Return to Spain

It is nearly the end of June and we haven't blogged in a month. And boy have we covered a lot of ground in the last month. Mark, my big-time-planner-husband actually wrote about Spain not long after we were in Spain but we never got around to actually posting it.
Crikey.
Oh well, gotta start making up for lost blogs sometime... here is what he wrote upon leaving Morocco and returning to Spain:
We’re getting tired of the “ ‘ello welcome, where are you from? come into my store, please…come ‘ello ??” Outside of the markets in the medina, the hustle and anything to keep you in the shop for a possible sale, Morocco is an incredible place for the senses. Anytime we took a train we ended up talking with our fellow passengers at great length, some in English, quite of bit of franish of spench where we substituted francais for espanol when the words couldn’t come to us, and the occasional Arabic word to show that we were trying. Everyone taking great interest in what we liked about morocco, how long we would be staying and what we really must not miss before we leave. For those with the curiosity to visit the country – take at least 2 weeks. It is bigger than you think, and the north far different from the south. The Atlas mountains much different than the Mediterranean.
Anyway we’re in Spain again – only this time we’ve added my cousin Mylie to the gongshow.
After just missing the 7pm boat back to Tarifa, we waited 2 hours and caught the last one for the day. Myles met us having just arrived from Dublin the same day, and we all shared a few pints / vino blanco’s. Katy is thrilled about the chance to change from long sleeves and pants back to skirts and a t-shirt that shows the riskee bit of skin above the elbow. Retired at 2pm and then it was off to Cadiz on the coast, a round of beers and bocadillo’s for the 3 Fleetons and then inland, destination Ronda. Ronda is a town that has been built on both sides of a 100m deep gorge, with a bridge that while short in distance is incredible just for the sheer amount of stone work involved. Views are absolutely spectacular. We booked into a cheap hostel, which when you’re traveling on a budget is sometimes a curse but often (at least for me) is a blessing. Why? Because we’re looking over the cliffs near a 5 star hotel for free with a bottle of vino tinto, pretzels, a jar of olives, a bit of cheese and nuts from the mercato. We ate, drank and chatted on the top of a 100m gorge watching the sun go down with a couple of locals playing bad acoustic guitar. Ronda is a little gem in Spain.

Mountains – A New 7th Wonder of the World, and more Mountains.
It’s near the end of May and the snow capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada’s are the backdrop to what is Granada, home of one of what may be one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. The Alhambra. Alhambra is the palace built in the 13th century atop the tallest hill in Granada that was the last Moorish stronghold and residence of Sultans when Spain began to reclaim the country had been invaded several hundred years ago from the north of Africa. (This is Mark by the way ☺ ). We spent a few hours walking the grounds and snapping unbelievable pics of really good moorish architecture.

It was good to be sultan. Then we had a Major hike to the top of the hills assisted by about 250 hoursepower… though you wouldn’t know from the pic.
Four more hours of windy roads and you’ll find yourself in Alemeria – Spains largest green house for tomatoes and what not. Impressed? Not really. So we settled on San Jose, a little beach town on the coast. We amused ourselves driving by listening to a books on tape by Bill Bryson “A short History of Nearly Everything” – at least I think that’s what its called – Monkeys, Glaciers, Atoms, and … well … it was a long day. Informative. And well that’s about it.
Alicante is awesome – the beach is huge, the water warm, it’s a city in the desert so the climate is warm and perfect for the beach much earlier than the rest of Spain.
And then there is Paella. The Spanish rice dish of seafood, saffron, slow, slow, slow cooked and brought out on a family sized skillet for a communal plate. Put a couple of bottles of vino blanco or was it tinto? or maybe both, plus a Spaniard on the harp, in a square far away from the sound of any car, and it’s a combination that is pretty hard to top. I could go back. But since we’re on a trucker schedule of a delivery of Myles to Girona by the 3rd of June we’re gone tomorrow. But you can see why it’s tough to leave.
Sitges was our next stop... and is as gay as a picnic. Of course the street where everyone is out people watching, I found myself being dragged up and down by my wife. Myles, as always a good sport, tagged along. We tried not to watch the sailors, and bikers dancing in front of the bars they were trying to hustle people into. I’ve lived in SF and I’ve been out in the Castro but let's just say you need to be in the mood and surrounded by a bunch of buddies or chicks that are certain on what side of the fence you stand on. What we did do here is eat sushi, a nice break from the jamon/chorizo y queso bocadillo tradition we started since…. well pretty much every time you want some lunch in spain, you get a bun pork and cheese. And I’m talking about the pig pork here people. Okay this blog is done. “Katy – your turn.”