Wednesday March 7 we arrived at Cadiz, Spain as the sun rose. Cadiz, Andalusia (pronounced Ca-dish by the Andalu-TH-ians) is on a peninsula connected by a long causeway to the mainland. Typically cruise ships stop here so passengers can visit Seville and its famous bull ring fifty miles inland. Michael had seen Seville some years ago and was not eager to go again. This was my first visit to Spain so I was not averse to seeing Cadiz and making an excursion to Jerez (Hereth) to visit "bodegas" where sherry is made and sold. After checking out the ship-sponsored tour of the sherry country, we had already decided that we could do just as well on our own.
Michael and I spent the morning visiting the old parts of Cadiz. The ship's Tour Desk invites local Tourism people aboard on the morning of a port visit whenever possible so we were able to get good maps showing a variety of self-guided walking tours. We were, as usual, out and about early. In Spain, there is very little traffic and most businesses are not open before ten or eleven a.m. As a result, we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We wandered around the old city until 10:00 a.m. when the cathedral opened. The cathedral's Spanish style interior was well worth the three Euro entrance fee. I think Michael enjoyed the crypt the most. The acoustics in the center echoed and amplified the human voice in the mid register. Michael singing sounded like a choir doing a Gregorian chant.
We visited the major attractions near the cathedral, found the flower market, the regular market and tracked down the location of a restaurant where we could have a sherry tasting later if we didn't get to Jerez. I took several hundred pictures.
We headed back toward the Silver Wind as noon approached. The Wind had docked right in the downtown area of Cadiz near the ferry terminal and the train station. I'm sure no one reading this will be surprised that we detoured to the train station. A train for Jerez was scheduled to leave in twenty minutes. We decided to skip lunch on the ship and take the train. We had a lunch of energy bars and water during the forty-five minute ride to Jerez. On the way I spotted my first huge black bull sign. Originally an advertisement of Osborne Sherry, the oversize black bull has become something of an icon representing Spain. Once there were hundreds of them throughout the country. In recent years most have been torn down but a preservation movement has managed to save about sixty of them. They are really impressive on hill tops.
Michael and I were both amazed by the beautiful Jerez railroad station. It is a wonderfully preserved architectural gem. We did not see an information kiosk near the station so, mapless, we started walking more or less at random. Fortunately, there were road signs sowing the way to the market and various sherry bodegas. We quickly found the historic city and walked through the market just as the stalls started closing for siesta. Michael declared that he could never live in Spain. The workday starts too late, everything stops during the heat of the afternoon and dinner isn't served until after ten at night. Neither of us can stay up past ten let alone keep going until the wee hours of the morning. The afternoon was warm and sunny and we again had the streets mostly to ourselves. We had a very pleasant walk through the city although we missed the turn for one sherry bodega and we passed another that was open to the public by appointment only.
Michael used his GPS to head us back toward the train station. We zigged and zagged through cobbled streets lined with white stucco buildings dodging the occasional vehicle that entirely filled a narrow street. On a wider street with proper sidewalks, I was admiring the orange trees lining the street when Michael spotted the Lustau Bodega, a huge building that occupied several blocks. I vaguely remembered that Lustau is a good brand. We crossed the street and entered the courtyard. It was quiet, still siesta time, but there was a small sign indicating sherry tastings to the left.
We entered a small office with an even smaller anti-room. A youngish woman was busy typing on a keyboard. She looked up, took a glance at us and asked in excellent English, "Do you want a sherry tasting? What do you know about sherry?" I wonder how she guessed the language. Michael evidently passed her quiz on basic sherry knowledge and she offered us a private tour and sherry tasting for ten Euro each.
We walked through a number of warehouse rooms piled high with barrels of sherry in various stages of aging. Our guide told us that opening and closing the window shutters control the temperature and wetting down the sand floor as needed controls the humidity. Lustau has used this method for over a hundred years. We discovered just how effective their methods are when we entered the tasting room and sampled six kinds of sherry. They went from good to wonderful to out of this world. Lustau sherries are supposedly available in the United States although we have since discovered, not in Colorado. I guess we will just have to make a trip to California or New York to get some. When Michael posted our adventure on his blog, several knowledgeable friends told him that Lustau is perhaps the very best sherry there is. The one we both liked best sells for about forty-five dollars a bottle. Nothing like expensive tastes!
We took the train back to Cadiz in time to have a short rest before the Silver Wind departed for Malaga. We passed through the straits of Gibraltar after 11 p.m. After dinner, we were in the Observation Lounge watching until almost eleven and could see the African and the Spanish shores clearly. I didn't stay up any later because I had an early start to an all-day tour of the Alhambra in the morning. This leg of the trip was proving intense but wonderful.
