Jerez de la Frontera

Left Cordoba and the returning revellers from Cadiz at 8.53 and arrived in Jerez at 10.44. A little under two hours.
The train station, like all train stations here, was clean and easy. Tiles decorate the station cafe, the staff are friendly and people are having a joke.

It's not raining. Hooray. I hoped it wouldn't rain. The town seems quiet, slightly run down. There are bodegas, near the station. It doesn't have the colonial atmosphere I thought it would have. It isn't the affluent town I expected. Cordoba definitely seems more up market, but then, this is the area nearest the station and as we all know, they are not usually in the best part of town. However, Cordoba's was on the main thoroughfare and was an impressive lead in to the city.
But this is Jerez. I suppose most of the residents have gone to Cadiz for the festival. It is Saturday. There are stalls selling fruit and vegetables and bits and bobs on the side streets near the square. Up out of the station and right, past a large bodega.
Strolled back to the station for a taxi to the Bodegas Real Tesoro y Valdespino on the edge of town. It is owned by the Grupo Estevez. Keep calm. Excited and nervous. The taxi driver loves his city.
It is a bleak day. We pass the Gonzalez Byass Bodega and are dropped off at the main entrance of the one I have come to see. The guard in the kiosk says to go inside. We do. There is no-one there. We are inside. It is not what I expected. There is no sound. We are trusted alone here? With these beautiful antiques. The rug is folded up around the base of the central gleaming wood table. Palms and pictures and clocks and ornaments and chairs and doors. One opens. A man appears holding out his hand in greeting. He has been told an Estevez has come to visit...