Sevilla Romantica

When I woke up the next morning, my operational tendencies kicked in and my stomach knotted. Derek told me it was 10:30, and when I realized we had only just barely been able to reserve this one room the night before, we rushed down to reserve it again and found, as I feared, that they were fully booked. Once again, our lack of planning caused Maslow's hierarchy of needs to focus our every atom on finding a room in a fully booked city, with no phone or internet, where we easily get lost. We wandered down the street with our bags, kicking ourselves for having been so caught up in the romanticism of Sevilla that we may spend the night upright on the street until dawn.

The first place we stopped, Pension Bailen, told us that they "kind of" had a room. We were intrigued, so we marched up the stairs to the roof to see what was in store for us. A sort of painted shed with a bed and a sink were there, and for 35€ was easily the last "room" in town. We took it (better than sleeping on a street bench, if only barely), only to pass another couple with bags coming in the door for the same reason, just as we left. This reward system for not planning is new to me...it seems that we are always able to find what we need, even when it seems impossible.

Now, for chocolate and churros! I'm a firm believer that donuts are, all on their own, a wholesome breakfast, and always despised that my mother required us to eat a banana to "balance" them. So, when we stumbled on Picatoste and had a giant plate of piping hot churros dipped in mugs of hot liquid chocolate for 6€ (yes, they had a machine that dispersed liquid chocolate like coffee, and when I find out where they manufacture them, I'm most assuredly breaking in and keeping the lot to myself), we were ecstatic.

We got helplessly lost on the way to The Cathedral, so far gone that we almost fell off the edge of the city map, and when we found it, were dismayed to not only find it stuffed to the gills with tourists, but also learned that it would close, due to the holiday, at 2 pm. So, we decided to hit it up on our way back through next week and wandered around the Jardines (gardens) de Murillo to the Monumento de Christobal Colon (we call him Christopher Columbus), where King Fernando and Queen Isabel met him on his return from the New world.

We bought our bus tickets to Morocco to leave the following morning to Algeciras (32.95€ - don't do what we did, go to Tarifa...more to follow) and then went through Barrio Santa Cruz, a twisting, narrow neighborhood known as the "Juderia" because the Jews were forced to live there during the Inquisition. The nearby Parque de Maria Luisa was next, with its expansive botanical gardens and Moorish tile fountains. Inside the entrance, we came across the massive wonder that is the Plaza de España, which was built in 1929 for a world exposition. If it had one, my camera would have turned me into it's union rep for overworking it - Derek was less than thrilled at the time with having to wait for me while I ran around looking for the perfect light, but the pictures justified the delay. See for yourself...

Then, back into the labyrinth barrio for tapas at Bodeguita la Parihuela - melted cheese toast and meatballs and the famous potato "tortilla" (basically potato pie). Every eating and drinking facility is papered with Semana Santa posters, from the current year and years past, showing in up-close detail each mournful float. You can drink the tap water here, so we refilled our bottles in the sink and passed on mid-morning alcohol (as much fun as that sounds). We got lost again, this time very much on purpose, and had excellent Sangria, cinnamon stick and all, on the street outside El Rincon de Murillo cafe.

Since this is Maundy Thursday, all if the Spanish women dress in all black, with high-sitting lace veils, panty hose and fancy handbags. They must be roasting with the heat, but they smile, usually escorted by the arm of a well-dressed man, moving from one cathedral to another to confess, collecting colorful ribbons at each place to pin to their blouse.

Derek is not one to pass up gelato, so a slight misunderstanding between us meant we had a gelato dinner, ordering more than I had realized, and as we sat die to finish it on the steps across from the entrance to The Cathedral (it was easily 7 pm), we noticed that people were not only still being let in (we were told it had closed 5 hours earlier), but that they weren't paying to go in (unheard of). We shoved down our gelato, a tragedy in and of itself, to slip in with the others before they realized their mistake and closed the doors. We were completely taken aback when we realized that, being in the right place at the right time, they had in fact closed early but 're-opened just for one hour because inside the church I'd where ALL OF THE SEMANA SANTA FLOATS pass through to have their candles lit. Christopher Columbus' remains are supported by four heralds in the entryway, symbolizing the four ancient kingdoms if Spain United by Fernando and Isabel.

I'm not proud to say that I had given up on seeing the cathedral, and was wearing a skirt (highly frowned upon). Being more embarrassed for my lack of respect than really thinking clearly, I managed to change into jeans in a corner with the world's largest crowd around me, in a VERY revered place. I'm talented in that regard, but clearly wasn't smart, seeing how my actions, if observed, would have been much more scandalous than the skirt itself. But they weren't. So, I win.

We had a nice dinner on the sidewalk (we always opt to eat outside, with so much to see) at Mesones del Serranito of garlic shrimp and fried cod. Our waiter was phenomenal. Derek was pooped on by a bird (in his hair and on his shirt) and had to excuse himself to clean up while I laughed at his expense.

Back in our room, feeling like our bodies must have aged 40 years in a day, we sat down to rest our sore backs and tired feet...only to have our little closet bed collapse below us.

And so ended our adventure in Seville.