Tiles and courtyard at Hotel San Gil

Street fountain in Seville

16 October - Ryanair return flight from Seville

As usual it's all pretty stressed as everyone jostles for a seat on a Ryanair fully booked flight. We survived checking in, where three lines formed and it suddenly had to become one, so we had to sort of filter in. There has to be a 'Ryanair effect', where quite rational people suddenly resent being one place back in a queue, where the end effect will be identical. Once on board things really hotted up as a couple with a child of about three were unable to find seats together. I recognised the family as they were at departures at the same time as us, waiting for the luggage check-in to open, the woman had an American accent and the man was British. How come they were so late boarding the plane that they couldn't find seats together is another factor influencing what happened next. The cabin staff tried to move people around to free up seats but didn't get a lot of cooperation. One guy was so difficult that he refused to move from his exact seat, said he had queued for two hours for it and wasn't giving it up now. We volunteered to release our seats and said we didn't mind not sitting together. So I am now sitting next to little girl of maybe three, watching out for her while her mother in the other seat copes with a one year old. The woman is Spanish but speaking very good English, I would assume they have been to visit Spanish family and are returning to England.
So, where was I, leaving Constano... We made an early start in the morning and were back at Aracena and La Gruta by 10 and got a ticket for the first tour, starting at 10.30. It was well worth the trip back and the delay. The caves, the stalagmites and stalagtites, the lakes, the formations made La Gruta the most spectacular underground system I have ever seen. Evidently part of the film, 'Journey to the Centre of the Earth' was filmed there. We were back on the road again before 12 and headed for our first stop, at the village of Zufre. It clings to the side of a cliff, and below it are the walls and other remnants of the original Moorish town. It was Sunday and people were going into a rather fine 16C church. After Zufre the road wound and twisted, up and down, through almost deserted countryside. This is the Sierra Note, similar in landscape to the Sierra Aracena but not so heavily wooden and much less densely populated. We caught sight, for the first time, of the black pigs rooting about amongst the fallen acorns from the hundreds of oak trees which were the main vegetation. We saw one or two isolated houses or hamlets and very little else. It was a slow journey, rarely going over 30 kilometres an hour, before we reached Cazalla. We had been undecided about where to stop for the night, Cazalla looked quite busy so we pushed on to the next destination, Constantina, from where I wrote the last entry.
We headed for a hotel identified from the RG, after a tortuous drive through yet more narrow, winding, cobbled streets we found it, and it was closed. The RG only showed one other place, and driving around the town we hadn't seen any sign of other accommodation being available, so we looked for that and there we were. I'll have to do some editing on this as I seem to be going backward in time here.
We had a pleasant afternoon and evening wandering around Constantina then back to the Hostal and the noise. It was such a shame, the Hostal and the room were lovely, such wonderful tiling, great care had been taken to keep it furnished with pieces from the period, and it was like stepping back in time. The hostess was also from a bygone era, she knocked on our bedroom door at eight in the morning to tell us that our breakfast would be ready in thirty minutes. The house was built around a central courtyard and the back rooms would be fine, away from the noisy street. It is for sale, I wonder how much for, and whoever will buy it.
We had decided to make our last night stopover in Carmona, only just over an hour from Constantina and about half an hour into Seville airport. We had seen somewhere in the RG which looked OK so we headed towards it. The traffic was crazy, as bad as any we have seen anywhere, the Hostal was on one of the main Plazas and we had problems negotiating a path for the car around it, between other vehicles, the notion of finding a place to park was laughable. Another place was mentioned, four kms out of town, a Hacienda, which sounded remote and quiet, OK we wouldn't get to see anything of Carmoa unless we drove back in and braved the parking issue, but we should get a good nights sleep. We drove up and down the same road a couple of times before noticing a dirt track off, we drove a long way down it, deeper into the countryside, and came across a farm complex and part of it was a fine Hacienda. However, once again, it was closed, so back on the road again. Time was getting on, we decided to miss out Carmona, which was a shame because from what we had seen driving round it looked like a nice place, and just look for an overnight stop somewhere close to Seville airport. The first thought was Italica, the Roman site to the north of Seville, but on reading the book we saw that the archaeological site is closed on Mondays. We surely wouldn't have any problems finding a place to stay, but we would be a bit stuck out there. So we decided to try and find something on the outskirts of  Seville, on the airport side. The district of Barrio Macarena looked promising, so did the Hotel San Gil. It was in RG at 80 Euros a night, why not a little indulgence and luxury for our last night. When we got there we knew it was a good decision. The hotel is in what was an early 1900 'palacio' in a quiet back street. The conversion has been very well done, keeping many original features, some lovely tiling and a central courtyard. The room we finally agreed on, I didn't like the one they first offered us, was large with a desperate sitting area, minimally but comfortably furnished with a nice bathroom. The room was only 65 Euros a night but we had to pay 18 Euros for secure underground parking, so it was just over the 80 Euro mark. You really don't want a car in Seville.
The centre of Seville is not large and we knew our way around, once we had got our bearings. We made our way to a nearby Plaza ad sipped beer and had a few tapas, then back to the hotel to sort out our luggage for the return flight. It was good having so much space. Then out again, to the first little tapas bar we ate at nearly a couple of weeks ago. It was a warm evening, we appreciated it after the cool nights in the Sierra, then back to bed and a really, really good nights sleep, our last in Andalucia.

Rio Tinto mines

Cork trees in Sierra Aracena

12 October - Castano del Robledo

Another great change and one we are so pleased to have made. We left a hot and sticky Cordoba yesterday morning after a very unpleasant night. About 23.00, we had just gone to bed, I started being sick. John said that if it was any consolation he didn't feel too well either. So we took it it turns at throwing up for a while, and didn't get a lot of sleep. The internal room, with the only window looking out onto the central courtyard was very hot, stuffy and claustrophobic, so not a good experience.
On the way here we stopped off at the Medina Azahara. It was a good stop, well worth the delay in our onward journey,especially as we were still feeling a bit jaded. The area covered by the ruins is massive and a very small part of it has been excavated, some reconstruction has also taken place. We arrived at the reception area to the site, where you have to leave your car, early and were a bit perturbed by the lack of information, I asked somebody working in the gardens for confirmation of the entrance. It only seemed to lead to what looked like an underground car-park, no information on the large metal door closing it off. Other people arrived, including a couple of tour buses so we moved in and took our place near the head of the queue. A few minutes after 10 the big door was wheeled open to reveal a state of the art information centre, underground. Having got our tickets we decided to skip the museum and orientation information for the time being and get the shuttle bus to the actual site first. It was a good decision, for about the first half an hour we had the place entirely to ourselves. We went back and looked at the museum on our return to the reception area. It was well laid out with clear factual information and lots of state-of-the-art video materials.
Back on the road we made good time and reached Castano del Robledo just before 4, although even with the 'fabulous' SatNav we had problems finding the Posada, we did several circuits in the village, all on narrow cobbled streets. We knocked on the large wooden a door a couple of times, but no answer. The whole village was deserted, everywhere shut up, so as we had arrived an hour earlier than we had said, and concerned that we were in siesta time, we hung around until we heard noise within. A very nice woman, Sasha, sat us down at a table on a patio at the back of the house overlooking a garden and made us a cup of tea. Her husband, Craig, soon arrived and we learnt that he is a tour guide for Explore, we are familiar with them as they also do walking tours in Greece, although we weren't sure whether it was Explore or Exodus who did the walks and climbs around Karystos. He gave us lots of helpful information about walking in the area, and other interesting things to see and do. I also explained how I 'knew' Jan, without ever having actually met her, but felt I knew so much about the area from her blogs and photos of her travels on horseback.
While we were getting settled into our room it started to rain, quite hard, we had to pull the windows together to stop the rain splashing inside. It didn't last very long and soon the sun was out again. We took a walk around the village, finally sitting down outside a cafe in the main Plaza, for the last of the sun. John had a beer but I still felt rather fragile and could only manage a Coke. We agreed that neither of us really felt like anything to eat, we had just snacked on a few of the digestive biscuits we brought from England. So we went back to the Posada and after a few hands of Crib, went to bed.
We both had an excellent nights sleep in a good firm bed with comfortable pillows and a proper window with a good flow of clean fresh air. We had wondered if we would be kept awake or woken up by the church bell, which seems to have a time keeping system even more obscure than some we have encountered in French villages. We think it rings the hour at about five-to, maybe again at five-past, or it could be three or eight minutes past, and on the half hour it can be twenty-five past or as late as twenty five or even twenty-to. I heard nothing. I was woken this morning by a choir singing some rousing songs, we thought from the street. We learnt yesterday evening that today is a national holiday, (actually I'm not sure if it is national or Andalucian, the regional area of Andalucia is very important). I was also aware of hearing an owl in the night. It was a very overcast morning so it really wasn't light until almost 9. Craig provided us with a very good breakfast, the lovely juicy fresh tomato sprinkled with oil and basil (I think it was basil-my cold is hindering my taste-buds), was a real treat.
The Posada is quite fine, I don't know how much work they have done on it, but it is lovely old house, I think over 3 floors, with guest rooms on the top floor. Our room is very nice, a sloping roof but light and airy, and a view of old tiled roofs and trees beyond. There seems to be four bedrooms up here with a central sitting area, well provided with all manner of games and a very good supply of English language books, not sure about the copy of Hello magazine though! The house is nicely and comfortably furnished with some lovely old pieces of furniture. At the moment we are the only people staying here, I expect they can be full when Craig has a walking group. The village is carved into the hillside, a tangle of cobbled streets, and quaint old houses, there seem to be 2 Plazas, a lower one where we have left our car and a higher one with several bars and cafes round it. We have learnt from Craig that it is almost entirely dependant on the production of ham, for which the area is famous, and there does not appear to be any other accommodation or tourists.
We did quite a long walk today, about 12 kms., taking a track from the village, climbing up through forests of chestnut, oak and cork trees. The chestnut harvest looks as if it will be good in a few weeks time, they are not quite ready yet. The cork trees are amazing, their trunks have been stripped, in some cases at least three times, on the most recent occasions the orange dye with which they had been painted, presumably a chemical of some sort, giving them a startling appearance. We dropped down into the village of Alajar in the late lunchtime, and it was crowded, obviously everyone was out making the most of the day's holiday. We stopped and had a beer outside a bar and people watched for a time, before beginning the, most uphill, journey back. Now we are having a bit of a rest, before going out to eat tonight, I expect it will be busy.

Inside the Mezquita