One thing I may not yet have mentioned about the city of Porto is the hills. They’re a bitch. And, there are certain hills that just kick my butt all the way up every time we make the trek, but exercise they do provide. To get from the city center and/or the river front back to our flat, we have no choice but to trek those hills.
Coping with a lousy cold when you’re in the comfort of your home is one thing, coping while traveling is a whole different story. Sure, there’s a pharmacy on every corner in Porto, but try finding a bottle of Ginger Ale on the shelf of the neighborhood market… it ain’t gonna happen. You guessed it, the lousy cold bug has us both down for the count and I don’t have my favorite blanket with which to curl up so I’m a bit cranky. Just a bit.
The Mosque of Cordoba
There are moments in time when one has to come to a complete stop to just take in said moment because one finds oneself in a place of perfection; a place so extraordinarily inspiring it takes ones breath away. For us, that moment happened when we stepped inside the Mosque of Cordoba. Never before had we seen such a place, and most likely never will we again.
As we pulled away from the parking lot at Vintgar Gorge, the shuttle van driver asked, “How was the gorge?” “Crowded!” I responded, “But beautiful.” He went on to explain that three years ago nobody cared about the gorge, and now, everyone wants to see it and he can’t figure out why.
Our train pulled away from Malaga on Sunday morning at 10:40 a.m. It had been ten days of rest and relaxation, eating our weight in tapas, drinking sangria and taking long leisurely walks along the waterfront and beach promenade.
That’s a Wrap!
The grand Eurail train adventure across Europe is done. Complete. Finished. Finito. We used our last train pass to travel from Seville to Malaga, which is where we are now. We didn’t really know what to expect of Malaga, but it is beautiful. We are enjoying temps in the low 80’s and fantastic sea breezes. Malaga, it’s where the desert meets the sea.
Lest anyone believe long-term travel is all giggles and bubbles, here’s a little diddy about what happens when things don’t go exactly as planned and why we didn’t stay in Lyon. It’s a philosophy I’ve long-held close to my heart; life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. Because let’s face it…. no matter how hard I might try to channel my inner Pollyanna, there are travel days when Murphy’s Law just stomps all over said plans.
When you conjure up the Burgundy wine region of France, in your mind’s eye, what do you see? Think about it for a moment before reading further. Now, did you envision green vineyards as far as the eye can see, stunning countryside with a historic church steeple rising on the horizon, granite cliffs and maybe a french castle on the hill? Sounds pretty great, right?