating and not being embarrassed. I don't try to adopt the Castilian lisp however, it just feels too awkward. I'm way too used to speaking Latin American accented Spanish. So, we easily buy our tickets from Madrid to Sevilla (66 euro each 2nd class) and from Cordoba back to Madrid (50 euro each) before we even leave the airport.

Then, we walked over to the Aerocity shuttle desk and asked how long it would be to get a shuttle. We were told at least 15 min so we decided to take a cab, thinking it would be worth it for the approx. 5 euro difference in cost, total. The trip was very quick, about 20 minutes door to door.
However, when we arrived, the cab driver tries to tell us there was a baggage surcharge in addition to the airport surcharge of 4.2 euro. There is no such thing and I refuse to pay it (later confirmed with the hotel's front desk). My mother starts getting upset, telling the guy &quot;it's illegal!&quot; and fearing for a scene similar to one we'd had at the Rome airport many years back (where the cabbie actually <i>followed</i> us into the airport terminal), I give the guy 20 euro and walk away. The meter read 14.6 euro so with the honest airport supplement of 4.2 (total, not each) it would have been 18.8. He'd wanted 25, but did not follow.

The 4 star <i>Hotel Intur Palacio San Martin</i> (www.hotelinturpalacio.com) sits right on the Plaza San Martin, about 3 blocks from the Puerta Del Sol. I'd asked for a room with a view of the plaza, but unfortunately, all the rooms in the hotel were completely full and none were available. In fact, they didn't even have an open room for us when we arrived around 2:15. My mother starts to get irritated, saying &quot;I'm not going to be happy&quot; and I say &quot;Just relax&quot; which she hates and increases her irritation. This has the potential to get ugly, but I try to maintain my calm. The hotel is full and not everyone can have a room with a view. As much of a control freak as I am, I understand this. They made no guarantees with the reservation except that they would have a room for us. <i>Here is the downside to being the one in charge, it's your fault if the room sucks.</i> To be fair to my mother, I think she was more upset my the deck clerk's cavalier attitude and lack of attention, than by the fact that we'd have no view. This would become more evident as we traveled; with some exceptions, the concept of &quot;guest first&quot; or &quot;the customer is always right&quot; does not exist in Spain.

Kristina

I'm easily embarrassed. I think this is because I'm an only child and never had to suffer the rigors of embarrassment at the hands of siblings. However, there's always been my mother. She is a person who dances to her own tune. Barely five feet tall, she commands a much larger presence. I don't think she intends to embarrass me (except maybe when she tells stories of my childhood in front of my friends), but she also doesn't care what anyone else thinks.


The Travel Tyrant in me appeared again when I gave her a lecture about not assuming someone speaks English. I live in fear of being the &quot;Ugly American&quot; when I travel. I learned this lesson the hard way and learned it well. I think many tourists, especially Americans, tend to assume that the rest of the world speaks English, or at least should speak English. But that's like someone from France or Spain or Uzbekistan coming to the US and assuming we will speak their language. I gave her the information (lecture) to always ask first, &quot;Do you speak English?&quot; <i>en espanol</i>. Besides knowing how to say &quot;where is the bathroom?&quot; those four words are probably the most important words to know in any foreign language. They imply you don't <i>assume</i> (and didn't your 7th grade teach tell you what it means to &quot;assume&quot;??). You would be surprised how many people answer with &quot;no&quot;, or &quot;a little&quot;. Quite a few times my mother would march up to someone in a store or a restaurant and just start talking in English. They would look at her in befuddlement. <i>Como?</i> I would then step in and say, <i>&quot;Hola! Como esta? Habla usted ingles?&quot;</i> and then speak to them in Spanish. It took her a couple of days to learn this, but she did, and I was proud of her in the end.

So, waiting for our room to be ready, we went for a walk, in search of a place to buy a SIM card for my old Motorola triband phone. Someone had recommended to me that I try the FNAC department store, and there we learn my phone was not unlocked as I'd thought (after a bit of my mom trying to speak to the clerks in English, hence the lecture above). We tried in vain to find a place to get it unlocked but it was not to be. We were told to find a &quot;Locutorio&quot;, usually a place that sells phone cards and see if they could do it. They also said it would cost 10-15 Euro, so at that point I figured it just wasn't worth it.

Back to the hotel and into our room which was small, but average by European standards. I'd asked for a room with twin beds, and we got them, but pushed together to make a king. The room looks out onto a central atrium, no view to the street, so it's a little dark. The bathroom is nice with lots of amenities, good towels, and there's a safe in the closet. The TV has no channels in English, except for pay per view movies. The decor is nice and the room has high ceilings with lots of crown moldings. There's a desk and a small table and chair. It's fine and my mother is calm. We ask at the front desk if a room on the front becomes available the next day, can we move, and they say yes.

Scarlett

Thank you for going to all this trouble to post your Confessions!
I think that there is a bit of a Tyrant in all of us..although I would rather be tyrannical in Spain ( or Italy or France or....) than here at home

Kristina

By this time it's about 3:30 PM and we're hungry. So, we go back out to the street to get a snack and we stop in at <i>Casa Parrando Sidreria</i>, a place that serves cider, around the corner from the hotel. I have a glass of sidra which is very refreshing and mom has a cheap and nasty glass of rioja. I ordered some <i>boquerones</i> (vinegar marinated anchovies) and we get a HUGE plate of them, along with olives and a couple of cornishon pickles. More than we could ever eat, though we certainly try. We also order some little red peppers stuffed with bacalao and then fried, which were too fishy for my taste. Total tab is 15 euro.

Next, we walk over to the Theissen museum to see if we can get in before it closes at 7 PM. I thought I remember reading it was free on Saturday PM. We get there around 6 PM (it was a long walk across town), and it's not free, (the Reina Sofia is) so it just wasn't worth it to go in only for an hour (failure #2 for the Travel Tyrant). Since we're close, we check out the Westin Palace Hotel where we will be staying on our final night. It's a lovely hotel and the rotunda in the center with it's stained glass dome, is stunning. I snag a free International Herald Tribune (my favorite newspaper), figuring that I would be a guest there soon, right?

We walk back through the Plaza Mayor, all golden, terra-cotta, and beautiful in the late afternoon sun. The square is filled with people having drinks in the cafes which ring the plaza, and groups of young people camped out on the ground enjoying snacks they'd brought with them.
Someone had tied long strips of toilet paper to the subway (?) grates in the ground and the hot air was blowing them up, making a tunnel for small children to walk through. In one corner, a couple were surrounded by a crowd watching them dance flamenco.
Suddenly, we notice a vary large police presence coming into the square; at least a dozen police cars and trucks pull in and positioned themselves around the plaza, no sirens, no lights flashing. We couldn't tell if this was a common occurrence, or for a specific reason. As we exit though one of the high arched puertas to the plaza, we're accosted by Asian massage vendors who set up little plastic chairs by each gateway and then attack passers-by by offering massages. Some of the more aggressive female vendors go so far as to put their hands on our shoulders to give us a &quot;sample&quot;. It's not really unnerving, as much as it is irritating. Though I really could have used a massage, I certainly wasn't going to have one there on the sidewalk sitting on a tiny, plastic child's chair.

As we continue our walk back to the hotel, I think to myself, &quot;the city smells the same&quot;. It's interesting how those sensory memories come flooding back with just the right combination of odors; cologne, cigarettes, beer, jamon, and bus exhaust.

Kristina

Back to the hotel to take a nap in the room. It's really hard to wake up, but we just had to force ourselves.
This time we set out walking with a destination; the Taverna de Cien Vinos (Calle Nuncio, 17, www.cienvinos.com ).
This is a really neat little place with over 100 wines by the glass and nueva-style tapas, which can be ordered at the bar, or sitting a the rough-hewn wooden tables. None of the glasses of wine appeared to be over 3 or 4 euro. The waiter notices we are struggling to translate some of the items on the menu, and brings us one in English. Mom has a glass of Rose, <i>Cigales Dolcetandes</i>, and I have a Rioja, <i>La Vicanda Riva</i>. We had a <i>timbale</i> of cous cous which sat atop a bed of carmelized onions and mushrooms and was topped with a slice of foie gras. Yummy! We also had a guacamole and shrimp &quot;pie&quot;, odd but tasty. 12.5 euro

Next, we walk all over searching for another place to have tapas. Not that there is any shortage, to the contrary, we were overwhelmed by choice. We ended up at <i>Valor</i> (Postigo de San Martin, 7) for chocolate (the traditional Spanish thick, dipping kind) and churros around the corner from our hotel before dropping into bed, exhausted, at midnight.

Day 1-walked 7.7 miles

Kristina

Day 2-Madrid

We wake up late, 10:30 AM, and are out by 11:30 with a quick stop at, yes, Starbucks. Mom has to, but the Travel Tyrant vows not to let us do so every day. As it turns out, it would be our only Starbucks purchase, though we would certainly see them all over.
We walked to Sol where we take the metro to the RENFE Atocha station with the goal of going to Reina Sofia museum. Looking back, I suppose we could have used that trip to buy our train tickets to Sevilla, but I had no idea we'd be going there. Plus, it was nice to get it done before leaving the airport, ensuring we'd have seats when we wanted.
Leaving the station by the first exit we see, we walk out the wrong way, and once outside wander a bit trying to figure out exactly where we are in relation to the museum. This wandering about, lost with a map in hand, is not unusual for us. To get to the museum, we wind up walking around the outside of a large construction site next to the station, against traffic, in the street.

The Reina Sofia (www.museoreinasofia.mcu.es) is in a large old building with two shockingly modern glass elevators on the exterior from which there are fantastic views over the rooftops. It holds a large collection of modern Spanish art, including the very famous &quot;Guernica&quot; by Picasso. The last time I was in Madrid (1991) this work was housed in a small offshoot museum next to the Prado. After the Reina Sofia (which is free on Sundays), we stopped at a nearby bar, <i>El Brillante</i> (Atocha 122) for some tasty, yet expensive, fried calimari, <i>una ca&ntilde;a</i> (a small glass of beer) and a coke (11 euro).

From there, it was a walk to the Prado, where we contemplated going into the botanical gardens, but since there was a long line, we decide to leave it for next Sunday. Instead, we enter the Prado by it's side entrance across from the Botanical Gardens (this is at the opposite end of the building from the main entrance) which was very easy, and also free on Sundays. What followed was a quick walk through room after room of exhibits (including being let in the exit of a separate, paid entrance exhibit), in a mad, circular dash of trying to find a bathroom. They certainly make it difficult; the first one we find is in the cafeteria, but has a huge line and the next was so hidden and out of the way, it is virtually empty (once we finally find it). I know we hit the highlights of the museum and saw some fantastic, famous works of art (Goya's Majas and Saturn Devouring One of His Sons, and Ruben's Three Graces), and but honestly, the rest was quite a blur.

After the museums, we go back to the hotel, where we're able to change rooms for one with a view onto the plaza. This room was slightly larger than the last, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a small balcony. It was quite nice, and we were both please with the change, even for one night.

cruiseluv

I'm glad you changed the title. I really enjoyed what you had to say about Spain but stoped reading since it meant that I had to come in contact again and again with that hideous term you used so casually.

Kristina

After changing rooms, we go for a walk in my old <i>barrio</i> of <i>Chueca</i>. The neighborhood has changed quite a bit in the last 14 years with the more seedy elements (drug dealers and transvestite prostitutes) replaced with a decidedly gay demographic and lots of trendy clothing shops and restaurants. Unfortunately for us, Sunday is the day all the stores are closed.

We found the apartment where D and I had lived in 1991, and a closed <i>El Castillo</i>, the family run restaurant in the bottom of the building. After that, we go in search of <i>Pizzeria Vesuvio</i> (Calle Hortaleza, 4) where we used to go for our late night pizza cravings. It's still there, and open, so we share my favorite pizza with olives, artichokes, anchovies, and jamon. I ordered a <i>Fanta Limon</i> (a refreshing, not too sweet, lemon soda) and Mom has her first taste is now a convert as well. The pizza is wonderful, just as I remembered, and were were fortunate to get in and sit at one of the 12 counter seats before they closed for afternoon siesta. Across the street is the famous bakery, <i>Horno San Onofre</i> (calle Horteleza, 9) where we buy <i>buenellos</i>, which are little cream puffs filled with different flavored creams.

On our way back to the hotel for our own siesta, I point out the Mc Donald's we used frequent to my Mother and tell her how we would sit upstairs and watch the prostitutes walk the street outside. We would time them to see how long it would take them to go upstairs and return with their &quot;dates&quot;. I say, &quot;Well, it looks like the neighborhood has been cleaned up&quot;, but apparently I speak too soon as we pass 3 such &quot;working girls&quot; on our way down to the Puerta del Sol.

Kristina

<b>Never send back the wine, or, the Customer is Always Wrong</b>
For dinner, we go out on our own little <i>marcha</i> on Calle de la Cava Baja and Calle de la Cava Alta. These two streets, southwest of the Plaza Mayor are loaded with restaurants and tapas bars.

First stop is <i>Taberna Algorta</i> (Calle Cava Baja, 28), with Basque style tapas (pintxos vascos). We have 2 glasses wine and a tapa de pulpo (piece of toasted bread brushed with oilve oil with a slice of cooked octopus and a dusting chili powder) for 6.8 euro.

Next is <i>Tempranillo</i> (Calle Cava Baja, 38) which is very busy by the time we arrive. They have tons of wine by the glass, all listed on a chalkboard. I order an Izadi Roija and my mother, strangely, orders a Syrah.

She takes one sip and says loudly, &quot;how do you say this is $#!&amp;?&quot; <i>Nice, eh?</i> A Spaniard, standing at the bar next to us, tells her exactly how to say it in Spanish, but I really don't want her trying that out on the bartender.

She insists the wine is bad, as in, it had been in an open bottle too long. The Travel Tyrant says, <i>&quot;why would you order an a Syrah in Spain anyway?&quot;</i> But I learned long ago to keep the peace, so I tell the bartender she said it was bad and he just shrugged his shoulders. I order her another glass, a rioja this time, which is fine. We also order two <i>tostas</i>; one of soft goat cheese and the other of a rustic pat&eacute; on toasted bread.
I cringe while my mother flirts with the thirty-something yuppies to my left.
When I ask for the bill the bad wine is on it. I tell the bartender again that it was bad, not that she just didn't like it. He glares at me with this look of immense irritation and then turns to the other bartender and tells him what I'd said. The other bartender uncorks the wine, pours some into a glass, sips it and proclaims it just fine. At this point I figure it's not worth arguing over 2 euro so I pay the 11.20 Euro check and we leave.

The final stop on our <i>tapeo</i> is the <i>Museo de Jamon</i> (Carrera de San Jeronimo, 6)- These places are all over Madrid (there are 6 of them) and from the outside appear touristy, but inside is packed with Spaniards. We have a mixed plate of <i>jamon</i> (cured ham, very much like prosciutto) and <i>manchego</i> (a firm goat cheese), a <i>ca&ntilde;a</i>, and a fanta limon for 5 euro.

We end the night with ice cream near the hotel.

Day 2 miles walked- 7.9

Kristina

<b>Day 3
&quot;4 for Texas&quot;- Madrid to Sevilla</b>
We're up early, and it's still very dark and quiet outside when we leave at 7:30 am. There is no problem on checkout at the hotel and we and walk with luggage the 3 blocks to the Puerta del Sol to take the metro to the Atocha RENFE station, 4 stops away. I'd offered my Mom the option of taking a cab to the station, but I think she was still stinging from the experience from the airport.

Once at the station, we have to go through security in the departures area, much like getting on a plane. Then, they take your ticket <i>before</i> you walk down the ramps to trains, not on the train itself. This is new to me, as even last March in France, we just boarded the train and had our tickets checked in our seats. My guess is this extra security stems from the bombings they had. It didn't bother me a bit, and I wondered why France hadn't adopted similar security.

On our train, we find our seats which are facing backward (causing a small amount of panic in my mom, who fears motion sickness). We boarded a 1/2 hour early and by departure time, the car is full. An American backpacker sitting behind us, speaks to me in Spanish, asking if he can move my bag in the bin above, so I reply <i>en espanol</i>, thrilled that he possibly mistook me for a local.

As the train starts to move out of the station, attendants come down the aisles passing out what looks like a deck of cards, but what turns out to be a tiny set of ear bud headphones. Soon the movie starts. It's &quot;4 for Texas&quot;, a 1963 Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin movie with &quot;special guests&quot; the Three Stooges, dubbed of course in Spanish. It was such an odd choice of movie that I can't help laughing and it makes the trip slightly surreal.

Kristina

We arrive on time in dumping rain. I insist we take a cab, first checking with the driver to make sure there would be no &quot;supplement&quot;. He turns out to be really nice, telling us he speaks a little Italian and German, but no English. He's not familiar with the hotel, but finds it easily enough and the trip only costs us 5 euro.

I'd selected the Hotel Puerta de Sevilla (www.hotelpuertadesevilla.com/indexe.htm) based on the reviews I'd read on tripadvisor.com and the hotel's website. It turned out to be charming, and in great location, right on the edge of the Barrio Santa Cruz and above a frituria. The price certainly could not be beat at 78 euro per night.

Our room is nice, if small, with charming d&eacute;cor and a tiny balcony on the front of the hotel overlooking the street below. The TV has CNN (which I love), and the beds are fine. The only drawback is the tiny bathroom, with the world's smallest shower. There is no tub, which is ok with me, but the shower is so small I could not bend down to pick up my shampoo or soap and there is no shelf on which to put them. It's one of those corner showers which has two sliding doors which pull together. I spend the rest of the trip looking at people larger than myself, thinking, <i>&quot;that person wouldn't even <b>fit</b> inside the shower in Sevilla&quot;.</i>
The front desk staff are pleasant and very helpful throughout our stay. There's a computer in a small room off the lobby with internet available for 1 euro per 1/2 hour.

They say you can walk anywhere in the Barrio Santa Cruz in 5 min if you know where you're going, but it's 5 hours if you get lost. So, of course, we take a walk, thinking we'd follow the map, and proceed to get lost. First though, we have a quick, unmemorable snack of fried shrimp and teeny, tiny clams in garlic at a nearby restaurant.

Next, we walk to the bus station to buy our tickets to Granada for Wednesday. It was a short walk though the gardens on the edge of the Barrio. The bus station is a bit seedy, but where aren't bus stations seedy? From the station we walk into the barrio, with the goal of finding the Palace and wind up going into the Alfonso XIII hotel. It's a gorgeous hotel and we make use of their very nice restroom. The buildings are beautiful inside and out with lovely gardens and courtyards. After that, we walk in circles though the barrio Santa Cruz for a couple of hours, enjoying the narrow whitewashed streets, little shops and bars.

Since it's now getting late in the day, we decid to leave the Palace and the Cathedral for the next day, and instead pay a visit to the Casa de Pilatos. This is a restored 16th century villa, covered in amazing tiles. We opt for the tour of the upstairs which was worth it, for 8 euro. The downstairs is a series of empty rooms, covered floor to ceiling in tiles of multiple patterns. There are lush courtyards, gardens and fountains, typical of a wealthy Andalucian house of the era. The upstairs is only available by guided tour, and is fully furnished with antiques, historical tapestries and artwork. The tour itself was a bit dull, but I enjoy seeing the furnished rooms. Apparently, the family who owns the villa still uses those rooms for special occasions.
As we leave, I buy two small packets of almonds (one salted, one candied) from a pushcart vendor. If you've never tried Marcona almonds, they are worth a splurge. You'll never want to eat super salty canned almonds again.

Kristina

After a rest, we head out on a walk to dinner. We stopp and have our first sherry, manzanilla for me and oloroso for mom, at <i>Bodega Santa Cruz, Las Columnas</i>, a well known, old, tapas bar in the Barrio (corner of Mateos Gago and calle Rodrigo Caro, near the cathedral) where the bartenders tally up your bill right on the wood topped bar in front of you.

We walk a bit more though the narrow winding streets, and finally decide on dinner at <i>Hosteria del Laurel</i> (Plaza de Los Venerables, 5, www.hosteriadellaurel.com). We have 2 glasses of the house rioja, an avocado and shrimp salad with a dressing similar to 1000 island. Mom has Oxtail stew (<i>cola de toro</i which is yummy as was the <i>cochinillo asado</i> (roast pig) that I had. Both of our main courses are served with fried potatoes, which seems to be the national vegetable of Spain, or at least the most common side dish. The total came to about 50 euro incl. tax. which was our most expensive meal so far, but also our first full, sit down, dinner. Along with the check, they give us each a little pin with the Hosteria del Laurel logo on it.

Day 3 miles total 6.45

Kristina

<b>Day4-Sevilla</b>

The morning begins with a walk over to the Cathedral and Alcazar. We'd wanted to see the cathedral, but it turns out to be very crowded and for some reason, the 7 euro per person rubbed us both the wrong way, so we satisfy ourselves with admiring it from the outside.

A note here; there are gypsy women who stand outside most tourist destinations with sprigs of rosemary in hand. They approach, offering &quot;for friendship&quot; and then the unsuspecting tourist who accepts, is hit up for a &quot;donation&quot; or runs the risk of having their pocket picked. My mother and I sat on the church steps and watched as one tourist after another stopped and allowed to have their &quot;palm read&quot; and then was suddenly reaching into their purse or wallet to give money. The best course of action is to &quot;just say no&quot;.

The Alcazar, the royal palace in Sevilla, is absolutely stunning and much larger than expected once inside the high walls. I found myself wandering around the gardens, overwhelmed with the enormity of the place. It's impossible to get an idea of the scope from the outside. First, we just wound our way through the interior rooms, all empty save for wall decoration and beautiful tiles. I am particularly impressed by a gigantic wall-sized tapestry depicting a map of the Mediterranean around the 16th century. Then, into the gardens we go, with fountains and fish ponds everywhere. I would love to be there someday when all the orange trees are in bloom.

After the Alcazar, we walk toward what turned out to be a nonexistent market listed in my notes (oops! the Tyrant fails again).
Undeterred, we stopped for lunch at <i>El Rinconcillo</i> which is considered to be the birthplace of tapas and the oldest bar in Sevilla (possibly the oldest in Spain?) opened in 1670. It has a stamped tin ceiling, a couple of small dining rooms covered in Spanish tiles, and the ubiquitous sea of cured legs of ham hanging from the ceiling. Ancient bottles of sherry line the wall.
The bartender is very friendly and when I ask about the barrels behind the bar, gives us a taste of what was inside, a fairly harsh &quot;new wine&quot;. We both have <i>Puerta Vieja Rioja</i> and <i>tortilla con manchego</i> which turns out to be a freshly made omelet with chunks of melting manchego cheese instead of the traditional, thick wedge of room temperature cooked egg and potato. A little plate of lomo (cured pork loin, thinly sliced) and bread brings us to 11 euro, again the tally written in chalk on the bar. The address is Calle Gerona 40 (though the picture I took says &quot;32&quot; on the sign). The only problem we had was that it was getting hard to stand after walking so much. Very few bars have places to sit and my feet are really starting to hurt.

Kristina

Day 4-
It's 3 PM, and the Travel Tyrant flops on the bed and days &quot;It's a vacation, not a death march&quot; .
My mother laughs and agrees with me. I think I've finally been broken. We've been averaging 6-7 miles of walking per day (mom's wearing the pedometer) and today I am exhausted. I take a catnap at noon, another short nap at 3, and then we go out to the <i>Aire de Sevilla</i> Hamman baths at 4 PM. It is 26 Euro each for 2 hours in the baths including a 15 min massage.
Some notes about the experience; there's no hairdryer. You'll need ask for a towel but big plush bathrobes are provided as well as skid-resistant slippers. Most of the water in the pools is quite tepid except for the very HOT bath and the cold plunge. The massage itself was tepid as well. There are candles and incense everywhere (frankincense, myrrh, sandalwood) and the clientele is mixed men and women, so everyone must wear a bathing suit.

With wet hair, we stop for a little snack at <i>Cava del Europa</i> next to the hotel ( #6 Santa Maria La Blanca), a wine bar with interesting modern tapas. I have a <i>Rioja Crianza Gloriosa</i> from Bodegas Palacio for 2.50 euro. Mom has a Rosado from <i>Marques de Caceras DO Rioja</i> for 1.90. Those are fairly standard prices for a glass of wine here, with the most expensive wine I've seen by the glass around 3.50 or 4 euros. I love a country which has its' priorities straight with reasonable costs for coffee and wine. We ordered <i>crudit&eacute;s son salsa de yogurt and menta</i> (boring) and a really good hummus with crispy bacon and pita. They also sell very reasonably priced bottles, with maybe 50 different bottled wines and 15 by the glass. In addition, they sell bottles para llevar (to go) at about 50-60 % of menu cost (try finding that anywhere in the US).

We ended evening with time in an internet caf&eacute; because the computer at the hotel went down and was hauled away by a tech, right as I went to use it. We have a late dinner/snack across the street from hotel at the &quot;Mezquita&quot; restaurant of fried squid and <i>arroz cordobese</i> (like a soupy paella). It was a bad experience at a Donor Kabob place down the street from the hotel that pushed us to the &quot;Mezquita&quot;. We had gone in and ordered a salad and sandwich to go and then were completely ignored for more than 10 minutes while other people came, ordered and were served in front of us. I should also point out that the restaurant was completely empty save for a waiter and a counter cook. Finally, I asked how long it would be for our order and I was told rudely &quot;there are other orders in front of yours&quot;. Ummm, where?? At that point, very hungry and irritated, we left. No big loss for the restaurant either as they had not even <i>started</i> our order. What we could not figure out was if we were ignored because we were American, because we were women, or because they just have no concern for their customers.


Day 4 total miles 6.11

Kristina

<b>Day 5 Sevilla to Granada-
&quot;Outer Granada&quot;</b>

It's still dark out when we walk the 5 blocks to the bus station. We had been a little concerned about taking the bus, but this turns out to be unfounded as it was very nice, with good seats and even a bathroom (which I did not use). The side of the bus had a number of symbols for the &quot;amenities&quot; it provided; A/C, TV, reclining seats and my favorite, the &quot;WC&quot; which was not just the letters, but a symbol of a little guy sitting on top of the &quot;w&quot; of the &quot;WC&quot;. The trip takes about 2.5 hours, slightly faster than the train at 3 hours, and costs 17 euro each. Again, we're treated to an odd choice of movie (&quot;The Bridges of Madison County&quot, bring your own headphones if you want to watch.

We arrive around noon and stop at tourist desk in the station where we ask about the best way to get to our hotel which is not in the town center, but rather up at the top of the hill near the entrance to the Alhambra. The helpful woman at the desk speaks excellent English, gives us a city map, and tells us we can take the public bus into town and then switch to another bus which would take us up to the Alhambra and our hotel. Easy right? Little did we know that the first city bus would turn into a one hour tour of outer Granada. It takes forever, seemingly making figure eights around the city. We would find a landmark, look at the map, and then be completely confused as to why the bus seemed to take such a circular route. Then, once at the cathedral, we found the connecting minibus but it did not accept the ticket from the first as a transfer. We should have taken a taxi, it would have been much faster. Once we get off the bus at the Alhambra entrance (the bus goes no further up the hill) we walk uphill, around a bend in the road, to find the Hotel Guadalupe.

The <i>Hotel Guadalupe</i> (http://www.hotelguadalupe.es, 3 stars) turns out to be very nice. I'd selected it for it's proximity to the Alhambra because I knew we had a limited amount of time and wanted to maximize our time there. I'd checked out the Parador as an option, but at a minimum of 250 euro per night it was pretty steep and plus, they were fully booked. At the Guadalupe we have room 411 with a &quot;view&quot; toward the Alhambra (and it's parking lot) and minuscule balcony. The room has a wall of windows, ochre colored walls, and lots of heavy, dark wood furniture. We could not get the TV to work, so I don't know if there were channels in English or not. The bathroom is nice, with good amenities, but oddly configured with the bidet and toilet closely opposite each other, making access to the shower a bit of a cotortionist's trick. The room next to us, # 412 (?) has a full terrace with table and chairs and a much grander view, probably down to the city below. We have a quick lunch in the very touristy restaurant next to the hotel which was mediocre, but cheap. Both the hotel and the restaurant have resident cats however, always a good sign to us feline lovers.

Since I'd bought the tickets online before we left I thought all we had to do was walk up to the window and pick them up. When we arrive, there are two long lines waiting for tickets so I just walk inside the ticket area and up to one of the booths. Then I realize that I had committed a grand faux pas, and had <i>cut in line in front of all the other people waiting to pick up their pre-purchased</i> tickets and were being let into the ticket area one at a time. Whoops! I quickly went to the back of the line. As we waited, afternoon tickets sold out by 3 PM. It takes us about 20 minutes to go through the line to pick up our tickets. With it, we're given a map and told we have to be at the Nasrid Palaces for our 4:30-5PM entrance time.

Kristina

Since we had enough time, we thought we would hit the Generalife first.

This area of terraced gardens and summer palace sits well away from the Fortress and Nasrid Palace area. From it, there are beautiful views of the city below, as well as the fortress. The gardens are stunning, with secret rooms created from hedges and water everywhere in the form of fountains, pools and even a long stairway with water running down the handrails. There also seem to be stray cats everywhere, presumably well fed by the abundance of lizards and birds we saw and probably by the mice and rats we did not see.

Next, we walk back toward the fortress and Nasrid palaces. Here is where I wish we'd rented an audio guide as it was a little hard to determine what we were seeing. As we walk to the fortress, we can see the outside of the Parador at the Alhambra from the rose garden. At one point, near the entrance to the Parador, it gets a little confusing, as it seemed we were leaving the grounds of the &quot;Alhambra&quot; and re-entering the city through a gate. There is even another little hotel here (Hotel America?). I guess this is why at each section of the Alhambra, they rip off a little corresponding piece of your ticket.

The fortress was really interesting, with fantastic views of the city below from the top. There is even a small section of ruins where you could see the remains of ancient housing.

The Nasrid palaces are overwhelming in scope. Room after room of beautiful tiles, secret gardens, ornate ceilings, etc. The only disappointment for me in places like this that there is never any furniture or any glimpse into kitchens or private rooms to get an idea of how people really lived.

We choose to forgo our daily nap in favor of a trip by mini bus down the hill and up into Arab quarter called the Albacin. We walk though and were a bit disappointed, expecting more tea shops and shopping opportunities. Turns out we were in the more &quot;residential section&quot; of this neighborhood and the shopping street is only about 3 blocks long off the Plaza. After dinner we find this street and buy some tea and a long shimmering pink silk scarf from a vendor who insists we take some incense and burn it before we leave Granada (for luck).

We walk around more and go into a chapel of the cathedral and to light a candle during mass, but don't not go into the main cathedral (3 euro fee). The area immediately surrounding the cathedral very touristy with shops selling tacky souvenirs.

We have tapas at <i>Bodegas Castenada</i> on Calle Almireceros 1. The bartender gives us free tapas of little squares of tortilla and olives, and we order smoked tuna (called mojama?) and Manchego Viejo (aged, with a nutty flavor like a fine parmesan). The food comes, accompanied by amazing Marcona almonds, Jerez oro sherry and a Rioja, totals 11 euro. The bartender is very nice and very willing to answer questions, which includes a sample of wine from the barrels behind the bar.

After a stop at an internet place, a search for an ATM, and a cold wait for the minibus back up the hill to the hotel, we arrive back at the hotel bar for a nightcap of <i>Solara Oloroso Dulce</i> (sweet sherry) before bed.

day 5 total 9.2 miles!

Kristina

<b>Day 6

Stress; what road are we on?</b>


In the morning, we take the bus down to the Plaza Nueva and catch a cab to the RENFE station for about 5 euro. There, we pick up our Autoeurope car from Avis .

Mom had requested a &quot;mid sized&quot; car with a trunk. The car turns out to be a brand new Renault Megane, diesel, with a key card instead of a real key. It has a push button start, big back seat, lots of little storage areas under floor, drawers under seat and a hatchback with covered trunk. Initially, she's not happy because of the car's funny shape, lack of &quot;real&quot; trunk, and her inability to immediately figure out how to move the driver's seat. I pull the instruction manual (<i>en espanol</i> only) out of the glove box and figure out how to move the seat.

Then, she can't keep the car from stalling to get it out of first gear. We'd go about 5 feet and the car would stall. She'd have to take out the card key, re-inset and push the button, drive five more feet and stall. Repeat about 10 more times with frustration mounting. Finally, we manage to get it around to the rental office, where the good man behind the counter assures us there was absolutely nothing wrong with the car. Then, he has the audacity to ask my Mother whether or not she knows how to drive a manual transmission. Not exactly the right question to ask her before she's had her morning coffee. Somehow, we get moving and once on the road, my mother sheepishly admits she thinks she had been in third gear by mistake.

Once on the highway, we finally stop for coffee outside Nerja on the coast. I had wanted to stop in Nerja because from the book, it looked like a quaint fishing village (mistake #4 of the Travel Tyrant), but it turns out to be filled with tons pasty skinned euro-pensioners, real estate offices with signs in English, and not a parking place in sight. After driving in circles for about 15 minutes, we see nothing of interest and do not even get out of the car. It appears that the entire Costa del Sol is one big construction area. There are tons of cranes, big blocks of apartments, and concrete trucks everywhere. Now the building boom seems to be for a honeycomb of condo/townhouse type buildings. It's ugly and congested and I can't wait to get off that road.

We hit traffic after Marbella and finally see an exit sign for Ronda, for highway 397. I tell my mother to take it although they map says to take highway 376. I thought the road would lead us to Highway 376. It never did and the entire drive becomes one big question of &quot;are we on the right road or not&quot;? I could not find the highway anywhere on the map and my mother threatens me with bodily harm if it turns out we're on the wrong road. The highway winds higher and higher up into the mountains. It's a two lane, twisting road with no opportunities to pass the lumbering lorries we follow. As we gain altitude, the trees gave way to bare rock mountains which I find to be starkly beautiful in their varying colors and striations.