And for real this time! Which I know because we have finally pulled into the train station, and it is decorated with pretty tiles which denote being in a quaint Spanish town.
Suspicious wet spots denote being in a train station.
We get to the taxi line, and immediately realize that we will be needing our limited Spanish abilities a lot on this trip, because Jerez is fairly out of the way and most tourists do not come by train.
We arrive at our hotel and I politely put all my things away and make a nice space for Dan.
This seems like a good place for a suitcase.
Our room is huge and gorgeous, with doors that open onto a small balcony. Doors that open out to a balcony are a key part of feeling like one is on vacation, so we are intensely pleased that we have this. Our room also has a little separate sitting area, which I go to investigate, and discover that this sitting room ALSO HAS DOORS OPENING ONTO A BALCONY. Two balconies! We can barely contain ourselves with all of our good fortune, until Dan says, “Hey Rox, I think there is another balcony…”
And then we discover that we are in a room with four balconies, which is an absurd number of balconies but also seems right somehow. We drown in our happiness, and I briefly consider taking pictures of the place in order to be a better travel writer and then review all the parts of the hotel, but that seems like an activity that doesn’t involve getting Spanish food and wine into my face as quickly as possible, so I abandon it in favor of walking through the city towards food and wine.
Immediately, I realize my ten pairs of shoes will do me no good because what I really should have brought was a FREAKING JACKET. As a person who goes places a lot, one would think I would be very good at packing by now, but somehow it has become quite the opposite, and the older I get, the more I just start throwing random items into a bag like a useless Mary Poppins, thinking, “Maybe I will need an Oxford dictionary on this trip, you just never know, better take it just to be safe,” and then arrive at my destination and freeze to death and get buried with my dictionary because I forgot to ask myself whether I’d need a jacket or not, to which the answer is always YES, something that I should know as a Portlander and also just a human being on the earth.
Anyway, Pro-Traveler Tip #2: Always bring a jacket.
The jacket becomes important because while Jerez de la Frontera is supposed to be in the mid-70s, it’s taking its sweet time to get there, and somehow 65F in Jerez feels like 50F in Portland. Probably due to the many fountains full of water in the city, which is a fact I have not run by any scientists but sounds completely correct.
Ornate fountains have a severe impact on weather patterns in Spain.
Luckily for me, I do not travel/do anything at all without my black and white flannel, so I am at least relatively warm, but nonetheless I resolve to buy a jacket at the first place I see.
This looks like a good place to start.
Dan and I sit down at this probable jacket store (my Spanish is not very good, any of those words could mean anything) and order some things.
Not a jacket.
Former pig jacket, not good present-times jacket.
We leave the jacket store without any jackets but happier for the delicious wine and first plate of Iberico ham. We initially decided we would order a plate of Iberico ham at every restaurant, just based on how delicious and insanely cheap it is, but after the first plate we realize this would result in returning to the States as The People Who Ate Dan And Roxanne, so we eschew this plan for much more reasonable eating habits and lots of walks.
How else will we see all the walls?
And get our prayers answered?
After what seems like an interminable walk that Dan confirms was exactly twelve minutes, I beg to sit down somewhere, and we find a pretty plaza with outdoor tables. The nice thing about Jerez is that there are many, many outdoor tables for intrepid travelers who like sitting outside when it’s cold without a jacket. The other nice thing about Jerez is how completely devoid of people it can be, which means often you have a whole plaza to yourself. Well, almost to yourself, if you don’t count pigeons and teenagers, which I do not.
Teenagers are the pigeons of people
I lean back in the sun and bask in the tranquility of Jerez, of the quiet streets and the simply delightful foods and always-full glasses of wine. It is everything I hoped for, a lovely city with a small-town feel, with beautiful architecture and sights. As I reflect on how lucky I am in life, I see this:
“Prepare to get your pigeon world rocked.”
I did not think I could get any luckier but apparently I am the LUCKIEST PERSON ON THE PLANET because our tranquil glass of wine in a beautiful plaza turned into free front row tickets to some good ol’ fashioned pigeon sex.
“Move over dude, let me get in there!”
“Awwww yiss”
“Dude, can’t wait to tell the bros about this.”
“Hey girl, we heard—“ “NOOOOOOOOO!”
“SANCTUAAAARYYY!”
I commend the lady pigeon for escaping, or possible male pigeon, because I am not a bird doctor and have no idea if this was a dominance display or a pigeon orgy (definitely a pigeon orgy) that ended in one of the birds seeking refuge at a church. Either way, I am laughing hysterically and narrating the scenario loud enough that Dan decides it is time to go home and put us to bed because we are running on some very questionable sleep and the highlight of our trip so far has been birds doing it and we’re possibly hallucinating.
“Stop looking at me, swan!”
Lessons learned from our first day in Jerez:
- Bring a jacket.
- Jerez is very pretty.
- Don’t eat ham for every meal.
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