Part 3

Paris 16 MAY

Gare Du Nord is under massive reconstruction, and I have yet to pay for my ride from there to Les Halles. I'm sure as they are moving gates and entrances around, this will change shortly. Quite innocently, I was suddenly on the metro platform for train 4, wondering how I had managed to get there. Let's hear if for ignorance of French detour instructions. I had a nice workout at Club Gymnase, on Rue St. Honoré, another one of the IRHSA gyms, where 24 HR Fitness members can exercise for free. After that I visited my little Chinese restaurant at Les Halles for some broccoli and steamed rice, and shopped in the supermarket next door. It's like being home for me. Later that evening, at Les Halles, I enjoyed a wonderful street concert, one of many throughout my trip, by an Eastern European performing group, all in traditional costume, singing and dancing. I give generously when the performances are good. That kind of stuff is priceless. Paris is always more laid-back than London. The French imbue it with the certain lightness of spirit that is somewhat less prevalent on the other side of the Channel. After dark I walked along the Seine, being on the wood-planked bridge just outside of the Louvre, when I saw, around 22:30, the Eiffel Tower explode in a shower of lights. To my surprise, the Millenium celebration illumination has been kept on. They do it only a few times each evening, but it is absolutely spectacular. While this was going on, the tour-boats, which were once more active, now that the level of the river had dropped, became brightly colored objects of light on the dark water. The whole scene, in addition to some of the distant lighted historical buildings, was magical indeed. I didn't need the couples kissing on the benches on the bridge to remind me that this was Paris in the springtime. Earlier, that which had drawn me to the darkened Louvre, resplendent with lighted fountains, was the sound of a flute, expertly played, from one of the dark entrances. The older, well-dressed gentleman, who none-the-less received lots of coins tossed into the instrument case, was a master of his craft and added greatly to the general atmosphere, enjoyed by locals and tourists alike.

Caen 17 May

Around noon the next day, after a quick stroll to Notre Dame, I was seated in first class on the train to Cherbourg, though I would be getting off in Caen. Why did I choose Caen? I remember that it had been one of the cities heavily fought over, after the invasion of Normandy. Also, there was to be an early keep of William the Bastard, later known as William the Conqueror, that he occupied before, and at times after, his invasion of Anglo-Saxon England in 1066. He was, after all, Duke of Normandy first and then King of England. The ride to Caen was fast, and as soon as I exited the station, walked straight to the bus that was to take me to the town center, the cathedral, just steps from my little hotel. Getting there early, I left my baggage in the hotel's lock-up and immediately set out for the Citadel, which I had already noticed when I walked to the hotel. What a sight! Unfortunately, all that remains of the oldest part, Williams central keep, built in 1060, is just a deep moat and massive foundation that reminds one of the square foundation of the original London Tower, his other building project. However, his successors had expanded the citadel, starting in the 12th Century, all around, and added great new buildings, many of which are still in use. The network of walls and gates, many of them open to visitors, as well as the on-the-grounds museum with its fine iron and bronze-age displays, make for a wonderful afternoon experience. I went there more than once during my short stay at Caen, even walking the deep and foliage covered moat around the whole complex. The town has plenty of pedestrian-only streets lined with very neat little shops and restaurants, and is a pleasure to visit. Down one winding alley, past interesting art and bookshops, and yet another war-ravaged church, I found a little games and sci-fi and horror hobby store. The young proprietor spoke excellent English and we chatted lengthily about our common interests. In the center of town, near the courthouse, is a still formidable abbey ruin, that is really impressive to see after dark, since a couple of the stained glass windows had been reinstalled, long after the WWII bombing, and that were now part of the illumination scheme. The windows, like so many had been removed and placed in cellars for safe-keeping. There is still some evidence of the horrendous WWII battle damage that was done here, but largely, everything has been restored and rebuilt since. Another reason I chose Caen, was its proximity to Bayeux, just a 30-minute train ride away.

Bayeux 18 May

Bayeux was long known to me for the famous Bayeux Tapestry. About 220 feet of a hand-made historical record of the conquest of England, stitched by local monks, to be draped up high around the interior of the Bayeux cathedral. Naturally, as you already suspected, there was yet another reason for my selection of Bayeux, though the tapestry in itself would have been a more than a sufficient reason. But we all know that the nearby beaches enjoyed some heavy traffic back in 1944. The D-Day beaches can be easily visited with help from a small tour operator who is located directly across from the railroad station in the small restaurant. A friendly outfit that has knowledgeable drivers who take small groups twice a day. Our group was just three people, Tamar, born in Israel, raised in Chicago, and Amanda, a someday journalist, both friends and going to school in London, and me. I gladly took the tour ($20), because to do it any other way, aside from having your own car, would be too time consuming. The trip included all of the main areas, massive gray concrete bunkers, the equally daunting gun emplacements, Aromanches (the post-invasion harbor where the allied forces brought most of their heavy gear ashore), and the interesting museum there, and Point Du Hoc, the bloody cliffs that the US Rangers took, which still looks as if the action there took place just recently. Not to forget, the awe-inspiring military graveyards, where countless rows upon rows of white crosses and occasional Stars of David grave markers silently remind the visitor of the cost of freedom for Europe. I kept reminding myself that even that immense expanse of graves was but a miniscule fraction of all of the lives lost between the, at least to me, tightly interleaved two world wars. Following that illuminating and sobering experience, upon returning to the station, I walked into sunny and quaint Bayeux. Less than 10 minutes later, I was standing near the Cathedral and outside the tapestry museum. What a sight and what an excellent display the tapestry is. Even going through the antechamber, where the dioramas get you in the proper medieval mood, prior to entering the darkened and totally amazing tapestry display itself, is a worthwhile experience. After lunch in one of the numerous small restaurants, I strolled around the small but interesting town. The streets were quite busy with tourists enjoying the sunshine, the sights, and the many little food places. There are some very finely carved old 15th Century wooden facades to be admired and some local apple liquor to be sampled as well. The unique liquor is made from the local Calvados Apple and a blend of pear brandy, apple cider and other apple products. I did some fruit and veggie shopping and hauled the stuff back to the cathedral. After listening to organ crescendos that echoed around the Gothic vastness, I ventured into the crypt, and then the lights went out. Oh, great, I thought. Just what I needed! Stuck, all by myself, in an ancient crypt in total darkness. Then the lights came back on and some time later went out again. Aha! There must have been a reason, I thought. This time I carefully stared at the barely noticeable columns and walls and, sure enough, there were faint images appearing from the darkness. Apparently, these remains, faintly glowing in the dark, predated the current cathedral and were placed there, in an early place of worship, by the Normans in the 11th Century. After that, happy, but tired I found my way back to the station to catch the 1711 train back to Caen.

A guide to the Normandie

Rennes 19 MAY

Enjoying the delightful company of a stunningly lovely young American Student, traveling on her own, the train ride from Caen to Rennes went way too fast. Rennes was my next planned stop and I bid a fond farewell to inviting Caen. The train took me from the Normandy to the Bretagne. The landscape is a peacefully bucolic. It is a continuous array of little towns, farms, and green, rolling hills. I left my $60 Paris-bought hiking shoes in Caen. I found that they hurt my feet more than my Reebok DMXs. Rennes is the capital of the Bretagne and a big and interesting university city. In fact, there are two universities here and a correspondingly huge amount of bars and clubs to entertain the large number of students. From the very modern station it was a sturdy 15 minutes walk to my hotel, past a laundromat and a TV station toward the river, a sharp right by the toy store and there it was, Hotel Richemond. Wandering around, basically living out of my backpack, one tends to take note of all of the interesting and potentially useful places in the neighborhood. In town you can see marvelously warped, wood-framed 15th Century houses. There are city blocks of them and I understand that those are just the ones that survived the fires. The town is a total delight and filled with large and small historical buildings and tons of young university students. One evening I came in late to find the owner's son and his friends sitting in the breakfast area, drinking wine. I was immediately invited - the wine was excellent - and attacked. The discussion was the same I've had all over Europe. Then as many times later, I had to explain the US political system of checks and balances and defend some of our policies. I always point out that in the course of history, the Romans, Greeks, Persians, British, French, Germans, Spanish and Dutch, among others, all had their moment in the lime-light and considered themselves at that time superpowers and masters of the universe. Right now it's the USA's turn, like it or not. As with every other superpower, we too will ultimately fade, and other nations or political combines will follow. They rarely debate from a position of strength and their attacks are usually based on a mixture of ignorance of world events and of the American political system. As you can imagine, the latter is hardly fully defensible in every respect, or at least what we have done with it, but I keep telling them, that it is a tapestry that is still being woven, an on-going process. The discussions are always friendly fun and to me quite enjoyable. Of course a big one, always pointed out, is the death penalty and US lack of ecological considerations. By now, so I imagine, the discussions may be a little less friendly, where Iraq and the French behavior in the UN was concerned, but all of that will change again too. Everything does, just as the ravages of the French Revolution and the sun kind's and Napoleon's rape of Europe did. In the end, all is just history. Rennes has a great Friday market to visit and all you need is conveniently is near the hotel. I don't remember breakfast there, which means it was either non-existent or minimal. However, I had switched to asking for just coffee, and I have my own cereal and fruit with non-fat milk in the room. That usually is satisfactory to me. I picked Rennes because of what I had read about it, but also because it is the best place from which to take a public bus to one of the great sights in Europe and maybe the world - Mt. Saint Michel. A stunning sight to suddenly come up on. The rocky island, donated to the monks by William the Conqueror in the 11th Century, had in the course of the 1000 years since been turned into a magnificent edifice that is the crown-jewel of the French Atlantic Coast. Towering walls, turrets and parapets crowned by the spires of the abbey totally dominate the flat near-sea-level landscape. For the fitness buffs there are twisted and angled shortcuts of steps to race up, nearly devoid of tourists (usually not fitness minded enough to do things the hard way). I went both ways and also enjoyed the walk up through the wall-encircled village. It is an unforgettable experience and one by me long hoped for. After touring the abbey, resting on one of the walls looking way out over the silted ocean bottom, the tidal waters way in the distance, I spied a nearby island and noticed people walking thought the silt to it. I immediately hurried to the bottom, tied my shoes to my daypack and started to walk. The silt is very fine mud. It was a longer walk than I had expected, but interesting and astounding in many ways. The island was marked a bird preserve and had, on the far side a couple of flamingos, would you believe, wading around the shallow tide pools, looking for whatever flamingoes eat. I made it back to Mt. St. Michel with two minutes to spare to catch the last bus back to Rennes. Ran onto the asphalt, feet still wet from hosing the silt off them at the local gendarmerie (police station) and the bus was already loading up. One more detail worth mentioning is that they will remove the causeway, that currently connects the island to the shore. The causeway prevents the silt from being washed away and, over the ensuing decades, caused the entire area's ecology to change. Once an island again, the seabed will in time, so it is hoped, return to its former condition and tourists and locals will be ferried across the short gap.

Nantes 21 May

Another day trip from Rennes was to Nantes. Nantes, is a large city on the Loire, home of a grand, moat-circled, ducal palace and the little Jules Verne museum. I had planned to visit the latter, but once in town also enjoyed the former. Paying homage to the father of sci-fi was special to me, having been a sci-fi buff since childhood. The museum is quite small, sitting atop a high point overlooking the river and is crammed with Jules Verne's original manuscripts, models, movie memorabilia, and many other curio and art items relating to the master's work. It was a nice day and I ended up wandering around the alleys, where in one of the many creperias I had lunch, near the large trashed church that is undergoing massive reconstruction. Then, since it was Sunday, I spent the rest of the afternoon watching the French, mostly families, kicking back in the large city park, near the railway station. As usual I walked nearly the whole day, but for those less inclined to walk, there is a fast modern trolley system that makes navigating Nantes a snap. You buy the ticket at the machines at the platforms before entering the trolley. I did not know this and had a free ride, crammed in between some American Mormon missionary students, who were very amused by my mistake, back to the railway station area.

I took the TGV bullet train, late on the 22nd of May, from Rennes back to Paris, which took just two hours. Alas, I ended up, in spite of having reservations for first class, riding in second class. No big deal and not much difference. The train was packed, and all of the few available first class seats were in the smoking cars. If I buy a Eurail Pass again at all, I will probably save some money and purchase a 2nd class pass anyway. On the other hand, it may be way more economic to just buy a point-to-point ticket, each time I'm ready to ride. In Paris I transferred, as planned, from the station to the metro system to go directly to the Charles De Gaulle international airport and spent the night sleeping at the airport, waiting for a 0600 flight to Madrid. Not very comfortable, until the Lufthansa terminal finally opened, but it saved me one hotel night in Paris. I figured, getting up at 0400, to catch transportation to the airport, to get there on time would made for a very short night anyway.

Madrid 23 MAY

At the nice new Madrid airport, make sure you stop at the tourist info desk. Two young ladies, speaking excellent English, gave me a map and marked it for me, right down to the subway station where I had to get off. They made the entry into a strange place very easy and enjoyable. They even located my 24 HR Fitness gym for me on that map. The next thing to do is to purchase a 10-ride subway ticket. The city is huge, and you can save a lot of money buying tickets that way. The subway system is a far cry from the dilapidated London Tube. It is bright, modern, and apparently not very old. There are hundreds of little pensions, called hostales (small hotels) downtown. Some old apartment houses have three or four such hostales in them, a different one on every floor. Later I found the same arrangement all around Rome. Being all in competition, or in total agreement with each other, they charge pretty much the same for similar accommodations. Check ratings in travel guides such as Go Europe and The Lonely Planet. Hotel Gonzalo, where I stayed, around the corner from Planet Hollywood, was clean, acceptable, and safe. The owners are a little anal, and, like many hostales, it is a family-run business, with the parents constantly looking over the kid's shoulder. I walked much of Madrid, but also took the open-roofed city tour bus trip starting at Plaza Del Sol. In many ways, this was my first exposure to the Mediterranean macho and cavalier mindset. At the huge Plaza Del Sol, cops stand there and watch the crazy rush-hour traffic. The traffic was totally snarled, because a street work gang had picked that particular time of the day to set up their equipment and barriers, and jack-hammer holes into the pavement. The result was screaming, honking, and backed-up traffic. The cops just stood there in their nice uniforms and looked impressive. It was as amusing to me as it must have been frustrating to the drivers. The stores are neat, the restaurants, well, I am not too much into the Spanish cuisine and preferred McDonald's chicken burgers or salads instead, until I discovered the excellent El Corte Ingles stores, where I ended up buying all of my foods. Madrid has some real pretty little corners and countless winding alleys. I could get lost at a drop of the hat. Once it took me an hour-and-a-half to get back to my hotel. Later I cut that down to 20 minutes. It took me days to get it right. The much-vaunted central plaza with the beautifully painted city hall is big and surrounded by souvenir shops and restaurants. There seemed to be an overwhelming number of German tourists there. No problem to me, I just chatted with them in German. Some alleys were crammed with small, multi-story houses, usually with stores on the street level, all with beautifully painted scenes or flower images on the walls, or, in cases with colorful tiles. Much of Madrid is grand in scale. You have to get used to looking up. Tall old buildings with gold-painted statues on the roof, sculpted in the neo-classic Greco-Roman style can be found around the city and are, again, best viewed from the open-roofed tour bus. Yes, I guess if you're gutsy, you can drive Madrid as well, but the traffic is thick, parking insane, and sightseeing from the car very questionable. There are too many easy ways to get around Madrid, primarily the excellent subway system to even bother to drive.

The overall architecture is one to be found in Latin cities where past-glory compelled modern-age dictators to design on a grand scale. Luckily, in a way, that extravagance now is translated into cool ultra-modern buildings. In fact, modern Spain has some of the most intriguing examples of contemporary architecture to be found anywhere, especially in Barcelona, so I've read. Of more interest to most of us travelers is the immediate exposure to day-to-day life of the places we visit. We soak up and enjoy the local culture and delight in the differences we find - or why even bother to travel.

From Madrid I did a couple of day-trips. Easily accomplished from either of the two large railway stations. Helpful information booths in each of them will point you to the correct one train, or station, as it may be, depending on your planned goal.

My first day trip took me to Avila, at about 5000-ft (1630 m) elevation, the highest city in Spain. The ride there in itself was worth the trip. Spectacular mountain views, deep valleys, and many old crumbling homesteads and classic Spanish villages that reminds one of the landscape of Don Quixote's tortured journey.

Here's a picture link to Avila

Avila is a small town, the old part of which is surrounded by an incredibly totally intact medieval city- wall, dating from the 11th Century, and a fascinating sight to behold. Massive stork nests top nearly all high points in that little city, including a large construction crane. At the time I was there, many of the nests were occupied with young being nurtured by the large white adults with black-tipped wings. It was a sight no less surprising and exciting than the city wall with its many parapets and towers.

Outside of the main gate, there is a huge excavation in progress and I was not sure if it was a not building site that had turned into an archeological site, but many ancient foundations are being laid bare there. About noon, I ventured into a crowded plaza and, it being a hot day, stepped into a large, cool restaurant and staked a place at the bar to get a glass of red wine. The place was packed and, since it was a weekend day, many of the locals were dressed up. While there I was treated to a variety of snacks, little saucers with marinated and pitted olives, one with cooked potatoes (of course bathed in olive oil), and one with paella, a Spanish rice dish, this one with tiny clams. These snacks ended up carrying me through much of the day until I made it to the old market, inside of the walled city to shop for strawberries, cherries, and grapes. While there, marveling at the environment, probably unchanged for 700 years, I heard a cry, and a young woman had fallen to the ground near me. I whipped around, and grabbed her forearm and she my hand and helped her back to her feet. By the time I stepped back, the was surrounded by a crowd of Spanish geezers, who had been just hanging around the market, sipping whatever they sip, who were trying to make sure she was ok. She thanked them profusely, waved her thanks to me, before getting out of that wheezing crowd. It was so funny, I snickered about that incident for the rest of the day. The market sells not just the usual and expected veggies and fowl, but also fortunes, and lots of herbal cures. It's Spain, after all. I did not shop at the outdoor market, being aware of food prices from Madrid, but found the nearby indoor market to be a much better place as far as quality and prices went.

I sat in a little park, and had lunch in the shadow of the old walls, and watched the storks, prior to making my way back to the station in the modern part of Avila.

Back in Madrid, I walked into a souvenir shop that carried only products by Lladro; it was connected, around back, to another large souvenir shop that carried all kinds of Spanish souvenirs, from leather wineskins to Toledo-made swords and suits of armor.


I also frequented the Madrid 24 HR Fitness club nearly every night. It is a very American-style, modern, large and clean gym with a well-visited juice and food area on the ground floor. Here the manager, a well-muscled, very macho Spaniard, ended up chatting with me extensively about 24 HRs club and expansion policies in Europe.

Toledo. What a charming and ornate little place, but also, in my opinion, the perfect tourist trap with great medieval walls. I arrived early in the day and walked much of the distance from the station and let the view of the walled city, perched high on its seven rocky hills above the Tagus River, work on my imagination. It is an interesting place. A local bus, that I hopped on not too far from the station, took me all the way into the walls of old Toledo, and I immediately went to the large citadel that was towering over the rest of the old city walls. The Alcazar is now a military museum but a place of awesome history. It was fortress, garrison, royal residence, and a final place of resistance during the Spanish Civil War. It's history goes back to the Romans and later to the Templar Knights, who were involved in the war against the Umayyad Moors who held much of Spain for about 700 years. The rest of town was interesting, with the Santa Cruz museum façade, outside of the gate of the central square, a spectacular example of medieval statuary artistry. The rest, as I said earlier, is an ornately beautiful box, seemingly designed to fleece tourists to the max. Tourist shops occupy nearly every single building of the town. I exaggerate, but it was rather overwhelming. Since I did get an early start, much recommended, I enjoyed walking the old streets of Toledo with not too many tourists crowding the hilly pavement. The small cathedral was unfortunately closed in the morning, and I was not about to wait until the afternoon to get in. I just hiked down the hills, through an old Moorish gate, toward the Tagus River. While descending down this lonely stretch, just outside of the walls, I found myself directly above an old bridge that lead across the river to what appeared to be a sizable fortress on the opposing hilltop. Since it was getting quite warm by then, I walked back to the station. I stopped briefly to watch a Spanish photographer take pictures of a little girl-model by a fountain with the antique backdrop of Toledo behind her. The main station is old and very beautiful, richly decorated in carved wood and tiles embossed with the coat of arms of Spanish noble houses.

Here's a picture link to Toledo

Notes:
1. Buy your souvenirs in Madrid. Nearly everything, including Toledo knives and swords, cost less there.
2. For anyone suffering from plant-related allergies, Spain, in the summer, is a good place to carry a small supply of anti-histamines. The plants here are much like those in Arizona and California, and to me that was enough to start my eyes watering and my sinuses draining, until I took an allergy pill to eliminate or at least suppress those symptoms.

The Spaniards, to my surprise, were looking forward to the currency change to the Euro. From what my host was telling me, changing to a Euro will be an immediate price increase to all tourists, since they will treat the Euro as a Dollar, one-to-one, and adjust all prices accordingly. Madrid's population is a mixture of Western and Moorish genetics. 700 years of Arab domination has left its definite imprint on the population, ever more noticeable later, as I went to the south of Spain. There are some spectacular voluptuous beauties to be seen, yet also a number of more slender, light-haired, and light eyed people, who we would not immediately categorize as Latin types. Breakfast, for most locals, seem to be some sweet cakes and strong coffee. At lunch time, much of the population, young and old, male and female, can be seen in countless meat and beverage bars. Little old well-dressed ladies, to my amusement, standing at the counter sipping beer or hard liquor with their olive oil-drenched snacks. For the tourist at least, nearly every little hole-in-the-wall restaurant starts nearly meatless meals at 1200 pesetas. That's the bare minimum. I went to McDonalds and bought a chicken sandwich (hold the Mayo, and toss the top to the pigeons), a Mediterranean Salad Shaker, and coffee con leche, all for 895 pesetas, or about $5.00. More than enough food, and you get your money's worth. Also, the standard of cleanliness is evident and internationally dictated. Let's hear it for globalization. I'd say, the kids working at all of these franchise stores allover the globe are certainly happy to have those opportunities.

I finally discovered a coin-operated laundromat in the thick of the narrow alleys, at the very end of Cervantes, not too far from where I lived. Soap can be bought in the little store around the corner. On Atocha street I also discovered a very nice, large, clean and friendly Internet Cafe. The only difficulty for me was that I speak very, very little of the language, though I did find English and German newspapers and magazines at little kiosks and at the El Corte Ingles department store. The Prado Museum, too, is great and definitely not to be missed. If you like El Greco, this is your place, however, to me Raphael, Rubens, Bosch, Van der Weyden, Rembrandt, Dürer and Titian are far more pleasing. I never like El Greco's dark view of the world. The museum houses one of the greatest art collections in the world.

Shopping in Madrid is somewhat odd, to me anyway. Aside from the crazy street grid, once I'd get to any store, even the huge and modern El Corte Ingles, it was still an exercise in frustration. Each station has numerous flunkies working there, but only one doing any work. I was at the fruit counter, where you can't pick your fruit. You have to take a number and wait in line until you get served. The counter guy gives you what he deems you should have. While he was slowly working the long line of waiting customers, three, yes three, other guys were operating a single orange juice machine. They were specialists obviously. Upstairs, in the clothing department, countless guys in suits standing around, strutting like peacocks, chatting, ogling women, combing their hair, but if you want assistance, they seem taken aback and quickly direct you to some lady who does the real work in the department. In fact, I would say that on every floor, including the bakery, women were doing most of the work. All in all, the whole system acts as if they're doing you a favor for letting you shop wherever you are. I noticed locals to be just as frustrated as I was. However, I still liked the big places over the little mom and pop stores. At least the isles were stocked with all I needed and there were plenty of cash registers to handle the traffic. The little mom-and-pop stores are, in some respect, a little more customer-friendly, as are the souvenir shops. They rarely have excess personnel hanging around and often let you pick whatever you want and appreciate your business.

A tourist guide to Madrid

Córdoba 28 May

After having forced a two-hour wait on me, due to a case of musical trains, that was announced, but that didn't help me much, I was on an express train to Córdoba. Still, it was worth the wait, because the fast trains don't stop at every little one-sheep town and make the trip a never-ending torture. I took the high-speed bullet train toward Seville, but had decided to stay in Córdoba instead. The trip takes just under two hours, but costs $8.00 surcharge, in spite of my first-class EURAIL Pass ticket. As in France, where the surcharge is about $2, it is a mandatory "reservation" speak "fleece the tourists" charge. The landscape, especially the Castilian highlands, is indeed gorgeous. It's a quilt of deep valleys, castles, little villages and ancient farmsteads. Córdoba's station is nice and modern and not overly large. The Spanish personnel behind the ticket and information counter were gruff and insisted that they spoke neither French, German, nor English. So study your schedules well, unless you are a native Spanish speaker. The first people I noticed, on the way out, was a departing, 20-something American couple, who immediately pointed me into the direction of downtown. I walked for quite some time until I saw the first of the hotels. It was expensive and full. I crossed at the intersection where I noticed a circular Roman artifact and suddenly found myself in the thick of the old town. After checking with another smaller hotel, also full, I discovered, down some alley, past a Burger King, the little hotel Andalucia. Not much to brag about, but it was reasonably clean, had no A/C but a fan, and friendly personnel and the price was low, and, most importantly, they had vacancies. Two days later, however, even this place was packed. What the little place has going for it is that it is very well situated. Close to shopping, post-office, laundry (not coin operated), and a smoky little Internet café. The Internet café clientele was usually deeply involved in networked first-person shooting games and a riot to watch and listen to. This stuff is truly international. I found the same action in every private-run internet cafe in Europe. What more, going past that Internet café down the lovely and picturesque winding alleys with their flower-draped balconies and Moorish inside gardens, will take you straight to one of the great sights of Europe. Having no idea where I was going, nor what I was about to find, simply enjoyed the Spain that I had always envisioned (and did not find in very metropolitan Madrid). Suddenly, I was amidst very old buildings, one with a statue in front of it, of a Moslem eye-surgeon who was commemoralized for his medical work nearly 1000 years ago. Impressed I walked on and making a sharp turn was sucked into the center of the tourist hub(bub) of old Córdoba. My jaw dropped as I immediately recognized a building that I had seen pictures of since childhood, but always thought of as the Alhambra. Was I ever wrong, and ever so pleased to have been wrong. The building is a huge mosque that had been liberated as the Western knights pushed the Moslem conquerors back toward the Straight of Gibraltar. The German emperor Karl II, I believe, not wanting to tear the lovely building down, had then decreed that a Catholic Church be placed inside of it. The result is one of total visual surprise. One moment you are walking through the striped arches, atop beautiful columns, and along walls decorated with passages from the Koran, and the next moment you find yourself in an incredibly ornate cathedral. The latter, sumptuously embellished with carved figures and decorated pews. While there, I listened to the organ being put briefly through its paces and enjoyed yet another one of those priceless moments in this most incredibly beautiful and astonishing place. If you had time for just one city in Spain, let it be Córdoba. I visited that place nearly every day of my stay there. Going past it, there is the river and the Roman Bridge. The foundation is definitely Roman, though much of the rest has been replaced over the millennia. Directly across, on the other end of the bridge, there is an old medieval tower and another most important place to visit. In there you can get an audio-visual tour of the past of Córdoba. Also, there are meticulously detailed dioramas that show how the area looked at various times throughout history. From the top of the tower you will have a panoramic view of the city. The city is just full of little surprises. Roman structures, often interwoven with modern buildings, and not too far from the hotel, and nearby tall columns of a typical Roman temple, still being excavated.

An email:

Hi Tony
It's hot and I'm bored. Even if I were 20 years younger, moving from place to place does not allow the establishment of much worthwhile relationships. Anyway, now that I just about have this place figured out, naturally, it's time to move on. I set myself a tough schedule. Should have been in Seville today, they had one of their strange religious rites going on where they, as a prelude to a big gypsy festival next week (flamenco etc.), drove this silver embellished oxcart with a statue of Mary on it, up the steps of a church. Then everyone cried and started to sing some local church song. Next white doves were released. On the other hand, maybe it was better I was not there. I find them highly suspect and trending easily to extremes. After all, this is where the inquisition functioned ever so well, and where they voluntarily returned to being a monarchy.

I found that McDonald's finally. Saw it in the distance as part of a new shopping center by the river. Much too far to walk in this heat. More importantly, I found a place to do laundry, or rather have it done. No Laundromat here, they charge $8 for a load washed, dried, and folded. It's a rip-off, but the only game in town. Madrid does have a Laundromat in the vicinity of my hotel there. However, don't get me wrong, I still like this part of Spain better than most. I was debating much of today about whether to go to Portugal or to Morocco. In any case I will have to get back to this area and take care of the country not yet visited and add the Islands as well. I really wish for some wheels about now. I miss that easy independence that comes with having your own transportation. There is a great new BMW two wheeler out. It's a motorcycle with a built-in roll cage and so safe that even the very regulation and safety happy Germans allow it to be driven without any protective gear whatsoever. I think it's called the C1. I'd love an item like that since I love two-wheeling, but dislike putting on the leather stuff and helmet. Even when I owned my Suzuki 600 I would ride in shorts and sandals, but did wear a helmet.
Just walking extensively around this place I discovered all kinds of Roman remains. Pretty amazing. That stuff is everywhere. They were prolific builders. Crossing the main boulevard right near here I noticed a round low tower, obviously new, but when I leaned over the edge of the stone wall surrounding it and looked down I saw that it was sitting on an old Roman foundation and was actually a Roman mausoleum. Yesterday late I ran into the model whose picture I took the first day I got here, while she was doing some work at the archeological dig I visited. I even managed to crack a little joke in Spanish. Using all of my three or four words. Using any word is very dangerous here, since they immediately assume that you speak the language and a torrent of smiling Spanish gets unleashed, leaving me without a clue. Managed to unload about 1.5 Kg of brochures and souvenir booklets via the post office to the tune of $30 (groan). They seem to have not heard of the reduced paper rate in this country. At least now I don't have to carry that stuff across the next two places. Crap!! One smoking young women just left the Internet place only to be immediately replaced by another one who just lit up a cigarette. It's pretty bad, everywhere you go there are clouds of secondhand smoke to be inhaled. This is Europe, after all. That's about all I've got for today. Will get back, watch the tube with blank incomprehension for an hour or two and then start packing for tomorrow's departure. I expect to arrive in Tangier around 17:00, following the ferry ride.

A special treat, however, was awaiting me some distance from the city, in the cool hills overlooking the valley. I had read about the exhibit (in French) on the airplane from Paris and knew I had to see it. The treasures of the Umayyad dynasty, that had ruled Spain for nearly 700 years from Córdoba, among other places, were on display at a grand archeological site. Getting the tickets in a city where the locals either didn't care, didn't know, or didn't understand what I was asking, was tough. I finally ran into a couple English women at the El Corte Ingles store and wondered if they had heard of the exhibit, and guess what? They were on the way to buy tickets right there in the department store. They heard it rumored that they were on sale here. One of them spoke fluent Spanish and was a great help. We found out where (top floor at the restaurant check-out), and made our purchase.

The next day we gathered at the appointed bus stop and after a short time, I was at the front of a jam-packed bus of mostly well-dressed Spanish people in a festive mood, mixed with tourists from the rest of Europe and Canada, driving away from the city toward the cool, verdant hills. Upon arrival I looked around and we were indeed high above Córdoba, with a commanding view of the city and the river. Below me I noticed immediately a very extensive excavation area and proceeded on down the steep path that quickly changed from modern steps into 1000-year-old walkways. I was entering what used to be the Umayyad's palace complex in former Madinat al-Zahra. Under a huge white awning (no photos allowed), there was a skillfully and tastefully arranged exhibit of the old building remains, mixed with museum pieces, to give the visitor an idea of what things used to look like at the time of the Moslem rulers of Spain. Marvelous columns, statues, and exquisite carvings bewitched the eyes and highlighted the skills and artistry of those distant times. The place was, by the way, heavily guarded by hordes of blue-uniformed men and women. After departing the area, I grabbed the opportunity to take a picture of a young Spanish model and her lady chaperone, who was doing a jewelry picture shoot in the area, using the ruins as a backdrop. A little later I joined up with a slender Canadian girl and we slowly explored the rest of the place. Down below was yet another guarded area and the second part of the exhibit. The throne room and adjoining royal chambers (or what was left of them) of the long-gone Caliphs of Andalous. The curators did a magnificent job on the throne room and the building was excellently restored and the displays marvelous. The whole thing was mixed with audio-visual effects and short films to deepen the understanding of the era on exhibit. Glass cases housed the most precious items of jewelry, coins, and carvings. From what I saw, the archeologists will be busy here for decades to come, trying to piece together the masses of artifacts that were lying about everywhere, like a huge 3-dimensional jigsaw puzzle.

A picture link to Córdoba

An email:

Hi Stephanie,
Well, one more day here in Córdoba and then I will take an early train to Algeciras to take the Ferry to Tangier, Morocco. I will be once more in uncharted and unreserved territory just hoping for the best. The following day I will take a train to Fez and hope to stay there for three days. Then back to Spain and to Granada until the 9th when I will return to Madrid and on the 10th fly back to Paris and hopefully leave this ungodly heat behind me for a bit.
What is difficult about all of this travel is that every few days I am confronted with a new city and new set of unfamiliarities, often language in addition to having to rediscover stores, shops, street plans, transportation, lodging, room layout, background sounds, etc., to make this a quite challenging experience. For a two or three week trip that's not too bad, but to do this for six months, that becomes quite difficult. (That's why I stuck a longer stay in there in Düsseldorf. I will allow me to rest up and work out for two weeks straight).
One item will change next year for all Europe travelers. Nearly all of Europe will be using the Euro as common currency. One less item to figure out from country to country, even though I am doing pretty well in that department.
Well, time flies and I will have to have a key duplicated and the knife blade on my Leatherman tool sharpened.