Nuremberg - a nostalgic look back at one of Germany's best beer-drinking cities

Nuremberg is the second largest city in Bavaria, but it is also the capital of Franconia; a region, which was once a separate state, until Napoleon came on the scene. Its inhabitants, like those of the rest of Franconia, see themselves as Franks rather than Bavarians and tend to disapprove of the macho image portrayed by their southern neighbours. Interestingly though, many Franconians (Franks) will support Bayern Munich when it comes to choosing a football team!

I have been to Nuremberg several times. Most of these visits were when I was passing through, as I have used the city’s airport as a convenient gateway to several destinations in Germany: most notably Bamberg, but also Forchheim and Regensburg. I have also visited Nuremberg’s famous Christmas Market, whilst on a coach tour. There is plenty to see in the city, including several museums (the transport and toy museums are particularly well worth seeing), art galleries and some fine old churches, but for me the most interesting, and also the most impressive, are Nuremberg’s fortifications.  These date back to medieval times and as well as the massive Imperial Castle (Kaiserburg) which over-looks the city, the old city walls are well worth a look.

I have walked along the north-west section, and there are two massive stone walls separated by a deep and wide ditch. I am not sure if this would have been filled with water during the medieval period, but the defences would have been sufficient to deter even the most determined of invaders. The inner section of wall is covered in places, to provide shelter for the defenders. A number of the old city gates remain, and these are fortified with various towers etc. Like most German cities, Nuremberg has a fully integrated public transport system, meaning that with a valid ticket it is possible to transfer easily between trains (both over-ground and underground), buses and trams. Day tickets are available, covering several different zones which radiate out from the city centre.

Up until the early 1945, Nuremberg had one of the best-preserved medieval townscapes in Europe, but unfortunately around 90% of the old city was destroyed, in a devastating raid carried out by the RAF in February of that year. With the end of the war, just two months away, you have to wonder at the mind-set of men like Arthur Harris. This surely was destruction, just for the sake of it; and if further proof was needed, “Bomber Harris” carried on his campaign of indiscriminate carpet bombing, almost to the end of hostilities. After the war, much of the old city was rebuilt in a modernised version of the original style, with the most important buildings re-built true to the originals but walking about it is still possible to spot the original medieval buildings which survived the raid.

My visit at the beginning of June 2015 though was the first time I had actually stayed in the city, and I have to report that I really liked what I saw. My family-run hotel was conveniently situated just a short walk away from the Hauptmarkt and just slightly further from the massive Imperial Castle which towers over the city. The latter, of course, was the venue for the Fränkisches Bierfest; which was the main reason for my visit to Nuremberg. The weather was fine throughout my stay, with plenty of sunshine and temperatures peaking at around 30˚ on the Saturday.

I have only drunk in a handful of Nuremberg’s pubs, and on my most recent trip, only one.  I had singled out a pub called Hutt’n as the ideal place for a meal plus a few drinks on my first evening in the city. Not only did the pub offer one of the best ranges of beer in town, but the menu also looked enticing. The first thing I discovered was Hutt’n has moved to larger premises, near to the castle. The second though was it was absolutely packed; both inside and out, so there was no chance of a table.

I returned to Hutt’n the following day, whilst waiting for Fränkischerbierfest to open. I called in for a quick Rauchbier fix. Even at this early hour I had to sit outside; no problem under a shady umbrella in 30˚ of heat. I went for a smoke beer from Fischer. Although perhaps not quite as smoky as that of Schlenkerla, the most famous and best known Rauchbier, the example from Fischer still packed in plenty of smokiness and certainly hit the spot so far as I was concerned. It was good sitting there under the shady umbrella watching the world go by and seeing people struggling up the hill in the 30˚ temperatures, but tempted as I was to stop for another, I had a potentially heavy afternoon’s supping ahead of me, so decided to call it a day.

I visited two other pubs on my first visit to Nuremberg, which took place in December 2007. The contrast in temperature could not have been more striking, as it was bitterly cold. I was in the city as part of a coach party on a brief visit to Nuremberg’s world-famous Christmas Market; the Christkindlmarkt.  It was too cold to spend time walking around the stalls, so I headed up the hill to the Schwarzer Bauer, which is the tap for the tiny Altstadthof Brauerei next door. It was nice and cosy inside the pub, and after enjoying a couple of mugs of the house-brewed beer, I was loath to step back out into the cold. However, I wanted to see Nuremberg’s magnificent Imperial Castle, and can report that this massive structure, is well worth visiting.

On the way back to the coach pick-up, I just had time for a quick glass at Gasthaus Schranke; a fine old, half-timbered pub, just down from the castle’s main gate and in the shadow of its imposing walls. The place was packed and in view of this, people were drinking outside, standing at tables which had been converted from old wooden barrels. I joined them, in-spite of the cold, and waited for the waiter to come and take my order.

Gasthaus Schranke now appears to be owned by Augustiner of Munich, but 10 years previously it sold, amongst other beers, Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier from Bamberg. Despite having enjoyed this magnificent “smoke beer”, earlier in the day, at the Schlenkerla Tavern, in Bamberg itself, I just had to have one last glass, before rushing back to board the coach. It seemed a fitting way to end this whistle-stop tour of Bavaria’s second largest city.

Putting people in the picture, and getting things back in context

Some of you might remember that for a period of approximately two years I hosted my own website called, Paul's Beer Travels. It was a self-hosted site, which meant that, unlike Google's Blogger, I had to pay an annual fee to a company (Bluehost, in my case), just to host the site. I also had to pay an initial fee to register the site's name, and then pay an annual renewal fee.

The platform I chose was WordPress.org,  a self-hosted website, where the originator has full control over the layout, appearance, and general theme of the site, as well as being responsible for the creative content. WordPress.org, was not the most intuitive of software, and it certainly couldn't be described as “user friendly,”  in fact it was hard work. It was also a duplication of effort, although to be fair, the majority of the articles were lengthier, and went into much more detail than those on the blog. 

Crunch time came two years ago when, faced with renewal fees of over £500, I decided to pull the plug on the website. And there, things might have ended, because once the hosting lapsed, so did the site itself, along with the entire content, so that's copy, photos and countless hours of racking my brain for ideas, and then bashing it all out on my computer keyboard. Fortunately, before everything disappeared into the ether, I painstakingly copied and saved the entire content of the website, onto my hard-drive. That's 34 articles in total and all fortunately, saved for posterity. 

So, from time to time I intend to reproduce some of those articles, here on the blog, and this particularly  applies at times, such as at present, when I find myself too tired and too tied up to come up with much in the way of original content. Keep an eye out then, for the first of these posts, which is a look back at Nuremberg, the second largest city in the state of Bavaria, and a place I wouldn't mind being back in at this particular moment of time. 

A family wedding at the High Rocks, Tunbridge Wells

Just under a year ago, son Matthew and I paid a brief visit to the High Rocks, a country pub, restaurant and wedding venue situated down a quiet country lane, about 15 minutes’ drive from the centre of Tunbridge Wells. The pub and restaurant complex is named after the adjacent High Rocks, an outcrop of sandstone rocks, spread over several acres of a tranquil woodland setting. Along with the nearby Harrison’s Rocks, these rocky crags form a world-renowned location for rock climbing.

The lad and I had stopped at the High Rocks, after finding the Huntsman at Eridge, our intended port of call, closed due to a power outage. It had been a decade or more since the last time I’d set foot in the High Rocks, and whilst a visit there was long overdue, there was another motive for us calling in at the pub. That reason was that Heidi, the youngest of Eileen’s two nieces would be marrying her fiancé Phil there, at the beginning of July 2024. So, last Friday, which was just under a year following on from our visit, the day of the wedding finally arrived.

I mentioned in a previous article that there was a family connection with the High Rocks, as attached to the main building, is a magnificent, oak-beamed barn, used to host larger functions at the High Rocks. The barn was assembled by Heidi’s late father, Brian, after starting life as an old farm building. It was acquired by the owner of the High Rocks, and then taken apart, and transported to its new site, for reassembly.  It was quite a project, and Brian was rightly very proud of it.

Brian sadly passed away four years ago, right at the beginning of the pandemic, although his death was not COVID related, so was not there to give his youngest daughter away. That honour should have passed to Heidi’s son but, as sometimes happens in families there was a bit of a family falling out. I won’t go into detail, especially as they aren’t relevant to this post, but the long and the short of this is, Matthew was asked to step in, and take the place of his second cousin.

Matthew was honoured to accept his cousin’s request and come the day Eileen and I were very proud of the way that performed, carrying out his duties flawlessly, and looking every bit the part in his hired suit. I had to drive him down to the bride and groom’s house at Uckfield, earlier that morning, so he could travel up to the High Rocks with Heidi, in the bridal car. There was a pay-off here, as it meant with Matthew’s car still at our place, he could then drive me over to the High Rocks the following morning. I could then collect my vehicle, which we would be leaving there overnight, having booked a taxi to pick us up after the wedding. All very complicated, but it worked!

Eileen and I arrived early at the High Rocks, as the usual and expected heavy traffic through Southborough and St Johns, failed to materialise. We weren’t the only early arrivals, and after parking the car in the large car park, just opposite the pub, met up with friends and other family members. There was time for a drink before the ceremony, or so I thought, as did several other people, but I was halfway through my pint of Tonbridge Rustic, when the Master of Ceremonies came along and asked us to file into the room where the wedding would be taking place. Fine, we thought, until the MC also informed us that no glasses were permitted inside the hall during the ceremony.

The wedding passed off well, and as mentioned earlier, Matthew gave his cousin away without a hitch, if you’ll excuse the pun. After the ceremony and the signing of the register were complete, we all trouped outside and across the road to the High Rocks themselves, where the wedding photos were to be taken. In the meantime, our absence from the hall would allow staff to get all the tables set out and laid, ready for the wedding breakfast. (Why is it described as a breakfast?) This occasion was the first time that I’d seen the actual High Rocks, close-up, and I have to say they  really are impressive. 

You can see what I mean from the photos, but as far as the wedding was concerned, these imposing, rocky outcrops formed the perfect backdrop for the various bridal and wedding party photographs. Photos over, we filed back across, and found our allocated places around the well-laid out, circular tables. Matthew was on the top table, but company wise Eileen and I definitely got the bum deal, as we were stuck with some of the most boring people imaginable, who spent most of the time discussing their various ailments. If this is what growing old really means, then put me down now!  

By way of compensation, we enjoyed an excellent roast beef dinner. I also got stuck into the wine, during the meal, but I was the only person drinking the red stuff. I didn’t finish the bottle, particularly as there were glasses of bubbly to toast the happy couple, during and after the inevitable speeches. I carried on with the wine, for a while, as the cask choices - Rustic from Tonbridge Brewery and Flintlock from Musket Brewery, didn’t really appeal to me. 

I’m becoming ultra fussy in my old age, but my consumption of wine caused Mrs PBT’s to raise her eyebrows. She claimed that the taxi driver wouldn’t let me in the cab, if I was drunk, but the only thing the prosecco and red wine did was to make me feel thirsty. I solved the conundrum by switching to Guinness Zero, as the evening wore on, and that provided sufficient taste without the risk of me getting sloshed.

There was the inevitable disco, playing the same old records for those who like to “dad dance”, but there was other entertainment in the form of a magician – who came round to each table, plus a fully laid out gambling area, where guests could play roulette and other gaming activities that mean absolutely nothing to me. Fortunately, the stakes used fake money only, and it was here that master Matthew showed his gambling prowess by accumulating a substantial pile of chips.

As the evening wore on, people began to gradually drift off, but as my good lady had mis-judged the finish time, and had booked the taxi for an 11.45 pick-up, the three of us were virtually the only people left by the time our driver arrived. I did suggest phoning the taxi company earlier, and request a change of pick-up time, but with no mobile signal at the High Rocks, and an automated booking that Eileen had made, earlier in the week, we stuck it out, by waiting in reception. I can imagine the fuss that would have ensued, if I had made an error on the booking, but it didn’t really matter, and it certainly didn’t spoil what had overall been an excellent, and very enjoyable, family occasion.

Roman around in the sweltering heat of the eternal city

One of the two excursions I opted for on our recent Mediterranean cruise, was the 9½ hour “Introduction to Rome” tour. This was marketed as a high activity (lots of walking), excursion around the main sights of the eternal city. Despite not being on my all-time “bucket list”, Rome was still a place I didn’t want to miss, especially given our proximity moored up in the port of Civitavecchia.

The tour of Rome involved an early morning start, so despite doing my utmost not to wake her ladyship, I apparently still made too much noise, as I left the cabin and headed off to the disembarkation point and the waiting coach. Acting as our guide, was the knowledgeable Elvira, a bubbly young lady who was keen to show off the Italian capital to myself and the other 34 passengers on the tour.

After leaving Civitavecchia our comfortable, air-conditioned coach headed up into the surrounding hills, and onto the Autostrada. From there we had a fast and scenic journey towards Rome. Lining many of the roads were some attractive and colourful flowering shrubs which, according to Mrs PBT’s were Bougainvillea. It was noticeable that much of the grain harvest had already been gathered in, and some of the fields had also been ploughed, ready for next year’s crop. Interspersed amongst the fields, were groves of olive trees, plus some tall, spikey looking plants which turned out to be bamboo. Whether this had been planted deliberately, or was an escapee is open to question, but whatever the reason it did look rather out of place.

The traffic was lighter than I thought it would be, and it wasn’t long before we were entering the suburbs of Rome, characterised by low-rise apartment blocks, disfigured unfortunately by some unsightly graffiti. The streets reminded me of Munich, a city which, despite being north of the Alps, has a distinct Italian feel to it. As we drove into the city centre, Rome’s famous chariot racing arena, the Circus Maximus, became visible. This was the first of the many legacy monuments from ancient Rome, that we were to see during our visit.

A little further on was the Colosseum, almost certainly the most famous monument in ancient Rome. A short distance away, our coach driver parked up, and we filed out, ready to follow Elvira, who had been joined by a second guide whose name escapes me We were kitted out with the almost obligatory, blue-tooth headsets, which proved useful, not just for being able to hear what the guide was saying, but also for staying close to her.

As expected, the area around this aptly name, colossal monument was packed, with crowds of visitors, all eager to see this impressive structure for themselves. There were plenty of school parties, but also groups of older visitors, seemingly from all over the world. In view of the number of visitors, as well as an article I’d read about phone snatching, I used my camera rather than my Smart Phone, in order to take photos. My compact Nikon Coolpix has a wrist strap, which makes forced theft far more difficult, although not totally impossible. Although I took these precautions, the area didn’t strike me as unsafe, just crowded and more likely to attract pickpockets rather than phone snatchers.

The guide explained the reason behind the numerous holes in the side of the Colosseum, which result from the removal of many of the large iron reinforcing bars, used during construction of the building. The bars helped hold the stonework together, but following the collapse of the Roman Empire, the Colosseum fell into disuse, and many of the reinforcing bars were removed and melted down for other purposes. Iron of course, was a valuable commodity, and the bars provided a source of ready smelted metal, but unfortunately, the removal of the reinforcements caused the walls in several parts of the Colosseum to collapse. Consequently today, parts of the structure are held up, by some relatively recent brick walls.

We walked around the road-facing perimeter of the Colosseum, before heading off towards the Forum, the area that was at the heart of ancient Rome, the site of triumphal processions, elections, and the nucleus of commercial activity within the city. Public speeches, criminal trials and gladiatorial matches, took place here, as evidenced by the statues and monuments commemorating the city's leaders. If I’m brutally honest, the Forum seemed an odd-ball mix of columns, walls and arches, most of which were in various stages of preservation, but as we only viewed the periphery, perhaps there was something more impressive that we missed.

After leaving the Forum, we rounded a corner and right in front of us was a large, and much more modern, colonnaded building, with several, sweeping flights of steps leading up to it. The Victor Emmanuel II Monument is a large national monument built between 1885 and 1935, to honour Victor Emmanuel II, the first king of a unified Italy.  Constructed in the style of ancient Rome and obviously designed to impress, Italy’s fascist dictator, Benito Mussolini made several of his rousing and impassioned speeches from the balcony of this building.

We continued on our way through the intense mid-morning heat of Rome and passed the Victor Emmanuel II Monument. We then climbed a hill, up to where the waiting coach was parked, and after filing back on board for a short trip across the River Tiber, we were taken to the Vatican. The coach deposited us in a large underground car park underneath the Vatican, and after descending on a couple of escalators, we reached a wide passageway which took us straight into St Peter's Square.

We’d reached the headquarters of the Catholic church, and the residence of His Holiness, the Bishop of Rome, with St Peter’s Basilica forming an impressive backdrop to the square along with the wide avenue, leading into it. The square was hot and very crowded, in equal measure, but after a welcome comfort break, as the Americans would say, at a nearby gift shop, we parted company with our guide, although not before she had told us all about the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, and the two statues standing guard over the place – St Peter and St Paul. Elvira then left us to our own devices, with strict instructions to meet back outside the gift shop at 4:00 PM.

My first purchase was a much-needed bottle of water, mainly because I’d left my Chili Bottle on the coach, primarily for something to drink on the return journey. After that I headed off to find somewhere to eat and a place where I could find it welcoming, cold beer. The guide directed a group to a couple of adjoining restaurants, but faced with such a sudden influx of customers, I decided I'd be better off finding somewhere less crowded, and away from the thronging masses.

It didn’t take much effort to stumble upon a little, local café that opened straight out onto the pavement, and with some tables set out on the cobbled street itself. The main thing was, it was shady, and out of the fierce midday sun. It didn’t take long for the waiter to come over and take my order which consisted of a rather nice, grilled sole with some artisan bread. The most welcome item, of course, was a large mug of nice cool beer. Only Birra Moretti, mind you, but any port in a storm! It was very pleasant, just sitting there watching the world go by, and the comings and goings of this pleasant, but compact back-street restaurant.

Afterwards I had a wander around, following the streets back into St Peters Square. I took quite a few photos and toyed with the idea of joining one of the queues at the entrance to St Peter's Basilica. Instead, I decided against it, especially as looted gold and other treasures offer little appeal to me. Staying in the shade, keeping cool and enjoying an ice cream, seemed the far better option. Foolishly I'd left my map on the coach and despite all the shops selling Vatican tat, and photos of the Pope I was unable to locate a tourist information office where I could obtain a free street guide or even purchase one.

Before asking why I didn’t use my phone? I think you know the answer, as nothing points to the fact that you are a lost, "dumb-arse" tourist, than trying to follow directions on your phone whilst all the while appearing an easy target to someone out to rob you. I also didn’t want to get lost and end up missing the coach back to the ship. This did mean missing out on a couple of Rome’s other star attractions, namely the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain, even though, as I later discovered they were just a short hop away, on the other side of the River Tiber. If it hadn’t been for the heat, would have trudged across, for a look, but as I said to some of my fellow passengers, when I arrived back at the ship, what’s so special about a flight of steps and a fountain which people chuck coins into?

There was one Roman monument that would definitely have been worth seeing. The Pantheon has the largest unsupported concrete dome of any structure in the world, which is a real tribute to the ingenuity of its builders. Those Romans certainly knew a thing or two about concrete, and if further proof was needed, the Pantheon is the best-preserved ancient building in the city. This might have been due to it being converted into a church, but I was built by the Emperor Hadrian in AD 119-128. Hadrian, of course, also constructed an equally famous wall in this part of the world, although that particular structure is far less well preserved.  

For those who care about such things, the diameter of the hemispherical dome is equal to the height of the whole building, meaning the structure could potentially accommodate a perfect sphere. Anyway, the Pantheon will have to wait for a future visit, if there is one, but now I know the lay of the land, a return visit to Rome, should be that little bit easier. I dozed off on the journey back to the ship, but I can now take Rome off my list of capital cities to visit, and “must see” sights.

 

 

 

Córdoba, a city where three major faiths have left their mark

Córdoba is a city in the southern Spanish region of Andalusia, and the capital of the province of Córdoba. It was an important city during Roman times and in the Middle Ages, was a major Islamic centre. Its best known, and most impressive monument from its time under Muslim rule, is La Mezquita, an enormous mosque dating from 784 A.D, built on the site of the ancient Visigoth church of San Vicente. The mosque underwent consecutive extensions over later centuries, resulting in an interior that resembles a labyrinth of beautiful columns with double arcades and horseshoe arches.

In 1236, Córdoba fell to Christian forces, and the mosque became an important place of Christian worship. In 1523, a cathedral was constructed inside the building, and a century later, a Renaissance-style nave was added, with a Baroque altarpiece and mahogany choir stalls. Today Córdoba reflects its Roman past and the coexistence of Christian, Islamic and Jewish cultures throughout its history. Its historic old town centre is a World Heritage site, full of little streets, inviting squares, flower-filled courtyards and charming restaurants where locals and visitors can enjoy the local cuisine.

The opportunity to visit Córdoba arose during our cruise stop-over in the southern Spanish city of Malaga, and I’d placed a tick besides this particular excursion, several weeks before we sailed. Other excursions were available, including one to the equally interesting city of Granada, which was closer to Malaga, and thus a shorter coach ride away. A day or two into the cruise, I made a visit to the Shore Excursions office on Queen Anne to check what was still available. Delighted at finding that the all-day excursion to Rome was still available I booked a place alongside the aforementioned tour to Córdoba.

This was prior to noticing that the time schedule for this particular excursion was incredibly tight – always read the small print, although I’m pretty certain that the ship’s scheduled departure time from Malaga had been brought forward to 16:30. This “everyone back onboard” time was also the time the Córdoba tour was scheduled to arrive back at Queen Anne.  A day or so later I queried this with the Shore Excursions team, and they assured me that the tour would get participants back to the boat on time, and if there was a delay then the ship would wait for us.

That latter point is important, and it is one good reason why it is always worth booking official excursions sanctioned by the cruise line, rather than booking an independent one. There have been plenty tales of woe from people who have done the latter, and have then been left stranded, on the quayside of a foreign port, because after being late for the agreed sailing time, the ship departed without them.

As it happened on the Córdoba trip, we arrived back 10 -15 minutes behind Queen Anne’s scheduled departure time, but the ship waited for us all to get back onboard. On the drive back to Malaga, someone from the boat was in regular touch with our tour guide to check we were proceeding on time, as there is always the possibility of mechanical breakdown, a blockage or pile up on the motorway, or some other unforeseen event which could, potentially have delayed us. Thankfully no such mishaps occurred, and the 40 or so of us on the Córdoba excursion enjoyed a leisurely walking tour of this fascinating and historic World Heritage site, which concluded with lunch at a local restaurant.

It was an early start which meant a hurried breakfast, and then departing the ship virtually as soon as it had docked, tied up and immigration formalities completed. We had a pleasant and knowledgeable guide called Christina, who kept a tight rein on us, because the last thing anybody wants on these trips is for someone to get separated from the rest of the party and then going missing. The drive to Córdoba took the best part of two hours, and as we set off through the streets of Malaga, our guide pointed out various places of interest. It’s a shame we weren’t spending two days in the city, as from what we saw, Malaga seemed pleasant, well-laid out and certainly worthy of further exploration.

The road climbed steeply, as we drove through the mountains that separate the coastal region from the high, inland plains so, like the rest of my travelling companions, I settled down to enjoy the journey. It’s quite a few years since I journeyed into the interior of Spain, and since the dark days of Franco’s dictatorship, the Spanish government have obviously spent a lot of money improving the country’s infrastructure. As we descended on the other side of the mountain range, we passed through numerous olive groves, many of them ancient, but some consisting of a new “dwarf” variety, planted in neat rows and capable of being harvested by machine. (The guide told us this btw, so it isn’t me showing off!)

We eventually arrived in Córdoba just before 11am, and our coach driver dropped us off just outside the walls of the old city. The next time we would see the coach would be three and a half hours later, when it picked us up, outside the aforementioned restaurant. The We followed our guide through he ancient gate and into heart of what had once been the Muslim part of the city. Córdoba also boasted a thriving Jewish community, and the first couple of buildings we visited, were former synagogues. It was the later Christian rulers who expelled the Jewish population from this region of Spain.

The synagogues were set amongst an area of narrow, and tightly packed streets, and as we were one of many tour groups that day, this Medina or Souk area soon became quite unpleasantly overcrowded. Fortunately, our guide led us out of this congested part of the city, and towards Córdoba’s main attraction, the Great Mosque. We were allowed an all too brief, 15-minute break before meeting back up at the yellow post-box, which wasn’t sufficient time to do, or buy anything, given the hordes of visitors, but before entering the mosque we were able to admire the sumptuous and well-laid out gardens surrounding this impressive building.

Today the Great Mosque is also home to a large cathedral, but before reaching the Mezquita-Cathedral,  we passed through a labyrinth of ornate columns with double arcades and horseshoe-shaped  brick arches. These seemed to go on forever, and it was here that the attention of many of the group began to wane. Our guide seemed undeterred by their lack of interest, such was her enthusiasm and knowledge, but I stuck quite close to her, and remained not just in range of the blue-tooth headsets, but also visually.

The contrast when we eventually entered the Catholic cathedral section, was quite striking, especially as this area is crowned by a large and rather ornate, baroque dome. The guide again, enthused quite prolifically about this area of the building and, without wishing to sound churlish, I too had heard sufficient by this time. Eventually even Christina had exhausted her repertoire, so after escorting us out of the Great Mosque and checking we were all present and correct, led us down to the Guadalquivir River, and across the impressive stone-built bridge, that dates back to Roman times.

Once on the opposite bank, it was a short walk to a local restaurant, where a pre-booked lunch was awaiting us. We enjoyed a typically English-style salad of lettuce, tomato, grated carrot, sweetcorn, and hard-boiled eggs, with some olives thrown in as a local touch. An excellent paella then followed, loaded with plenty of shrimps, mussels plus the odd prawn. There was wine as well, along with plenty of bottled water, but I took it easy with my liquid intake, knowing full well that the coach wouldn’t have time to stop on the way back for a “comfort break.” 

Fortunately, the traffic was relatively light on the return journey to Malaga and the driver was able to put his foot down. As I said earlier, although we were slightly late in re boarding the ship, we were probably well within normal safety margins, much to Mrs PBT’s relief.

Cruising around the Iberian peninsula, with a brief hop across to Italy & Sardinia

Our cruise itinerary took us from Southampton and across the Bay of Biscay, to the north west corner of the Iberian peninsula.  This is the area known as Galicia, an autonomous region of Spain with a rich history dating back to the 8^th century. Our first and last ports of call were in this region, namely Vigo and La Coruna, and both were quite similar in nature and appearance. Of the two locations, we preferred La Coruna.

After leaving Vigo, our ship headed south following the coasts of Spain, Portugal and then Spain again, before turning east through the Straits of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean. This occupied a full day at sea, and a further day and night cruising then followed to bring us to our second port of call, the city of Barcelona – the second city in Spain after Madrid, in terms of population and size.

We had the longest stay of the cruise in the Catalan capital, plus the only period of heavy rain, before heading due east, towards Italy. En route, we traversed the Strait of Bonifacio, a narrow stretch of water that separates the large Mediterranean islands of Corsica and Sardinia. We returned to Sardinia for our fourth port of call, but not before stopping off at the bustling town of Civitavecchia, which is the official port for Rome.

Our stop-over in Civitavecchia provided opportunities for excursions to Rome and its environs, so I took full advantage of a trip that allowed me to visit, and explore, the Italian capital for the first time. It also gave us a glimpse of the Italian countryside, which was looking quite green and verdant (same thing?) There will, of course, be a separate post dedicated to this iconic city which, surprisingly, seemed more compact than I initially thought. It was extremely hot though, with temperatures approaching the mi-thirties!

After departing Civitavecchia, Queen Anne retraced her course back across the Tyrrhenian Sea, passing through the Strait of Bonifacio for the second time, although this time in the opposite direction, and under cover of darkness. The following morning, we anchored just outside the harbour of Alghero, the second largest city on Sardinia, and a very attractive one at that.

  I've already posted an article about Alghero, a destination which us cruise passengers had to access by tender, due to the absence of a quayside large enough to accommodate large ships such as Queen Anne. I spent an enjoyable few hours exploring the narrow-cobbled streets of this attractive, medieval town, which is enclosed by ancient, and imposing, defensive stone-built walls.

After departing Sardinia, Queen Anne took a west, south westerly course towards the island of Mallorca, largest of the Balearics, and its attractive and vibrant capital, Palma. This was my first visit to this popular tourist destination, and we arrived on what proved to be the hottest day of the entire cruise. Taking the shuttle bus from the port area to the esplanade overlooking Palma Bay, and then walking towards Palma’s impressive cathedral, the heat proved too much for Mrs PBT’s, who decided to take the next shuttle bus back to the ship.

I stayed on, and headed for the old town, keeping in the shade as much as possible, where I enjoyed the authentic Spanish experience of narrow, shady streets, and the opportunity for an equally authentic Spanish lunch, and one of the finest tortillas I have experienced on various visits to Spain.

Our penultimate destination was the city of Malaga, on Spain’s southern coast. It would perhaps have been nice to explore Malaga itself, but I had pre-booked an excursion to Cordoba, an historic city approximately 110 miles inland, in the heart of Andalusia. Cordoba was well worth a visit though, and a full report will follow in due course.

There was one more destination, before our return to Southampton, and that was the small, port city of La Coruna. The latter is situated in Galicia, close to the northernmost tip of Spain, and just along the coast from Cape Finisterre. Today, the name is familiar to those who listen to the shipping forecast, but in Roman times it was believed to be the end of the known world! 

We were lucky to arrive on schedule at La Coruna, given a voyage that saw us passing back through the Gibraltar Straits. Mrs PBT’s and I enjoyed a meal in our cabin, that evening, and being on the port side of the ship, we had a good view of Tangier and the North African coast. There was quite a swell overnight as we passed into the Atlantic and followed a northerly course up towards the aforementioned Cape Finisterre. 

The following morning after breakfast, I was about to go out on deck when I noticed the access doors had been roped off. Shortly afterwards there was an announcement from the ship's captain that due to a medical emergency on board, a helicopter evacuation would take place – hence the closure of the decks! Shortly afterwards, a further announcement was made that owing to strong winds, evacuation by helicopter would not be possible, so Queen Anne instead would be steering a course toward the Portuguese coast, where a locally based lifeboat would transfer the patient ashore.

The captain slowed the ship right down, to ensure a smooth transfer, but did warn after its successful completion, that the detour might impact on our arrival time in La Coruna. As things turned out, it didn’t, indicating that the captain must have increased speed in order to make up time. The city itself was a pleasant surprise, especially as I had never heard of the place before, and Mrs PBT’s and I enjoyed a stroll along the seafront, followed by coffee and beer at a local café. The sun came out to greet us as well.

Leaving the sheltered inlet of La Coruna, and sailing out into the Bay of Biscay, saw the wind get up, taking the edge off the temperature. Two nights, with a day sandwiched in between, saw us arriving back in Southampton. I awoke early, in time to witness, and photograph a tranquil rural scene as we sailed up Southampton Water and into the River Test. Fortunately, we berthed at the Mayflower Cruise Terminal, rather than the less spacious Queen Elizabeth II Terminal, and that was the cruise over for us and our fellow passengers.

The cruise means that with the exception of the stretch of the northern coast of Spain between La Coruna and the Basque city of San Sebastian, I have now travelled right round the Iberian peninsula. Some of that journeying has been by train, but it doesn’t detract from the fact that, Spain is now one of my most visited, and extensively travelled. Germany still holds top spot, although with just the Baltic and North Sea coasts accessible by sea, that situation is likely to change within the next few years. As for cruising, the question remains, where to next?