Sevilla y Granada

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This one is long folks, so apologies in advance. You can leave now quietly - I promise not to notice.



On the first of our two full days in Seville we walked too much. That can happen when a city is really a maze and you are a little lost. Not that we were really lost for long, but we did do too much walking.



We went to see the bull ring. It is the second oldest in Spain. It was sort of beautiful. I say this because I did not expect to be charmed by a bull ring. In the former infirmary, the mounted heads of the bulls were proud and life-like. We were told the story of Joselito, who was a professional matador (the one who kills the bull) by the time he was 14 and gored to death in his mid-twenties. And, of Manolete, who died at 30. I found these things distressing. I think Mark put his finger on something when he commented that the Spaniards are a meat focussed culture. Meat here is almost sacred. Take the jamón for instance - which, by the way, is so deliciously creamy - it is almost like butter. In Bar Alfalfa, where we stopped for a tapa, I watched as a woman sliced it with movements that were ritualistic, even, reverent. It was quite mesmerising. Did you know they eat the meat of the bull after it is ceremoniously dragged away from the bullring through its own special gate pulled by three mules? I didn’t. Somehow, all this obsession with meat has to be linked. I confess, I still struggle with the concept of the bull fight.



We walked in Santa Cruz which is the lovely old Jewish quarter. One minute we were in a crush of people - hemmed in by the white walls and the narrow alleys - the next, having turned into a laneway (no cars here people, they wouldn’t fit) - there was not a person to be seen. Only distant bird song in the air. Some of the tiny plazas we came upon were gems.



In the heat of the afternoon we experienced the Alcázar. It started its life as a fortress. The coolness of the extremely decorated interiors was a relief from the heat, and, the wafting breezes were a balm to my skin. The gardens are an extensive and verdant oasis. The green of the trees and shrubs contrasting, vividly, against the deep azure of the sky. It was very beautiful.



On our second full day in Seville, we visited the cathedral which was suitably awe inspiring – it should be because it is the third largest in the world - after St Peter’s in Rome and St Paul’s in London. Don’t ask me to remember its name. It is very long and most people just refer to it as La Catedral.



That evening, we met a lovely young man for our tapas tour. I can now say I once dined with Jesús because that was his name! He took us to three tapas bars in Triana on the other side of the river (an area of the city known for its ceramic production). We ate excellent tapas – tuna and cured swordfish, tiny caracoles in a broth (snails which are in season at the moment), spinach with chick peas, beef cheeks, sirloin of pork - everything was very good. He was such a great host too: knowledgeable, charming and very friendly.



On the following day, we had an adventurous train journey to Granada. Fields of sunny faced sunflowers lined the way just out of Seville. The landscape was largely agricultural: mainly, the growing of olive trees in very neat rows. Whereas it was quite flat to begin with, eventually, I started to notice undulations, and, to glimpse the bluish tones of the Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance. The olive and cream colours of the trees, the sometimes brown, and, sometimes sandy soils, the straight rows of golden harvested fields - all seemed to be bleached by a strange watery sunshine that day.



Half way through our journey we were bundled onto coaches to finish the trip. Something about a station under construction? It was never explained clearly to us. We just followed everyone else like obedient sheep. Travelling seems to constantly bring these unexpected twists: you just have to be prepared for the unexpected.



Granada is so different to Seville. The newer parts of the city are quite frankly ugly. Once we made it into the centre of town it had a different feel altogether. There were quite grand and imposing buildings near our hotel and while there were still the meandering, narrow streets in the older areas, I found it easier to quickly get my bearings in this city. Maybe I am just improving my orienteering skills?



The Alhambra obviously dominates the psyche of the place, looming over the city as it does atop its hill. It always drew my eye and I kept snapping shots of it trying in some way to capture its allure.



On Thursday, we undertook a most strange “free” guided walk. Strange because, it was not the one we were meant to be on (the English guide had laryngitis) and because we didn’t really know what to expect from the one we were directed to go on. We were told we were going up to Sacromonte. Luckily, I didn’t realise that meant a place 900 metres above sea level. I say luckily, because I wouldn’t have gone. It was a stinking hot day. I have little desire to scale mountains even when the weather is mild.



I somehow made it to the top, along with 16 others of various nationalities. When our guide Ana was waiting for someone, she would say "where is Bulgaria?" It was a very taxing climb. Yet the view was spectacular and so worth it. We were taken to a very “rough” side of town. About 400 – 500 people live in cave dwellings on the hillside. The dwellings begin on the outside with a facade resembling a house but soon integrate with a man made cave. Some families have been there for decades. These dwellings can be very basic. Others are quite well maintained. It was such a contrast to the other parts of the city we have been visiting. Life up there is harsh. There is no infrastructure (no running water, electricity or sewerage) so they have to be very inventive. Some houses do have solar panels. Some have tapped into underground water. The more established cave houses have flat screens, internet, and, all the mod cons. It has to be one of the more fascinating walks I have ever undertaken.



Earlier in the day we had visited three Arabic sites in the Albaicín (the old Muslim quarter): El Bañuelo (bath house) which has star shaped openings in the vaults to let in light; Casa Morisca, a Moorish house; and, the Palacio de Dar-al-Horra (which was the home of the mother of the last Muslim ruler). There were hardly any people there when we went which made it all the more special. Lunch on Thursday was a spontaneous decision. We had a menu del día (set menu) at a little bar in a square near the Palacio which consisted of gazpacho (delicious), croquettas for me and lomo (pork) for Mark (both also delicious). All of this was washed down with two cervezas for 10 euros. A little unexpected surprise.



Friday was the day for the Alhambra visit. Again, it was so very hot. This I have to say spoiled it a little for me. The heat was overwhelming and we were there in the hottest part of the afternoon. The gardens, while beautifully flowering, were less “fresh” than I had imagined. The interiors of the Nasrid Palace were gorgeous, but in the crush of visitors, we were kept moving along quickly so appreciating the intricate decorative features was difficult. It was a less satisfying experience than I had imagined it would be.

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