|TRAIN STATION, SEVILLA. COLD JERRY (TEMP BELOW 50)|
Heading out of Sevilla Tuesday morning, we had a warm, friendly, and helpful ticket agent. I explained to him in Spanish that we needed two seats to Malaga that faced forward… two seats that looked toward the front of the train… two seats that looked in the direction we would travel… two seats that looked straight ahead.
|HEADING SOUTH... OLIVES AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE... JERRY HATES OLIVES.|
Hallelujah! We had seats that faced forward for our two-hour and twenty-eight minute train ride. (To catch the express train that only took one hour and forty minutes would have meant getting up before 8:30 a.m. We haven't seen 8:30 a.m. in a while now.)
|ON THE TRAIN. A HALF HOUR NORTH OF MALAGA. BREATHTAKING.|
Then the woman behind us started coughing. And coughing. And blowing her nose. And coughing. And wheezing. And coughing.
|ABOUT 20 MINUTES NORTH OF MALAGA.|
The train took off. In the opposite direction... Since it was empty, we got up and changed our seats to ones facing forward. That also got us away from The Germ.
|OLD MALAGA. NORTH-ISH FROM OUR HOTEL TERRACE.|
We listened to The Germ hack for the rest of the ride, but we had four rows and an aisle between us. We think we may have evaded the TB for now.