Starbucks Blog of the Day (4)
Of the 4 Starbucks we’ve discovered, this is number 3.
This morning was dedicated to finding the Lost Pillars of Marmoles, a triad of Roman columns tucked away on an obscure side street. As always, the guidebook was a mere suggestion of the lay of the land, but we found them, tucked away between two apartment buildings. It was a beautiful little square, cool, shady with birds singing and Spanish folk music playing in some apartment up above and the spirit of the spot was enough to overcome the fact that the bases of the columns were submerged in what was probably a pool of sewer water whose surface was gaily bedecked by a flotilla of lost liter Coke bottles and soccer balls. would have stayed all day but there was nowhere to sit.
We wandered a bit through neighborhoods just off the central old town, stopping in at little neighborhood churches, each older than the last and sporting retablos far more gorgeous than their humble exteriors would suggest. Drowning in gilt, each surpassed the big cathedrals if you counted ornate gold work by volume.
We fortified ourselves with chocolate and Churros at Valor, did a little shopping at Cortes Ingles and now we’re off to the gardens at the site of the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition.
This morning was dedicated to finding the Lost Pillars of Marmoles, a triad of Roman columns tucked away on an obscure side street. As always, the guidebook was a mere suggestion of the lay of the land, but we found them, tucked away between two apartment buildings. It was a beautiful little square, cool, shady with birds singing and Spanish folk music playing in some apartment up above and the spirit of the spot was enough to overcome the fact that the bases of the columns were submerged in what was probably a pool of sewer water whose surface was gaily bedecked by a flotilla of lost liter Coke bottles and soccer balls. would have stayed all day but there was nowhere to sit.
We wandered a bit through neighborhoods just off the central old town, stopping in at little neighborhood churches, each older than the last and sporting retablos far more gorgeous than their humble exteriors would suggest. Drowning in gilt, each surpassed the big cathedrals if you counted ornate gold work by volume.
We fortified ourselves with chocolate and Churros at Valor, did a little shopping at Cortes Ingles and now we’re off to the gardens at the site of the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition.
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