I think in Sevilla I fell in love. It felt that intense and pure. In love with travel, in love with freedom, in love with this beautiful city in the sun!
Uh oh!
I did regret only spending 2 nights in Valencia… but only briefly. The train trip was fab… but getting on the train was less fun! You go into a huge hall where everyone stands around and waits and moans and sweats (can you see how many women have fans… most!) it’s part of the background noise, a gentle periodic flutter.
Then they announce what platform the train will be on and there’s this thumping stampede. It’s not like the seats aren’t allocated. I have an unconfirmed suspicion it’s cos the train leaves bang on time… regardless of whether you and your luggage are on. Luckily I’m pretty scary when stampeding… my luggage and I were on.
On the train there was a 10-member family near me – at least 3 generations (poss. 4) and their Chihuahua-cross-something-or-other-else! They were cute … a diversion on the 7hr trip. I giggled to myself cos I could make out enough that the mum – who I’d “chatted with” over some agua con gas in the dining car – wanted her daughter to practice her English with me but the daughter (12ish) was waaaayyyy too shame-job for that. I pretended not to know what they were talking about! Tee-hee – teenagers eh?
They thought I was mad when I lay out in full sun at one of the country stops along the way but the weather was incredible – crisp and sizzling. 40ish I think. This is my ideal weather… where do I find it 24-7, 364 days per year? Yum! Oh, sorry, rumour has it that it’s been rainy and miserable for most of you (in Melb). Oh even the train stations have olive trees here!
Anyway on to Sevilla – I was a little nervous arriving cos the only accomm I could get was in a hostel… yeeks SHARING a room with… BACKPACKERS! Ewwwwww.
The place was great – 4-bunk-female-room – first night there were only 2 of us… me and a Canadian who had just graduated from law. She impressed me cos she knew about the political situation (was JUST after election) in Oz and we discussed the right-wing uprising there and in Canada.
I guess this is a poshish hostel. Clean, comfy, orange and yellow, close to everything. Perfecto (yikes just noticed how much my Spanish is fading already! And I’ve only 10 days in France – Merde!) The roof-top-terrace was awesome. You could chat to folk – or ignore them and take in the views… I tended to be up earlier than most of this young crew – bless em they thought I was only 32… The kitchen was great I cooked real food (ie fish and salad and such stuff) or reheated take away… all good and money saving would recommend sevilla@samayhostels.com
for those up for a hostel stay.
OK time for some iPod-notes and memories on the actual time spent in Sevilla.
I like that time in a new city before you find a map
There are some real advantages to NOT doing research before you arrive somewhere. The honest-to-goodness-joy of discovery… that can only be unexpected cos you know so little.
DAY one I just took my iPod, a bottle of water and my wallet and headed out. In my head I tossed a coin – turn right or left? Turned right. Walked maybe 100 metres… this is what I found…
A beautiful park, with paths and fountains and sun and dappled light and I felt sooooo happy… irrepressibly, I actually thought to myself “fuck it, no-one knows me, there’s not gonna be any ‘Hey miss’ kinda-surprise… so I found a place in the sun, outstretched my arms and spun around and around. Must have been a sight – but do I give a fuck?!
Eventually I headed up a narrow cobbled path between old, rust and sandstone coloured edificios, up some stairs where a man was playing flamenco guitar… wish I hadn’t accidently deleted the video – it was precious. I was in amongst a maze of beautiful old buildings – I randomly wound my way through. Twice I was nearly run over by a herd of tourists and their guide. In between it was oddly private and … special... eventually the narrow cobble-stone paths opened up and revealed this. Horse drawn buggies and the amazing ornate architecture of this cathedral. Awesome.
It turns out I had wandered through Jardines Reales Alcazares, through to Reales Alcazar de Sevilla and Catederal de Sevilla… key tourist sites. They are special when they are unexpected but I am sure if I would have gone looking for them they would have just been ticked off the to-do list.
They were mine for that morning.
I spent the rest of the day wandering with wonder before heading back to the hostel armed with a map marked with the nearest market… always my favourite hang-out. A loose plan for day 2.
DAY two
A gentle morning enjoying the rooftop terrace and writing a blog about Barcelona that I finished writing later that night.
My slow wake up led to me heading out around 11 determined to walk quite a distance to the market along the river, before heading to a language school and making enquiries about enrolling in November.
But that’s not all that actually happened.
I wander along and saw this…
Weird. Why are there all these padlocks on a river bridge fence?… There were no bikes or bike locks, just padlocks. You know I’m not shy but I didn’t know the Spanish for padlock… oh well, just flagged down some unsuspecting Sevillian (tee hee turns out the Sevillian civilian was Sicilian… no jokes). They told me it was in fact an Italian tourist love ritual. A symbol of a couple’s romantic true love. What’s the thinking there? Apparently symbolic for inseparable permanent love… for oh so romantic ME, symbolic of shackles… symbiant co-dependence and control… but I ain’t the lovey dovey type.
Anyway I was walking along still loving the aesthetics of Sevilla - white-wash buildings with vibrant trims.
Ornate tiles and detail (these tiles aren’t my pics I appear to have accidently deleted mine) just make me happy
Water glistening in big old river – I contemplated a river cruise, I watched people on those paddle-bike-boat things – romanticize the notion of doing that… know I’d ultimately hate it but kinda wish I had a mate around to give it a go. Sigh. Continue dawdling… feeling wee bit warm –ok back of head and neck sizzling – joder – no lotion de sol.
I make it to the market but buy some sunscreen along the way at a chemist… it cracks me up how throughout Europe you tell people you’re Australian and they giggle, point at you, say “kangaroo” put their “paws’ up and start hopping and giggling some more. Cracks me up each time… weirdos!
I bought some fresh fruit and veggies… again loving the animated conversation and the way they put they fruit or veg not in bags but in “cones” made of stiff paper. I also love that if you buy fish or meat they slice it off the whole animal there in front of you. I bought fish for dinner.
It was pretty much lunchtime and I was no longer in the pulsing part of Sevilla so I asked for a recommendation for some local tapas… I was directed to a bar/tapas restaurant around the corner called Manolis (I think).
I walked in struggled over the menu and then proceeded to ask what everything was. The waiter was not as generous in his help as most of the Spanish have been but a guy at the bar was. He told me what everything was. I put in an order for 3 dishes to go and a sangria (fuck it, it was hot and after 12… I think and I was in Sevilla!) Turns out in Sevilla the tradition is not to tell you the total or give you a bill it’s to write it in chalk on the bar! Cool.
The helpful guy at the bar introduced himself… he was from Chile and his name was Freddy … as he said ‘ ‘like Freddy Mercury or Kruger’ Yikes! Which is more disconcerting? The jury is still out on that one. Anyways we chatted … and 3 hours and a coupla sangrias later I realized Kruger/Mercury was a bit keen (always slow on the uptake) - me, I was keener on getting the fish into the fridge at the hostel. I took his number and made lame excuses about going to see the language school I was thinking of enrolling in for November.
He walked me out then I tippied (tipsied?) my way back, sincerely looking for the language school – to no avail. Gave up and sat on the window ledge of a closed shop and ate some tapas in the sun… then I turned around and actually looked at the shop display. I think it was a men's clothing store but there were stuffed deer and mounted animals everywhere... very surreal when drunk during the day in random streets in strange cities... Yeeks.
Time to keep going… accidently staggered my way into a local craft shop – awesome… drunk, floating on ego boost, in love with sun-soaked city and … armed with a credit card! Oops a pair of earrings, a necklace later and other baubles later…. Actually that’s unfair I also had an hour long convo with the woman there and she gave me a list of local galleries (I was over the big ones in each tourist town) and a free magnet J.
Then I staggered home, cooked fish (despite risk of poisoning from lack of refrigeration) with side-serves of tapas and passed out looking forward to a day of gallery hunting.
DAY THREE - First one up in the hostel and first on the terrace… as the hostel dude unlocked the door to the terrace a disheveled and crumpled overtanned woman, breasts somewhat exposed, staggered off, stilettos in hand - how did she get there it's a rooftop terrace and the door was locked. Ahhh morning mysteries.
Anyway my last morning in Sevilla – I watched the sun rise while a full moon still hung in the sky behind me- a pigeon pecked at a cd hung from a clothes line… hung to deter it, but it acted like a budgie pecking at a mirror in its cage. I could hear traffic, birds and bells as well as the reticulated water system and robins pecking crumbs off the terrazzo floors on the terrace. Nice.
I plotted my trip on a map – a bus … my first in Spain to the contemporary museum. Then I’d walk back via a few of the local galleries. The bus was a little tricky to find but got it eventually and even got the driver to understand where I wanted to go… I hoped. I sat back and watched the urban scenery. Then he told me it was my stop. This is a 360 of where I was. Ok… now what? I headed one way. Nothing. Then I headed another - searing heat dead straight road… kept going.
Then I found it. Two ponds almost moat-like over a bridge to a conventy building. A mystical oasis. I watched rojo dragon flies dance over the ponds. I headed in.
Mind-blowing exhibits… Here’s a few images but it captures little… sure you can see the slide projector (so Gudrun's... only a few of you will get that reference, sorry) and some of the photography, the video art of a woman letting people grope her breasts in a box in public places, the self-harming Flamenco dancer, the intense feminist-photographer/word artist... but you get nothing really!
I spent 2½ hours wandering around the labyrinthine building… amazing architecture... discovered an inner-well which also took away my breath… I left and waited for a bus in 43 degree heat listening to the buzzsaw of crickets.
Walked back part of the way… I noticed that political poster are pretty much the same everywhere in the world… the traffic lights here whistle annoyingly when it’s time to cross… the Spanish like bingo (another thing in common).
I came back to the hostel, chilled and then headed back out to find a local gallery… and dinner. Instead I meandered narrow cobble-stone streets found one gallery… but it was closed. I found a few shops to explore the and then sat for tapas and sangria (uh oh?) … On one corner was a shop that sold ott flamenco dresses (awesome), two bars and a Spanish $2 shop. I sat eating squid in the cobble-stone plaza and wrote a few postcards while a local busker serenaded us all. Bliss. It’s a beautiful thing watching the delight on other tourist’s faces as they turn the corner to discover what you discovered moments earlier. Maybe you will make it here – my favourite city so far – and discover it yourself
