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.
Last summer, Andy and I made a trip to the far north, visiting old Australian friends in Sweden, and then travelling with them down to Riga, Latvia. We enjoyed it. Immensely. And decided that we should make a habit of taking a long-ish holiday in the Summer that would allow us to relax while seeing a chunk of some region or another.
I’ve been to Jerusalem once before this trip. Andy and I visited the old city for half a day back in 2013. But I never wrote a post about it. And I’m wondering now if it’s because the old city makes me kind of nervous.