The Shitty Day

We check out of the hotel and find a ticket on our rental car. There is no sign indicating that this is a one hour parking zone and Tracy and I are pissed off. Our mounting appetites don’t help our patience with one another. After re-parking the car and having breakfast, we ask a meter-male about the ticket. He reads it and shows us that it is only a warning and that the $100 fine has not been assessed against us. Our day just got better and we drive away with a smile.

How cruel and quickly fate can turn on you. As we are leaving the city, a van on the interior lane of a roundabout merges into my driver-side door in an attempt to exit. I made no signal indicating that I was leaving the roundabout, so I’m totally caught off guard. The door is smashed up pretty badly. It will close but it won’t lock. The gentleman in the van was very clam and let me use his cell phone to call the rental agency. We fill out some paperwork describing the accident and in about 45 minutes are back on our way to Seville.

Seville`;s traffic patterns are built around a city constructed by a deranged Tetris player. One way roads go on for miles and the streets are cramped. The Spaniards have some interesting, yet arbitrary laws. For example, on select streets, only taxis and buses can make right turns.

One we get inside Seville, we stop at the first large hotel we see. The concierge is unable to exactly locate our hotel, but he shows us what roads we need to take. It is almost more than an hour until we finally park. We check-in just before 1600, which is the end of lunch in Spain, and rush into the streets in search of food.

I am very annoyed by the lack of food and free parking. We later read in a travel guide that driving in Jerez, Madrid and Seville are the most dangerous places in Spain to drive.

Our flat is modestly equipped. We don’t have much of a view, but we have a kitchen and a clothes washer.

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