Summer 2025 trip to Morocco and Spain by Anton and Biya. August-September 2025
MOROCCO......timeless, oriental, and exotic.
Some HISTORY
Finally, after soooo many years of suggesting, asking, pleading, pushing and prodding me, it did happen. Then first of all: around Christmas 2013 Biya and I were standing on the Rock in Gibraltar, overlooking the Mediterranean Straits...and recognizing the African coastline. I recall her mentioning that how she dreamed of visiting Morocco; in fact visiting and traveling through the Maghreb countries of Tunisia, Algeria and Morocco. She had seriously planned it but could not procure an Algerian visa when she was working in Mauritania... an interesting story itself (you ask her and definitely she will be happy to detail her interactions with the French embassy in Nouakchott).
Presently, Algeria still maintains a complicated process for getting a visa; then large parts of that country are definitely no-go areas because of the Sahelian version of the jihadist AlQaida, strongly manifesting itself in Central/South Algeria, Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso. Then the border between Morocco and Algeria remains firmly closed since 1994.These two countries are arch enemies over the ' Spanish Sahara'. Factually, the Moroccan army and police now installed many check points close to the border areas to prevent ' unwanted foreign elements' to cross over. We are talking here about a border that is around 1450 kms long with few border towns and lots of stony and sandy desert classified areas.
Indeed we had still planned to travel through the Northern part of Algeria, then the visa issue and longwinding expensive logistics made us switch plans: No Algeria, Tunisia, Sicily this time. Instead we decided to travel to one of my favorite places in the world: Spain! Yippee! We flew into Marrakech from Eindhoven for a fistful of euros and settled comfortably in hotel Racine, walking distance from the Medina and the famous market Jebel el Fna.
Exactly 50 years ago I was also here in this hot, densely populated town. At that time there was much hullabaloo nationwide about the ' Spanish Sahara', a long and wide strip of coast and desert that Spain had taken and occupied since 1884; solidified at the Berlin conference one year later. Now, with Generalissimo Franco on his deathbed in Madrid, the Moroccans claimed it forcefully, knowing that Mauritania in the South had no means to interfere and Algeria could not mobilize any kind of serious resistance so far away from their Northern cities. King Hassan II mobilized the man in the street and started the Green March early November 1975: 350.000 Moroccans with the Koran in their hands literally walked to the border with the ' Spanish Sahara', accompanied by thousands of soldiers. The Spanish let it all happen: 14 November 1975 there was an accord between Spain, Mauritania and Morocco: the Moroccans took over an area nearly the size of its existing surface. And more important, the Algerians had fished behind the net.
What followed was a 30 years plus hit and run war with some Saharoui clans, who were heavily backed by Algeria. Refugee camps were set up on Algerian soil and the UN agreed to recognize that the Saharoui people had the right to some kind of self determination of their future. Long story...but actually this year the Dutch government silently agreed to recognize the Moroccan claim in a murky trade off by which Morocco would accept the return of non recognized Moroccan asylum seekers. We Dutch call such ' pragmatic diplomacy' .
The SIGHTS.
Enough of history. This World Heritage site of the Medina in MARRAKECH with its main attraction the market area of Jebel el Fna: floaters, ragpickers, hooligans of all sorts, ' voyous' , sneak thieves, roaming street kids, jugglers, snobs, high brow tramps, bagmen, bag packers, tourists from everywhere, snake charmers, night owls, beggars and bums, hustlers, pickpockets and probably pimps as well. It remains an exceptional place to visit. About the size of a soccer field you can entertain yourself by viewing mankind in many of its unusual outfits and occupations.
Then watch out buddy! I told Biya not to mingle in this crowd with a handbag full of dough. I had all my pockets zipped up. But still, while walking/looking around I suddenly felt a brush of fingers on my right pocket that only has a velcro tape closure. I looked up and only just saw a boy of about 8-10 years old moving his eyes to the sky and stepping away from me, while putting his left hand into his pocket; actually dashing swiftly to the left in front of us and joining his elder brother and father. The three of them being real pros they did not blink an eye and moved away in a jiffy. Biya had no idea what had happened. Obviously Biya and I come across as walking dollar bills. As foreign pensioners and tourists we remain of interest to those who intend to earn some money illegally and belong to the ' Ali Baba clan' .
After this I looked back regularly across my shoulders and yep again I noticed a loner who was very close, too close for comfort. He also intended to brush my body but I was first this time: I spit him a dirty look and let him know I understood his business. Case closed. The art of picking people's pockets on the Jebel must be perfectionized because if you notice/realize you are being lifted and you reaction is to cry out; well then quite possibly the crowd of Moroccans will deal with the suspected thief mercilessly on the spot. But it is a great place to be and watch.
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| the a la menthe / chaque jour |
We were having a glass of 'the a la menthe' and we saw the waiter picking up orders while he cleaned tables. No paper or pen involved. The guy had at least 20 tables with the terrace being fully occupied. I asked him how did he do it: drinks and food. Well he said ' I remember all the orders as I look at the one who orders and the tables have a number in my brain' . I was so impressed. We checked him out and indeed every time he served a table it was exactly what had been ordered. Then even better, he calculated the bill just by heart and that also...no discussions followed by customers that thought it was not correct. Wow. Nobody in our digitalized world could do this anymore. We stayed three days in Marrakech and went back to this Jebel every day. To get away from this bustle we visited the ' Jardins de Majorelle' and spent a few hours in a park full of exotic trees, plants and flowers. Total relax!
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| Fruit sellers at the Jebel el Fna |
Traveling has become easy in Morocco: trains and buses run on time and remain affordable/cheap. We looked up the coast at the town of Essaouira, passing through forests of argan trees. Indeed the oil of this tree does make a difference when applied to your body! These argan trees only grow in Morocco and mostly in the region stretching from Marrakech to Essaouira, and further southwest along the coast all the way to Sidi Ifni. There could be over 20 million of these trees and its oil is used on a daily basis by most Moroccans. We bought some ' bio', that was stone crushed by hand by an old lady (first pressing virgin oil, so to speak).
ESSAOUIRA used to be a pirate's nest, taken over by the Portuguese who built an impressive fort. In fact most of the coastal cities in Morocco, like those on the ' Barbary Coast' (mainly Algeria), started off as pirates hide-outs: Agadir, Rabat-Sale, Safi, Tangiers, Oran, Algiers, Annaba and even further eastwards onto Tunisia and Libya. A refreshing coolness in Essaouira welcomed us: some 15 degrees below the 40plus C heat of Marrakech. Biya had booked us in a local ' Ryad', a hotel made from a rich person's residence and called ' Les Matins Bleus'. Fair enough, we had a top floor room but for the two nights we stayed I had to tell myself constantly to bow to prevent knocking my head. It is kind of pretty and romantic to stay in these old dwellings (like in the old hacienda like hotels in Mexico) but boy, ceilings are low, doors small and often dark inside. I can understand that Booking.com does not elaborate about the size of windows and the amount of natural light in a room but Biya would love such details. I actually had a dip in the ocean. And we enjoyed the strong winds and the boulevard: Essaouira has become a prime holiday destination for the Moroccans as well.
Off to OUARZAZATE via Marrakech....on a fast bus. Climatized and spacious. From what I recall this city on the edge of the Atlas Mountains and stone desert was ' a sunbaked dusty old town' 50 years ago with a famous Casbah. Unfortunately the earthquake in 2023 destroyed more than half of the adobe buildings in the Casbah; the government handed out cash to the inhabitants to repair their dwellings but most people actually seem to have spent the money to move out and start a life in the ' new town' . So the place now looks desolate.
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| old doors for sale from the destroyed Casbah after the quake |
Only the outside walls have been repaired. Still an impressive sight. We stumbled on the old synagogue, testimony to the rich culture of the Jews in this town. We were given a tour of this synagogue and took it all in: 4 floors with thousands of religious artifacts, then the prayer hall (men and women separate), the office of the Rabbi, the school for the children; even places to stay overnight. We wondered how the young caretaker (not a pleasant type) and his family who managed the place were able to collect all of this. But the sheer size of the collection gave us the idea that somehow the authorities must have taken it from the departing Jewish community. Definitely worth a visit.
Jews in Morocco
This brings me to jot a few notes down on the role the Jews have played in Morocco. First of all, thousands of them fled Spain after the Reconquista (1492) and during the Inquisition that followed the start of the Protestant wave in Europe (after 1600). Many of them settled in Morocco where the Arabs tolerated their religion. At one stage around the beginning of 1900 there were more than 300.000 Jews in the country. Most of these working independently from the authorities and specializing in manufacturing and trade, education and the arts. Because of their world view and expertise many influenced the society and its leaders. They were all over North Africa. Given the size of the synagogue in Ouarzazate, the estimation is that some 10.000 Jews lived in and around that town.
After the Holocaust and as soon as Israel became a state in 1948 all Arab and Muslim dominated countries started to kick their Jewish nationals out. By 1960 most Jews had been forced to leave Morocco without being compensated for their assets (as was the case in Iran, Iraq and so on). In about every city Moroccan guides point out where the Jewish quarters were. Interestingly these Moroccan Jews found it not easy to integrate into the new Jewish society in Israel: they looked down upon the kibbutz system end preferred to dwell in the main towns of Haifa and Tel Aviv, kind of sticking together. These days though the tourist and commercial business between Morocco and Israel is picking up. Israeli tourists return to visit their ancestor's quarters and synagogues, as is the case in places like Cordoba and Granada in Spain.
We also took a day trip with a taxi to AGDZ some 50km Northeast from Ouarzazate winding along the road overlooking the Atlas Mountains. Agdz is an oasis town with few market gardens left. Not worth the trip actually. Nevertheless the new road going up along the Atlas Mountains to nearly 2500 meters is breathtaking.
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| Atlas Mountain View close to Agdz |
We were fortunate: practically all guides, drivers, hoteliers, market sellers and waiters were good and nice to us. No complaints at all. Everyone behaved properly and with respect, to Biya in particular. I can handle my negotiations pretty well myself but learned again one thing: never agree to the deal ' comme tu veux' / ' as you wish' . You haul a taxi without a meter and the driver says ' comme tu veux' meaning you pay as you like. Such always ends up in an argument because what I believe is reasonable the driver automatically disagrees with. So it is not ' as you wish'. It is like he/she wishes.
Our visit to FES and MEKNES (two very old cities where previously the rulers of Morocco resided on and off) confirmed again that in my case my orientation capacity has already reduced quite a bit. When my friend and I roamed the Medinas here fifty years ago we were able pretty quickly to find our way, for example find our way through the maze of alleys in Fes and visit the tanneries where the cowhides were prepared and dyed in many colours to be turned into the famous prime quality Moroccan leather. Close to the slaughterhouse this was a pretty filthy, ill smelling area; then hugely interesting because this work was done by groups of the same families (many of these very young boys!) for generation after generation working every day in the tannery pits. I gave up trying to locate the tannery area by myself this time.
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| One of the 17 entrances Medina in Fes / Bab Boujloud |
The Medina in Fes is the largest populated area in the world where cars cannot pass. Carts and donkeys still handle the logistics and at times you hear a shout behind you when a man/woman wants to pass with an enormous pile of fodder or a huge bag of stuff.
Fatima our certified guide (Arabic, Spanish, French, English all fluent) painted the picture of the Medina: about 1500 streets of which many dead- end alleys, a population estimated at 200.000, some 3.000 big/small/one room Ryad's, and more than 20 caravanseraies ( in the old days these were squares where the trading nomads with their animals could off and upload, and rest for the night). Pour la petite histoire....I lived for more than three years next to a camel caravanseraie in Agadez, Niger (1979-1982). The Medinas in Fes and Meknes are real labyrinths but safe during the day. Fatima pointed out the wandering police in civilian. Only at night something could happen to a tourist.... though unlikely we were told.
The tourist related business in Fes must be enormous. Practically all travel agencies book this city. And almost all travellers pass through it to drink up the medieval atmosphere and the uniqueness of this Medina. This is Morocco as it was and will remain for decades to come. We stayed close to the Blue Gate (Bab Boujloud) in a luxurious Ryad, a room of 45 m2 overlooking the inner patio that was decked with carpets amidst a fountain. Always some staff available to serve tea. From the outside the alley was not more than 2 meters wide. Then you enter and a world of ' Aladdin' opens up...space, smells, traditional artifacts, carpets and colours. No wonder tourists enjoy Morocco.
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| Breakfast in our hotel (Ryad) |
Equally Meknes was impressive with the Place Al-Hadim and its famous spices market.
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| Definitely tasty olives |
Also its national traditional Berber musical instruments museum where we spent many pleasant hours.
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| Two horn trumpet, only in Morocco |
The region around Meknes is the grain and grapes producing area of Morocco...therefore rich. Battles took place in the past that decided who will be the new boss/sultan. Battles between the Saracens and Christians (from Portugal and Spain). Following such battles soldiers were made slaves and in Meknes, next to the Palace and mausoleum of King Moulay Idriss, an underground prison still exists that could house over 15.000 Christian slaves (the prison is still operational, in part modernized and unaccessible to visitors of course).
Finally on our way to CASABLANCA, a city made famous by the movie of the same name!
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| Must see movie: Humphrey and Ingrid |
And Rick's cafe is still there! Ahhhh, what a deception: the old train station ' Casa-voyageurs' was no more. A new and clean railway compound has been constructed. No stalls, nor ambulant hawkers, no hustle and bustle anymore in the large empty square in front of the station; the whole now sanitized. The advantage is that one can get into the modern tram in front of the station at a price few citizens can afford ( one euro each ride!).
We rode to the French quarter and checked into the Hotel de Paris, built as of 1928, but also modernized recently. Then the ' colonial atmosphere' with its cafes, bars, shops, French looking residences with balconies...it is still there. It felt like being in Paris, Porte de la Chapelle, some 60 years ago. Our hotel manager really was helpful and tried to charm the wits out of Biya later because we came down from the top floor room with a list of dysfunctional ' items' : only one towel, shower head leaking, aircon liquid leaking inside the room, washbasin clogged, balcony flooded with dirt and water from the neighbouring room. But there was premium soap, laced with argan oil in the bathroom. That at least! Later on, when most was provisionally repaired, the manager tried several times to influence Biya to write a positive review on the hotel's Booking.com site. How dare he asking for this. I could not believe it. Of course Biya did not.
But we did enjoy walking around Casablanca, going to the Ain Diab beach area, trying to visit the Cathedral that was closed and where the government had removed the crosses from the spires. We spent time watching young dare-devils jumping from the walls of the Hassan II Mosque into the churning waves of the sea some eight meters below while waiting for the sunset.
' Honey bee, let us take the TGV (train a grande vitesse) to TANGIERS'. It only took two and a half hours from Casa to Tangiers, the place to be in Morocco for most young Moroccans.
I was told by Mohidi, our receptionist in Ouarzazate that ' Monsieur Anton, this is so simple because Tangiers has always been international, a smuggler's place where fortunes can be made and from where you can see, and dream, of Europe. All new stuff in Morocco enters through Tangiers. And we, young Moroccans want to leave the country and join our brothers in Europe' . Right on!; this reflects the voice of the young man in the street. And considering the extremely high unemployment rate this is not surprising. Fatima, our guide in Fes who has a university degree mentioned that ' without serious monies for prepaid return tickets, health insurance, a large amount of money deposited in a bank account, in the name of the applicant, plus a hefty amount to stay in Europe for three months I could never get a Schengen visa'. She could not tell me the exact amount but to get a tourist visa I assume one needs more than 7.000 euros to present as cash at hand. And the monthly salary of a mid level office worker in Morocco is not more than 500 euros not to speak of lowly remunerated assistants jobs which are plenty in the country(side).
Tangiers indeed proved to me a revelation: old and new amalgamation. We loved the old places: the port, the Medina, the terraces to eat fresh food, lots of fish of course. And the crowds with most of the shopkeepers being able to speak a melange of French, Spanish and English. We checked into a Ryad close to the central Place Grand Sokkho and I was able to find my way soon through the warren of alleys down to the port to buy our ferry tickets.
We were walking to our hotel finishing a stroll along the sea when suddenly I smelled marihuana; indeed at the corner a fruit seller and his mate were smoking ' kif' , the lesser quality part of harvested marihuana. I engaged the laughing men into a conversation and of course Moroccan hospitality obliged: ' Vous voulez fumer Monsieur?' / you want to have a smoke Sir? 'Yes I would but no I won't' . He mentioned that ' kif' remains tolerated in Morocco and especially the older generation smokes it a lot. Haschisch, the compacted version of premium marihuana and a fair bit stronger has been banned by the authorities. So it goes; indeed the days (in the seventies and eighties) that the Ketama mountain area in the Northeast supplied Europe with the bulk of its ' yellow Ketama' are over. Moroccan haschisch was relatively cheap and of constant quality compared to the soft drugs from Afghanistan, Pakistan and Nepal. Then if I would have been without Biya I think I could have decided to share a few puffs with these fruit sellers and participate in their fun.
Once we had our ferry tickets from Tangiers port to Tarifa in Spain in our pockets Biya wanted to spend our last dirhams and buy souvenirs....Wow, my wife can haggle. Fortunately the merchants accepted her tough negotiations with the look of a ' farmer who has a toothache' (this is a unique Dutch expression!). I felt at times seriously embarrassed. And I remain certain that if I would have done the same detailed penny haggling until the last five dirham, they would have turned their back on me. Then Biya can charm these guys. In the end all is good and they loved having taken their picture with her.
We spent a few hours in a place called the ' American Legation', in the centre of the Medina. When the Americans were trying/fighting to get their independence from England, it was Sultan Mohammed III of Morocco (then residing in Tangiers) who recognized the USA in 1777 to be, as their first ever ally! He allowed American ships (war/trade) into his ports. This really paid off because the Yanks have ever since kept a sweet feeling for Morocco. During world War II their marines kicked the French Vichy-side out of Morocco in a few weeks time, and during Trump's previous mandate as President, the first country he visited in Africa was Morocco. The Legation is full of detailed history, memorabilia and of portraits of American expats who loved to live like nobility in a country that knows what hospitality means.
We spent a full 15 days in Morocco...Marrakech-Essaouira-Ouarzazate-Agdz-Fes-Meknes-Casablanca-Tangiers,
Here is a recipe for traditional Moroccan salad ( a side dish) ; we ate this nearly every day:
ripe tomatoes sliced up
cut-up cucumber pieces
tiny onion rings
mild bell peppers/paprika
fresh coriander and parsley
all of the above drowned in olive oil and vinegar and to be devoured with a peace of fresh and warm flat bread
Healthy stuff. Then we had liters of ' the a la menthe' the national drink. And can you believe it....we consumed no alcohol at all while we were in Morocco. It is there but not over the counter; one has to go and look for it in kind of pubs and evening bars.
We also ate a lot of ' tagine' a national dish that is a mix of vegetables, including potatoes and often pieces of beef, lamb or chicken; cooked in typical cone formed claypots that heat up slowly on charcoal. Recipes vary from region to region. I enjoyed the recipe on the street in Casablanca most: with aubergines, chicken and lamb.
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| Ahmed Taddert preparing tagine at his roadside resto in Telouet |
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| A tagine resto in the streets of Casablanca ( costs 10 dirham is 1 euro) |
There is a famous song from Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young about when Graham Nash travelled by train from Casablanca to Marrakech in 1966. The Hollies did not like the song he composed ' the Marrakech Express' but his future band CSN&Y in the USA did! It became a small hit in the NL and this song is in my personal Top 2000.
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| Anton overlooking the Jebel el Fna |
SPAIN..........a country I could/should have settled in after my retirement in 2017. Both Biya and I have each been in Spain perhaps 10 times. And we plan already another Camino that will take us from Porto in Portugal to Santiago de Compostela next summer 2026.
The SIGHTS.
I was impressed by the relatively smooth handling of returning Moroccan families to mainland Europe. Summertime, the ferry operates 12 times daily and it was stacked with fully loaded cars. The Moroccans know by now that without a proper visa the chance of getting on board is absolutely zero. Surprisingly I did not see any sniffer dogs to alert the police to drug smuggling. All good then and in less than one hour we landed in Tarifa, Spain and got a free ride by bus to ALGECIRAS (compliments to the shipping company).
At the railhead of the station in Algeciras I observed a short, elderly man in a what looked like a woolen overcoat, smoking a cigarette. ' Enjoying your smoke Sir?' I said in Spanish. He looked at me frightfully and wanted to stub out his red Marlboro fag. ' No, no Sir you are allowed to smoke here, outside the building' . 'Sorry, no Spanish' he responded in English. We started to talk and he presented himself as Liem, a US citizen of Vietnamese origin who had escaped the war with many other boat people in 1975, was picked up by the US navy on the open seas, and granted asylum and a new life in Arkansas where he became a Professor at the university. Looking very fragile, he turned out to be street smart and a real character, such one only meets when traveling with a backpack. A practicing Roman Catholic he had decided to travel all around Europe hitting the religious highlights and cathedrals from Santiago de Compostela, to Fatima, Lourdes, Paris, Aachen, Cologne, Milan, Rome to return in two months back to the USA. He had no phone....a lot of cash hidden in his oversized coat, a few A4 size sheets (with another copy in his travel bag with his itinerary) and some useful addresses, plus three travel bags that made him in our opinion vulnerable, attackable... He did have a credit card though.
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| The unforgettable Mr. Liem / look at his snazzy Fila boots |
We travelled a few hours on the train with Mr. Liem (he proclaimed himself to be 75, never married, and happily retired). We became friends immediately. Actually we loved him straight away and wanted to protect him with all kinds of advice. No joke though, Mr. Liem knew how to get around. Any question we fired off he answered with a rational answer that suited his personal situation. ' I love money and I am lazy' he said several times. By that he meant ' love money to be used properly' and ' lazy if it comes to do non essential chores' . Haha, he was too lazy to put his dentures on coz he said ' I never learned how to speak properly with them' (again, because he was too lazy). I handed him my card and said he should get in contact if he thinks I could be of assistance....' not good enough Anton! You should have invited him to visit us in Leende' ! God bless Mr. Liem.
Next stop was RONDA, a famous town from the days the Christians battled with the Muslims. The site is breathtaking where the river Guadalevin has created a 100 meter deep ravine called 'El Tajo' (the gorge) that you can wander along.
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| Ronda, top of the cliff at the bridge |
The town attracts mostly Spanish tourists (many are day travelers from Malaga and Marbella) and exhales a quiet, festive atmosphere. We did a few days of 'niksen' : relaxing, enjoying our Hotel Andalucia in front of of the railway station, taking a long, slow hike of probably 14 kms down the valley, circling the town halfway from below. We admired the rock formations and smelled the harvested grain fields that were turned into yellow and ochre. Inhaling the sights. Yes, this is a place to stay a few days longer...; and we had found a restaurant ' La Quinta' with a 'menu del dia' that was good enough for us. We recommend travelers of any age to go and stay in this walkable town. We even walked a mile or so on the Camino Serrano one of the many walking roads leading to the Camino de la Plata.
The train ride from Ronda to CORDOBA was beautiful: grain fields and olive plantations forever. Few villages; we crossed mostly a remote area, even by Spanish standards. The air-conditioned train may have caused my cold which a day later became so strong that my watery nose ran faster than the Han river in Korea. Just for a few days.....and one day my heart raced unusually fast....that was also Cordoba....must have been too much Rioja. For the rest health remained good. Biya's health performed well throughout the trip. We thank God!
Again, we felt Cordoba is yet another underrated location. The Cathedral which had been a mosque before the Reconquista is so impressive. The town sported the largest mosque in Europe around the year1200 and it was the centre of Muslim spirituality on the Iberian peninsula. The Cathedral towers over, and is next to the river Guadalquivir that slowly moves towards Seville. We spent quite a bit of time on its Roman bridge and along the river; in the Cathedral and in the old town, section Jewish quarter where we walked into 'Bodega Guzman' around 11am for a rest. We discovered the local 'Montilla' poured directly from the 60 liter barrel (similar to dry sherry) and sipped it with a plate of marinated anchovies on the side.
We had not initially planned it but when Biya's old and close friend Morana out of the blue sent her a note while we were in Morocco, we said 'yes, let us go and see her family in MADRID and visit the Prado museum as well'. That turned out to be a winner again. We arrived at the Madrid-Atocha railway station and found our way by subway and foot to their comfortable apartment. Great family: Kevin, Morana and two lively boys Blaise and Jordan. The family had just moved from Washington to Madrid and was literally living amongst suitcases in their apartment; waiting for their stuff to arrive shortly. Actually it arrived on the day we were there. I personally appreciate it very much that we were welcomed so cordially amongst their boxes and embassy furniture. It was easy to take a bus to the Prado museum; we spent six and a half hours inside. WOW, the concept proved to be so different from any museum in the NL. When you go to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam you will find a few well selected pieces/paintings from the most important periods in Dutch history. Inside the Prado museum you will find large rooms adjacent with practically all the paintings of the most famous Spanish painters including Goya, Velasquez, El Greco, El Bosque, de Zurbaran, Murillo and so on....though only very few Picassos and no Dali's at all. I guess the museum makes money by lending paintings to other museums the world over.
By the way 'El Bosque' is a Dutch painter, name of Hieronymus Bosch, who lived under Spanish occupation during the 80 years war after which my country became independent. Were his paintings (very innovative style as well!) after his death in 1516 sold to the Spanish King Phillip II for the market price or were we robbed? I guess we shall never find out the truth. We also viewed the Royal Palace from the outside since it closed already at 5pm. And relaxed while listening to a gipsy playing his accordeon. Nice place too, with a view as far as Toledo. And we did a fair bit of walking; slowly, but Biya's knees made it including the last days in Madrid and Valencia; often with a backpack. Yes, my lady is heavy duty!
Biya had booked a room with a view and terrace in the 'Dormavalencia apartments' close to the port of VALENCIA in the Grau neighborhood. Once in a while (1 out of 10) the place she books does not reflect the marketed promises: the terrace was not accessible and full of pigeon-poop. And the view was a dirty old wall, two meters from our windows. Ah, Biya was furious but then we settled for it. Stuff happens! The room was spacious and we could make coffee and prepare some soup for a change. Our main objective was the beach and sea, and we really enjoyed the large beach, its fine sand, the sun and wind, and the water with a temperature I guess of 21 degrees. We swam and felt good. We simply relaxed and walked through the Grau neighborhood, along the port, ate some fish, drank wine, talked and talked, and considered this trip as yet another holidays that we will cherish with its splendid memories.
We spent a full 11 days in Spain...Tarifa- Algeciras-Ronda-Cordoba-Madrid-Valencia / then flight back to Eindhoven with Ryan Air, and bus to Leende.
