You see why I initially less interested going to Cancun? I thought there's not much of a difference, weather-wise, from any tropical countries with nice beaches.I got it all wrong. How can I resist the waves lapping at my feet buried under the powdery warm sand? The snorkeling stint off to Isla de Mujeres. Man, heaping plates for breakfast, bar is everywhere...(TBCon't...)
 

CONT...Soon after arriving at the same spot and passing the same group of devout Catholics in procession of their saints, as well as the stunning 'jamon' shops having these massive cured pork 'pata' flaunting, hooked side by side inside a glass display window, it was time for our Siri-like voice companion to take a break and we turned her off from giving us erred direction.

Once we're stopped to get a sense of where we were relative to our intended destination, I left my seat and sought help from locals. Few simply avoided me, not for the lack of empathy nor a hint of crassness, but I reckoned from their reticence attitude toward me is uncomfortability. Some would shy away because I didn't speak their language.

A lively well-lighted bar heaping with patrons caught me that I came in shortly afterward.

'Buenas noches, amigos!' l said instinctively to some bunch sitting by the counter hoping they take notice it was coming from someone unlike them in appearance yet uttering their own language no matter how awkward.

TO BE CONTINUED...

It's almost a year now, but recalling our stint last Spring would almost always put me in better mood and revives my interest without question to just grab my travel gear and head out for another season of far away adventure.

The 12 cities of Spain and Portugal combined in a 9-day single-loop travel by road underscored the highs of my travel experience so far, and if I may add, this city impressed me.

There was something different about Cordoba. Was it the locals? The city itself? The fact of the matter is, it could be anything. Every little detail I encountered seemed to fuse with my travel-hyper consiousness. I know I'm more of a restless soul, but it surprised me that I give myself too much comfort of entertaining the idea of staying there for good.

After a day of long drive from Valencia to crossing the Strait of Gibraltar heading to Cueta, we finally arrived late at night here in the most comical and confusing way.

Seneca Hotel is a bed and breakfast coolest of the cool. You couldn't get more authentic once you see every corner of the room or at the very least, reminiscent of something I grew up with like the capiz-laden wood frame window or the thick cotton warm blanket on our bed.

Well, my friend Jonathan - that took over the wheel - Erma, his wife and my wife were all confident with our GPS device - one that brought us to a wonderful ascent up to Monserrat for example. It turned out and came out unreliable enough that we ended to a location where some sort of religious event was happening that evening, twice or thrice!

To be continued...

It was Christmas day with our hips buckled on our seats, the 777 was airborne and cruising at 37,000 feet over at the Atlantic when I kissed and greeted my wife "Merry Christmas!". No fancy wine, but only bottled water were in our hands. It was different, yet happy that we're together like those past Christmas seasons. As a matter of fact, this one was unusual as we normally travel before or after Christmas day if we were to get away for holiday.

After landing to Schiphol, my wife and I agreed to see the famous Dam Quarter rather than spend six hours waiting for the next flight off to Milan.

Dazed, a traveling angel with a face of a complete stranger befriended us and accompanied us to where we're headed. Later we got to know that her name was Markell.

It was such a nice way to capture the city's urban scenery: a long line of parked bikes and people crisscrossing with cyclists on the streets. I was captivated with this old structure building turned into a lovely shopping mall standing majestically in one of the major streets there. Walking along the canals and seeing ferries taking passengers, you almost like to join the ride. The public tram cars, although they ran cautiously, we made sure we move and cross the street with the crowd so as to avoid being hit by it.  Gushing of people from every direction was dizzying.

Finally we reached the plaza, took quick pictures of us with nice building facades as background, alternately with my wife and occasionally with Markell. I had to stop at Sex Museum and took a solo picture at the entrance. Three Euro was needed to get in, but it was the flight schedule that we were chasing now as we needed to head back to the airport.

Overall, the atmosphere in that afternoon - though hurried, was fun. Drizzling and the ground had puddles of water almost everywhere we stepped on, but that's a good trade-off to see the beauty of its people and the welcoming city of Amsterdam.  

The sudden drop of temperature (from what I perceived looking outside from our private cabin) and the quiet but secure uphill crawling of TrenItalia in the crevasses of this mountainous landscape of the Alps - dotted with exquisite little village houses from a distance tucked-in along the footings of snow-blanketed hills and snow-capped mountains were my indications that we were entering the lovely country of Switzerland.

After exploring several cities of Italy with a guide tour and friend, it was time to visit more cities of mainland Europe. We had enjoyed an evening with friends in Milan a day prior, in time for welcoming the New Year. Also a couple of days earlier, we went to Milan's Centrale and attempted to reserve seats for a New Year trip going to Monaco, Barcelona, and Madrid before going south to Paris . The plan was scraped as the train operation was shut-down January 1. To make it worse, January 2 was already fully booked for these destinations, we were told. Lesson learned: no reservation too close to any day of intended trip. A contingency quickly occurred at this time and subsequently asked ourselves: "Why don't we head out to Zurich, Brussels, Luxembourg, and finally Paris?" It worked for us and fate seemed to be in agreement with the new plan as we were able to get our seat reservations from the counter that quickly.

It was early in the afternoon when we were sent off of our train from Centrale terminal by our friends. Soon, the train started on its way. The weather was nice, but chilly. After settling to our cabin, I took a nap. It must be a short one though as I was awaken from the sound of heavy footsteps of military in their Italian fatigue randomly checking passengers' travel documents. Shortly, it was our turn. I showed them our passports. Amid their imposing presence enhanced by their snugly-fitted brimless beret, rifle slinged to their shoulders, and all, I remained placid. They demonstrated an ideal way an officer should approach any civilian: an amicable expression and a rather courteous request of documents.

Can't say for sure, how long we were at the comfort of our seats, but after awhile, the view from outside became a bit darker. It must have been around twilight. I began to think of it as a thrilling prelude to  a serene landscape sightseeing which I was about to sketch in my mind. Imprinting them on my mental canvas was the best effort I could make if I want to capture all the interesting pictures reeling - as fast as our moving train, before my eyes. The camera was a lesser help at that time as the train had turned into a faster-moving metal beast chasing nothing but time in the occasional slopes and meandering terrain of the Alps. Nevertheless, it still was a surreal experience beholding all the scenery before us: the smoke-spewing chimneys from quaint little village house, the heavy fog spread across the hill, and some occasional solitary tree in their barest form as well as tall Aspen trees clustered together and side by side standing bravely in that lonely winter evening. TO BE CONTINUED...