We were surprised at what a short drive it was from Arcos de la Frontera to Sanlúcar de Berrameda on the Atlantic coast. We zipped by Jerez with a promise to get back there and eventually got lost trying to find our housing, which was confusing because of the parking instructions and the one-way streets. This old fishing town and port is at the mouth of the Guadalquivir, from which Columbus sailed on his last voyage of conquest, rape, and pillage for the queen. On the other side of the river is an immense natural reserve where we hoped to see both artifacts of civilization and migrating birds.
One thing we'd forgotten to research on this trip was local holidays and customs. We're so out of it that we hadn't registered that the week before Easter is a massive holiday: Semana Santa. It's a wonder we'd even found a room, but we actually had a nice apartment with excellent access to the town center and the festivities, including parades every night with parade practices every day. It was a good time to be there except that the many restaurants served only a set number of holiday dishes, which got a bit boring. On the other hand, this area—and especially Jerez—is the home of sherry. We had no idea how many kinds there are or how to appreciate drinking them, but we got a couple of bottles for the apartment and checked out others when we ate. We didn't bring it home and haven drunk it since,
The town is relatively flat and not much above sea level, so walking was easy. Most streets were cordoned off to traffic and lined with viewing areas, including a special section for local dignitaries. We soon learned that the parading was not only ceaseless, but highly competitive. Every parish (there are many) has its own band plus a crew to carry the super heavy statues and icons through the streets.
Once we had our visit better planned, we found the wharf for the boat up the river to the refuge and arranged an early morning trip. It turned out mildly interesting, but disappointing because there were so few waterfowl. The next day, we caught a bus to Jerez de la Frontera (known simply as Jerez), which is not only a sherry producer but the home of the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art, a famed riding school with horse shows and a carriage museum. The city is also known for flamenco music. We lucked out and got to the horse show by complete accident. It was fascinating. The horses and their riders were amazing—so finely drilled and graceful. After time there, we wandered around the city and found a decent-appearing restaurant for a late lunch that was quite good before getting our bus back to Sanlúcar for one more night of marching bands.
As we try to do, we wandered out of the touristy part of town and into the working class neighborhood above. We had beer in a bar across from a union headquarters where we surely looked out of place, but our Spanish was in no way up to a conversation about unionism or politics. Too bad. I'd have loved learning what it means to work for a living in this neck of the woods.
