Jerez de la Frontera in the morning

We are the tourists Tuesday morning, doing what tourists do best -- gawk, walk and take photos of what the people of Jerez would surely consider normal life. Surely they wonder why anyone would want to take pictures of market foods. And odder still – of fish, ubiquitous that they are. Surely they're thinking -- don't you have any of this back home? 

Well no, not really. Back home, we're far from ocean waters. Back home our fish come mostly frozen. Back home fresh cuts and exotic crustaceans are for people with time and money on their hands. In other words, not for the overworked over stressed people that we are, you know -- with the long commutes, and ballet lessons and soccer practice for the kids, and lawns to mow and snow to shovel. Yes, back home, I hear there's snow.


Today, in Jerez de la Frontera, it is the first fish market of the week and I can hardly believe that this town has a population of only 210,000, because there is enough seafood at the market to feed ten times that many. And the variety!


















I feel that we hadn’t eaten enough of it – that it would be great to do this all over again, only now with these images of shellfish, fish fish, squid fish, who knows what fish, all of it to help guide us through the menus.
















The market has a wealth of produce too and that’s no surprise. Southern countries have better winter markets. It’s not fair, but what can you do.








(biggest mushroom guy)



It would be wrong not to recognize the meat vendors as well, even though dead flesh (as Ed calls it) is a little less photogenic than dead fish. Odd but true. We'll stick with the sausages -- of which there are many.






There is a nice social vibe around the market – it’s always that way. People grabbing a coffee with someone they've run into, intentionally or otherwise.

But, here's the thing -- it is also quite nippy outside (in the forties). The sun’s out, but the wind’s picked up. I’m told it never gets below freezing here, but I would guess that this day must surely count as one of the colder ones.

Our train’s at 12:08. We’ve deliberately set aside time to see the Alcazar before we leave, now, finally, in the glow of a sunny day.





Such a contrast with the Alcazar in Seville (I wont even mention Granada)! We are the only ones there, walking the walls and small gardens, poking into relics of old baths, climbing towers...















The palace itself has seen sad years. It’s been restored, but in its more modern incarnation, it offers little for tourists who want to be amazed.

Okay. We did our tourist run. Time to leave this sherry town of Tio Pepe.


 


We pick up our bags from the hotel that was such an affront with its massive locked doors on the first day and grew to be probably the most splendid place of our entire trip.


A long train ride to Cordoba. We’re on the local train. Nearly three hours. Time to readjust one’s sensibilities. Time to do some work too – there’s another sensibility for you: next week classes start.

And Cordoba? That’s tomorrow’s post. A late one at that. We need to make our way back to Madison.