Seville, Spain

Our dear friends “The Germans” arrived on a Tuesday.  Last fall we met them on a Zambian train and then again in Zanzibar.  After discovering they too were in Morocco at the same time as us (wild coincidence) we just had to meet up.  Our plans weren’t quite aligned as we were in cities about six hours apart.  They graciously canceled their AirBnB and flights, and then hopped on a bus to see us!  Really, these are true friends.

We were so excited to see them and have guests at our place, since we hadn’t hosted anyone in over eight months.  They were so wonderful and easy to get along with – real adventure travelers.  There is an ease with people like them, no need to explain or justify one’s life choices.  And they understand life on the road – yes, while it is an exceptional privilege it is also complicated, tiring, and lonely.  Their arrival lifted our spirits and we enjoyed showing them around the beach and market of Essaouira.

 

We packed into our Toyota Corolla – Everett loved having companions in the backseat.  The drive was short (three hours) and uneventful, minus a few bathroom breaks.  It’s really more fun to travel in a pack of five people, especially when the group is with The Germans.

 

Arriving in Marrakech, we dropped Nina, Vera, and Everett at the edge of the medina (cars are not allowed). The streets were exceptionally confusing near the medina, so we weren’t sure exactly where we were – and Google Maps was making matters worse.  Of course, as experienced travelers they had no problem finding their hostel in the maze of alleyways; Ken and I proceeded to return the car and then take a taxi back to the medina to meet them.  By this time, it was 103 degrees F (40 C) and with all our luggage, even walking 20 mins in the sun was very taxing.

 

By late afternoon we hadn’t eaten yet and we were all hungry.  Their hotel was right around the corner from a restaurant we knew, so we were excited to share a real Moroccan meal with them.  Then, we strolled through the square and surrounding shops, trying to stay in the covered alleys for shade.  In the early evening it was unbearably hot so we escaped inside drinking soda and chatting about life, until it was time for us to depart for the train.  They would continue as planned to the desert and we would make our way to Spain.  

What a wonderful 24 hours with our friends!  We invited them to visit Seattle, and hopefully they will get the chance in the future.  Nina also has a connection to Uganda (lived there briefly and will be returning next year), so we hope to cross paths in East Africa.  Finding friends like these is a genuine treasure – someone to laugh with, be inspired by, and marvel at how the world sends you exactly who you need.

 

The overnight train departed Marrakech at 9pm.  The train station was surprisingly modern.  We had a private cabin with two bunk beds, which was perfect for us.  We were all dreading the sleeping conditions, knowing it would be difficult in the 100-degree F (38 C) heat.  Luckily, while it was definitely hot, it was bearable.  The sheets were clean and the vinyl mattresses weren’t too bad.  Ken, too tall to really fit, made the best of it (aka fetal position).  We arrived at 6:20am right on time in Tangier, the northernmost point of Morocco – an indisputably picturesque port town.  We just love the adventure of overnight trains! 

I booked us on the 8am ferry to cross the strait of Gibraltar to Tarifa, Spain.  Normally, I wouldn’t book such a tight connection, as trains can be highly unpredictable.  But in order to catch the bus on the Spain side, it was the best option.  We read that the ferry can often be delayed or canceled due to weather, but it was right on time and after a brief one-hour crossing we landed in Spain.  We were happy to charge all our devices, which were dead (as the train didn’t have electrical outlets).  To make our tight bus connection, we pushed to get off the ferry as quickly as possible and beeline to Spanish immigration.  In all our rushing, we reached the bus stop an hour early.  The timing could not have been better.

 

The wind was strong and we enjoyed a coffee and tostada while we waited in the small beach town of Tarifa, on the southernmost tip of Spain.  Honestly, we were missing the Moroccan/African flavor and feeling a little defeated as we could no longer use our newfound French or Arabic, realizing we really didn’t know Spanish.

 

The bus ride was only four hours, but it seemed longer because we made so many stops in little beach towns.  I think without stops it would have been only two hours.  We arrived in Seville to a scorching afternoon heat (100-degree F ; 38 C).  Our hostel was not too far from the bus station (one mile) but in that weather, with our packs, it was exhausting.  Initially we tried to catch a local bus but were directed to the wrong stop and then missed the bus.  I really didn’t want to sit in the heat for another 18 minutes waiting for the next one.  Ken thankfully hailed a cab.  Weirdly, the cab was actually cheaper than the bus, so I told him he was an Absolute Legend.

 

Because of the high hotel prices, we stayed two nights at a cheap hostel (but in a great location, right near the Plaza de San Francisco).  The rooms were extremely minimal (bunk beds) with shared bathrooms and the A/C didn’t work, but there was an amazing rooftop deck.  Unfortunately, the heat made the rooftop less than enticing.  It was about 5pm and we were hungry but we forgot about Spanish dinner hours (nearly everything closed until 7:30pm).  We were so fortunate that a restaurant right under our hostel was open and we cooled off with sangria.  Everett had such a wonderful attitude with the 24-hour train-taxi-ferry-taxi-bus-taxi combo that he got to order steak.

We slept in that morning and then explored Seville on foot - commenting on the wonderful walkability, the Moroccan similarities, and of course the extreme temperatures.  We tried not to let the heat get the best of us, as we admired the plazas and architecture (Gothic cathedrals, Plaza de Espanas, Plaza de America), the flowers, the gardens, and the river walk.  We escaped the sun with some Aperol Spritz under umbrellas in a wonderful park.  Back at the hostel in the early evening, Everett caught up on school.  Ken and I again went to the same restaurant for tapas because by 5pm we were hungry (and everything was closed!).  We just could not vibe with the 8:30pm dinner time.

Saturday morning was bustling outside our hostel – we were right in the thick of the tourist brunch crowds.  We only had a five-minute walk to the bus station (a different one than a few days prior), where we boarded a bus destined for Lagos, Portugal.  The bus had electrical chargers, A/C, and a toilet (a very nice tourist bus indeed) – so we enjoyed the nearly six-hour ride along the Algarve coast.