¡MUY EXCITANTE! I’m trying to sort out how to get from Malaga to Seville. Yes, life sucks.

!Not! Seriously, though, the day in question is a Sunday, a pre-Christmas Sunday in a European Catholic country, and do the buses run? The trains? I keep visiting these sites that purport to purvey the proper information… but sometimes, I’ll be clicking away, en Ingles, and when the page changes, it has reverted back to Spanish, and even with my rudimentary skillz, I can see it’s the web equivalent of muttering and walking away, a kind of ‘Uh, right, did I say there was a train two days before Feliz Navidad? Hmmm. Well. Did I? Really? Huh…’ and I stare and stare at the screen, willing it to tell me what I need it to say.

There is a office in Abbey Street that sells far-flung train tickets. It’s closed on Saturdays. Right.

Oh, I love this! I do, I love this frustration of foreign language websites, the sheer stupidity of a travel office being closed on a Saturday, it makes me crazy in way that gives me joy. I have to figure it now, you see. I have to sort it out. I have to maybe, horrors [hurray!] ring the bus station in Malaga. These phone calls are less terrifying than they used to be— even people in Paris will speak to you in English, these days.

Check it out: I land in Malaga because I couldn’t get a flight to Seville without flying to London Stanstead and then onwards. So I land in Malaga at the crack of 11am or thereabouts, and I’m happy enough to go for a wander, but I think I’d rather spend several hours in the hammam and maybe get a facial or a massage, so I’ll have to ring to book it. ‘Buenas dias, habla ingles?’ I’ve been practicing.

Oh, and the rest of it? Seven days on a ranch twenty minutes outside of Seville at the Epona Equestrian Centre, a schedule that is a superb balance between hacking out and equitation lessons [five hours!], and okay, okay, some sightseeing, fine, great, even though I reckon I’d sit in the stable all day long. In between swims in the pool…!

I don’t know how many people are in the group, or if I’m the only singletina, or if the grooms are hott— or if the grooms are even male [probably not], but oh, I couldn’t care less! I just hope my horse is fuerte and, and vistoso and paciente. Must consult book at home re: Andalusian horses.

!Ay, caramba! One month to go!

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