Westworld Alberta

S U M M E R 2 0 1 5 | W E S T W O R L D A L B E R T A 27 e 90-minute show is charged with such raw passion: the musicians, keeping the beat, also keep their eyes locked on the feet of the danc- ers, who stomp and sashay across the stage, brows furrowed, castanets chattering and colourful skirts trailing behind them. The coach picks us up and delivers us to dinner in a private room at El Rinconcillo, an ornately tiled and wood-panelled tapas restau- rant, in a circa 1670 building, whose walls are lined with sherry bottles and hung with bun- dles of sausage and ham haunches. As a parade of fried eggplant, spinach and chickpeas, wild asparagus omelette and fresh tuna salad marches onto my fork, Cyd, Carol, Vivian from Toronto, Paul from London, Simon from Guernsey and I make sure we're all connected on Facebook so we can keep in touch. There's no shortage of Ribera del Duero Tinto Fino wine to toast our hosts and one another, but our little group of fast friends finds we can't yet say goodbye, so sets out in search of a nightclub to continue our glass- raising and reminiscing about the trip. A five-minute stroll through the old quarter brings us to the Metropol Parasol, a 30-metre- tall, 150-metre-long wooden canopy whose underbelly resembles the gills of a mushroom. e structure houses an underground museum and farmers' market – now closed – along with restaurants and bars, which are aglow and hum- ming with music and conversation. We step inside Moss Lounge Bar, a jungle of tropical plants and gorgeous locals. Pausing, I think back to my initial reservations about coming on a coach trip – and can't help but smile. At this point, they've completely evaporated, and I'm already looking forward to my next tour. But for now, we make our way into the crowd to find ourselves a table and order another round. W

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