Just a quick photo-filled post to finish up last summer’s Spanish trip…
We’re actually in Spain right now, doing the most German of things and holidaying in Mallorca over Christmas … I’m currently sitting in the hostel common room listening to some of our adopted-countrymen chatting away at breakfast… Not a spanish word in ‘sight’. But I still didn’t put up the final (two) installment(s) of our Grand Summer Holiday in Spain. Andy’s face shows his disappointment in my tardiness:
In a good year, Germany seems to me to have an overabundance of public holidays. If I’m really objective about it, they don’t have a whole lot more than in Australia. But they do have more than the stingy university system, which only grants national, but not WA state holidays. But there’s this weird system here, where public holidays are set by date. And when I say ‘weird’ I mean ‘actually totally objectively correct’. But in Aussieland we push everything to the nearest Friday or Monday. Here, if the holiday falls on a Saturday or a Sunday, it’s gone.
Bilbao was all about the Guggenheim.
It’s time for more mountains!
Don’t do what we did. After driving for a few hours, the last stretch of it through windy roads and on the edge of a mountain, we stumbled out of the car and sat down to have lunch. And then we had a little stroll, and a little look at the mountain, and a perused the gift shop. And only at that point did we realise that the queue for the cable car was two hours long. So you know, when you go to Fuente Dé (and you really should go there), go straight to the ticket counter and buy your ticket.
I don’t think I mentioned it yet, but every time I’ve thought of the city of Segovia in the last few months, a certain kind of music has blasted itself triumphantly into my head. ‘Hail, hail Segovia, land of the free and brave!’ I’m not sure where exactly the music comes from, but my faulty memory wants to narrow it down to either The Princess Diaries (hail hail Genovia?), or something from the Marx Brothers. Possibly it’s a combination of the two? Anyway. In my entirely-sane-and-together head, Salamanca doesn’t have a theme song. Which I guess is another point against Salamanca*. (*I don’t know if you’ve heard, but they also don’t have an aqueduct).
I’m gonna take a quick pause in the ‘journey through Tapas-land’ to give a photovoyage of last-last weekend’s journey to Malta.
Segovia is all about that aqueduct. As you come into town (providing I guess, you come from the right direction), you’re hit in the face with its staggering ginormousity. BAM!
Valladolid. Valladolid. Valladolid. It took us three days (plus four years of knowing Mercedes) to work out how to pronounce the name of the city we were in.