¡El Regreso a España!

The morning after.

As I write this post, it’s barely been twenty-four hours. Reality has hit hard.

After nine years of waiting, my 12-day trip to Spain has come to a close. I’m in a daze. However, the memories of the trip still feel incredibly vivid to me. I want to linger in this moment a little while longer.

It’s been a year since the trip was booked. I was looking for a change of pace from my typical escorted tour. I would often be the only solo traveler amongst families and couples. Not that it was a bad thing. But I was looking for something more solo traveler-friendly.

Enter EF Travel/Go Ahead Tours.

Their solo traveler page had plenty of options to choose from. But I knew which one to pick: Spain for Solo Travelers. I was hinting at a return to Spain, where my solo travels began almost a decade ago.

The trip was booked. Slowly but surely, the valence would be paid off. It would be a tight squeeze pulling this trip off, as a month after the booking was confirmed, I was accepted into the writers and artists residency at Château d’Orquevaux in northeastern France. Six weeks apart.

Not long after the Air France flight arrived at JFK on September 29th, I started looking ahead at this trip.

It helped that the EF app had a chat function. Introducing our guide, Mariola, and the rest of the group before arriving in Barcelona.

The 8th of November.

On a sunny Saturday, I made my way to JFK Airport. Ready to cross the Atlantic. It would be the following morning that I found myself waiting for my connection to Barcelona in the darkness in Dublin, Ireland.

The skies cleared up in time for our arrival. After nine long years, I was back in Spanish soil. I smiled on the drive from El-Prat Airport into the city.

With the rest of the day at leisure, there wasn’t much of a plan. I got on the metro station near our hotel at Rocafort as I wanted to visit the Palau de la Musica Catalana. Photos of the interior glistening in the sunlight caught my attention. But I ended up at another place first, the Banksy Museum. Yes, the unknown artist has a museum hosting his various artworks in Barcelona and in Madrid, too.

Subversive, heartfelt, and heartbreaking all the same.

After returning to the Urqinalona stop, I eventually found the Palau. Late afternoon sunshine shimmering through the stained glass. The product of Antoni Gaudí’s contemporary, Lluís Domènech i Montaner. That’s when it hit me, I was back in Spain.

Later on, we gathered in the lobby of our hotel. The mixer and welcome dinner took place at the Bar Rastro, walking away. The bar was ours for the mixer, as the three Belgian gentlemen found out. They were nice enough to play along, given that our group was predominantly female. Twenty-seven women, including our guide Mariola. It would be impossible to forget myself and Tim, the only gentlemen in our group. With grenadine-flavored mimosas in hand and a toast, the tour of Spain had truly begun.

Barcelona. A city near and dear to my heart.

Monday morning began with a bus tour of the city. The Arc de Triompf shining in the morning sun. Walking through the Bari Gotic, the cathedrals of Santa Maria Del Mar and the Cathedral de Barcelona towered into the sky. Passing by a pair of Caganer shops along the way. The caganers are statues that have their back sides exposed. Part of the holidays, the caganer is supposed to poop out presents when hit with a stick.

After all the walking, a sweet reward. Walking into the chocolate shop Dulcinea for churros con chocolate. In my two previous visits to Spain, this is something I’d never tried before. Fried churro dough with a thick pot of hot chocolate for dipping. A hangover cure after late nights.

The walking tour continued.

After a brief stop at the Mercat de la Boqueria, we walked down the length of La Rambla, one of the most famous walkways in the city. All the way down, to the Mirador de Colon, and as close as possible to the Mediterranean Sea.

There wasn’t much time for a rest, as I signed up for the optional excursion.

La Sagrada Familia. Antoni Gaudí’s still unfinished masterpiece of a basilica. The previous visit to Spain had a viewing of its intricate exterior. I wasn’t going to deny myself the opportunity to go inside. From the moment that I stepped inside, I was instantly rewarded with the late afternoon sunlight piercing the stained glass windows. As if it’s sacred vibe welcomed everyone in.

Then, we got back on the bus for one of Gaudí’s more ambitious works. Parc Güell was intended to be a housing community. But only two of the homes were completed. The land became a public park. We arrived late in the day, with the last bits of daylight floating over the skyline. The overlook, once visited early in the morning in 2016, provided a dramatic view to end the day.

Much like in October 2016, I didn’t want to leave Barcelona. The city captured my heart once again. Alas, it was time to go.

Tuesday morning, Montjuic shone as our bus headed to the Estació Sants. A three-hour train ride awaited us. After all the running around, a rest was called for.

By night, I joined the optional Spanish evening excursion. Madrid, with the Palacio Cibeles shining in the lights. I needed the visual distractions as Los Del Rio’s “Macarena” wafted in the bus’s air like the earworm that it is. 1996 me and 2020 me both groaned as the song came to an end.

Walking through the Plaza Mayor, we arrived at the bar Los Gayados. Sitting in the back room upstairs, where Ernest Hemingway and Federico Garcia Lorca once sat. Enjoying the tuna guitar, the Manchego Cheese, and the suckling pig. Along with the flashback from Italy after “Volare” was performed. As did the flamenco mainstay, “Bamboleo”.

The Cava sorbet went down a storm. Before we knew it, I was singing along to every word of Rosalia’s “Pienso En Tu Mira” on the bus ride back to the hotel.

Day two in Madrid had callbacks to my first visit to Spain in 2015. From visiting the Cervantes monument, to the visit to El Museo Del Prado and El Templo del Debod. True to form, a Gate 1 Travel group was in the museum at the same time.

The Prado will leave you spellbound. Especially after seeing Diego Velázquez’s masterpiece, “Las Meninas”. The portrait of the family of King Phillip the Fourth with a small surprise if you look at the painting closely.

This time around, I got to see Francisco Goya’s paintings, “The 2nd and 3rd of May 1808”. It depicts the Madrid citizens’ resistance to French occupation and the initial event of the Peninsular War.

After lunch, soaking up the afternoon sun, it was time to participate in the evening’s activities.

Hand-eye coordination and I don’t mix. That would be put to the test as we would partake in a cooking class and dinner. Eleven dishes, and all of us had a role to play. I was in charge of making the garlic aioli. The smell of the cloves would stick with me after peeling the cloves and grinding them up. But it all came together quite nicely.

As day three in Madrid began, I felt sad. There comes a point where homesickness kicks in. And a sense of loneliness, too, that leads to thinking that I wasn’t connecting with the group. To the point that Mariola asking me by dm if I was okay triggered tears. I was okay.

It would be a late start as I waited for my colleagues, Carolyn and Judy. The three of us chipped in to purchase a guided tour of the Palacio Real. A scattering of the palace’s 3,500 rooms was open to the public.

Note, the royal family doesn’t live there. King Felipe VI and his family actually live at the Palacio de la Zarzuela, fifteen miles outside of the capital city. The Palacio Real is only used for state functions, as it was the previous day when we were there.

On the way out of the Palacio, the skies opened up. The first of three rainy days. I had no motivation to go out in the rain once our visit was done. But when there’s a Michelin-starred Italian restaurant across the street from the hotel, I’m going out.

One more train ride.

With the rain in Madrid still falling, our bus made it to the Puerta de Atocha-Almudena Grandes station. The tour was heading south, as in southern Spain.

Two hours later, we arrived in Córdoba. Hitting the ground running while going through the whitewashed cobblestone streets. Our guide Cristobal led us through a guided tour of La Mezquita. Before the Christian reconquest of Spain in 1236, the cathedral was a mosque. Elements of both faiths are present everywhere you look, from the minaret atop the bell tower to the nave.

More rain would fall as we walked through the Jewish quarter. Visiting the synagogue and the patios along the way. Before we reached Seville, we had one more stop to make.

An olive oil farm. It didn’t seem interesting on the surface. But as we walked through the grounds, it slowly became an interesting experience. From seeing how the oil is made, to how the oil gets classified. And we got to taste it with Basilippo olive oil drizzled over chocolate ice cream. It was an interesting taste, to say the least.

After a long day on the road, we arrived in Seville just before 8 PM.

The weekend brought a reason to celebrate. It has been ten years since I first traveled to Spain. It was no accident that I chose the dates that I did for this trip. My first solo trip felt like a major accomplishment for me as a person who has cerebral palsy.

It also dawned on me that this was the last day of the scheduled tour. Half the group would be going home the next morning.

But not before exploring Seville.

Our day began at the Plaza de España. On the site of the Maria Luisa Park, built for the Ibero-American Expo of 1929. As one looks around the site, one sees tiled benches from every part of Spain, along with the buildings used by various nations during the expo. Going up the stairs to the balcony, you can get a panoramic view of the site.

The tour continued to the Real Alcázar de Sevilla.

This was a part of Seville that I didn’t see the first time around.

The original palace was built in the High Middle Ages. Some vestiges of Islamic art are preserved, and from the stage after the Castilian conquest, a Mudejar palatial space and another of Gothic style.

As the Alcazar visit ended, the skies opened up. The downpour came as we still had to walk through the Santa Cruz neighborhood to reach our final destination, Bar Bendala, but it wasn’t going to stop me and my hiking sticks from moving. The rain lessened as we arrived.

Since this was the last day that we would be in the same space together, I took the moment to thank everyone after our guide Mariola thanked us. The Patatas Bravas and fried eggplant being served went down a treat with a cold glass of Cruzcampo beer. And everyone’s company, too.

Before the first farewell dinner, a little bit of flamenco. Our bus crossed the bridge and we ended up in the Triana neighborhood.

The show at the Teatro Flamenco Triana was short and sweet. It’s always a thrill to see the masterful guitar playing, singing, and moves all together. Highlighting flamenco’s improvisational nature.

After dinner at the restaurant Catalina, we returned to our hotel. A wave of goodbyes followed. I sat on the couch in the lobby for a while to let the tide of emotions float on.

Fourteen of us were left to begin the extension. It felt a little bit empty seeing everyone scattered around the bus on the ride to Antequera. It seemed like the most high-spirited of our group had gone home.

We pressed onwards.

A two-hour drive from Seville led us to the town of Antequera.

The town is known for the Antequera Dolmens Site. The site of the Dolmens of Antequera consists of five monuments, three cultural and two natural.

After a short video on how they came to be, we walked uphill to explore the tombs. Tight spaces, yet so well preserved.

The walking tour continued into the town proper. This place isn’t usually visited, but the views from the old quarter were worth the long hike up and down the many hills.

After an hour and a half on the road, we arrived at our stop for the night, the Grand Luna de Granada. Only to go right back out for a walking tour of the city center. From the Christmas market to the Cathedral, the Arabic influence of the city was everywhere. A moment during the walk where the Andalusian passion led one of my colleagues to practice her salsa moves while waiting for the light to go green and passing by a salsa dance club.

I felt a hit of deja vu, as the Grand Luna was the hotel I stayed at during my last visit. I knew what was coming next.

The Alhambra. The last place to be conquered by the Christians in the Muslim world.

I first visited the site back in 2015. It became my favorite part of the entire first trip to Spain. On a warm, late November day.

The rain followed us past the front gates as our guide, Carlos, gave the walking tour.

All the palaces and the Generalife Gardens. The rain made the autumnal colors pop. A level of majesty is given to the nature of the site.

The rain stayed away while we were there, but not so much when we arrived in Malaga. As the hotel check-in wasn’t ready, we had the afternoon to explore the center of the city.

Passing a square with Pablo Picasso’s statue, I ended up at the Museo Casa Natal Picasso. Even in Malaga, his childhood home became a museum. The star attraction is his painting, “The Ladies of Avignon”. It was as close as I’d get to his work, as I couldn’t get tickets for his actual museum.

After walking along the cruise port to get a taste of the Mediterranean Sea, a late lunch was had close to our meeting point at the Cathedral de Malaga. With the floor made of tiles, it was a rough trek on the streets.

With the sun setting in the sky, we’ve arrived at our hotel. I felt a bit of sadness handing back the Whisper to Mariola. Reality dawned on me, this trip was ending.

The last day of the trip started emotionally. At breakfast, of all places, I could feel the tears coming. I had such a wonderful time on this trip, I didn’t want it to end. I tried to pull myself together as the chorus of Coldplay’s “Fix You” came through the speakers.

While the rest of the group went to visit the town of Ronda, I stayed in town.

The first stop of the day was a big reason why I kept myself in Malaga. A ritual of my solo travels, the football club stadium visit.

I could see the Estadio La Rosaleda, home to Malaga CF, from my hotel window. It was a short walk to reach the stadium’s front gates.

With a Brit from Brighton visiting Malaga and our guide, we took the stadium tour together. Passing through the club museum, the home locker room, the press area, and the presidential box. Before arriving at the field level. I bought a club scarf at the team shop.

The rest of the day was spent in the city center. A short cab ride from the hotel.

I was trying to find the Carmen Thyssen Museum.. And I eventually found it, but not before discovering the Museo de Artes Populares y Costumbres and the Ateneo de Malaga. A pair of smaller art museums along the way.

As for the Thyssen, I was surprised to get free entry. I asked the clerk why, and she saw my hiking sticks. I’m not the only one who uses them to get themselves around.

With the sun shining bright after three days of rain, I had lunch outside. The Iberian Pork Cheeks melted in my mouth, being so tender. With a bottle of Freixnet Cava to drink and silently toast my colleagues on their adventures today through the app’s chat.

Tuesday evening was the second farewell dinner. A short walk from our hotel to the Meson Les Robles de Leon. Seafood and vegetables. With a creamy sponge cake for dessert. Along with all the Verdejo wine we drank.

With one more thank you from Mariola to us, I read my thank you poem to the group. This trip, like Orquevaux before it, brought on a creative awakening. As I wrote poems often when I couldn’t sleep at night, I posted them into the app’s group chat.

By the time Wednesday came along, most of the group had already gone home. With one last sunrise over the palm trees, I departed Malaga for a long day’s journey into the night that led me to Dublin, Ireland, and eventually arriving in New York City.

As I look back over the last twelve days on Thursday morning, I feel so grateful,

To Mariola for her kindness and grace in making sure all of our needs were met. To all of the drivers and guides who worked tirelessly to make the trip run smoothly.

And I’m grateful to the entire group. As all of us went from strangers at the start of the tour to Familia, and had so much fun doing so.

Between this and the Château d’Orquevaux, I’ve been spoiled for the last six weeks. So much travel, so many new people.

As the last days of being a thirty-something draw near, I wonder what travels await me in the decade that’s coming up just ahead.