This trip is turning into the "gremlin" trip of all time. Things that previously worked just aren't working. And the surprising thing is I have two anti-"gremlin" bells on my bike. These are little bells that must be given to you from fellow bikers for them to exercise their magic and prevent the little nagging problems. They are working fine for the bike, Betsy is humming along solid as a rock, as usual. It's the "trip gremlins" that are getting to me. That and old age.
Pulled out this morning and followed the road signs looking for N114 north back to A6. I thought I read them correctly, but I ended up out in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to go. So, I back peddled as best I could but, noticing I was getting low on gas, decided to return to Évora, get gas and go back out to A6 as I'd come in. This worked but, a guy really hates this, it represented a lost 3/4 of an hour of "road time." It's a genetic thing...I won't have to explain it to any of the men reading this.
I stayed on A6 through to Badajoz. Another 3/4 of an hour was wasted looking in Carrefour's (Europe's Walmart) trying to find a power adapter for my Zune MP3 player. No luck. Then I was looking for a motorcycle accessory store. I managed to lose my visor and the sun is awful bright. Especially on yesterday's sunburn. But, no luck. Wasted time again.
The good news is the road from Badajoz to Cordoba, Spain is N-432, a two-lane, 100K/Hr road that is quite good for most of the way. There's a few sections which could use some repair, but all-in-all, it's good road.
Very slow picture day again. There are some very bright red flowers growing along the way, sometimes in great little clusters. Every time I saw one of the truly impressive sets it was always where I couldn't pull of the road. You have to understand that the emergency lane N-432 is about three feet wide and Betsy just doesn't like so little clearance between her and the traffic. I have to honor her wishes...my butt's hanging out there too.
So, though I saw several nice patches I wanted shots of, I just couldn't make it happen. I'm hoping to see some more tomorrow so I can take a couple of shots. They are really spectacular. In fact, this entire area of Spain is spectacular. The terrain from most of the way between Badajoz and Cordoba reminds me very much of the hill country of Texas, though the hills are larger. It's just rolling, rolling, rolling green pastures. Tell you what...if you can't raise cattle here you just can't raise cattle. Period.
After a while the scenery starts looking more like New Mexico (one of my truly favorite places in the U.S.), drier, and more "spare." This is why I'm a little concerned about the ability to pick up a shot of those red flowers...but, we'll see.
Stopped in the little town of Zafra for lunch. Unfortunately, it was 12:30 and the place I wanted to eat (there were two police cars parked among the patrons) had stopped serving. Can you believe it? Stopped serving at 12:30 pm. The European concept of serving lunch and diner when it's convenient for the server is going to drive me crazy. Example: tonight in the hotel I wanted a light supper so, at 7:00 pm I requested of the bar lady a menu. She informed me that the kitchen wouldn't start cooking until 8:30. Convenient, what? Guess you have to be a European for this to not matter and seem perfectly logical.
Anyway, when I couldn't get what I wanted I spotted yet another Carrefours and went to their cafeteria. It was mall food...but at least Spanish mall food. I had an absolutely wonderful gazpacho and some sort of Pimientos Rellenas thing that was quite tasty. Not sure what it was though. The pimientos were, of course, red peppers. The "Rellenas" thing, though, was a little difficult to tell. I was looking for queso (cheese), of course, and it had some, it just had something else which, I'm not sure, but may have been a form of mashed potato. Don't know...but it was good, and I'd order it again.
Pushed on through to Cordoba, arriving about 4:30pm. This worked out good, I thought, because I still wanted to replace my visor for my helmet, and it is laundry night. I need to clean up (in a bad way). But, alas, neither was to be.
I spent an hour and a half riding around Cordoba looking for a laundry. That's laundry as we have the USA where they have washing machine and dryers and you can "do your own." I have to believe they exist...but you can't prove it by me. They exist in France, they are called Lavaterias. The desk clerk at the hotel was kind enough to give me a map and mark on it where one was. I found it...but the only machines in there were human, and they were busy as bees washing and ironing other folks' stuff. I was worried about 1) the language and making myself understood, and 2) having it ready for when I pulled out in the morning. So I kept looking...and looking...and looking. The semi-neat thing about it was I got to see a heck of a lot of Cordoba. But one can't take pictures from the back of a motorcycle dodging every Kamakazi-wanttabe on the planet as they negotiate busy Spanish traffic. In fact, it was difficult to take one's eye off the traffic and look for a sign that "might," just "might" mean wash-a-teria in Spanish. (Don't tell Mrs. Hudson, but I've forgotten so much of that Spanish she taught us in high-school. It's all I can do to say, "Hey, Pedro, una cerveza, pour some more."
At least in Cordoba they had street signs pointing toward "hotel row" and I found a nice one and checked in.
The Hotel Oasis seemed to have a lot of activity when Betsy and I checked in. I couldn't figure out why every one was standing around, then I saw all the cigarettes.
Betsy doesn't smoke and I'm starting to worry a little about that "second-hand" stuff.
Finally, some relatively clean air for Betsy.
The hotel was near the river running through the center of town. I'd determined that the zoo was immediately across the river from the hotel during my travels looking for a laundry and motorcycle store. What I didn't know then, but do now is: don't stay at a hotel near a major zoo. There are animals there who only "talk" at night...and all night. It sounded like George of the Jungle for half the night. The other part was Don Juan in the room next door. Fortunately he lacked the stamina of the Rhesus monkeys at the zoo. They hooted all damn night. I thought I was never going to get to sleep.
But it was a pretty night.
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