Why do all the early trains leave so early? I am always counting time backwards. 7:40 train means a 6:40 departure from our apartment in Seville, which means being up before 6. All of this was achieved but our plans changed a little. 30 minutes into our 30 minute walk to the station along rough and cobbled pavement, we were helping our taxi driver get the bike in the boot. Best money we have spent all holidays, except for the 3 or 4 Nescafe caramel thick shakes.
On arrival in Madrid, we decided to check one more time that the bike would fit on the train. The same 2 ladies who told us yes two days ago had now changed their answer. But after some conversation they advised us that the train manager was a nice guy and there would be no problems, and there weren't. By some sort of miracle, we had booked in the accessible carriage and I could of fitted 2 bikes (see what I did there?). Anyway we flew through the countryside at 250 km an hour and got to Madrid just after 10.
The station was close enough to our hotel that no taxi was needed, we dropped our stuff, powdered our noses and headed off for more culture. By now I have figured out that the Moors beat the Christians, the Christians beat the Moors, and on and on. Mosques became churches and so on. I think I have seen every one of those churches, and ticked off another today. And it was only small, woohoo.
On arrival in Madrid, we decided to check one more time that the bike would fit on the train. The same 2 ladies who told us yes two days ago had now changed their answer. But after some conversation they advised us that the train manager was a nice guy and there would be no problems, and there weren't. By some sort of miracle, we had booked in the accessible carriage and I could of fitted 2 bikes (see what I did there?). Anyway we flew through the countryside at 250 km an hour and got to Madrid just after 10.
The station was close enough to our hotel that no taxi was needed, we dropped our stuff, powdered our noses and headed off for more culture. By now I have figured out that the Moors beat the Christians, the Christians beat the Moors, and on and on. Mosques became churches and so on. I think I have seen every one of those churches, and ticked off another today. And it was only small, woohoo.
As luck would have it, a police on horses parade stumbled upon us. We walked and walked and when the recommended eatery was closed, found another. While I ate my extremely huge Spanish omelette on bread roll, it became apparent that Annette's bacon and cheese bread roll had gone missing. It finally arrived after stern words and I left before she had finished to get to another Decathlon store, which was tiny and very disappointing.
Sightseeing done, we headed back to El Hotela (I'm picking up the language fast). I put on the running gear and hit the local hills for 5 km. From there it was a long walk to another recommended eating place. Sort of tapas-like and the plates were huge, but the table tiny. Annette ordered a bucketful of mushrooms, which she made me eat some of. On pizza yes, grilled, no. She also got calamari, which she made me eat some of. Yummy. I got grilled veggies and empanada of the mystery type, as the waitress didn't do good English. Her maths was also bad as she didn't charge us for this. All that was left to do was grab a Burger King thick shake on the way back and then try to sleep in the world's noisiest hotel room.
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