June 28-30: Seville

Legend has it that the builders of Seville’s cathedral wanted people to stand in awe of their creation and think of them as grandiose maniacs. We’ve never seen so many altars dedicated to so many saints in the one place, and each one with at least one statue of the Virgin Mary covered in gold and cradling a naughty-looking baby Jesus. Here is a brief guide to identifying saints in art: the guy with arrows stuck in his body is Sebastian, the girl with the broken spiky wheel is Catherine, the guy with the keys is Peter, and the old guy who looks about a hundred is probably Jerome. It’s a bit like Guess Who (Whatever happened to that game?).

Seville's cathedral at night.

The main altar. Gold!

This is what the T1000 from Terminator 2 would look like if he was pretending to be Mary.

Seville’s other monument is the Alcazar, which is really a smaller and less impressive version of the Alhambra in Granada. It’s another example of mixed Muslim and Christian art: Arabic calligraphy praising Allah alongside Bible verses praising God. For some reason, on this particular day, people who wanted photos taken were asking Vicky, not Limmy, to do the job, which Vicky took as an indicator of superior photographic skill. We also saw a child chasing a large duck.

Who is that little person?

The Alcazar Gardens. And Limmy.

Not a swimming pool, but an ancient cistern. Ugh.

Other fond memories of Seville include:

Vicky having her name written as “China Vicky” on a coffee in Starbucks (it’s not as if there were other Vickys in the café);

Using our headphone splitter in the cathedral, to allow us to pay for and listen to one audioguide simultaneously (Vicky thought it might be illegal so Limmy had to hide it in his pocket, and it was about the size of a cricket bat handle so it really wasn’t hidden at all, which pleased Limmy because he wanted everyone to see the ingenuity of the headphone splitter);

And our last decent Spanish meal, where we gave paella a second chance and were not disappointed, our waiters told Vicky that her book (Lolita) was “magnifico”, and Limmy got so full he was in birth pains.

Not drunk. I look this way normally.

Seville comes alive at night. Literature-loving waiter in foreground.

We concluded our time in Seville by travelling south to Tarifa, the point of departure for ferries to Morocco, and more exotic adventures!

June 26-28: Granada

Our main reason for visiting Granada was the Alhambra, a grand Muslim palace. It is currently one of the contenders for the worldwide Australian Idol-like search for the Eighth Wonder Of The World (“SMS your vote now!”). Its history reflects that of the region of Andalucia: 1. Muslims conquer Christians. 2. Muslims build gigantic fortress/palace. 3. Christians conquer Muslims. 4. Christians redesign bits of palace but keep the nice parts.

Welcome to my humble abode.

Nice tiles.

To get in without a pre-booked ticket, one has to line up for two hours at 7 am to guarantee getting in. Even once inside, you can only enter certain areas at certain times, otherwise you are turned away. We saw one Aussie girl crying inconsolably at the entrance to the fortress section because she wasn’t allowed in. There is also video footage on the Internet of spurned visitors coming to blows over tickets outside the Alhambra! Luckily we had pre-booked, which also granted us the privilege of going past the queue to enter without tears or bruises.

View of Granada from fortress tower.

How's the symmetry ...

It took a full day to see the whole complex (a fortress, a palace and a beautiful symmetrical garden), and we must have walked over 15 km. It also marked the first time we had yielded to the allure of buying an audioguide, which is something like having Pierce Brosnan follow you around for a day, whispering historical facts in your ear every five minutes. You can see the attraction. It was both amusing and educational.

The gardens.

Limmy wonders why Vicky wanted him to stand here for this photo.

Andalucia is also the birthplace of flamenco, and we also managed to see a couple of free evening open-air performances as part of some sort of music festival. Actually we had to sort of half-climb a metal fence (Limmy holding the fence, Vicky holding Limmy) located behind the stage. Luckily some of the women had back-less dresses which made us feel as if we had seen something that the front-viewers hadn’t. It’s really just clapping and stamping one’s feet with dramatic hand movements, but everyone loved it.

We also discovered the magic of torta, which is a wedge of coffee ice-cream cake in a cone, as well as free tapas with drinks (they only do it in the south), and Spanish pate. However, we just read about a link between foie gras and amyloidosis in experimental rats, so maybe no more liver products.

The ice-cream is not actually that hard.

June 24-25: The Costa

Our excitement at hiring a car and driving down Spain’s Mediterranean coast was significantly tempered after the theft of Limmy’s wallet in the train station. After the stress, the frantic searching and the card cancellations (thanks Jackie), we managed to collect ourselves and move on.

Spain’s cheapest hire car is the Smart ForTwo, a fragile little tin box with a semi-manual transmission that is best described as Playstation-esque (in fact that is how the car hire guy described it), and barely enough boot space to fit in the Chinese guy from Ocean’s Eleven, let alone our bags. However, with some acclimatisation to the Spanish roads, we embraced our new-found independence and enjoyed some of Spain’s not-so-well-known areas.

Trying to prevent the car being blown away by a strong wind.

After spending a couple of hours on a lovely deserted (= stone) beach in the town of Altea, we proceeded to our home for the night: a converted farmhouse in La Manchica, a.k.a. middle of nowhere. The B&B was run by a couple of elderly Brits, who as it turned out, had two children named Andrew and Vicky. We were warmly welcomed by our parallel-universe parents, their drunken foul-mouthed compatriot and their curious Spanish groundsman (“You have a very small car.”). Sadly their kindness was not effective against the potent combination of dog smell in our room, and poo smell outside it, and Vicky was forced to construct a makeshift odor neutraliser from an electric fan and several air fresheners. The next morning we met the only other tenant at this establishment, a very creepy Deutschlander who Limmy was a little afraid of.

Altea Beach. Happy now, but yet to lie on the irregular surface.

Not quite cucumbers but probably as effective.

Excitement peaks in La Manchica.

We had hoped to find an ideal Spanish beach, but after driving several hours, the best we could come up with was a windy patch of sand which left Vicky highly stingy, and Limmy (having prematurely entered the water) looking like crumbed chicken wing. Fortunately, the sheer joy of driving the Smart ForTwo, coupled with classic rock “pumping” out of the stereo and the dramatic Andalusian landscape, made up for any disappointment.

To finish off the day we decided to create our own excitement by arriving in Granada without a map, without petrol, and late for the car drop-off time. However, thanks mainly to a friendly motorcyclist who offered to guide us through the maze of one-way streets, we managed to find our hotel and get the car returned with a full tank. Such nice people, the Spanish.

June 22-23: Valencia

After a delayed train ride from Barcelona, we arrived in Valencia, not realising that the 2007 America’s Cup was still going – which explained the difficulty in finding a room. In fact Valencia was quite the happening town. In addition to the sailing: Swiss Day (any excuse to play those cowbell things!), the arrival of some kind of Virgin Mary statue transported in a PopeMobile-like vehicle (displayed to rapturous Valenciano applause), and Midsummer, the longest day of the year and the day of raucous gay and lesbian celebratory marches throughout Spain.

And the crowd goes wild.

Dad, I need to borrow the tractor.

Never leave home without: 1. Afro wig. 2. Silver knee pads.

L’Oceanografic, Europe’s largest aquarium, was one of the highlights of our Spanish leg. We met the ghostly beluga whale, the crafty octopus (or pulpo in Spanish!), the cute/disgusting “stumpy little fish”, and the greedy sea lion. But the stars were the choreographed dolphins, who, with military precision, jumped, sang, spun hoops and tossed their human masters in the air, to the delight of the children, and Vicky. (And Limmy.)

Spanish dolphins are masters of the Fosbury flop.

This is actually one of the slimmer beluga whales.

Who can resist the allure of an underwater tunnel?




Barely able to conceal his fear despite 8 cm of glass between him and shark.

Tired after a day of ... sleeping.

Other Valencian highlights included classic Valencian dishes, such as paella, horchata (a kind of milky Slurpee made from pressed tiger nuts, into which you dip a dough stick called a farton) and Burger King, where Limmy managed to obtain an disappointing Transformers toy (a non-transforming Megatron – pah!) as part of a “Happy” Meal.

The childish delight of one who consumes food and drink named after body parts and bodily functions.

June 18-21: Barcelona

Apparently it’s pronounced Barthelona, and apparently patates fregidas means “potato chips” in Catalan. As in potato chips like Thins. I mention this as this our first dinner in Barthelona was nachos and Thins. Perhaps OK at home, but not in a restaurant; a cautionary tale against ordering randomly in a foreign language. On a more positive note, I went out on a limb and ordered that sassy light yellow drink that all the young Spanish women seemed to be ordering: clara, half beer and half lemon something.

The pace of life in Spain is well suited to the uni student. Day begins at 10 am, lunch goes from 1-5 pm (siesta), knock-off is 8 pm, sun goes down at about 9.30 pm, and dinner is usually 10 pm, although it’s common to see people rolling up to full restaurants at midnight, when the air is still warm. We often found ourselves hungry at the nerdily-early time of 8 pm. People stay out late, no matter what night of the week, and Barcelona has plenty of bars, cafes and plazas to accommodate them, which makes the nocturnal atmosphere quite buzzy.

We saw two famous monuments, La Sagrada Familia (an unfinished church), and Park Güell (a very large city park), both designed by Antoni Gaudi. He somehow turned his love for God, vegetables and nature into inspiring architectural masterpieces. Barcelona’s other premier attraction, the Museu Picasso, allowed us to savour the brilliance of the young Pablo Picasso, although we weren’t prepared for the roomful of pornographic drawings. Disturbing – and they let children in!

The Sagrada Familia. Check out the famous guy sitting on the arch!

Close-up of the Sagrada Familia. St Peter (played by Gumby) hears the cock crow three times.

The Park Guell. Houses not actually made of gingerbread.

This is what they call "hanging ten".

Barcelona is also a bit of a shopping mecca. We stayed in a “funky” district, which may have alluded to not only the expensive boutique stores but also the smell at times. Closer to the city centre, Vicky was pleased to discover a bevy of clothes stores; Zara is priced like Target!

It was just as much fun to walk the streets of Barcelona, and see all kinds of pleasant and/or unusual sights. We came across several outdoor pet stores showcasing many cute, illegal-looking species; outdoor string quartets; outdoor art expositions (ie. plenty of oversize statues); and a completely naked old man (not a street performer, just walking around going about his business). What a wacky city.

He's so cute.

Did somebody say wacky?

Just happy to have caught this train on the correct day.

June 11-17: Madrid

Viva Espana! Here it is: Madrid by the numbers.

Number of world-class museums within 1 km of our hostel: 3

Madrid has the Prado, Sofia and Thyssen, respectively featuring classical art, modern art and both. In the Prado we became acquainted with the brilliance of El Greco, Velazquez and Goya, among others, as well as two particularly bizarre paintings: Bosch’s The Garden Of Earthly Delights, and Goya’s Saturn. Vicky also observantly noted: “There are many sculptures here by Marmol.” To which she received the response: “I think ‘marmol’ is Spanish for marble.”

The Sofia showcases the best of Spain’s twentieth-century artists, such as Picasso (in particular his famous Guernica), Dali and Miro, as well as many cool bronze sculptures. The Thyssen collection shows a bit of everything from the 14^th century onwards. In summary, lots of crucifixion, lots of Virgin Mary; Germans paint really ugly babies; and we still don’t get Cubism. (Apologies to any Germans, Catholics or Cubists.)

The Sofia. Nothing says class like a glass elevator.

Royal Palace. Not a gallery, but could be one.

Number of celebrities spotted in Madrid: 3

As we wandered through the amazing Plaza Mayor, one of Madrid’s nicest squares, who should we run into but our old friends Justin Timberlake, Cameron Diaz and Antonio Banderas? They were promoting Shrek Tercero to a rather scanty audience made up of mostly elderly Spanish women who were mainly there to see Antonio (judging by their chanting). Nonetheless there was plenty of paparazzi action, which we managed to get in on. Check out our exclusive pics below! No awkwardness noted between JT and Cameron, incidentally.

He's even hotter in person!

See how close we were!

Waving goodbye to our friends ... for now.

Minutes elapsed between buying churros and becoming sick of churros: 10

Churros (fried donuts for dipping in molten chocolate) seem like a good idea when you have a chocolate craving, but the donut is essentially a stick of oil that becomes increasingly rubbery with time. Rich! On a more tasty note, we managed to get into the traditional culinary habit of tapas and cerveza (or sangria), taken at the truly Spanish time of 4 pm (lunch) or 10 pm (an early dinner). A common sight at this time was four or five elderly Spanish women sitting down for a quiet beer; this somewhat cute phenomenon even occurred in Burger King. Elderly Spanish women: it’s all Antonio Banderas and beer.

Sheep cheese portion.

Useful errands completed in Madrid: 3

Namely, the purchasing of a new camera lens, the successful tailoring of multiple dresses (Limmy hates showing his knees) and the mailing of heavy stuff back to Melbourne, all courtesy of the very friendly Madrileños.

Teams vying for the Spanish football championship on the last weekend of the year: 3

Real Madrid, Barcelona and Sevilla. We managed to leave Madrid on the night that they dramatically won their final game to take the title, thus avoiding the usual celebratory riots in the capital.

Intercity sleeper trains missed: 1

Always pays to ask where the trains leave from. Somehow we convinced ourselves we could make the train by running very fast, even though we arrived at the correct station ten minutes after departure time. In desperation we momentarily considered a friendly taxi driver's offer to drive us to the next station to catch up with the train for the bargain price of AUD$200.

Vicky standing happily at Madrid station, unaware of our overnight train departing from a different station at this very moment. Note soon-to-be-worthless tickets in right hand.