Because of our crazy adventure in Morocco, and the ferry ride from hell, we ended up leaving Tarifa much later than we had anticipated. We were headed to Arcos de la Frontera for the night. The place we were staying said that we needed to check in by 10pm, but at this point, even though we were driving fast, we were pretty sure we weren’t going to make it. So we called on the way there to tell them. No problem, they said. We pulled into town just a few minutes after 10, thankfully, and asked a guy for directions. Thank you so much, Mr. handsome Spanish man.
As Lanette drove through the skinniest one way streets know to man (in the dark), we found our hotel…. or so we thought. I couldn’t understand why the woman at the front desk was being so snooty answering my questions…. until I realized…. I was at the wrong hotel. Sorry lady! Guess I’ll call our hotel again. Finally, through my broken Spanish and her broken English, she was able to come down the street and find us. Nicest lady EVER!
We got checked into our room and crashed. What a day!
The next morning we got up and realized we were staying in another treasure of a place. This is the keyhole in the front door. It’s a replica of the original one, that’s hundreds of years old.
Here’s the original they had framed.
Traditional Spanish courtyard where we ate breakfast. And this is the key to our room! Can you imagine my joy when they handed it to me?
Stairs up to our room. They were pretty steep and windy. This little door went out onto the rooftop deck. Watch your head!
The rooftop. The window to the left of those yellow flowers is the window to our room.
Woah! Don’t look down!
Rick Steeves called Arcos de la Frontera “a photographer’s feast”. He was right. We loved roaming around these windy streets, exploring and taking photos.
I love this photo Lanette got of me. I look like such a traveler…. tourist…. whatever.
One more view of the town on the hill as we headed out.
Last stop…. Sevilla!