Wednesday Evening, 12 April 2017

On the Train from Cartagena to Valencia  

I am relaxing and resting on my return trip to Valencia after a very busy and exciting day in Cartagena.  Besides re-visiting my friends at the hospital and enjoying the renowned sights of the city on a beautiful Spring morning, I am also in the middle of the city's preparations for the biggest procession of Holy Week, which takes place this very night.  I will not get to see the actual procession because I have to catch this train at 4:38pm, but I do get to see all the last-minute preparations.

Wednesday Morning, 12 April 2017

Cartagena, Spain

I begin this morning by throwing wide the windows of my 4th floor hotel room facing the harbor.  Before me lay the waters of the Mediterranean, a vast array of sailboats and yachts of various sizes, two large cruise ships (a medium-sized Holland America and an immense P & O cruise liner), and the classically designed buildings of the Naval Museum and the Port Authority.  Unlike Valencia, Cartagena has not turned away from the sea; its city center and Roman ruins stand open to the water and the wider world.

A walk through the historic district, with its fine domestic and religious architecture, leads to the more modern section and the Alameda, a broad avenue shaded by trees and lined with expensive shops.  In about 30 minutes, as I approach very near to the Hospital Perpetua Socorro I find a street kiosk selling flower arrangements and bouquets perfect for taking on my visit.  I barely remember the multi-colored exterior of the building, but once inside things begin to look familiar.

Hospital Perpetua Socorro

Three of My Orthopedic Nurses

I do remember the 15 days I spent on the 4th floor in Room 417.  As I exit the elevator I see three familiar faces--nurses who helped tend me during my ordeal.  I only have to mention, "Tucson," and we are all reminiscing in broken Spanish and fractured English.

Unfortunately other nurses and techs won't be on duty until after I have to catch my train.  But I leave my card and a note with the flowers.  As I pass through the lobby again, there stands my surgeon, whose name I actually remember.  He looks at me strangely for a moment until I point to my hip and do a little jig in the lobby, at which time he grins broadly and shakes me vigorously.  Ironically, we will meet again about an hour later at the church where the last-minute floats and displays for the procession are getting their final touches.  It's too bad neither of us speaks the other's language so we don't have much of a conversation.  But he seems genuinely moved that I came all this way to express my gratitude.

But I turn now to the procession preparation, all made of flowers, gilt and semi precious metals.  Not unlike Mardi Gras or the Rose Bowl, these floats are made new every year.  Here is a selection of photos.

Afterward I visit the extensive and well preservered Roman ruins, which includes a splendid theatre and arena.  Unfortunately, the visit involves too many steps.

All that walking has made me hungry and I opt for a seaside pizza, unfortunately one of the worst I have ever eaten.  How can you ruin a Margharita Pizza?  Just ask these folks.  My hotel, where I left my few things after checking out this morning is just a few steps beyond some recent waterfront memorials.

Memorial to Victims of Terrorism

Memorial to Endangered Species

A taxi to the train sets me on my journey back to Valencia.