Day 3 was a lengthy bus ride to Seville, with stops along the way. Today we tour Seville, and tonight, we indulge in a Flamenco show!

Day 4

Our buffet breakfast was a spread, and while we were tucked in, our guide informed us that we would be eating dinner late that night. In fact, if we didn’t eat something prior to 5:30 PM, we were going to have to wait until 9 PM to eat. The reason was because of our Flamenco show at 7 PM. “Plan accordingly,” he advised.

Two of our family stayed behind from some kind of mystery illness—not sure what it was, but it had cleared itself up by the afternoon. This left me, Janice, her brother and her cousin to explore Seville. We got a quick drive around, where the guide pointed out all of the buildings Seville had constructed for the 1929 World’s Fair, all of which were still in use as other things. Every building came from one of Spain’s allies or neighbors and was indicative of their culture and architecture. Spain itself had the largest, of course; their Plaza de España included a giant open square with frescoes detailing great moments in Spanish history and man-made canal and bridge. The site was used as a stand-in for Naboo in the Star Wars prequels.

Sidebar: I would love a good book that is an overview of the various World’s Fairs, because those all seem like amazing hubs of culture and innovation that we don’t do anymore. Seville spend nearly two decades constructing the pavilions along the river and they intentionally designed them to be permanent. Now, nearly 100 years later, they’ve got this amazing set of parks and useful structures that they’ve maintained. Meanwhile, we build houses that aren’t designed to last 30 years. Huh.

At the Plaza de España we were treated to one of the buskers selling souvenirs and tchotchkes, loudly and forcibly throwing a couple of pickpockts out of the building. I reeeally wish I could have understood what they were saying. It didn’t look pretty. We got a lot of warnings from the guides about pickpockets and gypsy women who would give you a sprig of rosemary and then try to read your palm for 20 euros. None of us fell for it, and no incidents occurred, as far as I know. The few I noticed made a point of not trying to engage with anyone from the group, and that was pretty smart. We were all on high alert.

After the plaza, we split off from the group (who went on to visit…wait for it…another cathedral) and made a leisurely stroll of Seville, with the intention of meeting up with everyone after they walked through the church. This sent us meandering through narrow streets to emerge onto one of the larger thoroughfares lined with restaurants and shops on both sides. We beat the group to the cathedral because we weren’t getting a blow-by-blow of its history, so we tried to wait near the Fuente Farola (the fountain) at the back of the cathedral, which seemed like a logical place, since that’s where apparently every tour group in Seville was congregated.

I’d mentioned in an earlier post how I find it interesting that the Spanish/average European isn’t concerned with making space for other people. We noticed several benches that faced the fountain and the cathedral’s bell tower, so we decided to grab a seat and regroup, check maps, check time, plan our next stop of the day, etc. The benches we were on were near a curb and about five feet away from a no parking sign. I spotted one and headed for it, only to be cut off by an elderly couple who got there first. No problem, there’s plenty of benches around. I headed for the next closest bench that was free and another couple literally ran in front of us to sit down. Popular spot, this fountain.

We eventually grabbed a bench near a curb and about five feet away from a no parking sign. I sat down with Janice on my left and the curb and the sign on my right. In the span of three seconds, a teacher/tour guide marched across the plaza, made a beeline for the sign, and turned around and gestured for his class of 7- and 8-year-olds to join him. They proceeded to crowd around the sign, and that meant us, whereupon they just stood there, taking up space, breathing, sneezing, coughing, and in a few cases, staring at us with the dead, reptilian gaze of a serial killer.

It was impossible not to notice them, standing two feet away from us, picking their noses while their teacher spoke VERY LOUDLY SO AS TO BE HEARD, which meant our conversation in low tones was drowned completely out. I glanced at the students right in front of me, tried a smile, and got nothing back in return. Cute kids. Future of our planet, folks.

Needless to say, we got up and moved away, with me fuming and Janice snickering. No problem, right? We needed some postcards anyway. Let’s find a souvenir store and buy some shit. We found a few shops still within this open area, and there was one place that looked promising, but no sooner had I stepped into the building but that same tour group appeared from the other doorway and filled the area I was trying to get to. Janice pulled me away before I could start using my few Spanish words on the guide.

We found a spot outside a restaurant that had a special going: four tapas and two adult beverages for 20 EU. Sold! Their tapas menu was comprehensive, so we ordered four things that we thought sounded good, including a selection of croquets and this amazing potato and shrimp salad that I am going to attempt to duplicate at some point. Janice tried the Spanish vermouth, a specialty of the region, and I had my first Spanish beer, which was not unlike a Negro Modelo. I had to be careful, as there were IPAs everywhere, although not as prolific as here in the states.

These were the tapas I had in my head when I was thinking about Spanish cuisine. We sat for a while, people watching and drinking our beverages as we waited for the group to catch up. We shared the dessert, a coco-tiramisu thing that was the size of a lasagna and waited for our family to show up as they were still on the tour.

Thus sated, we proceeded on our merry way to the Guadalquivir River to rendezvous with the bus. Our intention was to zip back to the hotel, check in on the sick members of the family, and grab a quick bite to eat at the hotel before we were supposed to get back on the bus for the Flamenco show. Janice kept her eye out for interesting souvenirs and I tried not to trip on the flagstone sidewalk. There was another restaurant that served seafood so we decided to get another drink there and wait for Janice’s brother and cousin to catch up to us.  

This place was more of a neighborhood-like café called Bodega Díaz-Salazar and we were again dazzled by the tapas and the drinks—my wine and Janice’s old fashioned. Zane and Goldie finally found us and they ordered food, which included a sirloin cooked with garlic sauce. Yes, please!

This sounds like a lot, but there was a method to the madness; we were grazing because we’d been told to “plan accordingly” for food. I mean, the walking was a slog, sure, but we probably didn’t need the alcohol along with the caloric intake. Mistakes were made, I’ll grant you, but we regret nothing.

We hopped an Uber to the riverside and enjoyed the Spanish galleon moored at the dock, along with the little history of the Torre del Oro, the Tower of Gold, where…ALLEGEDLY…Columbus stored all of the gold and treasure he looted from his various travels. Let me stop you right there and say I’m calling DIBS on the heist novel wherein a bunch of 17th century thieves pull a job cleaning out the tower of all the ill-gotten gains. Ye Olde Ocean’s Once?

The bus, and the rest of our group, finally showed back up and we hopped on and returned to the hotel where we found our missing family, well and fully recovered from whatever knocked them out last night, and the two restaurants in the hotel were closed. We’d forgotten about siestas. That’s a real thing.

Luckily, Janice’s intrepid mother walked to the nearby grocery store and returned with sustenance—a lot of food, three bags full. We all made sandwiches in the room and took a load off while we waited for the call to get back on the bus. By the way, what we call “Mexican Coke” in Texas is just “Coke” in Spain. Pure cane sugar. No corn syrup. Nice. I did eat some sweets while I was in Spain, but none of it fell heavy on my stomach or made me woozy or jittery or any of that, mostly because they cooked the food with a normal amount of sugar and none of the other chemical stuff we cram into food here. And I didn’t crave more of it when I was done, either. I drank a Coke and it didn’t make me thirsty.

Flamenco! Spain is very proud of its national dance, and with good reason; it’s pretty damn cool. We got a crash course in all of the different forms and a little of the dance’s historical origins, insofar as our guide could determine. As with most folk traditions, it’s difficult to discern exactly where and when and how stuff like this developed.

Our bus let us off at some sort of fun park, at this old movie theater (!) that had been refurbished and converted into a live theater venue, and we were deposited with about a dozen different groups of various sizes into the auditorium, thankfully in the same area. We got a complimentary adult beverage, too. The show was phenomenal; you could clearly follow the “story” of the dances, like a much noisier ballet. I found it very inspirational and wrote a lot of notes for an idea that I had after watching the performances.

A tip for anyone visiting Spain: You might be tempted to ask your guide if Flamenco dancing shares a common origin with Greek folk dancing, as the two seem to share a lot of commonalities, with minor deviations for shoe stomping or plate breaking, depending on where you are in the world. You must resist that temptation, because not only will your guide not be that well informed to speak to such matters, but he may well get a little snippy with you for suggesting, however obliquely, that the gypsies in Spain might not have invented the dance whole cloth, out of thin air, with no other contributions from anyone, anywhere, anytime. Next time, just keep your face hole shut and google your query like a good tourist.

Back at the hotel, they had prepared a huge buffet for us, and we were finally getting food that I didn’t recognize. I mean to say, I had saffron rice and chicken thighs and they were awesome and didn’t taste like food I could have made myself. We all stuffed our faces and tottered off to bed. Another travel day awaited us.

Up next: Day 5!