It's taken me a while to go through all these photos. Most are just pictures of Brook and I at the places we visited. I realized when I go on a vacation I just take pictures of the sites and never of me at the sites. So, it is more of a photo journal of our faces all week instead of the actual things we saw.
Our first experience in Spain:
We arrived early in the morning in Rota and immediately hopped a bus to Seville. That was another 2 hour ride and as soon as we got off the bus we wanted to get something to eat, we had a lot of site seeing and walking to do. We sat down at the first cafe we saw and just decided to be brave and order whatever. We couldn't find any of the menu items in our phrase book. Our waiter didn't speak any English and we ended up ordering what he pointed to. We are such suckers...what came out I can only describe as hot cat food. It was a giant plate of warm tuna in gravy. We paid a lot and we needed energy for our day so we ate it. It definitely soured my opinion of Spain's cuisine. Here is the infamous cafe:
The one thing I did snap
a lot of was the views from the Seville Cathedral: the largest cathedral in Spain, the largest
Gothic structure in the world. This was our first day in Spain and I was amazed at the city sites. It was so dark inside, my pictures really didn't turn out. Here are some views from the tower:
Fine Arts Museum in Seville. I thought it was going to be this small time dinky museum and it had the most amazing art...probably my favorite stuff out of the whole trip.
Outside the museum we sat by a fountain to decide what to do next. An old man came over to talk to us (he reminded me of the father from "My Big Fat Greek Wedding") and although we could only understand about one out of every twenty words it was fun. Most people were very accommodating and kind. Before we left on the trip I asked Brook if he was worried that we didn't know the language. Not to worry he said, everyone speaks English. Uh...not so, at least not in Spain. Most did not. So this trip was a crash course in Spanish for us. Before we left I could count to twenty, say I'm sorry (which came in handy) and ask where the nearest library was. Word to the wise: have a few more phrases under your belt before you travel to a foreign country.
On our train ride to Madrid. It was one of those super fast trains. We got from Seville to Madrid (340 miles) in about two hours. So FAST!
The Plaza Mayor in Madrid on the busiest night of the year. It's called the White Night. There is a full moon out and there are activities held all over the city. The streets and trains were so packed, body to body. This was also the night that Brook and I were pick-pocketed...nothing taken but scary nonetheless. This young guy stepped onto the metro and I immediately sensed something off about him. He edged his way over to me. I'm such a target...open purse slung over my shoulder. It just had phrase books and maps in it. All my important stuff was in a pouch under my clothes...what Brook and I came to call our crotch purses. Anyway, this guy sidled up to me and I was trying to inch away but there wasn't much room. Then there was a jerk and a snap at my purse. I pulled it away and said out loud to Brook, "He's trying to take something from my purse." My heart was pounding out of my chest. If I was in America and some little punk like him tried that I wouldn't have been so timid I'm sure. But it made me really nervous. He backed off and moved to the other side of the train. Later that night we hopped onto the train and I saw the same guy, probably working the whole night. Someone else slipped their hand into Brook's back pocket and he smacked their hand away. I felt like I was being padded down the whole ride. So creepy!! I wasn't eager to ride the metro after that. Obviously this picture was taken earlier in the evening. It was this same night we found out the girls had gone to the hospital. I'll post about that next.
Outside the Prado-Caravaggio, Goya, Gauguin, Bosch, all kinds of great old stuff.
Outside the Reina Sofia-A Contemporary Art Museum, best known for Picasso's Guernica.
Some grassy wall in Madrid:
People watching in the park, a favorite past-time of mine. The weather in Madrid was perfect.
Outside the Madrid Temple. When we walked up I read La Casa del Senor and was disappointed that we were at the wrong place...uh duh Frances!! I still think it's weird that I would refer to a bus driver and the Lord with the same name.
After the temple it was onto Rota. We wanted to head back to the base to maybe hang out at the beach and have a couple of site seeing free days. If I had any idea what we were in for I would have stayed in Madrid.
We missed our bus to Rota in Seville and I thought, "Ah shucks, let's just stay here." Big Mistake! Madonna was in Seville performing and the city was packed. We walked and walked for about 4 hours searching for a hotel. We entered dozens of places and called a dozen more. People kept saying to us in various broken phrases, "You know, Madonna is in town." We tried renting a car to maybe drive outside the city but they hung up on us. We stopped and said a prayer for help. We felt desperate. I remember at one point we were walking down this street, it was midnight, and I told Brook maybe we should just look for a place to hang out and just stay up all night or sleep outside. At that point we found a room. We put down a lot of money. I won't say how much because its a little embarrassing. But I have to say we never had buyer's remorse. The best night's sleep the whole trip. Here is a picture of us the next morning all fresh and rested in our pricey bed!
We got on a bus back to Rota. I felt at peace. We were one step closer to home, one step closer to being back with our girls. Oh foolish Frances!!! Didn't you know this was not the end. I believe this picture was taken after a beach vendor overcharged us for some ice cream bars and then laughed at us. I was not amused.
Ahhh...the Tandem Bike. A story that deserves its own post. Coming in the near future.
At the Air Terminal just moments before our flight home, a crazy Spanish guy (I assume he's crazy because of what he said) told me I look like Nicole Kidman. This was my last encounter with a Spaniard. I think he was a plant orchestrated by the Spanish Tourist Industry, because I was very flattered and can't help but leave just loving Spain!!!
Some things about Rosie:
Apparently just anyone can show up to one of these parties. No dress code. 
There is definitely a 'honeymoon' period after coming home from a long trip. I'm happy to be with the girls and more energized. I thought they would enjoy this little activity, Rosie calls them Butt-Cakes. Who am I to correct her?
