8. Cádiz is the Biz

Cádiz really is the biz – and such a surprise to D & me as we really didn’t expect much: we thought maybe we should have forked out for the coach trip to Seville, rather than stay in a busy old port. Glad we didn’t, as ‘the little silver cup’ as the locals call it, is a beautiful Andalucian city full of history: cobbled medieval streets, whitewashed Spanish plazas, Roman ruins, a beautiful cathedral, a botanical garden and much more. There are even three lovely beaches – no black sand or imported stuff here – they’re the real deal! The streets are lined with endless shops of every kind: not just a riot of souvenirs (thousands of fridge magnets and phone charms), but hand-crafted goods and fashion, alongside street markets, bars, restaurants and umbrella fringed pavement cafés. All this was such a pleasure to stroll through in the hot sunshine taking in the scenery, sights and smells. Wow - we need to come back here!

D & I knew little of the place, save he thought it was something to do with the Armada and I thought Nelson did something there. Turns out we were both right – the city is the oldest one in Europe (founded 1100BC) and has been invaded many times. Nelson did have a crack at it, but so did Sir Francis Drake, two hundred years before. No wonder the city walls are still in evidence, surrounding the old town, they were needed to withstand regular attacks by those jealous of the huge trade that the city had built up with the New World. 

We learnt all this of course, on the open topped bus tour, which we hopped on to as soon as we left the ship. Plugged in, then whizzed round both the old and new town, past the cathedral, along the beaches and up to the modern Carrenza bridge that connects the peninsula of Cadiz with the mainland. Well worth the 50€ that D rather begrudges (‘just for a bus ride’), as it included entry to the Cathedral, too.

After that we wandered into the Town Hall Square for a drink (D has moved on from coffee to a pint of rough draught local beer), found an umbrella and sat gratefully in the shade. Our peace was shattered by a loud siren: not an emergency vehicle as we first thought, but an ear-splitting alarm, seemingly coming from the Town Hall. The crowds in the Square, many at pavement tables like us, shifted uncomfortably and mimed to one another that they hoped it would stop soon. No point in moving, as it must have been heard in all the surrounding streets, so we sat it out. Twenty minutes later it stopped – to a spontaneous round of loud applause. From us British of course, the Spanish didn’t react at all. What a lovely national characteristic! 

 

 

Did the shops, then walked to the Cathedral, an imposing building with a gold tiled dome, reminiscent of Muslim Temples, rather than the Catholic Church. It was intended to reflect the sun, so the sailors returning from the New World could see it as they sailed into port. We were too early for the guided tour that our bus ticket entitled us to, but the rep said that we could go in and look round – once D had said that 3.00 was a bit late, as we had to be back at the ship (10 minutes away), by 4.30. 

Quick squizz at that, enlivened by D’s discovery that his hat was missing. He had it when he came in, but it had mysteriously vanished. Oh no! We retraced our steps, looked under pews and in the toilet, all to no avail. No hat. I said he needed to go back to the desk and say ‘Mi sombrero isa losta’, but fortunately they spoke enough English to tell him it hadn’t been handed in. We left the cathedral hatless, then D asked the bus rep if she’d picked it up. No, but go back in and have another look, Señor. He found it then, on a ledge, where he definitely hadn’t left it and had looked before, so someone must have put it there… Phew.

Quick walk back to enter the security ring that surrounds the ship, flash cruise cards a few times, then bags into trays, walk through the scanner. D set the alarm off in Lanzarote and he did the bloody same thing here, even though he was sure he’d emptied all his metal bits into the tray. When it happens a security guard approaches with what looks like a ray gun, but fortunately is only a hand scanner, which they swipe all over your body. Turns out D had left his theft proof, metal zipped bum bag on; he’d forgotten about it. He tried to be jocular with the officer about his slip up, but she wasn’t having any of it and said sternly that he must be sure to put it in the tray next time. D says that’s what happens when you give people power.

Wine time now on the balcony, as we sail away to Lisbon, off to dinner soon, then to see a ‘Comedy Vocalist’ in the Arena Theatre. This really is the biz.