Plane-mate to the past

When we landed at Dorval airport at Montreal in our Air Transat Airbus A310 we were met by a mobile lounge, a Plane-Mate made by the Budd Co of Pennsylvania. The Plane-Mate is like a large coach capable of carrying up to 150 people which travels at normal height and then rises up to the side of the aircraft, in our case at the rear door. This contraption transferred us from one A310 to another for the onward journey to Toronto.
I hadn't encountered one of these since flying into Dulles Airport in Washington D.C. in the early seventies, when they were quite new. At Dulles the Plane-Mate meets the aircraft and deposits you at the terminal without a lengthy walk. They are on the point of being phased out altogether, but linger on in Quebec for use in special circumstances. You feel like you are taking part in a sixties sci-fi fantasy, a new experience for many of our fellow passengers.

Spain comes to an end

On our last night in Cordoba we are determined to make the most of it so return to the family-run Bodega-Taberna Rafaé for tapas. A bowl of garlic prawns boils for a full five minutes when brought to the table and we have to restrain our instinct to tuck in. The tinto con hielo keeps me occupied. We tell our Spanish waiter how much we have enjoyed our three visits to the restaurant and he says: "Lovely Jubbly!" A late stroll and we pass a street sign with the word "Blobject" which intrigues me - turns out this is an electric car rental scheme, for a buggy-like neighbourhood car. We stop for an evening ice cream near the Caliph's water garden.
We are up early next morning and take a taxi to the station where I get a cooked English breakfast, 4.50 euros, and the Sunday Times at an eye-watering 5 euros. A man is servicing the rental bikes out front. There are security staff at the stations in Spain and they check your luggage through a scanner prior to boarding. We take the 10.15 train to Malaga, 20 euros each, stopping at Puente Genil-Herrera and Antequera-Santa Ana. The train departs in an unexpected direction and I have an awful feeling that we have caught the wrong train, fortunately unfounded.
On arrival we walk about half a mile to the Hotel Astoria, sweating in the heat but grateful for the breeze off the Med. Annette heads for the Picasso house while I chill out with the Grand Prix from Hungría and the Tour de France on TV. An early evening stroll on a sunday night reveals an interesting old town, much in need of a makeover, and no chic restaurants that we could find so we take a snack and a tinto in a dive, before retreating to a bar in the old wholesale market, near our hotel, and an early night.

Next morning we take the renfe train to Malaga airport. We are glad to be airside having avoided being robbed, losing any items of value or bashing the rental car. The Iberian tour has been a pleasure - a mixture of planning and spontaneity - taking in the Costa del Sol, Gibraltar, the Algarve and Alentejo, and the historic towns of southern Spain. Adios!

Saturday in the park

July 25: Blowout breakfast at the Hotel Conquistador. A promenade in Cordoba takes us through the old town to the Jardines de la Victoria. We picked up loads of garbage from late night parties and fished a can out of the duck pond. We delighted in seeing a duckling chasing after mum, and tried to identify a bird not known to us. We reached the station by chance and stopped by to purchase our tickets for the train to Malaga tomorrow. We checked out a breakfast venue also. We emerge into a long linear park, past the bike hire rack, which contains the old railway station and a steam engine. The tracks have been buried underground in recent times in what is an imaginative urban renewal scheme. The park contains many varieties of trees, including date palms and orange trees, and seems to have succeeded in creating an elegant urban space.

To the Plaza de Colon and back to the hotel via a pleasant shopping district at the Plaza de las Tendilles. I am wobbling in the heat. Annette went on to the Julio Romero de Torres Museum while I watched the qualifying from Hungary - Spaniard Fernando Alonso on the pole - and the Tour de France - Spaniard Alberto Contador in first place. Spain is also glowing about the Grand Prix debut of Jaime Alguersuari, who is already receiving the big build-up on TV, but fails to impress on the track. A freak accident involving Felipe Massa in a Ferrari may open the door to Marc Gené, another Spaniard, competing in the Hungarian Grand Prix.

Searching for the real Spain

July 24: Last night tapas at the Meson de las Flores - Bacalau Frito, Tortilla Patata, Gambas al Ajillo washed down with cerveza - 16.30 euros. After a stroll by the ramparts we have a large copa of ice cream at about 10:30 before retiring. Breakfast at Cafe Azahara, 4.50 euros each for coffee, juice and croissant or tostada.
We walk across the Roman Bridge over the Guadalquivir river, where we see many egrets. We circle back into town across a newer bridge, reaching the church and cloister of San Francisco. We are off the beaten track where there are no tourists, in the elegant plazas with mission-style churches and local cafes. I remove one Coca-Cola bottle cap, one pack of Winston cigarettes [empty] and one plastic cup outside the church and place them in a litter bin. Symbolic of modern Spain?
Here there is 17% unemployment, the highest in Europe. The country has little industry and depends on agriculture and tourism. Travelling by car we see widespread evidence of crop failure, particularly acres of sunflowers scorched dark brown in the sun. There are signs of building and renovation in Cordoba, much of it EU funded. Like in Portugal, with their lavish empty roads, there are also signs that the money is not always wisely spent; being for political reasons rather than economic ones. Spain is stuck in the euro straightjacket, unable to devalue to compete. As a tourist I quickly discover that this is not the cheap destination once beloved of the Brits. Having said that the Hotel Conquistador is very good value at 161 euros for three nights.
We reach the Plaza de la Corredera with its high-sided buildings and pungent fish market. We are thrilled by the back streets of Cordoba. After a coffee stop we stroll through a less prosperous district with empty shops and graffiti. Not everybody is contented with the macho bullfighting culture, as a grisly poster advertises a "Manifestation Antitaurina." We see the hammer and sickle on posters and painted on walls. The spectre of Marx lingers in Spain still.
We visit the Cordoba Archeological Museum, free to those with an EU passport [one way of bribing the peons]. There is an exquisite collection of Roman artifacts so I pocket the insult. We lunch once more at the Bodega-Taberna Rafaé and head for a siesta. I stay awake just long enough to see Mark Cavendish win Stage 19 of the Tour de France on TV.

Waiting for a waiter

July 20: Check out of our hotel in Lagos. No hot water this morning. Drive inland to Silves. In Portugal you are entered in the Tailgating World Championships and you are driving the lead car. No amount of avoidance tactics will save you and often you are pulling a considerable train that would pass muster in NASCAR.
Coffee at the Cafe de Campanha, Silves, 85 cents each. We peruse the real estate prices in a window below the ramparts of the castle, as an eager British lady gives us the soft sell. We proceed to the Museu de Cortica [cork museum] in an old factory called the Fabrica do Ingles, which tells the story of bottle corks but also gaskets, shoes etc. Much of the machinery is British from the days when they made standing engines and machine tools. The courtyard of the factory has hundreds of cafe tables but not a living soul is there, although we finally encounter an old fellow who collects the two euro per head entry fee. He is unlikely to abscond with the takings.
We drive via Messines, Alte, Salir, Loulé, Faro and Olhão to Tavira on the coast. We stop to photograph an old Auto Union and a Saab. We drop off our clothes at the Lavandaria in Tavira, 13.60 euros full service, but still well ahead of hotel laundry prices. We park the rental car in the free car park and walk to the Hotel Mares with riverside views, a touch oversold at 65 euros per night. We start to explore this resort town, walking across the bridge to the less prosperous side of the river where some old guys are devoting themselves to the serious business of drinking beer and putting the world to rights. We retreat across the bridge to the Bar Veneza for iced rooibos and cerveza. Our attention is soon attracted by the antics of a local drug dealer whose attempts to remain inconspicuous would not fool Inspector Clouseau. Our first encounter with poor restaurant service in Tavira follows.
21 July: Al fresco breakfast at the hotel; postcards, batteries for cameras etc. Photographing microcars in the town centre. We take the 10 o'clock ferry to Tavira Island from a dock near our hotel. The 15 minute trip down river costs 1.90 euros return. The island is great for a day at the beach, but there are no lengthy walks and at the restaurant area you are a captive audience. We hop the ferry back to town where we opt for lunch outside the covered market by the river. A pleasant lunch is once again accompanied by comical service. These people must be trained by New Zealanders. We pick up our laundry where the owner, a young woman from East Germany, insists on telling us her life story. We are only spared the details of her conjugal life but I'm sure we would have got there if we had not beaten a retreat. Back at the hotel we ask for a password for their WiFi network. A young man at the desk outperformed Manuel with the response: "Many people ask us, but no one in the hotel knows it." At tourist information a girl apologizes that their WiFi is not working; then a free half hour on a computer provided goes to waste as the machine freezes up. We fold at this point. Dinner back at the hotel is a riot of confusion and we cancel dessert and flee upstairs, leaving bewildered fellow diners to their fate.
22 July: We are up early and hit the road to Mértola in the Alentejo where we acquire a map for a visit to the museum at Mina do São Domingos. After driving round in circles we locate the Casa do Mineiro where we were welcomed by a lady, who summons Bito from Montreal to help translate, and then Rui arrives to open the mining museum, in an old cinema, especially for us and gives us an authoritative tour. Many Cornish miners were here; some are buried in a nearby cemetery. We part promising to share information about the shipping of copper from the mine. We drive through the old mine site and take the unmade road to Pomarao, on the Guadiana River. An 18km narrow-gauge railway once connected the mine to the port. Here the Willmett ship Pomaron would sail for the UK with cargo from about 1865. [A buzz that justifies the hassle of renting a car.] We cross the new bridge (April 2009) back into Spain and take the N roads back to Seville. We waste time searching for a hotel, found on the internet, in the crap towns north of Seville. Our luck changes as we blunder into the Jardin de la Reina at Torre de la Reina, 48 euros including breakfast and free WiFi in the room. We take the buffet dinner - 13 euros with a bottle of wine, 11 euros without alcohol. The hotel was most satisfactory given that we did not wish to go into Seville after a long day in the saddle.
23 July: Drive through Seville to the station where we drop off the rental car, somewhat lost in the city and baffled by the return procedure; we are relieved to find that we are not liable for charges on our already battered Fiat Punto. After coffee we take the 12:30 renfe train to Cordoba from Seville Santa Justa, 15.15 euros each for assigned seats in tourist class. The journey took just 40 minutes and we take a taxi to the Hotel Conquistador right next to Mezquita Catedral. We stroll in the old Jewish quarter and take lunch at Bodega-Taberna Rafaé - tuna salad, calamari and tinto, 19 euros incl tip. You don't need to be an internationalist to know you are staying in the heart of a "World Heritage Site". What is more the hotel has a comfy sofa in the elegant foyer; free WiFi and people watching. A tapas bar calls - this is the life.

Only Fools and Horses

July 19: Waterfront stroll in Lagos, Algarve. Coffee and car watching. Quick look at fortress and statue of Henry the Navigator. Stopped by the Lagos museum where I enquire about the location of Pomarão, which is in the Alentejo. A Willmett ship built in Padstow, Cornwall used to call there and we will visit later in the week.
Lunch at the Meu Limao - prawns in garlic and mixed salad; vegetarian menu, three courses for 6 euros.
A tour of the marina with trip boats setting out. We wait for the pedestrian lift bridge to close. Watching Alberto Contador win the stage in the Tour de France on TV. Siesta.
Evening supper at the Portal do Infante. Good food, iffy service. Stop at The Vu Cafe for ice cream afters. We are moving on tomorrow but would be glad to return to the western Algarve.

A tale of two stations

July 18: To the "end of the world" , the south-west corner of Europe. Back to the fortress built by Prince Henry the Navigator, the home of exploration and map making. We marvel at the giant compass etched in the ground - the first of its kind. This fort was a centre of research for mathematicians and cartographers - a magnet for experienced sea captains, wealthy traders and royalty. Here they gathered in the 15th Century to seek knowledge and ideas to advance the exploration of the world.
We take lunch at Vila do Bispo - Salada Algarvia and tuna sandwich followed by ice cream

Back to Lagos where we search for the railway station. There are two; old and new. Both are vandalized. The old one is a gem, the new one cannot match it.
We explore while waiting for a train to arrive.

Searching for a circuit

July 17: We take to the back roads looking for the Autodromo International Algarve which seems unlikely out in the boondocks. We arrive at a roundabout and there it is. A multi-million dollar facility in the middle of nowhere on top of a hill. We call at the Delta Autodromo Caffe for a cafe com leite, 1.30 euro each. The track has plainly created much local employment and we wish them well.
We move on and come across a goatherd with a large herd of goats. A way of life that hasn't changed for centuries. A strange contrast to the petrolheads of Portimao. By chance we then visit some mesolithic burial grounds. The history of mankind in three moves.
We ride on to the hilltop town of Monchique where we take a sardine lunch at the Bar Bela Vista. We photograph the stacks of cork wood on the edge of town. After a siesta we are back at the Bar Paris in Lagos gargling sangria.

Salida Espana

July 14 (continued): Restaurant alert - Mesones del Serranito, Seville: bacalao panes, 9 euros, perfect; Frito Mixto 2 personas 16 euros, very acceptable if a little unbalanced; start with a sweet sherry in a frosted glass followed by Rioja - Monticello Casa, Crianza 2004 then melocoton brandy to finish, approx 40 euros. Excellent service from Miguel.
July 15: Walked to Lavandería Roma (found on the internet see http://www.exploreseville.com/), 6 euros for laundry, pick up at 19:30. Later we calculate that this laundry would have cost 110 euros if we had used the hotel service. Dodged the column.

Walking tour to see the Cathedral y Giralda, Reles Alcazares and Barrio Santa Cruz. We follow the streetcar tracks looking for the depot and come across the Mercada Puerta de la Carne (the Antigua Estacion de Cadiz) - a wonderful old railway station closed in 1990. Great to find a slice of real Seville. Now a thriving fruit, veg, meat and fish market. A neglected treasure.

Lunch at Casa Dioni nearby- three course menu of the day, 8 euros; half chicken plate 7 euros. No English spoken, no worries. A rare moment of peace. Walk back to hotel by hot, complicated route. Siesta. Evening walk to la Macarena via the Alameda de Hercules. Overpriced, healthy fruit drink on outward leg. Lidl shopping. Sandwiches and drinks at Las Columnas, a self service cafe with a bar on the square. People watching. The guy featuring with his secretary better be more discrete. We head for our beds as the party gets started.

July 16: Breakfast once more at Place Duque, stroll back to hotel and take taxi to the modern Estacion Santa Justa , a nineties fantasy. Pick up rental car, a Fiat Punto diesel, and drive to the Algarve in Portugal. A look at Portimao convinces us that it would make the Portuguese editon of Craptowns. We continue on to Lagos. We check into the Hotel Marina Sao Roque for three nights of Anglo-Portuguese cultural tour. Blowing like a breeze. Chilled white out.

Sightseeing Seville [not by tram]

July 13: Number 3 bus to the border in Gibraltar for 11 am long-distance bus from La Linea to Seville, 21 euros each. Stops at Algeciras, [then fantastic hilltop views of the Straits of Gibraltar and Africa], Tarifa, Vejer de la Frontera [pass close to Cape Trafalgar, not mentioned in Spanish guide books!], Chiclana, Puerto [near Cadiz], Jerez de la Frontera [in Sherry country with Tio Pepe and large bull silhouettes by the road]. Snack lunch on bus. Arrive Seville without cash or map. Struggle to find hotel in blazing hot weather. Siesta. Up at 7 pm worried we'd miss dinner, as in France, but restaurant did not open until 8 pm. Took tinto in cafe, then salad and pasta supper plus rioja at Restaurant San Marco Pizzeria, strange at 49 euros for two including tip.
July 14: Out to breakfast at Cafeteria Spala-Duque, C/Trajano 1, Seville. 11 euros incl tip.
Tram time waster: every tram stop in Seville advertises daily tourist ticket, 4.50 euros, but not sold on tram or by tobacconists, as advised by conductor. Turns out ticket only available a tram ride away in town, thereby negating any benefit of discount. Is jerking visitors about part of their agenda?
Walk to the Parque Maria Luisa botanical gardens and the Plaza de Espana with fountain. Walk to Rio Guadalquivir and then take tram to the Plaza Nueva. Cafe de Indias for lunch where they are charging for WiFi, but we couldn't understand the Spanish instructions. Walk to Museo de Belles Artes in the Plaza del Museo. Salle V in fantastic old church - great if you like religious paintings [I don't]. Sat in delightful courtyard writing up my notes. What caused the decline of this ancient European civilization?
Back to Hotel Corregidor having spotted thriving tapas bar for night time sampling.

Blighty on the Med

July 11: Ten o'clock guided tour of Gibraltar Museum conducted by Clive Finlayson. Moorish baths, natural history, interesting "Seige Room". Bought book: "The Seige of Gibraltar", £14.50. Took bus up narrow streets to just below Moorish Castle. Ticket rip-off - paid £16 for two 50p tickets. Saw the "City under Seige" displays at the magazine.
The Military Heritage Centre was closed. Heroic climb up to Seige Tunnel where we sorted out ticket snafu. Overall, poor value for money. Walked down to the town centre, mostly via stairways. Lunch at the Gibraltar Arms - pil-pil prawns and tuna salad and sangria. Evening pizzas at the Verandah Bar, Eliott Hotel.
July 12: Walk to Gibraltar Botanical Gardens and Wildlife Park to take photos of Eliott and Wellington memorials. Took number 3 bus to Europa Point where the "last shop in Europe" is closed and empty. Scottish £5 refused on bus! Sea mist blocks the view of Africa. We hop back on the bus to town and walk through Ocean Village to Morrison's Supermarket where we buy a picnic lunch and get back on the bus to "Both Worlds" on the east coast and walk back to Catalan Beach for a shady snack lunch. Early evening walk to the Casemates - the citadel of Gibraltar - now a thriving shopping/eating centre. All-day bus rover ticket £1.50 each, good value. Enjoying our time in Blighty on the Med.

The sun never sets

6 July: arrive Malaga airport, T1, from Montreal. Meet the Mrs 11:30 approx, arrived from Glasgow. Walk to train station and catch renfe to Fuengirola at the end of the line, 2 euros each from ticket machine. Search for Hotel Agur close to trains and buses. Supermarket shopping adapted to Brits - baked beans, digestive biscuits, Birds custard etc. Dinner at Center King: Divina Salad 4.60, Calamari a la Romana 5.80, Lasagna Verde 4.60, Red Wine, bottled water. Total 17.00 euros. Nothing to write home about. Stroll to waterfront, then Cafeteria Costa del Sol: Copa Fresa 1 bola (strawberry ice cream) 2.25 euros, Sangria Copa 3.95 euros.
July 7: Rationed breakfast (portion control) at Casa McGurgle. Caught the 9:18 train from Fuengirola to Malaga; 8.20 euros for two, round trip. We see the renfe trains arriving from Seville; they are also building a line to Cordoba. C-2 Circular bus, 1.10 euros each to the Paseo del Parque. Climbed the hill to Castillo de Gibralfaro, delighted to see small kiosk for drinks up top, back down the hill to the Alcazaba, 6.90 each for entry to both on combo ticket. We spot a replica galleon in the harbour but cannot get close. Lunch in a bar in the Alameda Principal, good value at 16 euros plus tip. We walked back to the station to join the scrum waiting to get on the train. Note: a sight-seeing bus tour would have cost 40 euros per person.
July 8: On the 9:15 bus from Fuengirola to Mijas, 1.20 euros each. Free Wi-fi at tourist information in this hilltop town. Post cards 0.15 versus 0.40 cents in Fuengirola. Enjoying the cafe life while watching the donkey taxis. Splendid seafood tapas sampler at Cafe Bar Porras in the Plaza de la Libertad, 15 euros for two, plenty to share, 30.76 euros total including Rioja. Brits bellowing for burgers and toasties. Evening promenade around Fuengirola, we try "Churros y chocolat." African peddlers are a thorough nuisance at the table. Anything but relaxing. Fuengirola has seen better days and other resorts are preferable.
July 9: Laundry and Daily Mail (printed in Spain, 2.20 Euros). L2 bus to Los Boliches. Walk along seafront-a cut above Fuengirola - Fools and Horses bar, Uppa Crust sandwich bar, second-hand bookshop with a biography of Cilla Black! Dodging the dotto train we lunch at Bar Barista, Los Boliches; prawn salad 6.50 euros each, good. Dinner al fresco at La Campesina in Fuengirola avoiding panhandlers. Man selling lotto tickets, with wig, doing good trade on the corner. Dinner 29.50 euros with wine and digestifs.
July 10: Catch 12:30 bus to La Linea via Marbella, San Pedro, and Estepona. Arrive at La Linea bus station. No signs for Gibraltar. Walk through frontier and catch local bus to Hotel Eliott, 60p each. Short rest watching Tour de France from Andorra, then evening walk past naval dockyards to Rosia Road. Distant views across the drink of the dark continent. Number 4 bus back to town. Fish and chip supper at the Gibraltar Arms, recommended. You can still smoke in the bar! Gib is a throwback, where the sun never sets on the British Empire.

The Boroughmongers slam dunk in Christie Pits

Toronto: Striking spoilsports, strutting about like they own the place, have snookered the game down at the basketball courts in Christie Pits, Toronto. Garbage bags adorn the ice rink, used in summer for basketball, in a stinking flooded mess.

Self-important socialists now run Toronto while pinko Mayor Miller runs scared - with friends like his who needs enemies? This lot should be fired out of a cannon and the whole mess privatised, as in Etobicoke. There is more than one lot of stinking garbage down in Christie Pits.