It took only thirty hours to make it from Seattle to Ubeda--plane to subway to train to bus to hoofing it through the downtown to the tourist apartment. I crashed at 10 something in the p.m. and didn´t wake up until noon. After thirty hours of consciousness, I was ready for some time off.
The train ride from Madrid to Ubeda is worth the three hours, once. The landscape is reminiscent of the hillocks of Eastern Washington, only a little greener. Each train station is guarded by the local patriarch. Scammers are caught riding without a ticket only if they´re unlucky. People smoke surreptitiously in the bathroom, or at least they think they´re surreptitious. Graffiti covers every meter of spare brick and mortar lining the route.
Enough travelogue. The burden of posting photos to Snapfish has now fallen upon me, as Melissa finishes up her last lecture of the week. I´ll put some up on the blog whenever I get the chance--but that may not be too soon. Several centuries of history and culture are just minutes away.