Popping over to France for a bit

A bad nights sleep, being bloated from the Swiss fare, silly bedding and non-blogger had the creaking bed as Interlaken went quiet apart from the trains rolling though it and the church bells duly reminding everyone on the half hour how clever the Swiss are at keeping time.

As the paragliding fraternity got going again after yesterday's weather farce we took two trains to get to the next destination. The first half of the first one was ridiculously overcrowded with a plethora of tourists leaving town for thr nearest airport (Bern). May thier haldrons collide. We had a real juggle, first earning and then protecting our reserved seats as well as the luggage as there wasn't anywhere to store it. One bag left by itself downstairs and the other on bloggers lap. The second half was much better. The Swiss are annoying in that they refuse to adopt the Euro but at least they make announcements in both local and English dialects. A very well co-ordinated by team work at the huge and complex station at Besel saw us on the next juggernaut in plenty of time, tinkels had on the way (a bargain at $2.58 AUD per pee) and found a nice table in which we could enjoy  yesterday's left over sushi that had been sitting in the fridge all night (aka outside the hotel window). So whilst the French are obviously still stuck up about admitting to able to be speaking the world's common language, their trains run a heap faster. Pity they don't clean the windowss occasionally. Luckily we had headed all the way down the to far end of the platform so it's not so crowded. Leaving the Alps to their mist covered peaks and dreary fog filled valleys we streaked into the bright sunshine,  though the dried out corn fields and shot into Strasbourg. It's a busy place. Many peeps moving around for every reason possible. Didn't actually ask anyone why they were doing so just assuming they all have their own purpose in life and it's not all staged aka Truman style.

Thanks to our handy location devices we trundled the cases over yet more footpaths specificly designed to tell everyone in the vicinity that there are tourists on the move. The clackity clack of the heavily laden casters adding to the cacophony of noises in the 10 storied high canyons of shop front ground floors and living areas above that look remarkably like Barcelona, and Paris, and.... probably most of Europe's olde city centre's. The hotel room this time is really good. We've become attuned to judging an abode by the smell when you first open the door (unlike home which is known to reek of dog) and this was a nice uplift of recent ones. Well layed out. Loo in a separate space helps, but more importantly it has a mini kitchen. Breaky sorted. Having some spare time before we caught up the first and foremost priority was a siesta. Magnifique.

In order to shake off the post meditation blur, headed off into town had a nachos from a automated chain store that managed to destroy two articles of clothing before ending up wandering around the very impressive cathedral. It has a very cool clock which does things like Gog and Magog do in Melbourne (it's amazing sometimes how much Aussie ingenuity is replicated around the world). It was good to see they'd actually finished this temple - the detail on the outside one suspects Guadi got his inspiration from. i.l.o. hundreds of individual people of religious relevance  (here) he went with nature depictions as well (there). Same level of complexity in the stone carving effort.

Back to our room to meet Joanne and Simon who'd just flown in from the UK where they'd spent a couple of weeks with Simon's Mum, and are joining us in the middle of their extended trip away from home (which is Nothcote). So the current count is two Aussies, one Kiwi and one Pom.

A nice catch up ensued outside the hotel on tables invading the sort of road out the front (great to see human carelessness creating a situation where restaurant billboards are being pushed aside by cars trying to squeeze past lazy delivery vans) as the trying to be warm sun headed it's way towards the idiots on the other side of the Atlantic. They were only part of the conversation though.

We were given a recommendation for dinner by our concierge which was followed up on and worked really well.

A popular restaurant which delivers authentic Alsace fare at reasonable prices. This blogger tried to ask directions to the twalette'? and was told "don't bother mate, it's down those stairs". At least I tried.

Merci is now in vogue. Bonjoure and Bonswar will quicky be adopted, thinking that the toilet question may take some more practice though. Here for two weeks though, so plenty of time.

Dinner was good. We all stopped by and raided a supermarket to stock up on the way home and had a pleasant debrief in the J&S room before retiring to our own pad.

Silly bedding here as well. Have not these people ever considered sheets on bed?. As there is no aircon either, maybe the French are so slim because they spend all night sweating off their excess fat underneath hot doonas. Found that hypothesis unlikely, so went and found the hotel linen cupboard and some sheets. That was easy here. Impossible in Switzerland.

Winter in Interlaken

Most of the time we are lucky travellers. Things tend to work out ok. Often it's due to making your own luck by (say) detailed planning, having contingencies, asking questions or for help when needed. Today was not that sort of a day. We'd booked this event months in advance, paid an over the top amount to secure tickets (which ended up being a full blown day tour) and the one day in a fortnight that winter arrived in these parts. The glacial peaks in the distance totally wiped away from view due to the driving rain which turned into drizzle. Thought we were catching series of trains all the way up but as it transpired the first leg was via a coach. So we waited about an hour before that got under way. Our guide was hopeful that the weather would clear for us. That's his job after all (being positive) So it was bus up the winding steep valley to Grindelward where we left some compatriots on the bus along with our umbrellas and hopped in cable car which tracks up in front of the Eiger.

Yes. The one in the movie. Apparently it's really impressive on a clear day. It was quite a ride with majestic scenery visible behind huge glass windows very well designed perform that task. The rain beading on the glass was enough to stop the cameras getting a clear shot. At the top of the chair lift there is a transfer station to the next train. Here they have included an outside viewing area which is so close to the hanging glacier one can almost touch it..Pity we couldn't actually see it as we had now climbed high enough to be in the clouds. The next train is all inside a tunnel and considering it's a cog railway it really got some serious speed up. Took a good 20 mins as well, with a short 5min stop on the way to grab a quick picture through a blurry window of a crack in a glacier slightly showing through a white haze of fog and snow - exciting stuff. And then we finally got up to the top of Europe - Jungfraujoch. Impossible to spell.  Impossible to pronounce. Impossible to see anything.... beyond a large dark rock face looming out of the fog. It feels like we're up high because we're slightly out of breath. Also it's a tad cool at -2c out there. So hanging around outside on the viewing deck waiting for the fog to blow away is not really an option.

From an engineering perspective, this place is up there with the best. They picked on a rocky outcrop as high as possible, tunneled through the heart of the mountains to put efficient trains to a multi-line station and then on top of that created a multi-level rabbit warren throughout, with it would seem to be the aim of creating another theme park type environment where the hordes happily hand over their hard earned in order to take selfies to show off to their followers that they've done all that. In this case the experience is a little more profound than the scenic railway in San Sebastian. For most of us this will be the highest we'll ever get standing on solid ground. 3463 meters is a bit more than what we can achieve back home. 2228 may seem up there, sort of   but it ain't when you can stroll up there via boardwalk in summer.

Around this particular fun park they've put in a 360 degree cinema (no seats) a very kish kiddies light display, a series of tunnels hollowed through ice and the inevitable Lindt chocolate shops, Omega watch stands and a variety of food distribution places. And of course gift shops. Lots of 'em. We had about 2 & 1/2 hours to kill hanging around whilst the weather set in, hoping for a break to at least show something. Spent most of slowly sipping on a coffee whilst playing on our devices.

With 35 mins before our exit time, took the punt, headed back into the tunnels pushing around slow moving groups, back up the lift and onto the deck just as a break in stew opened up revealing the glacier and some of the surrounding hills. Now that was cool. Could even see a small hole in the clouds all the way down to town. There was a lot of excitement around the deck as people were getting some return, the wind had also picked up so the chill factor was considerable, so grabbed some quick picks and hightailed it back to the station portal and joined our group for the journey back down to the valley floor.

This took 3 trains and a bus. The cog trains go down much slower than up and wound their way through extremely picturesque classical Swiss mountain landscapes. Most of it still obscured by clouds, fog and occasional rain. Seriously classical glacial carved valleys with extraordinary steep cliffs that would swallow Mt. Dandenong in a gulp briefly exposing their majesty before disappearing again. When finally disembarking the bus and walking back to the hotel it was another brollies up time. All in all an extra two days on the trip in order to chase a bucket list item than can be ticked off, but could've been much better if we hadn't have hit the worst weather day either side of a week. The ultimate judgement of value will come from the quality of the videos.

Reasonably stonkered, after a quick refresh headed out for some traditional Swiss fare - fondue for starters and then pasta and risotto for mains. Well yes... ok they are Italian, however schnitzel gruebens weren't on offer and we hadn't actually hunted down a place that had musicians playing cowbells whilst wearing lederhosen. Too much food and way too expensive. The second is a serious consideration for not returning to the country, whilst the alps are spectacular and worthy of further exploration on clear days and could be considered priceless,  not sure thats why the term was coined. Still good fun though. Tomorrow a new phase of this journey kicks off. Posts may become erratic.

Summer in Interlaken

 Another pressure day of travel, interchanges and the associated stresses of needing everyone and everything in this modern world of ours to work seamlessly, otherwise it all falls apart. Early breakfast in the hotel was the shortest leg as the dining room was 2 steps away from our smelly room. There was a common theme in all Spanish hotels in that they really should spend the effort to flush their pipes occasionally. There's definitely a market for Buildings Colonoscopy services here. The complex drive back to Bilbao AP was seamless, thanks to Waze. It's still steamy and foggy here with some very impressive nearby hills obscured by it all. Bilbao is a destination all by itself which we are completely ignoring in order to ride a small cog railway elsewhere. So the Guggenheim remains unseen and unsighted, poor thing.

Last stop in Spain and we finally get a decent coffee and tea at the AP. Has something to do with knowing the key words apparently. The SwissAir hop to Zurich AP was a nice plane and we got free food. Not bad for an hour in the air. All our previous flights this trip have had screaming kids, this one was replaced with a nonstop cougher sitting right behind us. If we catch it we'll know where it came from.

The stress of plane to train was totally unfounded as the second is placed directly underneath the first. See...this is how efficient airports are designed, built and run. Once again it drives home how backwards our little home town is. For the connecting train your Blogger had astutely reserved seats, unbeknownst it was in the "family" carriage, which has a really cool playground to keep the little tykes amused. Yes, on a train, they have a kids playground. Return of the screaming children. Seems that no matter how much lattitude you give 'em  it will always end up in tantrums. We weren't that concerned by the whole situation, was pretty funny actually, however can guarantee the captured video of the passing country will have the audio removed. Some got off at Bern (yay), and were promtly replaced with a couple more who could only communicate by screaming (boo).  The very fast double decker beast in which we were in then headed to Interlaken and the majestic Alps came into view. Prior to this, Switzerland looks like any other modern country (suburbs, roads, rivers, well tamed countryside etc. etc.), now we could start to see what all the fuss is about.

Up the higher reaches one can actually see glaciers, from down below, from the train. Back home you may see a snow capped mountain in the distance in winter. Here at the end of summer (it was 31degrees here in the valley below today) up there it's so cold everything is still frozen, and you can see it. It's wierd because it looks so close, but it can't be. Seriously high mountains. No wonder no-one could ever invade this country, the hills are simply too high to sneak around the back and hit 'em from behind.
The views from the VFDD beast as it wound its way along the shoreline of the vast lake were fabulous. Locals were sunning themselves on waters edge, some were swimming in it, and upon arrival the sky was full of paragliders gliders, slowly riding the warm updrafts created by the valley below and the sheer cliffs surrounding them, eventually circling their way down to softly touch on the grassy field next to the olde town.
So it was a beautiful warm balmy afternoon, with the threat of thunderstorms looming no-one seemed too concerned.
After a wander around town, soaking up all this ambiance, whilst trying to stop automatically using Spanish polite words (e.g. saying "grassyarse" here could possibly be taken as an insult...even if close to the truth) we briefly parted ways so blogger could go back to the room and remotely capture the stormy sunset whilst non-blogger secured and held down a table under an umbrella outside one of the many restaurants. Good food at exorbitant prices. Not unexpected though as this really is upper first world civilization. i.e. they have nuclear power, a haldron collider, their own currency in the middle of the EU whilst holding all of the world's wealth in banks thst no-one can touch because they also provide security at the Vatican. They also serve nice free rolls on their national airline. It's the little things that count in the end.

Our room is on the fourth floor of an establishment that was probably the high end of luxury back in the 1920's. Whilst some modifications have been undertaken since (e.g. electrical power outlets in the rooms and a moden lift to get to them) pretty much everything else is the same. It's a good quality towel that can continue to be reused after all that time..
So there you have it... Interlaken, surrounded by volumous peaks, glacial coloured waters running through the heart of it and a whole lot of people from all over the world sharing the ambiance with the locals on a warm, autumn day.
What could possibly go wrong.

Last free day

A somber greyness covered the town this morning with the distant Pyrenees mountains covered in a misty shroud which rolled down and filled the nearby valleys as well..combined with a warm sea mist coming in from the Bay of Biscay the chance of capturing a good sunrise on the gopro was well and truly lost.

Your friendly blogger got up early and drove up to the lookout to give it a go anyway. As it transpired nothing much happened except the whole scene got a bit brighter. Given the tenuous position of the rig sitting on an impossible to scale rock wall and an increasing breeze threatening to cast it over, the mission was abandoned half way through. Took a wrong turn going home and ended up driving through the heart of the town to be back in bed before non-blogger had woken up.

After breaky at the hotel we jumped on a couple of hire bikes and peddled through the town around the beach to drop the bikes at a bike station (confusion reigned for a while as there were no spare portals) and continued walking to the base of the same hill as earlier. This time we caught the Funicular up to the top. It seems very popular so there was 20 minute stand in line inside a large concrete hall next to a smelly black lab. Yes Spain is so relaxed they let dogs onto feneculars.
Sprawling over the top of the hill is a tacky theme park which luckily was not overcrowded. Seems mostly aimed at primary school age and schools in so they weren't there. Non-Blogger suggested we go on the roller-coaster which we did and was a definite life highlight..... not really. Luckily capturing the 90 seconds on video will ensure it's never forgotten. Must've been really scary for some peeps behind us as they kept screaming.
After that adrenaline raising experience (the screams not the ride) we headed back down the funicular to collect two new bikes only to discover one of the previous ones hadn't docked properly and we'd been paying for it the whole time. So we traipsed back to the last station found the bike and realized the dock was broken, so docked it in another spot but the app wouldn't let us get another one. Bugger, so we ended up walking all the way back around the bay to the old town, luckily we were in no hurry. A spot of lunch "pintxos style" and we parted our ways. Non-Blogger went shopping whilst the other treddled back home go do the laundry. In the corporate world this is called separation of duties. Good timing as the laundromat was empty when he arrived and they were queuing up as he left.

More  insights as to how the locals live their lives in their apartment towers with the squares in the middle where the small tackers run around with glee kicking balls and playing on the same equipment that's in kids playgrounds all over. Teenagers sulk around sneaking noshes when the folks aren't looking and the grey older ones sit on plastic chairs at the ground floor cafés, smoking cigarettes and watching their world go by. The local real estate agents window reveals that one can buy into this hedonistic lifestyle for a cool 640k euros (3 bedrooms). So thats AU $1million to bring up your family in a shoebox (can be seen as in the middle of two roads if you like) ... and kids today reckon they have it hard..
So now set for the next stage of this adventure with all smalls cleaned and ready for action. In the meanwhilist (during the meanwhilst?) we had one more stint in Spain to endure. This involved using the all-now-familiar bike riding app to locate two treddlies to take us back to town. This service is an amazing addition to the ambiance and general functionality of the town, whilst there are flaws in the system (e.g. the previous not-docking-properly-due-to-a-faulty-dock experience costing us the equivalent of a whole new set of bike wheels) it enables the locals to pop hither and tither at a moments notice with ease. No helmets makes it so much easier, and pleasant. So whilst some backwards democratic countries decide to ban these things and/or the local idiots think it's a great idea to throw them in the river, modern forward thinking countries embrace them.
We rode our two clackety iron stallions along the riverside with the overhead green canopy providing a colourful aura in what was still basically a grey day. Nice and warm though. Monday afternoon, all the locals are thinking about getting home to their families. Not so in the old town where all the tourists go to throw around their dosh and soak up the ambiance that in doing so one creates. This is the principle that founded the town in the first place and they've perfected the art since. By now the rowing local hordes had had their fun and taken their boats, their fans and their hangovers home to leave the town to all the other tourists who come to experience the local culture.
Speaking of which, your two current protagonists in this blog had decided that last night in Spain should include a seriously good paella. So we tracked down our previously booked restaurant (it's a complicated place..all the streets look the same) and was dragged downstairs into their salubrious quiet dining area where all the patrons have to talk quietly for fear of others actually of overhearing what you're saying (upstairs on ground level the entire town is a cacophony of noise - so this was a stark difference). 

The next table of 4 (older than us) all ordered steak and chips. They had strange accents. Non-Blogger couldn't pick it (and she's proficient at this). This here blogger was astounded that you can travel all the way to another country and consume fare that any steakhouse around the world can serve.
Could feel all eight eyes wide staring at us as the extremely impressive paella landed on our table. Now that's how to soak up the local culture. Aussies showing the way.
As it transpired they were from Norway and so an interesting conversation about touring in our respective countries and we have a lead (a similar conversation in Seville had us landing in Cadiz a few years later, who knows...apart from snuffed parrots pining for the fjords there is distinct desire to check out Slartibartfast's work. So we'll see what happens there). The paella was fabulous. Cost us a fortune but you get that sometimes You get a picture for free.
We chose to bike home. The 2kms walk which had previously proven to be stressful was amazingly easy on wheels. The warm breeze flowing through your hair in the well (yet subtly) lit bike paths sent Non-Blogger into a speed frenzy as she soaked up the experience and took them all on. Not that there was anyone to take on, but it was difficult to keep up. If this is Europe personified then we're all in.

A look at San Sebastian

Our room in the hotel is wierdly located in that to get to it we need to traverse the breakfast area. Realised later on in the day that if we leave the room door open in order to vent the musty smell (suspect it's due to water sitting underneath the floating floor in the bathroom) everyone in the common eating area can see right in. Luxury San Sebastian style. Still, they pitch themselves as eccelectic so there you go.

We had a 10 am appointment with the walking tour and a 25min walk into town to get there so it was comfortable start to the day. Was hoping to stop at a shop to grab some replacement sunscreen as this here bloggers snosh is glowing and needs protection.

Unfortunately being Sunday morning nothing was open. We did manage to get some later at an exorbitant price in the heart of the old town. The price of protection in the modern world...The tour ( as always) was great. Got some insights into the history and culture of the place. It's remarkably different from the rest of Spain we've seen to date. E.g. it's history resonates from being a luxury hideaway for the monarchy. No mention of the Roman's or the Moores marauding through here, setting up shop and marketing gourds as a commodity before some other race comes through on a crusade pushing scones and jam as the go to. This local sitting on the byways of oceanic routes was populated by the Basque's who were doing very nicely with their own little fiefdoms and thus cultures defined by the mountainous ridges with the only real way of getting from one to another was via the sea. Nowadays they have tunnels carved though them (80kms per hour please) which annoyingly means people have to seriously get along.
So the towns history is one of the hierarchy wanting to spend time here and whilst it's built to olde' worlde' charm it's a bit of a farce as compared to the southern cities. Apparently it's been totally burnt down a few times (some French architect came up with the idea of houses made of sandstone i.l.o wood and they're still here...whoa..three little pigs thinking there.) through various battles and wars etc.They sided with the Germans in WW2 (only because the dude in power at the time was more right than left - hey Pauline ..lest we forget) and got away with it by only sacrificing a small amount of useless locals to that cause.

They've had their revolutions and the locals still want independence, even though they sort of have it financially anyway (all state taxes, that are then passed on to the feds). Our guide didn't really want to be drawn into the whole debate, however his attitude resonated
.. One country (get along), one continent (get along), one world (get along), one solar system (get along)...etc.
So they have an old town, built in place of one that had battlements, a newer town built in the 1950s ( thus validating  the previous comment about the Carlton tower blocks) and the Gross area. Which apparently used to be really so and one expects that's where the term originally came from. Nowadays it's full of surfing yuppies and is actually quite pleasant. So it's now the Abbotsford/Cliton Hill/Northcote vibe part of town ...with a beach. Unfortunately they let a minimalist architect build a couple of large square blocks on prominent location called them Cubes and then let everyone argue about their artistic relevance.
We managed to hit town at exactly the same time as a multitude of locals from the surrounding area for the rowing regatta.
Woo whoo. 4 days of trails and tribulations as they group wise paddle furiously out to sea, turn around and head back into the harbour, followed by a flotilla of powered vessels and watched by tens of thousands around the shores and adorning cliffs and many more on TV (as the broadcast vans are there). The notion if a couple of Aussie tourists having a quiet stroll around a quaint seaside Spanish town was quickly squashed. The place was heaving.
After the walking tour, blogger dragged non-blogger around the promotory looking for a good slow TV capture point and was disappointed to find out ( yet again) it's all inaccessible until after sunrise.

Went down to the main beach where non-blogger walked through the crowds to test the temp of the water. Wasn't inspired enough to make the effort to return (especially without shade as by now the sun was beating down).
It was pretty hot and muggy as we struggled back to the distant hotel room where the traditional siesta kicked in after walking so many km's.
Sort of re-energised, we struggled for while but eventually managed to get onto the town bike hire app and subsequently rode back into town instead of the long arduous walk. Here the local food thing is pintxos where they have lots of small(ish) serves of pretty much anything mostly sitting on top of slices of bread sticks. Lots of seafood though combined with anything else they feel is appropriate. Delicious stuff, combined with some very good local vinos we did a hop to hop thing through a few places before ending up in a pretty horrible one at the end, chosen because it was empty, and it was so for good reason.

Blogger failure here, ended up standing out the front of the laundromat next door to finish the drinks (stemmed wine glasses - very classy). On the bright side though it was still cobblestoned streets and the cool sea breeze was preferable over the smoke stained air inside (and without the loud screaming of some foreign sports commentary banging on about inconsequential events on field far far way).
Decided to stroll all the way back to the pad as the storm clouds in the distance were starting to make their presence felt. That could be the last of our hot balmy weather..
Seemed to have dealt with the smell of the room by leaving the aircon on and the door to the outside balcony open. Only problem there is it opens to a wide canyon of 10 story high blocks of rooms/ apartment balconies/windows which at the bottom is where all the bins get emptied, staff relax with ciggies, cars grind up and down tight parking lot ramps. Ahhh suburan life in tower blocks. Apparently for a significant majority of peeps in the world this is home.
Long live the bubble as the double glazed door closes for the night.

A train. A plane. An automobile

 Cadiz...pfssstt. Been there. Done that. Time to move on. Unfortunately the only flight to our next destination leaves at 5:00 pm so we have the whole day to get to the nearest airport which also happens to do the required route from the south of Spain to the north. Could've done a 9 hour drive, however that was the last option. So it's a trains, planes and automobiles day.

The late flight meant a relaxed get up, breaky at our favorite breaky place (an interesting take on eggs Benedict) and back to the room to collect the gear and wander down to the local train station. 3 direct trains to the airport today, so taking the safe option midday one means a 4 hour stopover at the Aeropuerto de Jerez where they have all the right equipment to make a proper coffee, we just don't know how to ask for it. Also lost the sunscreen at the security gate (too big a bottle - should've been in checked-in. This is what happens when responsibilty is passed on to a blogger too caught up in his own prose constructing thoughts).  

Also looks like one will never be able to pass through the screening process without alarms going off due to the new knees.

The train trip itself was pretty boring scenic wise. Through the flat tired salt farms dotted with decaying centuries old relics of buildings that would be in a museum at home, drab housing estates and concrete medium rise apparment towers looking all very uninspiring under the cloudy grey skies.

A hot muggy inland breeze drifts across the airport carpark as we trundled our way through it to the terminal from the station. Go figure, all the way out here in the drabness of urban Spain they still have trains going to the airport. Maybe one day Melbourne will grow up. Unlikely though. The wait for the plane was filled in by catching up on the world news from a home perspective. Happy to be away from it all even if all the colour of Spain seems to have been sucked away by the dull grey clouds drifting across the landscapes.

The flight was interesting in that it was full of families, lots of young kids and they all actually did what they were told by the announcements. As in, when the stewards did their seat belt, exit pointing charade they all actually shut up and watched! Then when disembarking they stayed seated until told to get up (row by row) and get their stuff and get out. Maybe this is how a civilised country actually works...was also happy about the fact that the visible crack on the wing did not grow any bigger during the course of the flight.

Upon landing at Bilbao AP it was not too difficult to find where the car hire shuttle bus would collect us. It all went well within 30 minutes we were on the roads being guided by Waze to our destination. Really difficult staying within the speed limits as kept changing more frequently than new restrictions along the Princess through Bunyip. Managed to navigate the tollways ~$20 bucks for the pleasure only to be hit by a huge traffic jam caused by police for some reason or another. It was behaving like a lanes blocked due to an accident but all of a sudden, the gates opened and we started  flowing again. No idea what they were up to but it meant we arrived in San Sebastian in the dark and too late to do anything but grab a late dinner at a recommended joint just around the corner from our new (somwhat dank smelling) dwellings.

Seems we have dropped in the salubrious scale somewhat, will know more tomorrow however the "terrace area" for this particular establishment was out the back in a modern built square surrounded by looming apartment towers reminiscent of the famous ones built in Melbourne for the 1956 Olympics. Food was good. The staff stressed yet friendly. It will be very interesting to see what it all looks like in clear light of day.

Hangin' in Cadiz

2nd free day (no set activities) so slept in and mid morning wandered out if the hotel around the corner to same place as yesterday for a most splendid brecky of French toast with berries and caramel, along with wierd coffee and fresh OJ. The weather was overcast, 10 degrees cooler yet still humid at 26.c. So quite pleasant. A stated (not set) activity was shopping for Non-Blogger. And so we went. The town really seemed very busy as we navigated past kids birthdays parties splilling into the narrow roads and back into the main plaza in front of the cathedral.

Decided to detour in, especially as it's resonably impressive outside and this is where you can climb the bell tower and view the city from a flying pigeons perspective. The cathedral itself appears to be learning from that other one where they are charging the plethora of visitors to gawk at the majestic interior.  Hopefully they'll get some cash to fund some statues to sit on the vacant balconies on the front of the building. Wouldn't have noticed this if not for our tour guide yesterday. He had also pointed that if you go into the crypt and stand in the middle your voice will be amplified 14 times back at you. So down we went. Couldn't hear anything above the constant barrage of a voice going on and on and on about ancient conquests of goodness what as it was all in some foreign language. The tour recipients looked as interested as this blogger. Not. Anyway the other really interesting thing down in the dark bowels of the church was a lifelike depiction of some dude having  been tortured. Peter Jackson style mimicry. In this case, gross. Weren't allowed to take photos. The reason probably being that if this went viral there'd be a lot less peeps handing over their dosh to get in. We left, because of grossness and we had some shopping pressures to adhere to. Did go up the tower though.

It was a spiral ramp that circled many times. Many times. Circled for many times. Round and round, up and up. Round and round. Eventually getting to the bell tower was extremely grateful that the bells were not ringing as we were right next to them. The views accross the town were great. One can now appreciate the pigeons perspective. Over the rooftops it looked like at least six massive cruise ships in the port. This explains why the streets were so crowded. The place was full of boat people. The locals who don't own shops must get really annoyed when thus influx happens as it congests the place to unbearable levels. However, they do know that by dinner time they get their city back as the boat people all return to their vessels for the all you can eat buffets followed by the caberat' show or (if you're special enough) dinner at the captains table. Woo hoo.

Whilst they were all milling around the town though, this here blogger had the joy of watching them all stream past him whilst he waited outside the store of which non-blogger was inside. This age old tradition if shopping participation has stood the test of time and has been practiced in many places. Enough said.

We did explore other areas in the vague aim of finding a shop previously walked past but in the end headed back to the market to buy some fruit and nothing else as we were still full from the late brecky.

Went back to the hotel to siesta as the amount of walking undertaken in the last 36 hours had been ridiculous. A couple of small tacos for lunch and then some time on the hotel rooftop which has an extremely small shallow pool and a derth of umbrellas, so we didn't hang too long. The chimney stack of one of cruise liners billowing smoke and the rumble of the huge diesels slowly ticking over permeated the air.

After another kip (free day - no pressure) the duo set out for a late dinner (they didn't actually open until 8:30pm) with a bit of a shop and stroll and pre's alfresco style in a typical roadside table & chairs spot beforehand. By now the locals had reclaimed their home territory as the boats carrying their people had departed (with their pizza bars, discos and casinos just firing up for the evening, bingo at 10:00 am in the morning - don't miss it folks) and we get to sit and quietly observe the locals in their habitat. There are a lot of dogs here. One of the rules is if you have a dog you also have a water bottle containing disinfectant that one must squirt on you dogs squirt. Seems to work OK. Most of these pooches wouldn't actually know what "off the leash" means or the freedom of a backyard or a run beside your parent when they're on a pushbike. Grass lawns - no. Herding sheep wouldn't even be a notion. Possibly a repressed evolutionary dream, but that's it. Mostly they seem happy. The big angry one we watched this evening - not. Body building tatts covered owner reckons he needs a tough dog to maintain his image as well as possibly a body guard for his unruly activities. Seems we have boguns in all cultures - not just at home.

Mostly though the peeps walking around in thier minimalistic clothing (women especially) were in good spirits and enjoying the warm balmy evening in their unique, very pretty city. Apparently they all stay up until the wee small hours. Not something we folks from the land down under understand.

Non-Blogger had found a recommended restaurant which we tried and after insisting that we should be inside to experience the eccelectic ambiance instead of being stuck outside in the nearby plaza we had what was possibly the most spectacular fare ever had. Being some sort of fusion of Japanese and Spanish the details allude at this point. There was though a salad with anchovies and cheese  Vietnamese rolls with mussels, pawn tacos to name a few. Amazing stuff. By the time we left, the place was jumping and peeps were queuing up outside in the hope of getting what we'd just had.

Back to room to get ready for the next big transition day.