So last we talked, I had just arrived to scorching Seville, and trust me, it is scorching. It hasn’t been less than a hundred degrees (that’s 37 for you non-Americans) any day this week. Besides, it’s impossibly humid. But the heat was a nice change, to be honest, especially once I learned to manage it better. I even walked *back* to the train station. It was just a matter of learning to never walk on main streets.
You see, Seville is made up mostly of narrow winding alleys lined with tall buildings decorated with matching facades. The facades have to do with the “Patrimony of the Humanities,” whatever that means. Basically, Seville is a historic town, and to keep it that way some authority or other has forbidden anyone to build a structure taller than the Cathedral tower or paint their property any color other than one of a specifically approved set. It sounds a little harsh, but it has preserved the quaint history of Seville well. Add that to the fragrant blossoms and orange trees planted in every nook and it’s one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen.
The narrow alleys have a more practical purpose. Thanks to breezes blowing in off the Sahara and its distance from the sea, Seville is the hottest city in Spain by far. Remember, this is June. It’s only going to get hotter. The tall, narrow streets, like the many trees, provide some much needed shade. Once I figured this out, my trip back to the train station via backroads and not thoroughfares was much more pleasant. I was still sweaty when I arrived, but not soaked through, thank goodness.
The whole sweaty but not soaked through was rather par for the course during my two days in Seville. I did a lot of walking, but made sure to keep to the shade when possible, and of course always ensure I was drinking enough water. Shortly after posting last, I wandered out onto the plaza in front of my hostel. I’d missed the accordian, but a short walk through the streets popped me out at the Cathedral of Seville and some beautiful nightime views. Keep in mind, night does not mean the sun was down, just that it was 10:00pm, and therefore should have been.
Though the streets were still fairly busy, in my book it was getting late, so I headed back to the hostel where I found Brazil squaring off against Croatia in the opening match of the World Cup. So of course I sat down and watched, and made a few friends in the hostel along the way. We didn’t talk much, there was football on, but there’s been a sort of comraderie in the hostel since that game that’s very nice to feel.
The next morning, I woke up even before my alarm, which is reassuring for me getting back to normal sleeping patterns. After the usual free hostel breakfast of toast and cereal, accopmanied by some Greek yogurt I’d bought the night before, I headed off to check out the two biggest sights in Sevilla: the Cathedral of Seville and the Alcazar.
Let me digress here for a moment to make a correction to my previous post. I called the palace fortress in Cordoba Alcazaba. It was, infact, Alcazar, which explains why it was such a pleasant surprise. Alcazars are not military structures in the same way that Alcazabas are, which means they tend to be prettier and better preserved. The Alcazar in Seville, in fact, is the world’s oldest royal residence still in use today - not full time, but when the Spanish royal family visits Seville at least. There are sections from the Muslims, the fifteenth and sixteenth century Catholics, and so on and so forth, all coexisting in perfect architectural harmony. That’s kind of the story of Adalusia, to be honest: civilization on top of civilization on top of civilization.
After Alcazar, I popped across the street to see the famous Cathedral of Seville, the third largest church in the Christian world. It was about as grand as you would probably expect; towering vaulted ceilings, and the largest alter piece of any cathedral in existence today. Apparently Christopher Columbus’ remains are also interred there, though I somehow missed that bit. To be fair, I was in a bit of a rush to make a one o’clock tour. I did, however, get to climb the old minaret turned bell tower for a lovely view of both the cathedral and the town.
The tour I was hurrying to catch was actually the first of three ‘free’ walking tours I would take over the next twenty four hours. Sevilla wasn’t a terribly monumental town as far as I could tell. It’s relevance lay in history more so than what remained, and I wanted to make sure I heard about it. Tour guides are good at making sure you don’t miss the important things. By coincidence, I actually had the same tour guide for all three tours. Her name was Maria Elena, a young girl from Monterrey, Mexico who lived in New Braunfels for a few years, came to Spain to do her Masters, met a cute Spanish boy and never left. Small world, isn’t it?
As nice as she was, the first tour was a bit of a let down. We went across the Guadalquivir River to Triana, the old residential part of town known for its once large population of gypsies and Inquisition jail. There wasn’t much to see really, and I think I knew more about gypsies from my studies under Professor Hancock than she did. I certainly knew a lot of what she was saying would have offended just about any Romani who heard her. It was a nice walk regardless, and I probably wouldn’t have made it to Triana otherwise.
The couple hour siesta between the walks gave me a chance for lunch. On account of the heat, I was far from hungry, but I made a point of stopping to try the local gazpacho and a few gluten free cookies from the supermarket. Have I mentioned I think I might be gluten intolerant? Thinking back, it would explain a lot of the problems with my skin, which is starting to clear up again now that I’ve scaled back on all the bread and cheese I was having for two meals a day.
The second tour consisted of a walk around Seville’s Jewish quarter, taking a closer look at the Inquisition and the people who suffered during it. This was when I really discovered the extent of the narrow, winding streets, especially considering how terribly lost I got on the way back. That’s what GPS is for though, and I did eventually make it back to the hostel where I found myself with a difficult decision to make.
I had opted out of the more expensive flamenco shows I’d seen advertised around, including one by the tour company running the free walking tours, but I had seen a sign advertising one that came with a free drink for only ten euros - less than half price. My other option was heading out to a Spanish bar to watch the next round of World Cup matches, wherein Spain was playing Holland. The problem with both of these options, however, was that after a full day of walking in the Sevillan heat, I was exhausted. When one of the Austrian girls I’d watched with the night before invited me to stay in and watch with them again then, that’s pricisely what I did.
In hidsight, it was better I didn’t go out to watch the match. Holland beat Spain 5-1, and I don’t imagine the atmosphere would have been very boistrous. As for the flamenco show, I actually regret not going to the one run by the walking tour more than I regret missing the cheaper one. When I showed up to the last tour this morning, I gathered from others’ conversations that there was a performance of select songs from the opera Carmen following the flamenco. For those of you who don’t know, Carmen is my all time favorite opera, set in Seville, and thus the perfect opera to see performed there. Alas, it is an oportunity passed.
On the other hand, I did get to see the old tobacco factory where Carmen worked on the tour. It has since been turned in to part of the University of Seville. The other major highlight from this morning’s tour would have to be the Plaza Espanya. The plaza was my original destination before I decided to do the last walking tour, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it. Built for the Iberian American Expo in the early twentieth century, it’s mostly a huge tribute to the nation of Spain. Huge, and absoultely beautiful. Maria Elena even gave us a few minutes to wander around and take pictures, so lookie what you get!
After the last tour, I headed back to the hostel for lunch and a quick shower before calling my father (Happy Birthday and Father’s Day to him!) and doing that much easier walk to the train station I’d mentioned. As you might expect, I am now once again speeding across the Spanish countryside, this time towards Madrid. We’ve passed out of the most mountainous regions already, but the plains are still lovely, as are the hills in the distance. It would be a most enjoyable trip if the woman sitting next to me didn’t smell so badly it’s making me nauseous, but alas, we can’t have everything. And it’s pretty near everything smell aside, because they’re playing Tarzan on the entertainment system, and what could possibly be better than practicing my Spanish with one of my favorite animated films and this spectacular view right outside?
You see, Seville is made up mostly of narrow winding alleys lined with tall buildings decorated with matching facades. The facades have to do with the “Patrimony of the Humanities,” whatever that means. Basically, Seville is a historic town, and to keep it that way some authority or other has forbidden anyone to build a structure taller than the Cathedral tower or paint their property any color other than one of a specifically approved set. It sounds a little harsh, but it has preserved the quaint history of Seville well. Add that to the fragrant blossoms and orange trees planted in every nook and it’s one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen.
The narrow alleys have a more practical purpose. Thanks to breezes blowing in off the Sahara and its distance from the sea, Seville is the hottest city in Spain by far. Remember, this is June. It’s only going to get hotter. The tall, narrow streets, like the many trees, provide some much needed shade. Once I figured this out, my trip back to the train station via backroads and not thoroughfares was much more pleasant. I was still sweaty when I arrived, but not soaked through, thank goodness.
The whole sweaty but not soaked through was rather par for the course during my two days in Seville. I did a lot of walking, but made sure to keep to the shade when possible, and of course always ensure I was drinking enough water. Shortly after posting last, I wandered out onto the plaza in front of my hostel. I’d missed the accordian, but a short walk through the streets popped me out at the Cathedral of Seville and some beautiful nightime views. Keep in mind, night does not mean the sun was down, just that it was 10:00pm, and therefore should have been.
Though the streets were still fairly busy, in my book it was getting late, so I headed back to the hostel where I found Brazil squaring off against Croatia in the opening match of the World Cup. So of course I sat down and watched, and made a few friends in the hostel along the way. We didn’t talk much, there was football on, but there’s been a sort of comraderie in the hostel since that game that’s very nice to feel.
The next morning, I woke up even before my alarm, which is reassuring for me getting back to normal sleeping patterns. After the usual free hostel breakfast of toast and cereal, accopmanied by some Greek yogurt I’d bought the night before, I headed off to check out the two biggest sights in Sevilla: the Cathedral of Seville and the Alcazar.
Let me digress here for a moment to make a correction to my previous post. I called the palace fortress in Cordoba Alcazaba. It was, infact, Alcazar, which explains why it was such a pleasant surprise. Alcazars are not military structures in the same way that Alcazabas are, which means they tend to be prettier and better preserved. The Alcazar in Seville, in fact, is the world’s oldest royal residence still in use today - not full time, but when the Spanish royal family visits Seville at least. There are sections from the Muslims, the fifteenth and sixteenth century Catholics, and so on and so forth, all coexisting in perfect architectural harmony. That’s kind of the story of Adalusia, to be honest: civilization on top of civilization on top of civilization.
After Alcazar, I popped across the street to see the famous Cathedral of Seville, the third largest church in the Christian world. It was about as grand as you would probably expect; towering vaulted ceilings, and the largest alter piece of any cathedral in existence today. Apparently Christopher Columbus’ remains are also interred there, though I somehow missed that bit. To be fair, I was in a bit of a rush to make a one o’clock tour. I did, however, get to climb the old minaret turned bell tower for a lovely view of both the cathedral and the town.
The tour I was hurrying to catch was actually the first of three ‘free’ walking tours I would take over the next twenty four hours. Sevilla wasn’t a terribly monumental town as far as I could tell. It’s relevance lay in history more so than what remained, and I wanted to make sure I heard about it. Tour guides are good at making sure you don’t miss the important things. By coincidence, I actually had the same tour guide for all three tours. Her name was Maria Elena, a young girl from Monterrey, Mexico who lived in New Braunfels for a few years, came to Spain to do her Masters, met a cute Spanish boy and never left. Small world, isn’t it?
As nice as she was, the first tour was a bit of a let down. We went across the Guadalquivir River to Triana, the old residential part of town known for its once large population of gypsies and Inquisition jail. There wasn’t much to see really, and I think I knew more about gypsies from my studies under Professor Hancock than she did. I certainly knew a lot of what she was saying would have offended just about any Romani who heard her. It was a nice walk regardless, and I probably wouldn’t have made it to Triana otherwise.
The couple hour siesta between the walks gave me a chance for lunch. On account of the heat, I was far from hungry, but I made a point of stopping to try the local gazpacho and a few gluten free cookies from the supermarket. Have I mentioned I think I might be gluten intolerant? Thinking back, it would explain a lot of the problems with my skin, which is starting to clear up again now that I’ve scaled back on all the bread and cheese I was having for two meals a day.
The second tour consisted of a walk around Seville’s Jewish quarter, taking a closer look at the Inquisition and the people who suffered during it. This was when I really discovered the extent of the narrow, winding streets, especially considering how terribly lost I got on the way back. That’s what GPS is for though, and I did eventually make it back to the hostel where I found myself with a difficult decision to make.
I had opted out of the more expensive flamenco shows I’d seen advertised around, including one by the tour company running the free walking tours, but I had seen a sign advertising one that came with a free drink for only ten euros - less than half price. My other option was heading out to a Spanish bar to watch the next round of World Cup matches, wherein Spain was playing Holland. The problem with both of these options, however, was that after a full day of walking in the Sevillan heat, I was exhausted. When one of the Austrian girls I’d watched with the night before invited me to stay in and watch with them again then, that’s pricisely what I did.
In hidsight, it was better I didn’t go out to watch the match. Holland beat Spain 5-1, and I don’t imagine the atmosphere would have been very boistrous. As for the flamenco show, I actually regret not going to the one run by the walking tour more than I regret missing the cheaper one. When I showed up to the last tour this morning, I gathered from others’ conversations that there was a performance of select songs from the opera Carmen following the flamenco. For those of you who don’t know, Carmen is my all time favorite opera, set in Seville, and thus the perfect opera to see performed there. Alas, it is an oportunity passed.
On the other hand, I did get to see the old tobacco factory where Carmen worked on the tour. It has since been turned in to part of the University of Seville. The other major highlight from this morning’s tour would have to be the Plaza Espanya. The plaza was my original destination before I decided to do the last walking tour, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it. Built for the Iberian American Expo in the early twentieth century, it’s mostly a huge tribute to the nation of Spain. Huge, and absoultely beautiful. Maria Elena even gave us a few minutes to wander around and take pictures, so lookie what you get!
After the last tour, I headed back to the hostel for lunch and a quick shower before calling my father (Happy Birthday and Father’s Day to him!) and doing that much easier walk to the train station I’d mentioned. As you might expect, I am now once again speeding across the Spanish countryside, this time towards Madrid. We’ve passed out of the most mountainous regions already, but the plains are still lovely, as are the hills in the distance. It would be a most enjoyable trip if the woman sitting next to me didn’t smell so badly it’s making me nauseous, but alas, we can’t have everything. And it’s pretty near everything smell aside, because they’re playing Tarzan on the entertainment system, and what could possibly be better than practicing my Spanish with one of my favorite animated films and this spectacular view right outside?
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