We purchased our train tickets online because we were nervous. There were no extra processing fees, and you don't need paper tickets. Attendants just come around the cars after takeoff and check the ticket on your phone.
It was a comfortable 1-hour train ride. The train is steadier than buses, because they go in more or less a straight line and don't have to contend with Spain's plentiful traffic circles. You can also always be sure there is a bathroom on board, a plus when travelling with kiddos.
We spent the night of Christmas Eve in Jerez, after a slight miscommunication debacle with our Airbnb hosts in which we were both equally to blame. We wound up loitering around Jerez for a couple hours with our heavy packs before they were able to meet us to hand off the keys.
After we checked in, we picked up some groceries (cookies for Santa, sherry for us) and set about prepping for Christmas.
For the previous few days, we watched some Christmas shows on Netflix and talked about Santa Claus, trying to make the holiday festive and exciting for Babs. She'd written a letter to Santa while in school in Albir, and we mailed it from a Correos box in Galera.
In Seville, Mr. Go had snunk out to buy a small toy or two that we'd scoped out earlier and some wrapping paper. Our apartment had a small potted plant, so Babs and I drew some decorations on the back of the cookie-box cardboard and cut them out. We left Santa his cookies and an onion for the reindeer (we forgot to buy carrots) and let the magic happen.
Without snow, big dinners and a decorated tree at home, it was a very different feel to Christmas. The day snuck up on me. Honestly, I didn't miss the holiday all that much. I was perfectly content letting the day go by just like any other, walking around with my family, enjoying the sun and life in general to its fullest.
But we tried our best to make it a special day for Babs. It helped that Spain is big on Christmas, and every town had twinkly lights and trees in their town squares. I think she had a good time, sneaking out of her room in the morning to peek at what was tucked around the makeshift tree.
Christmas Day we welcomed a friend from the States who'd come to visit for the week. We had our Christmas lunch in the main plaza and wandered around the streets as night fell and the lights came on. I was surprised at how many restaurants were open, both on Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Most of the shops were closed and most of the good restaurants too, but it was no trouble to find a place to eat.
During the day, we walked around exploring. We toured the Diez Merito bodega (a winery for sherry), which was wildly unimpressive. Our guide was doing her work study and though she did her best to do the tour in both Spanish and English, we still could understand only every other word. At the end, we were able to taste some of the sherries, and were able to discover sherry is not our thing. The sweet sherries are like syrup and I'd rather drink a red wine than a dry sherry.
But Jerez is famous for its sherries, as one boundary of what they call the Sherry Triangle in Southwestern Spain.
On our last night in Jerez, I woke up in the middle of the night, managed to slither down from the top bunkbed in a flop sweat and was violently sick. From the Mercadona bagged roast chicken, the bottle of sherry consumed that night, the chocolate our friend brought from home as a Christmas gift, or a hellish combination of the three, we'll never know. I was sick all morning, leaving Mr. Go to clean up, pack and corral our party on his own.
The four of us took a 40-minute bus to our next destination, Arcos de la Frontera, where a pet-sit stint and a hospital adventure awaited us.
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