Welcome Pickups is a car-sharing service that focuses on meeting travelers at transportation points (airports, train stations, ferries, etc.) and taking them to their first destination. They proudly claim that all their drivers speak English well and will follow your itinerary and make appropriate adjustments if there is a delay. They also claim to be the same price as a regular taxi only better.

We have used Welcome Pickups with good result several times. In Crete (2019) for a mid-night pickup and ride to our hotel an hour away from the port. In Seville for two rides to and from the train station, then airport to our lodging in the heart of the Triana area.

On this trip things did not go well at all.

We entered the Arrival Hall at 1:25 and stayed there or walked around outside until 1:45. We saw no one with a sign with either my name or Welcome Pickups. I had sent the most updated WhatsApp number before we began traveling so the driver had access to us. Otherwise, we had no access to the driver, partially because the driver I had last seen assigned to us was not the one making the pickup at the actual time. We received no emails, no messages at that contact.

When I was able to access the internet again (at my hotel), I saw the change of driver, and that he was reporting he’d been to the airport and terminated the ride because we were a no show. We also received a message from the driver at 2:20am “I’m here. Where are you?”

When I contacted Welcome Pickups the next day, they used “geolocation data” and said that the driver had been there. Therefore we would receive no refund.

Note that although “Welcome Pickups” sent me an SMS and email, they were to a number I couldn’t access. They were also generic “your driver has arrived!” auto-generated. The driver himself did not send an email or WhatsApp until an HOUR after his arrival. And since the driver had changed from what I’d seen (that day, before traveling) my only contact info was for a person who was not our driver. It was the middle of the night. There were 20+ men standing around, many holding signs for tour companies, hotels, and Riads. Occasionally there was a specific name. Many were unauthorized cars, hustling unwary travelers. This was stressful, all the more so because of the late hour. We walked the gamut several times over the 20+ minutes we waited for our driver to appear.

And my name is distinctive in this part of the world.

Our return trip was booked for a pickup at the riad we were staying in. Knowing that the car would not be able to drive up, we had our (very helpful) riad contact the driver and work out what needed to happen. He chose a taxi stand across from the Koutoubia Mosque and called when he was a few minutes out. Someone from the riad walked us out to the meeting point and then stayed with us, which was great because our driver didn’t arrive for another 10 minutes. Then, after putting our bags in the trunk, grabbed some change and (we guess) ran into a local coffee shop and had a drink. No explanation, just a hurried, “stay here.” Unsettling. I am sure that if we hadn’t had a local staying with us, we would have been lost and unsettled by the long wait on a very busy street.

As we said previously, we’ve used Welcome Pickups with good result several times. Yet, we’ve had last minute changes in drivers several times (once in Seville, and several times in Marrakesh). I suppose this is no problem if the traveler downloads and uses their app, but I prefer not to do so. These last minute changes mean that even when the driver gives you their WhatsApp, you can be left without contact. (And I do mean last minute in that you have a contact before you get on the plane and its different when you deplane a few hours later.) Not are the changes always made on the website. We had a lovely woman driver in Seville, but the website persists in telling us it was Miguel who picked us up . . . and even asked for feedback abut him. I never received a response to my reply that it hadn’t been him who met us, but I would happily review the woman who did. They have not asked us to review our driver in Marrakech.

When they arrive, the drivers are friendly, skilled, and the vehicles are clean and a correct size for our needs. In Crete, we were met (correctly) at the airport where we were told we would be met. In Seville, we were met in the train station where we were told to be and were picked up exactly on time (5am) to go to the airport. Marrakesh airport was a spectacular failure and the pickup was stressful albeit not a failure.

Five encounters:
1 no show
3 name switches
2 went as promised
2 went fine, if confusing

We can’t leave Marrakesh without talking about the food. Morocco stands in the very crossroads of Africa and Europe, a diversity that is reflected in its culture, architecture, and food. Typical Moroccan dishes combine spicy and sweet, sour and salty. Sweet fruits (quince, dates, prunes) are often added to meat dishes along with local spices, seasonings, and aromatic herbs give the traditional dishes its distinctive flavor.

The food in Marrakesh is a delicious, delightful, tagine of influences from Berber, Arabic, Jewish, Andalusian, African, and Maghrebi cultures. Walking through markets you will find a huge array of colorful spices, herbs, street food stalls and aromas, flavoring for its wonderful food.

Most people know Moroccan food for its heavy reliance on delicious spices such as saffron, turmeric, cumin, cayenne pepper, nutmeg, paprika, ginger and fennel just to name a few. There are also striking similarities with the Mediterranean diet in terms of the meats, fish, fruits and vegetables used in cooking. It consistently ranks with French and Italian cuisines around the world.

We ate at Dar Marjana which “combines authentic history, refined gastronomy, and a warm Moroccan atmosphere to offer an immersive and unforgettable culinary experience.” (from their website.) They are what we would call a dinner and entertainment experience — midway through dinner, a pair of Berbers joined us and began to sing, play drum, and a stringed instrument. Later, a pair of belly dancers moved through the tables, doing their thing. We found the music to be the best, as the dancing felt a bit contrived (Lisa wasn’t sure it was authentic, it may have been the LED-lighted “fairy wings” that led to the doubt.)

As was so often the case in Marrakech, the exterior is unassuming, even a bit daunting. Once through the front door, you move through a dark passage to another door. During opening hours the entrance is manned by a guard who respectfully escorts you down the now candlelit passage through the front door into a huge open courtyard with a low fountain, palms, banana trees, and all manner of foliage backlit by subtle lighting.

They serve one of four set menus, and alcohol is available. The largest menu, Marjana, includes several small plates of salads, three mains, and a dessert; it is accompanied by a (non-alcoholic cocktail, water, wine, digestif, and mint tea). The Discovery menu is only two mains, and no digestif. The smallest is the “Light” menu, which had a choice of two starters, one main, and no drinks included. It was the only one that offered Briwates (briouates). The choices for mains included Pigeon Triad (a specialty of the house), Chicken or Vegetable Bastilla, Pickled Lemon Farm Chicken, Lamb/or Veal Tajine with prunes and apricots or Seasonal Vegetables, Makfoul Tajine (specialty of Marrakech), Vegetable Tajine, or Royal Couscous. Desserts were a choice of Almond Pastilla, Orange and Cinnamon Salad, or
Moroccan Pastries (cookies).

It was lovely, tasty, and although we wouldn’t go again on our own, we would gladly join friends to enjoy the experience. To be clear, the food was great, although nothing particularly stands out.

Le Trou au Mur is described as chic, laid-back, and intimate, and that was not at all our experience. Perhaps because we were there at lunch rather than dinner, it was simply a nice meal on an outdoor terrace. It’s menu is far more Mediterranean, than Moroccan, and everything was delicious.

We shared a chicken and spinach filo pastry cigar, a salad made of carrots, cabbage, almonds and beetroot served with a fresh ginger and tomato sauce, and al-dente green beans with garlic, almonds and preserved lemon. It was a delicious lunch with fresh flavors and bright textures, perfectly done.

Most of our other meals were at the hotel, in their Pavillion restaurant (terrace, pool side) and at TFAYA Brasserie. TFAYA was a fascinating experience but not in the “ooo such exotic food in a new and mysterious land!” kind of way (although there was some of that); no, it was more in the “first diners on the first night of a whole new restaurant concept” kind. Apparently they had literally put the finishing touches on a new menu, by their new chef, for their flagship restaurant, and as is typical for Americans (or at least us) dining outside of the US, we were the first reservation of the evening. Because of this, service that was probably solicitous on a normal night was amped up to desperate-for-mom’s-approval level. We were checked in on after every dish by at least our server; several times it was the restaurant manager and at least once it was the chef. It wasn’t every 3 minutes and it never got annoying, but it definitely made for an unusual experience.

There were many small plates, and we didn’t exactly take notes, so to the best of our memory, we had: briouates (shrimp, cheese, and spinach with cheese), crispy prawns with a smoked bell pepper hummus, seafood pastilla with an aioli sauce, lamb shoulder cooked 8 hours Hargma-style with white bean hummus, and Doukkali couscous with lamb and vegetables. Our dessert was “Orange”: madeleine-style cookie, orange jelly (a kind of gummy-like candy dipped in sugar), and carrot cardamom sorbet. We were offered coffee and, when we declined, given a plate of “Moroccan Pastries” (cookies). It was a lot.

Everything was delicious, but the lamb shoulder (which they were very proud of) was very fatty and had an unpleasant mouthfeel as a result. The dessert was very pretty, but too much sweet after such a large meal. So what did they tell them when they asked? Mostly that our meal was amazing, although there were a couple of oddities.

Pavillion’s menu was a riotous blend of Mediterranean, Peruvian (!), and familiar. Stand out dishes included the Confit Lamb Shoulder With Shiitake Chimichurri Sauce And Truffled Cauliflower Steak, Creamy burrata, confit tomatoes, crunchy Greek vegetables, Spider crab meat, charred avocado, yuzu and ginger vinaigrette, Prawn Ha kao, vegetable gyozas. We also enjoyed their Omakase nigiri, which included Tuna with a ponzu salsa, salmon with a anticuchera salsa, and tiger prawns with a abura sauce and their Selection Pavillon, which was lobster with limeño sauce and saffron aioli, wagyu Beef with chimichurri sauce and caviar, and a flambéed sardine with lemon confit dashi mayo. Literally nothing was bad, it all was good or great.

Now seems like a good time to explain what some of these dishes are.

Tagine
When people think of Moroccan cuisine, tagine is usually one of the first dishes they think of. Tagine is a slow cooked stew of meat, with a variety of fresh fruity ingredients such as apples, apricots, pears, raisins, quinces, olives, dates and prunes as well as vegetables. Typical spices include ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, saffron, cumin and paprika, and additional flavors such as honey and nuts are also typically added. The tagine is the clay pot this dish is cooked in.

Briwat (briouat)
Briwat are scrumptiously sweet, stuffed, triangle-shaped pastry turnovers that have been deep-fried. Stuffed with meat and cheese with some simple seasonings (we most often got them in trios of meat, cheese, and vegetables), locals usually dip them in warm honey before eating.

Bastilla (B’stila)
Bastilla is a savory-sweet meat pie with a mix of sweet and salty flavors in a multi-layered phyllo dough. Traditionally, the filling consisted of pigeon meat and cinnamon-toasted almonds, seasoned with various spices such as saffron, cinnamon, and fresh coriander. Today it’s more often chicken.

Couscous
Couscous is a versatile side dish made from semolina and water, a bit like rice but consists of thousands of tiny, steamed balls of wheat. It’s a staple ingredient in much of Northern Africa and is typically served in a stew with vegetables and spices. It can be served as a side dish or a main couscous dish is also quite common.

Pastilla (Pastella)
Pastilla is a meat or seafood pie in Maghrebi cuisine made with warqa dough, which is similar to phyllo. Once baked, the pie is topped with a decorative lattice design made with cinnamon and caster sugar. Warqa sheets are made by daubing a wad of dough against a hot, flat pan called a tobsil, which leaves a paper-thin layer of dried dough on the surface of the pan. The pastilla stuffing, which can be prepared in advance, is arranged in layers. The first layer is made of pieces of shredded poultry meat that have been sautéed with herbs and spices, the second layer is an egg mixture, and the third and final layer consists of ground toasted almonds mixed with caster sugar and ground cinnamon. The individual pastry leaves and the assembled pastilla are brushed with clarified butter, while the powdered sugar and cinnamon top design can be enhanced with the addition of almond paste.

Marrakesh can feel overwhelming, especially if it’s your first time in: Africa, a country with a State run religion, or a country with a bargaining culture. For us, it was all three.

So we reached out to a tour company, With Locals, for assistance. With Locals specializes in connecting visitors with local guides for interesting and unique travel experiences. All tours are private, no flags or audio guides, and the local always asks what you’re interested in and will change the official itinerary to accommodate your preferences — and especially nice aspect that we took advantage of on both tours we did.

Our first tour was Treasures of Marrakech: Souks and Artisans Tour with Ouidad. It was about 3 hours of utter delight. Ouidad shepherded us through the streets and maze of the Souk and Medina with authority and charm. She was funny and respectful and unerringly took us to all of the artisans still producing ancient crafts using traditional techniques. She watched out for our safety — from wheeled vehicles more than thieves — and was a perfect ambassador between our naivety and the respectable artists we met. We had questions about being a woman in a Muslim country and she was frank about what Morocco is doing well and how future reforms were being discussed. We were shown woodworkers, creating sinuous shapes both abstract and functional (and really regret not getting that carved bowl.) An ancient man played a sitar-like instrument and sang Berber songs. We watched the stoking of e fire warming a hamman and heard how he was the last of his family line; there was no one who would keep doing this job when he stopped. Slipping through stacks of wood drying for the fire, we came to an eatery where two men were pulling a man-high clay pot out of a firepit in preparation for the coming lunch crowd. A man whittled cedar pieces into ornaments with his feet (yes, really) and insisted we take one as a gift. We drank mint tea as a wealth of rugs in a hundred varieties were unfurled before us by a beautifully tall man while another told us the meanings of the patterns. A leather shoemaker laughed at my interest and gracefully turned to a woman almost drooling over what she saw. We walked all over the central “old town” and ended in a tiny alley where locals were having their lunches prepared at tiny counters full of grilled fish, flavored ices, fresh baked breads, and mountains of fresh fruit and vegetables. It was a perfect place to put together a picnic.

The next day we were taken by private car all around on the Highlights & Hidden Gems of Marrakech by Hassan. We’d seen some of the typical sites on our tour the previous day, so he created a much more eclectic visit than typical. This was a day of stories, of places where we saw the community ties the locals have with one another. Peeking through a window of a saint’s tomb, famous for his ability to bring fertility to married women, we saw several women sleeping on piles of rugs, asking for his blessing on their wombs. Stepping though an unassuming doorway, we found ourselves in the courtyard of a mosque, just finishing its midday service. Along one wall men, thin and ill-dressed, were waiting patiently. As the service finished, people streamed out, most into a kitchen across the courtyard but some to the waiting men. Within minutes, it was clear that the men were being given water and basic medical treatment while waiting for the huge platters of couscous and other foodstuffs coming out of the kitchen . . . and from people in the surrounding community. Hassan explained that this happened every Friday after the midday service, that Islam has a strong culture of charity and assistance. It was moving to see people who themselves had little giving to those who had less. Hassan was friendly, knowledgeable and informative as he explained everything as we went, telling us about the history of the city and important people and why things were built as they were. He was enthusiastic and passionate about the history and architecture of Marrakesh, patiently answering our questions.

We would 100% book with WithLocals again in future travels.

There are some aspects of Marrakesh that feel like Venice, although the two cities are vastly different. Each boasts of a rich history rooted within a strong foundation of trade, proud people descended from multiple distinctly different cultural backgrounds, crumbling beauty, and twisting, winding passages, akin more to warrens than streets.

The similarities pretty much end there.

Venice is a place where the different cultures have co-existed, inter-married, and re-imagined themselves so thoroughly that they have become themselves, Venetians. With its lack of access to motor vehicles, it’s a profoundly quiet city always held within the ever-changing arms of the sea. Venice, in my memories, has a softness, a kind of permanent sfumato.

Marrakesh is all hard lines and noise. The smart visitor walks about with a heightened awareness of the many wheeled vehicles barreling as fast as possible from one place to another, with no regard for traffic lines, colors, or rules. Parents hold children standing behind them on scooters, elegantly burqa‘d women with designer sunglasses and gloves weave in and out of traffic, young men in rubber sandals perch on donkey carts full of produce bound for the medina, and helmets are rarely seen anywhere. Even the tea seller moves faster than other walkers, stopping only when a shopkeeper lifts a languid hand, then deftly pouring tea into a waiting mug from a vacuum flask adding sugar, and handing it over at almost the same moment as accepting the required coin.

Here, one of the largest souks in the world is a true labyrinth of streets and stores offering everything from the handmade to cheap factory produced, sometimes in the same place. Paying any attention can have you surrounded by eager sellers in a heartbeat. Fortunately, a “no” (laa in Arabic, or non in French) is acceptable (if a bit abrupt, add shukran — thank you to be more polite). In theory, the souk is pedestrian-only, but locals move through on bicycles, scooters, and small motorcycles. Goods are delivered from pushcarts. No one gets away with not buying something.

If Islamic/Moroccan architecture is of interest, there are many places where you can fall into its glory. The most famous, and popular are the Bahia Palace, Madrasah Ben Youssef, El Badi Palace, and Saadian Tombs. But we found doorways and local mosques that were as exquisitely designed and actively used. Stepping into a saint’s tomb, you can recline on an ancient handwoven rug and let the heat from your body seep into the elaborately tiled walls, perhaps while meditating on how Islamic saints were ordinary people who fed the poor, housed the blind, and taught women to read.

The heat can be overwhelming, especially if are a former mushroom from the PNW. Tiled coolness isn’t always available, but there are many gardens to enjoy throughout the city. Most famous and eye-poppingly colorful is Yves Saint Laurent’s Majorelle Garden. The garden combines Arabic and Art Deco influences and features fountains, exotic cacti, and distinctive cobalt blue walls and structures. Le Jardin Secret hides in the heart of the medina and features two distinct areas: an exotic garden with plants from around the world and an Islamic garden designed with ancient principles of balance and spirituality. Out by the airport are the Menara Gardens with its 12th century artificial lake reflecting the glory of the Atlas Mountains and the centuries-old olive trees surrounding it.

The air for the first few days was “thick” — not dusty or smoggy, just not clear. When it did on our 3rd day, we were treated to the sight of the magnificent Atlas Mountains. We suddenly understood why everyone asked if we were going to visit them. Next trip.

We stayed in two places, the Park Hyatt Marrakesh and the Riad Al Rimal, vastly different from one another. The Park Hyatt was for the occasion of J’s birthday, and, once again, thank goodness for Hyatt’s excellent loyalty program: we stayed for free instead of paying $800/ night. We were given an upgrade to a “Park Suite” on the upper floor, facing a large, landscaped garden with a lovely view of the Atlas Mountains and a private balcony. It was perfect for sitting outside and reading in the evening. The spa is heavenly with a huge heated indoor pool, a hot tub with cabanas, a relaxation room and terrace, a massive gym complex, men’s and women’s hammam rooms and cold plunge tubs, and a co-ed steam room and sauna. We enjoyed one of the best non-therapeutic massages we’ve ever had. The outdoor pool is also spectacular, although we ended up not actually swimming during our stay (it was warm enough, we just didn’t feel like it when we were free to do so.) This is a gorgeous hotel, one that visually engages with the Moroccan culture in many ways.

The downsides were mainly that we were at least 20 minutes from the city, in an area under major development. Long taxi rides and waits for taxis were a part of every day and required an extra level of planning. If you didn’t want to be poolside, or golf, there wasn’t much else to do. This is a place that requires you to move into a very low gear.

Pictures of the grounds by me:

The Riad Al Rimal & Spa is very different.We’d booked a Standard Double and it was tiny, barely big enough for the double and small side tables. No place to sit, or unpack our bags except the bed. The bathroom was clean and also tiny; the wardrobe adequate. There was no AC, fortunately open windows provided a cooling breeze. Not very safe though. We were offered a special on their hammam and massage package that wasn’t a very good deal price or technique wise. (J’s person clearly was in training, left early, and didn’t take direction [a little firmer, please] at all.) We’d been looking forward to spending time in the pool, but a family of four basically filled it up entirely and after an hour we gave up and went back to our room. Lots of stairs — this is not a place to say if you have bad knees or mobility issues.

It was, however, located in the heart of the medina and ideal for getting into where most tourists want to explore. The price was very good, and it was exceptionally quiet. (Pictures from Trip Advisor.)

A long time ago, when we first started traveling to Europe, we discovered an excellent tour guide company, Context Travel. Their guides were people who weren’t just passionate about the material they presented, but usually had an advanced degree or extensive experience. So, the guide who took us through Central Park in New York City was a Ph.D. candidate in Landscape Architecture with a dissertation on the effect of the Park on the city’s history. The tour we did of the “back stage” of the New York Met was led by someone who’d been an archivist for the Met for 30 years. Needless to say, they were outstanding tours, albeit about twice as expensive as other guides and companies.

Fast forward a few decades and Context has become (to our mind) outrageously expensive. We’re all for paying people well for their time and expertise, but when a 4-hour tour costs nearly $1,000 that is well over our comfort level. Tours from aggregate companies like GetYourGuide are utterly hit or miss in our experience (we tell you when we have a good one, and there have been very few over the years.)

This trip (Spain, Winter Holiday 2025) we decided to try and maximize our learning and exploration and booked several tours through the same company: Tours by Locals. As the name implies, the guides are all people who live in the city/ region and have deep knowledge from years of direct, personal experience. In our experience, they are also passionate about imparting their knowledge and affection for the area. Our first tour was a full day excursion to Toledo from Madrid with Paul, a longtime resident of Madrid. The tour cost included his renting a car and door-to-door service from our hotel. It was a full day, and Paul was happy to incorporate a visit to the Royal Palace of Aranjuez. Our second tour was with Sandra, a lifelong resident of Seville. She showed us many non-typical places full of history and shared anecdotes that imparted a lot of Spanish history and culture. Finally, we spent an afternoon with Mirian, thoroughly exploring The Alhambra in Granada. Her degrees in Archeology, Art, and History all combined in powerful journey through Spanish history through various viewpoints.

Each guide was unique, and outstanding. It was holiday time and many typical sites were unavailable (overbooked or closed for religious reasons). Each did an excellent job of finding alternatives which were as interesting (or more so) than what would have been on a typical tour. Moreover, the places we saw and visited were squarely placed within appropriate context, making it an incredible learning experience. Each also did a great job of introducing (or extending) local knowledge of culture, whether through food or wine recommendations, or specific places to see on our own.

We don’t use tour guides much, but will actively look for Tours By Locals in the future.

When putting together our (fairly last-minute) trip to Spain, we got excited about maybe doing some day trips out of Madrid. Not that Madrid wasn’t capable of holding our attention for a few days, but we always thought of this trip as our “Spanish Whitman’s Sampler”, so to speak. We wanted to take little bites out of a lot of places so we’d know what we want to explore in more depth on future trips. After a bit of research we chose Toledo as one of our bon-bons and, to make sure we got a good bite of the place, we decided to get a guide both to transport us and show us around.

It was an excellent choice.

Our guide, a lovely man named Paul that we found on Tours By Locals, picked us up at our hotel around 8:30 and drove us a little more than an hour down the road to Toledo. We began at the Synagogue of Santa María la Blanca, a very special place built between the 12th and 14th centuries. After a fire in 1250, it was rebuilt in 1260 by royal edict, “the largest and most beautiful synagogue in Europe.” In the 15th century, it was converted into a church and Renaissance reforms in 1554 added chapels and vaults. In the 19th century, it was used as a barracks and finally declared a national monument in 1930. The architecture is a unique example of mudejar art (created by Moorish architects for non-Islamic purposes) in Toledo, fusing Muslim techniques with castilian and nasrid influences. The octagonal pillars and the complex decoration with discs and pine cones — symbols of life — stand out. Surrounded by a wall and a garden of cypress trees, its design invites contemplation, both inside and out. Pictures don’t adequately capture the deep serenity and sense of sacred that infuses this space.

From there we visited the Synagogue of El Tránsito, built around 1357 and its Sephardic Museum. Considered the most beautiful and best conserved medieval synagogue in the world, the trustees aim to unveil the mantle of silence on Jewish culture in Spain, from its expulsion to today. Therefore, expository script does not end in 1492, but continues to present time, focusing on the exile and development of the Sephardic communities throughout the world. In structure the space is simple. Yet the elevation of the walls and the rich wood of the coffered ceiling with inlays of ivory and painted decoration make it sumptuous. What grabs the visitor is the “ataurique”, vegetal decoration of Arab creation, that densely covers the east wall. The women’s gallery is not only intact, but sumptuously decorated and filled with a multimedia collection of information and artifacts describing daily life. Attached to the main room is a museum with information and artifacts of the Jews from Ancient Orient through to recent archeological finds.

Wandering through the Jewish Quarter we were treated to the occasional porcelain tile embedded in the walkway or wall.

We finished with a visit to the Primate Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo. We were there for several hours, and could have spent an entire day. It is one of three 13th-century High Gothic cathedrals in Spain and considered a masterpiece of the Gothic style in Spain. It’s huge; bigger than Notre Dame. It’s so much, in so many different styles that it’s hard to describe. The massive altarpiece of polychrome and golden wood is three panels in width and five rows high, staggered with two narrower panels at the end. It includes a lumina or transparente, a great rock crystal piece that captures the sunlight and beams it onto the altar at mass. Gloriously Baroque is a gilded confection of angels, Archangels, and solar rays. All around are small chapels (tombs, really) for many important people. There is a magnificent choir with amusingly carved wood chairs. In the Treasure Room we saw the Custodia of Toledo (also called Monstrance), a work of art made in two parts from different centuries. The smaller is made out of gold, with precious stones, and was property of Isabel the Catholic (15th century). After Isabel died the Cardinal Cisneros bought it, and made a bigger one to hold it. That one is made in gold and silver. In total it weighs 370Kg (816 Pounds). It holds the Eucharistic host during Corpus Christi Festivities. Every year, 60 days after Resurrection Sunday, the enormous Monstrance is carried around in the city of Toledo in procession.

Fantastic.

Most guidebooks say that Toledo is a day trip, but we don’t think that is nearly enough time to enjoy this historically multicultural city. We have plans to return and spend several days here.

We have been pinky-promising each other that we would take our Portuguese-language class seriously; it’s important for our future happiness here for a couple of different reasons and we really want to knock it out. However, part of that commitment has been that we wouldn’t take any trips that would keep us out of class, which has meant that we’ve been curtailing some of our more far-flung adventures. Because of some unforeseen complications we ended up having to drop from the class last year and are retaking it again this year…. which means we’re in year two of having ants in our pants. (If you’ve been following along here on The Ramble you know we haven’t exactly been housebound, but still, it’s been a different vibe.) We recently decided that we wanted to work a little harder at carving out some adventure time, and the first opportunity for that is the Christmas/Holiday/End-of-Year break. Freed from the restrictions of our language class, we began a nine-ish day trip to Spain; olé! And so, at 0-dark-thirty on a Tuesday morning we took a quick (100 min) flight to Madrid, dropped our bags at the hotel, and immediately joined the exceptional tour guide Amanda of Gather To Travel for a walking tour of the historic center. Well, a walking and eating tour.

Meeting Amanda was easy, as we exchanged coat and scarf colors via text that morning. It was COLD, sub-ten degrees (mid 30s F), so we were all bundled to the brim. We started at The Plaza de Cánovas del Castillo, a very pretty Neptune fountain and roundabout just outside the Museo Del Prado. From there we walked a short distance to the Congreso de los Diputados which, if we understood correctly, is a political hub for the country despite being a relatively modest building.

Along the way, we passed a bronze statue of a blind man in a suit, Dubbes The Lottery Seller, In the neighbourhood of Las Letras, specifically in Calle del Prado on the corner with San Agustín and in front of the Spanish Parliament building, there is a sculpture paying tribute to “Fortunato”, the seller of lottery tickets in support of ONCE (Spain’s national organisation for the blind). Cast in bronze by the sculptor Santiago de Santiago, the sculpture commemorates those who for 75 years, since the foundation was created, have sold lottery tickets and luck, becoming emblematic figures in the streets and squares throughout Spain.

Across the street from the Congreso is a statue of Miguel de Cervantes, which was actually the launching point for much of our next couple of hours in the literary district. We meandered along the Calle de Cervantes, discussing his life and legacy as we admired the various plaques, tiles and other homages to this most revered of men. (John’s personal favorite piece of trivia is that the musical could easily have been called “Man of Manchego Cheese”, although admittedly it’s not quite as catchy.) We passed by the location of his home in Madrid, although the building itself had long since been replaced.

Turning onto another street, we admired the bronze centenary plaques scattered about, marking stores and craftspeople who had been in business for at least 100 years. The first one that Amanda pointed out to us was for a pharmacy that had been in business since the 1700s! Each is different and marks a unique presence.

We also observed the regularly-spaced quotations inlaid into the street pavement, each honoring a different Spanish writer. This whole area is known as the literary district and has many interesting sights and stores supporting Madrid’s long enthusiasm for the arts. As we were strolling along we got excited by a statue that we saw at the Plaza de Santa Ana, drawing Amanda over to it – given that we had given no indication that we were particularly well-educated on Spanish literature she was bemused that we were so enthusiastic about a memorial statue to Federico del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús García Lorca of all people.

(Short-ish version of a longer tale: in 2003 we saw the premiere of Nilo Cruz’s play “Lorca In A Green Dress”, which is about, yep, Frederico Garcia Lorca. It was a mind-blowing experience for us, not least because John had practically no theater experience prior to that and it was an especially surreal production. The memory has stuck.)

In any event, it was amusing that we went from wide-eyed tourists being shown around to being, for a very short moment, subject matter experts. Then we resumed our roles and she explained far more about the man than we had known before. About this time we entered the nibbles portion of our tour, as Andrea took us to a couple of her favorite spots for tapas; more on those later. We rounded out the day with a stop in the Perta del Sol, currently the home of a large Christmas market.

We thought we knew what goes on at Christmas markets, but in Madrid the Day of the Innocents (December 27th) has become a day of children playing “practical jokes” on the level of whoopie cushions and little snapping firecrackers…. all of which was on display in the market. Egad. Clashing with the fart toys and joy buzzers were the shops catering to another Christmas passion in Madrid – creches. Apparently even more than usual the people of Madrid go nuts with elaborate nativity scenes, sometimes taking up whole rooms of their homes for the season(!). We saw “kilometer zero” which is the spot that Franco decreed all the highways he was ordering the construction of would emanate from. Apparently it’s a true thing and they still measure all distance markers from it on the national roads; it was such a popular tourist spot that we didn’t even try to get a photo.

She walked us to a taxi stand by way of some lovely pastry shops. Now, about the tapas.

The first, Alimentación Quiroga (Calle Huertas 19, Barrio de Las Letras, Madrid, ES 28014) is a tiny place with limited seating. We managed to snag a high-top table in the back and quickly ordered a dish of Alcachofas plancha (artichoke hearts in a lemon-olive oil sauce with a bit of pepper, topped with shaved ham) and another of toasted bread spread with fresh tomatoes and Iberico ham. A coke, cerveza, and glass of rioja rounded us out well and we happily munched away. The artichokes were perfectly sweet, contrasted by the grassy oil and sharp lemon, the beef added a rich depth, quite unlike the typical preserved ham. The bread dish was simpler, with a very light (almost schmear) of spread of fresh tomatoes providing the background to the ham’s salty yumminess.

Our other stop was at Prada a Tope (Calle Principe 11, Madrid, ES 28012), a larger establishment that was expecting large parties, so only bar seating was available. (‘Tis the season!) Here we quickly grabbed a high top and ordered the Verduras a la Plancha (grilled eggplant, asparagus, onion, peppers, tomato, and zucchini) and Cecina (shaved beef). The vegetables were smoky and almost sweet from the grilling, drizzled with the Spanish olive oil and the beef was delicious. Chewy texture and a burst of intensely flavorful ***beef*** in the mouth.

It was a fun, tasty, and informative walk that we recommend without hesitation. (Any errors are entirely our fault for not remembering Amanda’s information correctly!)

Last year around Christmastime, we put together a house-gift to ourselves. It’s not very fancy, in fact it starts with an empty pretzel container from Continente. Inside this container our numerous folded slips of paper. Written inside the fold is an activity in or around Braga – a place to visit, perhaps a lunch spot picked out (we’re much happier when we aren’t picking out a restaurant spur-of-the-moment). The sheets are taped shut (this isn’t a high tech operation), and on the outside of the paper there is general information: how long does it take, is it walking/bus ride/ride share, is there a meal involved, and does weather or season matter. We call this little plastic barrel our “Jar of Wonders”, and every once in awhile we draw until we get something that fits our day, and off we go! One of our earliest pulls was a few months ago, when we visited the Sé de Braga, a Roman Catholic Church that predates the founding of Portugal. From time to time, we are reminded of how very *old* the country we live in is

The civitas (roughly, city) Bracara Augusta was founded by the Romans in 16 BC and the Diocese of Braga dates from the 3rd century AD, being one of the oldest in the Iberian peninsula. In 1071 Bishop Pedro began building the cathedral (Sé) and it was consecrated while still unfinished in 1089. Building continued through he 13th century. The Kingdom of Portugal was officially recognized in 1179. And that’s enough history.

What makes the Sé so fascinating is that it is a gorgeous hodgepodge of architectural styles. The original 12th century-building was built in the Burgundian Romanesque style, but later construction added Gothic (chapels and entrance), Moorish, Manueline (main chapel) and Baroque (towers, chapels, and loads of interior decoration)elements.

Here is a collection of pictures we took as we wandered through, enjoying so many elements.

Throughout the interior are the remains of several important people, including D. Afonso, the son of King John I and what purports to be Saint Peter of Rates. (Modern science suggests that it’s actually the body of a child from the 9th century.)

There is an excellent museum upstairs, and most of the signage is in both English and Portuguese. There are a number of tours that include a visit to the Sé, and we highly recommend including this magnificent and beautiful historic site in your visit.

As Lisa told you in our last post, we were recently(-ish) in Edinburgh. This was, in fact, no less than our fourth time in Edinburgh, but we had never before really seen the place. Dating all the way back to our honeymoon trip to the UK, we’ve passed through Edinburgh without ever really getting a chance to stop and see it. On our honeymoon the weather was so filthy we went to the movies; another time we just landed at the airport late at night, stayed in a hotel for a quick rest, then met friends, rented a car and made for the countryside. It was like that – we wanted to see Edinburgh, we’d get our noses up against the window, and that’d be it. So, heck with that, we carved out a few days to finally see the city.

Two other motivations called us towards Edinburgh. One was the previously-mentioned Andy Goldsworthy exhibition, which was as magnificent as last week’s post showcased. The second was a serendipitous chance to catch up with a new friend from America who was stretching her wings with some solo travel in the UK. She was going to be in the city while the exhibition was going on, and that was the final straw; we had to go. (Oh, darn.) We had a predictably annoying flight over on Ryanair -maybe someday we will shrug off the potential savings in favor of a more civilized flying experience, but that day has not yet arrived. We did arrange to stay at Eden Locke again, a place we discovered back in 2023 that suits as to a “t”. We were in the UK in late October, so the weather was garbage but we knew that going in and packed mostly appropriately.

On our one full day with our friend that wasn’t dedicated to the gallery exhibition, we made like tourists and went up into “Old Town.” Edinburgh spreads out and around from an oblong hill which, being a high point in the terrain, somebody put a castle on way back in the day. Thus the hilltop became the earliest kernel of the city and to this day has a certain cachet; an address in Old Town signaled prestige back in the day, although now it has a healthy dose of “also tourists out the ying-yang.” We wandered the “Royal Mile” for a bit, which is a stretch of road that terminates at the castle on one end and runs the whole length of the hill. Eventually we made it to an actual bit of classic tourism, a guided visit into “Mary King’s Close.”

Ok, so that name needs some unpacking. First, a “close” was what they called these streets that basically exist as alleys but between two rows of buildings rather than along the back of ’em. Closes were essentially the streets that poor folk lived on, in tenements going up into the sky. They provided a bit of shelter and stability, but all manner of industry took place in and round the closes so they were often smelly, dirty places. “Mary King” was a woman of some reputation and stature in her time, and since the closes formed naturally and without any central planning, they didn’t have official names to them. So, people settled on them by acclimation so to speak. Mrs. Close was a notable enough figure that her Close referred to her even long after her death. A company has taken over the close and several adjacent buildings and put on a tour with period costumes and a bit of narrative flair; they don’t take it too seriously but your guide does assume the role of a citizen of the time. It’s a good time, and you do learn a lot about life in the closes, including how they dealt with plague (badly), close quarters (as politely as you could stand), and their general lot in life (more acceptance than rebellion from what we could figure).

We had dinner that evening at The Witchery, which seemed particularly appropriate since we were visiting around Samhain. Alas, while it certainly lived up to its advertised ambiance, it seemed about 20% too much theme park vibe rather than genuine gothic decor and design. Nor was the food up to promised. It was a cozy enough experience, but certainly for the price we don’t feel compelled to make a repeat visit when we’re next in Edinburgh. Still and all, it was a lovely time that day in which we finally, finally got a taste of life in this city.

As we have said from time to time, one reason we retired and moved to Europe was to be able to take advantage of last minute events and exhibitions.

Back in June a little notice floated across our ‘feed’ and we immediately took notice. Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years, July 26 through November 2 at the Royal Scottish Academy in Edinburgh. As a bonus, it coincided with a week when a new friend from the States was going to visit Edinburgh. After 30 seconds of making sure we had time on our calendar, we bought tickets (we didn’t even ask her if she wanted to come, we just got her a ticket). After seeing one of the best exhibits of our lives, we are so glad.

Hailed as a genius, Goldsworthy’s art is ephemeral, site-specific, and transient. He works with leaves, reeds, trees, stones, flowers, and water both flowing and frozen. He is internationally renowned for building, weaving, floating and folding natural materials from leaf to fern, snow to sand and then walking away, letting the installations dissolve back into the land they were built from. He documents his creations in vivid photographs, mapping, inspecting, and recording the everyday wonders of nature.

The Royal Scottish Academy building is an unusual venue for an artist like Goldsworthy. Built in 1826 it has Greek columns and is thoroughly neo-classical in its design. yet, when talking about setting up the exhibition, Goldsworthy simply noted that nature exists everywhere, not just in rural spaces, it doesn’t stop at the city boundary.

For him, the land is raw and he enjoys the hard manual labor of his creations. “The land may look pastoral and picturesque, but it’s a brutal place, the farm a tough place. Sheep make the Scottish landscape.” Thus, the carpet of raw fleece going up the long stairs from the entry and ending at a pair of marble columns wrapped in barbed wire. The fleece is softly inviting, yet closer inspection reveals the dirt and vegetation trapped within the fleece, dotted by the paint used by farmers to note age and final disposition of the sheep. “That wire fence is about the difficulties and obstructions which every artist has to face, especially one that works in the land. But it is also about finding a way through.”

Atop the polished fine oak of the flooring, Goldsworthy piled fallen oak branches, windfall salvaged from Dumfriesshire fields (where he lives), arranged in a dramatic passage you must walk through. “We are bound up in the land. Look at your dining room table. There is a disconnect nowadays between us and the land.”

His most spectacular room installation is of 10,000 reeds or bullrushes suspended from its skylights. Pictures do not convey the sheer grandeur of this installation, provoking a cathedral-like sense of sacred. Using only natural light, reed mace (bullrushes) from Scottish lochs was used to create this curtained chamber that you can step into and feel the light change.

A simple room of stones speaks eloquently of our deepest connection to the earth. The stones are dug out, not under a hedge or around a cow barn, but from grave sites, including that of his wife. “My former wife Judith died in 2008 and when I was visiting her grave, I noticed there was a pile of stones by the cemetery wall. And I discovered they’re found in every cemetery, displaced from digging graves,” he says. “So when a body goes into the earth, there are always some stones left over. There’s an exchange between the body and the land and I thought that was very powerful.” He collected the stones from hundreds of gravesites across the region over nearly three years.

Judith Gregson, a ceramicist from the Potteries, and her father also inspired the wall of cracked red mud in the exhibition, which took 20 people to make and ten days to dry. Like much of his work, it looks effortless, but it is far from it. The catalogues notes that red earth is used by local farmers to mark the sheep and its distinctive color comes from the high iron content of the earth, which we share in our blood. On the wall next to Red Wall are three monitors playing a video of the artist cleaning a rock with the red clay literally bleeding into the stream. A visceral connection of blood, iron, water, and earth. Stunning.

In another room, a video of him “washing” his hands with blackberries links to this imagery.

Nearby, a video of his “Hedge walk” plays. In an interview for The Guardian, he talks about how his performance pieces are uncomfortable because he is not a performer. “They are very personal acts done in an often public place.” Hedge walking is “pretty brutal”, he admits. “I came out of one or two of those feeling pretty beaten up. But what a beautiful thing to do. Swimming through a hedge.” He’s probably retired from hedge walking, however. “You only do them while they are giving you something. The intention of my work has always been to understand my relationship with the land. I don’t go out to improve what is there. But I do feel this need to be a participant, working with it, learning about it. Art has an amazing ability to open your eyes to what’s around you – such as the hedge. Maybe that’s what art is. It just takes you somewhere you’ve never thought of going, whether it’s in the mind or the world.”

I particularly enjoyed the lower gallery area which had many images from his early works, going back to the late 1970s.

All images copyright Lisa McSherry, 2025, except where noted.

A .pdf of the Exhibition Guide is here.

More photos are here, including many taken during the installation, which offer a fascinating glimpse into the process of creation.