THE TRAIN IN SPAIN STAYS MAINLY IN THE PLAIN : If a Plush, Hassle-Free Trip Through Andalusian Countryside Sounds Like Just the Ticket, We Think We’ve Got It!

Mile after mile, the sunflowers whirred by, field upon field of them blanketing the countryside, their huge yellow heads insistently cheerful, like millions of happy faces with petals.

From our window seats, the flowers’ brightness and abundance were so mesmerizing it was hard to concentrate on the business at hand--a dining table that looked like a buffet for 10 instead of lunch for two. Set amid sparkling white fanned napkins--and what seemed like an entire bridal registry of silverware--were bowls of cool gazpacho, a mammoth paella of chicken, rice and seafood, tiny squid in onion sauce, baked eggplant salad, chicken thighs in sherry, roast lamb, fresh crusty rolls and six glasses of wine, including hearty reds from Spain’s revered Rioja region and whites from around Barcelona. And all of this would be followed by dessert: pastries, cheeses, yogurt and fresh fruit and, finally, sweet liquors and rich brandies.

Let others navigate the mountain and valley roads of southern Spain’s Andalusia region in rental cars, pulling into little towns for sustenance, battling the crowds at the big tourist sights and praying that each night’s hotel reservation is safe and sound.

We chose instead to see this ancient Moorish heartland the old-fashioned way--aboard the vintage 1920s cars of Spain’s swank touring train, the Andalusian Express--Al Andalus. Carefree and cushy, with each day’s bed and board assured, the four-day trip took us across rolling hills dotted with olive trees, dark green pine forests and fields of bright-red poppies and those impossibly perky sunflowers.

We passed whitewashed farmhouses, stone churches and an occasional castle as we made our way between the three sightseeing centers of the region: Seville, the site of the Expo ’92 world’s fair; Cordoba, once Spain’s cultural capital and home to a magnificent mosque that was second only to Baghdad’s in religious importance and architectural splendor, and Granada, the country’s last Moorish stronghold and site of the world’s most famous fortified palace, the magnificent 14th-Century Alhambra.

Boarding fashionably late in Seville, after having met our hostesses at the Santa Justa train station, we arrived just in time for drinks. I quickly changed from my sensible tourist jeans to a frilly cocktail dress from my grand-tour wardrobe.

“So pleased to meet you . . . Como esta? . . . Bonjour,” we greeted the 40 other guests--a multinational mix of train aficionados who were gingerly sipping amber sherry from delicately fluted crystal goblets.

Had it not been for the train, we probably would have avoided Spain this summer. With Expo ’92 drawing crowds to Seville, Madrid feting itself as the European Community’s 1992 cultural capital of Europe, and the Summer Olympics in Barcelona, which ended last week, the country is bulging with tourists who face inflated hotel and restaurant prices, and extra-long lines at the traditionally crowded sights. At the Alhambra, for example, we were told the lines were sometimes so long that visitors had to queue up for tickets one day to tour the place the next.

Not us. In each city our train of 13 carriages (including 2 restaurant cars, a lounge car, a bar car, five sleeping carriages and two shower cars) stopped, a professional guide escorted us by bus or on foot to the key sights, with any tickets we needed already in hand. And since our accommodations and most meals were on the train, we never had to make reservations or argue over hotel bills.

Certainly there were trade-offs. Our one-day-per-city itinerary did not allow us time to get to know any place well, and these cities in particular abounded with tantalizing possibilities. Andalusia, after all, gave birth to flamenco, the bullfight and sherry, and inspired literature’s Don Juan and opera’s Barber of Seville and Carmen, as well as being the heart and soul of Moorish Spain.

I wish I had had time to take a Horse-and-buggy ride through Seville’s lushly landscaped parks and bougainvillea-laced fountain plazas, or to paddle-boat along its winding Guadalquivir River. I needed at least a few more hours to stroll the narrow maze of Cordoba’s old Jewish Quarter where the great philosopher Maimonides once held forth. And the four hours allotted to the Alhambra just whet my appetite for more of its gracious archways, pretty reflecting pools.

But there were compensations.

Though from the outside, the Andalusian Express’ dark and dingy paint job made it look like a castoff from an Alfred Hitchcock film, inside all was sumptuously upbeat: mahogany paneling, etched glass windows and partitions, Lalique crystal lamp shades and velvety upholstered banquettes. Even the public toilets were snazzy, with fish-shaped brass sink fixtures and carved wooden mirror frames.

Huge picture windows in every car afforded perfect views of the passing countryside, no matter where we were in the train, and air-conditioning throughout kept us comfortably cool even on blistering-hot afternoons. Although the train’s five sleeping carriages accommodate 80 passengers, there were just 40 of us on our June journey, making the train blissfully uncrowded.

The small number of passengers also made for easy mingling. Although guests from Spain, Italy, Great Britain and the United States at first pretty much stuck to their own language group, soon we were exchanging cross-cultural smiles, drawing on our high school language training for some basic phrases.

Everyone learned to say bueno in the dining room, where the service was unfailingly friendly and efficient, the food abundant and well-prepared. Our waiter insisted, like a mother who had cooked just for us, that we at least try everything on our plates--these were, after all, regional specialties he just knew we’d enjoy.

The conductor, who always seemed to be there just when we needed him, rushed to fill each special request, at one point seeming about to burst into tears when a taxi we had summoned for an evening away from the group showed up five minutes late.

The train’s multilingual Spanish hostesses were less outgoing, herding us where we had to be at given times, but not at all well-informed about the region or given to going out of their way to handle individual needs.

But I did appreciate the bar-car piano player who crooned mellow numbers in Spanish and English before and after dinner. What could be more romantic than waltzing into the night as our train rocked gently down the tracks, the motion barely rippling the surface of our after-dinner drinks?

Meanwhile, our cabin, with mahogany trappings, was clean and classy, and we spent many hours there just gazing out the window at the unfolding countryside. Alas, the room reminded me of Barbie’s Dream House, with lots of decorative detail but little space. Our two lower births formed an unromantic L-shape along two walls, and our closet accommodated a minuscule amount of clothes. My companion and I soon learned to maneuver around the room with the precision of synchronized swimmers. If I wanted to enter the bathroom, he had to get onto one of the beds. If he opened the closet door, I was trapped inside the bath.

And this was a suite. The cheaper standard double rooms that made up the majority of accommodations had bunk beds, a hanging suit bag in lieu of a closet and a sink but no toilet or shower. Guests shared hall bathroom facilities, sometimes making for quite a morning scramble.

But a train trip is more about being on the move than in a room, and move we did--though with one notable setback. Our first night aboard, a strike--one of Spain’s less endearing traditions--hit our journey. Rail workers walked off the job at midnight on a 24-hour protest, so after our morning tour of Seville the next day, we were bused to Cordoba.

Nonetheless, we got a good taste of both the Andalusian Express and the cities along its southern route.

Seville, with its wealth of tree-filled parks and preserved historic sections, such as the former Jewish Quarter known as the Barrio Santa Cruz, is a city made for walking. The beautiful Cathedral, the third-largest in Europe, is awash in gilt. And the Alcazar royal palace requires hours to fully appreciate. Unfortunately, the later, which is the official summer residence of King Juan Carlos, is off-bounds to tourists for the duration of Expo ’92. No matter, our guide compensated with visits to other elaborately appointed private palaces and a walk along the old streets once paced by Miguel de Cervantes in the late 1500s.

Our first night, we visited Expo ‘92, a five-minute walk from our berth at the specially constructed train station alongside the Expo grounds. After the pavilions of the 100 exhibiting nations close at 10 p.m. each night, Expo stays alive with musical performances and dance extravaganzas until 4 a.m. We danced the salsa to a hot Latin band along with hundreds of young Sevillanos.

(After Expo ’92 closes Oct. 12, the Andalusian Express’ world’s-fair stop will be replaced with a trip to Ronda, a beautiful cliff-tOp medieval village near the Mediterranean coast that has one of the oldest bull rings in Spain.)

Our visit the next day to Cordoba was short but very sweet. In the 10th Century, the city was the capital of Islamic Spain, rivaling Baghdad in opulence and holiness. The Mezquita, built between the 8th and 10th centuries, was one of the largest mosques in the world, capable of holding 5,500 worshipers. It encompasses an entire Catholic cathedral, built in 1525 by King Charles V as a final assertion of Christendom’s domination over Islam following the reconquest in 1492. The cavernous interior was cool and echo-filled as we strolled under the dramatic archways of red-and-white brick.

Outside again, we took a quick walk through the Juderia , the old Jewish Quarter where the scholar Maimonides and the poet Yehudah Halevi once lived, then headed back to Seville for an overnight train ride to Granada.

The Moors’ last capital and final stronghold before being driven out of Spain by the forces of Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492, Granada nestles prettily at the foot of the snow-capped Sierra Nevada Mountains. Its crown jewel, the Alhambra, certainly was the highlight of our trip, and is justifiably the most visited sight in Spain.

You’d need days to fully appreciate the beauty and grandiosity of the caliph’s fortified palace and its gardens, which sit atop a hill surrounded by 100 acres of woods with walking trails. In fact, in 1829, the writer Washington Irving stayed for three months in one of the deserted rooms while he was writing “Tales of the Alhambra.” We had just a few hours to see the highlights, but our expert guide shepherded us along briskly, covering many of the most captivating areas:

* The Hall of Secrets, a round chamber whose acoustics were designed so that an individual could speak softly into the wall at one point in the room and be heard distinctly by someone at the opposite wall--but not by anyone else in any other part of the room.

* The Court of the Lions (nicknamed the Harem Court), with its marble columns and chambers for concubines. The little alcoves with reflecting pools were enclosed on the sides but not in front, so any couple who chose to could make love and watch the bubbling fountains at the same time.

* The delicious fountains and gardens of the Generalife, the sultans’ summer palace, whose rose-bush and orange-tree filled grounds overlook the Alhambra and the city beyond.

On our final night back in Seville, we stayed in the city, wanting to drink in one last time its nighttime magic. The next day, we were whisked back to Madrid on the AVE train, Spain’s new high-speed line that cuts the once six-hour journey neatly in half. In our first-class car, there were free drinks, a light supper and a movie in Spanish playing on overhead TV monitors.

But in our mind’s eye, we were miles away from these modern trappings. We were back at the Alhambra, gazing deeply into a reflecting pool, waiting for Ali Baba to work some magic.

GUIDEBOOK: Riding Through Andalusia

The trip: The Andalusian Express’ four-day southern route through Andalusia departs weekly Sept. 3-Oct. 29. Trips after the Oct. 12 close of Expo ’92 substitute a visit to the medieval cliff-top village of Ronda for the world’s-fair stop.

Prices (which do not include air fare) range from $1,950 to $2,400 per person, double occupancy, in September, to $2,150-$2,600 per person, double occupancy, in October. The highest price is for a suite. Price includes a round-trip, first-class ticket between Madrid and Seville on the new high-speed AVE train, tours in Seville (or Ronda after Oct. 12), Cordoba and Granada, three nights on the Andalusian Express and all meals with selected wines.

New itinerary: In 1993, Andalusian Express’ southern route will become a four-night, five-day trip, taking in Seville, Cordoba, Granada, seaside Malaga, Ronda and Jerez de la Frontera, where sherry wine is made. Departures are most weeks in May and June, September and October. Prices will range from $2,050 to $2,500 per person, double occupancy, in June and September; $2,250-$2,700, May and October. A shorter, three-day trip to Seville, Cordoba, Granada and Malaga is also available during the above months, but Ronda and Jerez are worth the extra time and expense.

During July and August, 1993, the train will run a northern route, taking in Barcelona and either the Rioja wine region or the religious pilgrimage site of Santiago de Compostela.

For more information: Abercrombie & Kent International handles the Andalusian Express. You can book through a travel agent or by calling A&K; at (800) 323-7308.