After an epic train journey from Barcelona, we’ve been spending the last few days in Seville. We both quickly agreed that this place feels like Spain – the streets are lined with orange trees, the buildings are plastered white with little orange balconies, and you never have to wait long until a segway tour rolls past you. Ok, so maybe we’re a little too close to the tourist centre of town to get true authenticity.
It’s Gaudí day!* The day we set aside for leaving the twilight embrace of the Gothic quarter in order to go to both Park Güell and the Sagrada Família cathedral.
While yesterday was all about food, today turned into a healthy dose of art, religion and history.
After a pair of very annoying flights occupied by people put on this earth to increase my blood pressure*, we have touched down in peaceful, politically stable Barcelona. Everyone seems very chill for being dangerous revolutionaries, though Catalan flags are hanging from many, many buildings. Also signs that say “Hola Democràcia”, which seems like the most benign political slogan ever but I’m sure is actually very incendiary. Possibly the general air of goodwill owes something to the fact that a glass of decent wine in a restaurant here will cost you less than a bottle of water in a restaurant in Sydney.
Christchurch ✈ Sydney
When we knew we were coming here to ski, we figured we’d need a couple of days either side to make it more a holiday and less a humiliating exercise in defeat and sore muscles. Since we’re flying in and out of Christchurch, we picked another town in the region more or less at random, which is how we ended up in Kaikoura.
Today was meant to be my third day of skiing. But instead Holly and I picnicked in the bottom of a gorge surround by amazingly bright blue water. I am mostly ok with that decision.
As you will be aware from Sim’s previous post, I bailed VERY early from the skiing experience. As such, it fell to me to fill in a day by myself while Sim went up the hill (an expression I overheard some locals using at the pub). The town of Methven is pretty grim if you’re not into winter sports and/or putting non-traditionally-made pizza into your body. It’s basically just here to cater to snow tourism; what happens for the other nine months of the year I have no idea. Accordingly, I laced (zipped) up my boots and set out to achieve the following.
We are in Methven. We spent the day at Mt Hutt. I have put on skis for the first time. I have fallen over. So that’s skiing right?