A Week in Cadiz

On my third morning in Madrid, I packed away my things, said goodbye to my roommates, and walked down the street to Atocha train station. Traveling by train is so different from traveling by plane, which is what I'm more used to. With planes, you plan so far in advance and comparison shop to get the best price, and you arrive two hours early all prepared. But with trains, you just show up when you wanna leave, slap some amount of cash down on the counter, and say, the next train to Seville please. And then they give you preferred seating so they can charge you more because you're a foreigner and they know you won't be able to tell the difference. It's that easy!

But seriously though make sure you're getting the seat you want. I spent 2 hours and 45 minutes feeling like a complete dunce with my big comfy chair and all my unnecessary leg room, all the while resenting the attendant who kept offering me coffee. I don't want coffee, I want my 40€, dammit!!!

Anyhoo, I arrived at the Seville train station and for the life of me could not find the bus stop. If you're ever looking for it, it's across the street. Keep walking, you'll find it. Instead I caught a cab, and 9€ later I was at the beautiful plaza nueva.

There really isn't much to be said for my time in Seville, as it was mostly spent alone. Later in the evening, I was met by my australian friends Mel and Noni, two girls who studied at my university last semester on exchange. With them was their friend Alex.

The next day we headed to our intended destination: Cadiz. I somehow directed us to the wrong street (imagine that...me, getting lost), but luckily Cadiz is separated by the Old town and the New town, each on their own is very walkable. After checking into our hostel, the first order of business was to head to the beach. There are two beaches in Cadiz, one is much smaller and the other is very long. I didn't have the pleasure of visiting the former because I was ill for the last 2 1/2 days of our trip, but I hear good things.

The following day, we went on a free walking tour offered by the hostel. In the lobby we met our adorable little guide, Pepe. A Spanish hippie that spoke about as many words in English as I do in Chinese, he was really sweet and showed us a good place for cheap tapas, as well as where to get good ice cream. He showed us around old town, where our hostel was located, but the tapas were too good a distraction and we didn't make it to new town.

That night, we went on a pub crawl, hosted by a man who deliciously resembled Antonio Banderas, and joined by Pepe, who came along to take pictures. As far as pub crawls go, it was quite nice. At the second bar, Mel and I got to team up and destroy Alex and Noni at beer pong. It was a good pub crawl, yes, but I get the feeling night life isn't huge in Cadiz. Perhaps I didn't see enough of it because I only went out the one night, but I get the feeling it's very like a small city in Florida where grandparents retire and families go to have a beach vacation.

The day after the next, we went on an excursion sponsored by the hostel. We hired a driver (along with our roommate Glen, a new zealander) and he took us to Tarifa. Tarifa is the lowest point on peninsular Spain, and the closest point to Africa on all of continental Europe. I had no idea it was only 20km away! You could see it across the water, just right there, Africa! I've always wanted to go to morocco, and that's one thing I regret. There was an excursion you could go on through the hostel where you could hop on a ferry for a day trip to morocco, and how cool would that be? Ah well, next time I suppose.

Anyway, we spent some time at Tarifa, where you could swim in the Mediterranean OR the Atlantic. Either side had the most beautiful clear blue water I've ever seen. I could see my feet standing at the bottom, which is something I've never been able to do in any ocean I've been in before.

After Tarifa, we hopped back in the van and went to Bolonia, another beautiful beach in Spain, and a popular tourist spot not only for the equally beautiful clear water, but for the ancient roman ruins that are still preserved right off the beach! They used to preserve fish in these huge vats of salt, and you could still see where they kept them.

Unfortunately, as we were heading back to the van to begin the drive back to the hostel, I felt that pain in your throat that seems to mock you and say, "you're going to be sick and there's nothing you can do about it." I decided to skip the pub crawl that night and went to bed early.

The next day I stayed in bed. All day. Seriously.

The following day, I felt reasonably well enough to join the girls for breakfast and another day on the beach. At two, we met Pepe for lunch. He took us to a little fish market for fresh fried fish, including shark, which I'd never tried before.

After eating on a random spot by the sea, Pepe said he was going to take us to jump off of a bridge. Alex was so excited she couldn't contain it, I was perfectly willing, Mel seemed to be on the fence, and Noni refused to even put her swim suit on. As luck would have it, the tide was low and it wasn't possible to jump, but instead we went back to Pepe's apartment to meet his fat cat, which he'd told us about the day we first met him. He's a Ginger cat named Susanito, which comes from Susana, but in finding out that Susana was a boy, he became Susanito. And anyway, he wasn't that fat.

It was our last night, so we exchanged facebook information and hugged Pepe goodbye forever.

That night, our last in Cadiz, we went back to the tapas bar that Pepe showed us our first day. we popped open a bottle of white wine and I popped open my bottle of aleve because I was still feeling quite a bit of sinus pressure in my head from my sickness.

The next day, we caught our train to Seville quite early. And when I say quite, I mean like 9:30, so really just early by Spain's standards.

Back in Seville, we took a siesta at the hostel, then went out to walk around the city and have lunch. We picked a thoroughly Spanish restaurant, where I developed a miniature crush on our server. Not for any other reason other than he wasn't bad looking and he encouraged me to speak Spanish. When we first came in, I spoke a little bit to him asking for a table for four and to tell him that we were missing a seat. Then when he came to take our orders, everyone spoke to him in English, so when I began to do the same he said, "what?" and kept saying, "what? I don't understand you" (in Spanish, mind you) and I got the hint. It was really endearing and refreshing for someone to encourage me to speak Spanish rather than hearing that I'm a foreigner and responding to me in English. Anytime I thought about it for the following hour or so, I would feel flattered anew and my cheeks would grow pink.

After lunch, we went back to the hostel to do housekeeping type things like print boarding passes and book bus tickets.

At 6:00, we went to meet a group for a walking tour of the city. Our guide, not as cute as Pepe and not nearly as fun, showed us around for 2 hours.

They were so smart when designing the city. They made it a law that in a square the buildings had to be white so that it wouldn't be so hot. In the middle of the squares it's common to find a fountain, which also apparently cools the area down. Also, all the buildings stand really close to each other to maximize shade. There was one particularly narrow alley between two buildings, and it's called something like the kiss of death, because people allegedly would try to kiss each other through their windows leaning over the alley below. And I guess some people got injured and some died as a result.

Our guide also took us to the highest point in Seville, an excrutiatin climb up to the top in the heat, at a towering 10 meters above sea level.

At the end of the tour, he showed us a building that was only half finished. I'd been to Seville twice before this, and I'd never noticed it! Apparently there's a Spanish idiom that says, "Mañana, mañana," which means "tomorrow, tomorrow." I've often been told by spaniards that Americans live to work and Spanish people work to live. Basically what the saying means is that whatever it is, you can worry about it tomorrow. Not exactly true in this architect's case, as he put the project off for so long that he died before it was ever finished. And now it remains the "classic side" and the "simple side."

Lastly, he showed us that there's a little tunnel between plaza nueva and the one on the other side, and according to legend, if you walk through it, you'll be married within the next 7 years. And for those of you who are wondering, yes I walked through it. Oh, please let it be Antonio Banderas look-alike from the hostel pub crawl in Cadiz, please?? *crosses fingers*

That evening we found another cheap tapas bar and celebrated the last night with a mojito. And after we treated ourselves by going to a super nice and super expensive Italian restaurant for desert and coffee and political discussion.

The next day, I spent alone in Seville (the girls had to catch a flight much earlier than mine) until about 6 when I headed to the airport.

So that was the last time I was in Spain, and it pains me to say I don't know when I'll be back. If I'm to be in any other country, I would want it to be Spain. There's no other place I feel so at home when I'm not actually at home. So here's to Spain, and to hopefully going back someday. Maybe when they have some jobs.

El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina.