How can I not fall madly in love with a city that smells like orange blossoms? Oh Seville, you have stolen my heart. You are gorgeous.
We flew into Seville because it was faster and more economical than the train. We stayed in a residential part of Triana, across the canal: quiet and non-touristy. We’re in a series of apartment buildings that were erected on the site of an old ceramics factory. Right across from our flat is a large sprawling patio restaurant and garden behind an odd industrial looking wall: part of the abandoned factory I suppose. A big metal gate swings open from a long cement wall and inside: paradise.
We sat down and had a lovely refreshing lunch: gazpacho, linguine, spinach and garbanzos, a beautiful salad with honey and goat cheese and walnuts…around us were flowering orange trees and white peacocks! I didn’t see any name of the restaurant but it’s off of Calle Hispano Aviación near complex 6.
We unpacked our bags and leisurely wandered across the bridge and strolled through the older part of the city, through the Parque de Maria Luisa. We marvelled at the Banyan trees and their gargantuan roots, exotic ducks bathing like high ranking concubines in the languid pools, pergolas covered in wisteria and fistfuls of snapdragons partying up the green. After a day of travel it was the perfect thing to do.
The parque opened up into the fabulously ostentatious Plaza de España: gorgeous by sunset. I was surprised to learn it was built for the 1929 Expo. It’s built in the Renaissance Neo-Moorish style and has a line of forty eighty porcelain tiled alcoves, one for each province of Spain. (Spain has that many provinces?) Each alcove showed a piece of that provinces’ history through ceramic art. This was not only a celebration of Spain’s culture but of its ceramic industry.
We continued to wander into “old town”, past the third largest church in the world, the Seville Cathedral.
We eventually found a recommended restaurant called Bodaguita Romero. It was wonderful. The wait staff were super friendly and the energy of the place very fun. There was a patio section though we sat inside and it was full of locals, always a good sign.
We had a marvellous array of tapas and a beautiful rioja. The accommodations here in Spain are generally more expensive than Italy but the food is cheaper. We get an excellent bottle of wine in the restaurant for twenty euros or less, for instance.
At Romero we ate all sorts of marvellous things including this house speciality: a pulled pork bun, and some kind of grilled chicken with a whiskey marinade. We had croquetas and carpaccio and cheese and salads…then I got excited when I heard the word cuttlefish because “sepia” was a favourite dish my Nonna used to make. What I received was baby cuttlefish (little squids) barely cooked, if at all, whole, swimming in a pool of garlic and oil. I sliced into one and out squirted black ink. I just – I took one mouthful and – oh – I just couldn’t. When the waiter noticed I hadn’t even eaten a bite he looked personally very hurt, as though his father had spent all day catching those little cuttlefish. Maybe he did. I still feel bad.
We walked home under the moon, the smell of orange blossoms thick in the air. Old oranges still hanging in the trees. We are going to take it easy in Seville, we say to each other. We are not going to plan too much. We are just going to wander. And we’re going to sleep in. No church bells, no daycare. Yeah…!
8am the next morning…violent hammering above our heads – non stop. Terrifying! It was like a spasmatic carpenter banging at the headboard of our bed. I’m not kidding you. Scott and I leapt awake with a gasp and jumped out of bed and stared aghast at the ceiling. Is it coming down on us? What is happening?! Turns out the neighbour upstairs is putting in a new tile floor. We laugh. I think Spain just wants us to get out of bed sooner. Well, we can do that. Our host is frantic. Offers our money back, offers to find us another place…we wave him off and tell him we’d like to stay.
While Scott headed out to find us a cappuccino – I hung a load of laundry on the patio. I looked out at the roof of the garden patio next door. Peacocks were parading their gorgeousness on the abandoned factory roof, feathers all fanned out, the smell of orange blossoms in the air.
