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.)

Sometimes a trip can be the culmination of a life-long dream, or the realization of an important goal. Maybe you win a vacation on the Price is Right. Or, maybe you realize that you have some free night rewards from your credit card that are set to expire and go looking for an interesting place to use them. Yeah, that sounds about our speed right now. We’re still neck deep in a Portuguese-language class that we’re committed to finishing, so we can’t take any long jaunts for now. But 3 nights to use during the Carnival holiday week, that has to be somewhere that isn’t hard to get to from our home airport? That seems just about right. So, where can two people fly to, direct from Porto for about $200, round trip (and have a viable target for our reward nights)? There were several intriguing options but the one that captured our interest was Bordeaux, France. A scant two hour flight, plus you know.. France!

[Note: we’re sort of catching back up after a very busy few months, so this isn’t exactly what you’d call “timely”, and probably a little truncated. Still, hi!]

As anticipated, the trip itself was easy-peasy. I hate to admit it but we have succumbed, over time, to Ryanair’s charms and must admit that they know their business very well – they find the balance point between how much savings they have to offer in order to inflict the maximum amount of pain. They’re good at it; we like almost nothing about any part of traveling with them but we keep doing it because they go where we want at a price we can tolerate. Anyway… Braga to Bordeaux, via Porto, was no trouble, and our hotel was nicely located in the center of town. For all that Bordeaux is a lovely city it is not a brutally expensive one, nor is it overrun with tourists… at least not in February.

So, what does one do in Bordeaux in winter? First – freeze your tuchus off. We’re always so proud of ourselves for traveling in the off times – fewer crowds, lower prices – but it’s good to remember why the off times are the off times. However, a nice coat and a good pair of gloves and Robert is your father’s brother. OTHER than chatter our teeth, we took in the sites, both on our own and, once, with a lovely tour guide, Galia Emilova of Bordeaux Grape Colors. She took us around to the Cathedral (you’re in Europe, there’s a cathedral somewhere in town), various places of local importance, and then, as stipulated in the city charter, a wine bar for a tasting of the local fare. We actually did learn some things; most of what stuck was how you knew how rigorous a wine has adhered to the guidelines by exactly how it is described. A wine that has played fast and loose with the structures may not even be able to claim the region as its home except circumspectly. Ah, the French. (Don’t let the sparseness of our words fool you, Galia was fantastic. Especially recommended if you are interested in wine; she knows her stuff.)

The most interesting thing we did in Bordeaux, and probably the reason that we chose it as our quick-trip destination, was the Bassins des Lumieres, which is a converted World War II submarine base in which immersive light-and-sound shows take place. If you’ve ever been to one of these new-fangled “Van Gogh experience” type things, it’s like that. Video projected on walls, floors, and ceilings, while music and narration plays. What’s fascinating about the Bassins is that the submarine pens are still very much there; you’re in a cavernous super-warehouse type structure, with massive trenches of water spaced throughout. It provides a unique experience even before factoring in the light show. I mean, I guess; maybe there’s dozens of these things but I don’t think so. There were two installations when we were there; one featuring the work of Henri Matisse, and the other showcasing the work of Frida Kahlo. Her work in particular made for a trippy presentation when projected onto forty foot walls. The digital manipulation of the elements in each painting are, perhaps, not entirely respectful (or at least not as reverential as one might hope) but it’s unarguably cool.

It was a quick trip and we could only fit a little bit in, but it was well worth it. Naturally the food was scrum-diddly-umptuous. Our first meal was dinner at Le Regallien. Classic French, superbly prepared. Lunch the next day, at our guide’s recommendation was at Le Comptoir St. Andre. A simple menu, heavily focused on wines and the food that easily pairs with them. Excellent.

The city itself was fascinating; in learning about the history we found out about the affects of the industrial revolution on the porous limestone that much of the central buildings were built out of. Specifically, how they were nearly tar-black from all of the soot soaking into the rock. Until a municipal cleaning project that happened not too long ago Bordeaux looked like something out of a dark fantasy novel. Happily for them (but boring for recent tourists, ahem) the place has been almost entirely cleaned up. Not that we aren’t happy for Bordeauxians, of course. Still… a good trip and well worth the time.

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.

We can occasionally be guilty of stereotyping countries. Greece is for history (and food). France is for art (and food). Italy… honestly is principally the food (but the art isn’t bad either). It’s not actually true of course, every place has everything if you look around a bit. Spain was a bit of a wildcard for us because we had very few preconceived notions, although our general sense was “mix of castle-y history + tapas.” One of our itches that wasn’t being scratched was deep, ancient history. Whether we’re in Portugal, Ireland, or…. well, anywhere, we love a chance to poke around an old cairn or solar calendar made of stones. So, when Lisa happened on a little-noted megalithic archeological site when she was plotting our route back from Seville we figured “what the heck!” and added it to our drive back to Seville. Little did we know what we had in store for us.

The marker on the map just said “dolmens.” The picture that popped up was really cool, and that was enough to hook us in. What it turned out to be is a UNESCO World Heritage site called the Dolmen de Menga. (A single name covers three separate spaces.) We knew we were getting more than we bargained for just from the parking lot. If you’ve been following along on our adventures (or just been on your own) you know that parking at these sites typically ranges from “pull off on the side of the road” to “dirt patch next to a gate in a cattle fence”. This parking lot, however, was paved and striped, with two aisles that could handle probably 40 cars in all. What the heck? Then there was the interpretive center, very modern, with a water feature and statuary. This is not normal. The center was spacious, clean, and informative. There was even a 10-ish minute movie with recreations of how this site was constructed. It was as fascinating as it was surprising. So just what is this place?

All three subterranean spaces are carefully restored, which sometimes gets up our noses (mostly John’s) but we’re getting more chill about this, especially when great attention has been paid to a) highlight what’s new and what’s original, and b) the new bits blend as seamlessly as possible. Check on both counts here. The Dolmen of Menga is the largest known megalithic structure in Europe and orients (unusually) to the striking nearby peak, shaped like the head of a sleeping man. (It’s uncanny how clear that likeness still is after literally 1000s of years. There are a lot of mountains that we’ve been told look like faces, but this one was striking.) The Dolmen de Viera orients to the Spring and Autumn Equinoxes. Both are from about 3500 BCE. The nearby Tholos de El Romeral is newer (1800 BCE) and has a distinct orientation to the winter solstice (which we could easily see at this time of year).

As always we were struck by the implied importance of these sites. The construction almost certainly spread across lifetimes; the people who conceived the work didn’t live to see it finished, and had to know that was the case. (Funerals are the earliest ceremonies we have evidence for anywhere. Death wasn’t catching these people by surprise. I mean, maybe a mountain lion or something, but in general.) The whole complex was a great surprise to stumble over; we’d suggest you go on purpose.

Not that Seville couldn’t hold our attention, but there was at least one additional stop on our itinerary for Spain, which needed a rental car. Since she was a little girl and first heard about it, Lisa has always wanted to see the Alhambra, an iconic piece of Spanish and Islamic history, part architectural feast and part historical treasure trove. There was no way we could this close to this palace complex and not pay it a visit… assuming we survived the drive.

Truth be told the driving wasn’t that bad. From Seville the drive to Granada is essentially all on major highways, well-groomed and -maintained roads that provided few obstacles. It was in the last few kilometers, well into the actual environs of Granada, that things got dicey. As has been mentioned before, Americans have to come to grips with the fact that, on the whole, Europeans don’t knock stuff down just because they want to build something newer. If there’s anything like eminent domain land acquisition we’ve seen no evidence of it. As a result, in “historical” areas the roads you’re on are probably similar to if not identical to the roads that were in place two hundred years prior to accommodate donkey traffic. Out in the countryside this makes for a hassle, with lay-bys and backtracking part of the daily commute. In any size town it becomes much more precarious – your typical one-lane, bi-directional road is hemmed in by stone houses that hug hairpin turns. Granada had this on steroids. It may not be unique but it was the first time we had a traffic light just to get you safely around a 160-degree turn featuring bi-directional traffic up and down a steep hill on barely one lane. Eep!

Wisely, if we do say so ourselves, we parked as soon as was humanly possible and stuck to public transit while we were there. For such a little area (the “old town” that is) there was actually a robust transit network, featuring numerous little 14-person (give or take) buses. Probably there’s a lot to see in old town Granada, but we were there for basically one day and our agenda was simple: the castle/fortress known as the Alhambra.

So just what is this Alhambra thingie? Boiled down, it’s a large complex of buildings most of which are enclosed in defensive walls (along with some of the inevitable “out buildings” that grew up outside the fortifications.) The attraction lies in the history of the place (something was situated at this location since the 9th century; the “proper” fortress began in the early 1200s) and the beauty of the place. Islamic rulers were in no way inferior to Christian ones when it came to expense and grandeur in their homes. The biggest difference is a matter of subject matter, or the lack thereof; Islamic art does not depict the human form in most (all?) circumstances, and so the artistic ornaments tend to be in patterns and elaborately rendered text.

You don’t just “go to the palace” like in some places you may have been. Visiting the Alhambra is (or should be) an all-day affair, with numerous buildings worth poking around in. We had the luxury of an incredibly knowledgeable tour guide and still feel sure there’s another day’s-worth of exploration left for us on a future visit. Not only that, but we were there in late-December for pete’s sake; the gardens of the Alhambra are renowned for their beauty, and we saw almost none of that on display. (Why go around New Year’s? We had the time off from class, short answer.)

One of John’s favorite bits was the “Court of the Lions”, a courtyard within one of the central buildings and so-called because of a huge fountain resting on the backs of twelve encircled lions. The history of the Alhambra is extensively recorded, from architects to rulers, how it was funded, maintained, and expanded… practically everything is memorialized. And, nobody has a clue what’s up with this fountain. Not what it was originally called, not what it’s doing there, or what it may symbolize. For all we know, one of the rulers just thought it looked cool. Which, to be fair, it totally does.

Our time at the Alhambra essentially consumed our entire stay in Granada; we were out the next day to get back to Seville. Honestly if we’d known we’d have given it another day, and it’s definitely earmarked for a return trip when we’re next in the region.

Seville may be known for its oranges, but today it offered us lemons. We were supposed to go on a tour of the Royal Alcazar of Seville but it was booked solid – this news only came after we discovered a mix-up in the tickets we already had. John even got up early and stood in line (pro tip: they hold back several hundred tickets each day and offer them on a first-come basis) with no luck. (Second pro-tip, get in line SEVERAL hours prior to opening if you really truly want to go and can’t buy tickets online.) Plan A was in the trash; fortunately a city like Seville is a target-rich environment for exploration.

Our intrepid guide, who had been booked specifically to guide us through the palace, was light on her feet and offered instead to take us to the Palacio de las Dueñas, which we think was probably a better experience anyway. Also known as the House of Alba, the Palacio holds a literal wealth of treasures of one of the oldest noble families of Spain. Las Dueñas, literally “the nuns” and so-named because in the 1200s a monastery of nuns (which I was sure would have a different name than “monastery” but apparently not), who cared for the members of the noble Pineda family, was itself started in the 1500s. The residence was sold to the House of Alba to ransom a family member captured by Moors in 1612. During the 19th century the building was reinvented as a tenement house and finally became a family residence in the 20th century.

The famous poet Antonio Machado was born here in 1875, and writes of his life, “My childhood is memories of a Seville courtyard, and a clear orchard where the lemon tree ripens…” (Campos de Castilla (1912), and “It is this light of Seville… It is the palace where I was born, with its murmuring fountain” Nuevas Canciones (1924).

The ground floor was opened to the public in 2015, with the upper floor remaining the private residence of the Duke of Alba. Upon entering we found ourselves in the main courtyard, a great example of a typical Andalusian courtyard with a tiled fountain and white marble columns from the 16th century, decorated with 20th century cimacios (curve s-shaped molding), as well as the plasterwork arches on the upper floor from the 15th century. The main hall features a fantastic coffered ceiling of carved wood.

The marvelous aspect of this place is that it is a living residence, albeit grand. There are several rooms decorated with items related to the owners’ passions: predominantly bull-fighting, reading, and flamenco. It offers a rare combination between the majesty of the building itself, with its courtyards and gardens, and the attractiveness of its collection formed by a selection of paintings, sculptures, tapestries, furniture and antique objects of high historical and artistic interest. For not being able to see what we had planned, the day turned out pretty great.

More than just passionate dancing, Flamenco dance and music are deeply rooted in Spanish culture, blending music, movement, and storytelling. Granted, those roots dig down into some uncomfortable soil, including the typical (in Europe at least) anti-Roma sentiment and a general sense that it was a lewd art form unfit for performance in polite society. Well, we aren’t all that polite, and for many people Seville is the home, the birthplace, of Flamenco. (Although in more than one city we were told “you have to see Flamenco here; Seville says they are the home of it, but actually it’s <the city we’re in>.”) Well, we had migrated to Seville from Madrid for the second “home base” of our trip, so there was no way we weren’t going to give it a try.

We got into our hotel in Seville without difficulty; the Triana House Hotel is cleverly named, being in the Triana neighborhood as it is. You’d think we were in a pedestrian-only zone from the width of the streets but nope! You squeeze to one side and the oncoming car squeezes to the other and avoid taking any deep breaths. The hotel itself is probably one of the quirkier ones we’ve ever been in that wasn’t annoying in its quirkiness. Sometimes these kinds of places are just too invested in being so very very, but Triana House was cozy and the staff was incredibly solicitous.

The historic center of Seville manages to maintain more of its character than Madrid, if for no other reason than that Madrid is more of metropolitan city; tourism is certainly a major industry there, but it’s not the only thing going on. Seville definitely feels like it relies on tourism, if not to the extent of, say, Venice. Still, we were there to be tourists so having a handy “tourist central” area was efficient if nothing else.

Our first evening, however, was indeed dominated by dinner-and-a-show at El Patio Sevillano. (“Patio” seems to be the colloquial term for places where flamenco performances occur, probably because they originated as peasant gatherings out on… you know, patios. Now, you’ll see very elaborate, beautiful establishments that still call themselves “patio something or other”. ) To get this out of the way up front: we had a fine time, but are pretty sure that there are better versions of this entertainment in town elsewhere.

The performance hall at El Patio Sevillano is huge. Enormous. Probably seating for 150-200 on the main floor, with a balcony level ringing the space on three sides. There’s general seating in the central area, and underneath the hang of the balcony is where the dining seating is placed. Here’s the thing – we were there with many 20 other people in total, and only 2 other tables of diners (out of maybe 15 or so total available). Photos online seem to indicate that they configure their space in various ways (more or less tables or whatnot). IWe’re not sure if it was just a bad time of year or if word had gotten around, but there was a kind of cavernous quality to the sound, which was half live and half piped in.

Despite the seeming focus on the dancer, the heart of flamenco is the cante, the singing. Original flamenco was comprised purely of singing and hand clapping. Flamenco musicians improvise to match the emotions of the singer by finger snapping, hand clapping, and shouting. (Guitar wasn’t regularly incorporated into the performance until the 19th century.) The performers this night were giving it their all, and it seemed like a lot of talent was on display. The show was maybe 90 minutes long, broken into a 8 or so vignettes, mixing and matching from an ensemble of 7 or 8 dancers (there were a lot of costume changes, maybe we lost track of who was who). The live music was definitely the superior performance choice; the guitarists and the singers were all on point. All in all, we enjoyed the show and are glad to have seen it, but it’s not likely that we will seek this venue out again when we return to Seville some day.

Oh. Forgot to mention dinner…. yeah, that about sums it up. In any case, the evening was far from a failure, it just wasn’t (we imagine) an exemplary show for its type. Nevertheless, our appetites were prepped for a full day of exploring the city.

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.

Our next day in Madrid broke sunny and cold. Really this whole first part of our trip was marked by pretty low temperatures compunded by frequent, stiff breezes. We weren’t letting that stop us (although John at least had to screw his courage up before stepping out; Lisa has always handled the cold weather better). Off we went to one of the must-sees of Madrid: the Royal Palace, official residence of the King and Queen of Spain and one of the largest palaces in Western Europe. It’s pretty amazing, evoking Versailles, Belenheim, and the Grand Opera of Paris.

(Warning this is a graphic heavy post.)

After a security scan, we walked through what was once the carriage entrance and into the central courtyard.

The main hall is imposing, although if you look at the picture below you’ll see something strange. The two figures, one on either side of the window, seemed to have been added later than the original decorations and it is… not done well. Our best guess is that some descendant of the originators of the Palace wanted to bring the feel of the fresco on the ceiling down into the room, but the painting was done on the existing surfaces, which had those same textures you can see in the otherwise-exposed bits. There’s no way that the artists assigned to the task had to bite their tongues and do as they were bidden, because this is in line with no thinking person’s aesthetic.

But it’s the Throne Room that takes your breath away with it’s ceiling mural giving the illusion of opening into the blue sky and heavens.

Each corner boasts a gilded bas relief and painted scene corresponding to each of the four seasons.

A gilded railing illusion runs around the room, giving the sense of characters — mythological and historical, peeping in and keeping an eye on the goings on. It’s really one of the more astonishing effects we’ve seen in these sorts of places; not just the beauty of it but the precision of the layout, having the railing affect going in front of some images and behind others, and it’s not just paint there’s a texture to it with plaster or something. Truly amazing.

Unsurprisingly, the Royal Palace is filled with magnificent treasures from the 17th century onward.

I especially enjoyed the crystal chandeliers, each unique in size and shape.

Several rooms were particularly special because of the quality of the craftsmanship. One was the Porcelain Room, made up of 100s of hand cast porcelain figures mounted on wood panels and fitted so carefully that it looks seamless. This and one other room in another royal residence outside of the city are the only examples of these all-porcelain rooms, considered the masterpieces of the porcelain studios of the era. When you see it, you can’t help but agree.

It is a truly opulent and beautiful place. We enjoyed ourselves greatly.

It being Christmas Eve, the city was closing down pretty quickly. We made a grocery run to lay in supplies of grapes, apples, juice, and (of course) some wine. With room service rounding out our gatherings by bringing us hummus, pumpkin soup with soft shell crab tempura and a chicken caesar salad, we felt well feasted.

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!)