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Seville. The bus trip down from Granada was easy going, undulating hills, good roads and very little traffic.
Seville seemed to be yet another city with wide boulevards, masses of trees, in this case Jacarandas in full bloom and enormous parks, altogether making aimless wandering even more enjoyable.
Finding somewhere to eat is always a challenge in any city, and this was no exception. Tapas bars everywhere but eventually we landed on one, just around the corner from our hotel, and with the bodies recharged, we were ready for tomorrow's bus trip to Ronda, a white washed hill top town.
And hill top it is, but of course there were sites that were at the foot of the hill that required a descent via uneven winding stone steps that just had to be seen. I only hope that I need the same muscle set when we start bike riding as I have been using to date. And speaking of bikes, the ascent to Ronda was at least 20kms of continuous climb, and the reverse on the way down. The descent appeared to be very popular with the local riders, but for some strange reason there was very few seen on the way up, and I can understand why.
The evidence of the Moor's capacity for engineering was once again on full display. The ingenuity of getting the water from the bottom of the gorge up to the old town was astounding given the age when this was all happening. The bath house was another fine example of the advance culture when it came to personal hygiene. The Europeans were still burning people at the stake when all this refined living was going on.
But, it was soon time to get back on the bus and head back to Seville.
Finding a good espresso was not too much a problem, but a cappuccino was something else. Mostly it was a long black with foam topped with cinnamon, not at all up to the Rose St standard one has become accustomed to. But persistence eventually paid off and we found a little hole in the wall where the guy spoke enough English to follow the instructions on how to make a coffee and all was well again.
Seville has the largest gothic cathedral in the world, and it appears to be well supported. There were a couple of religious festivals on when we were there and this consisted of a procession of altar boys, a float or large iconic structure being carried by others, all to the accompaniment of a band of 50 or more brass players and the same number of drummers. The noise was deafening. This was followed by crowds of locals with the whole procession winding its way through the narrow "streets" of the old town.
So that was Seville, and now it's off to Portugal, bus to Faro, then train to Lisbon and with a 10 min change over, another train to Porto.
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