Day 7: Sevilla, the City with Soul

Ahhh... Sevilla... there is something really special about this city, something that would make Jack declare it his favorite place so far on this trip... is it the orange trees everywhere, gracing the air with their delicate fragrance? Perhaps the romantic, cobblestone Jewish quarters with cafes and bars tucked into every turn? Maybe the genteel facades of the colorful buildings lining the main avenues? The sunshine gleaming along the beautiful riverfront promenade? Whatever it is, there's something about this city that makes you want to linger, breathe it all in, and walk a little slower.

We left Granada on an 8am bus to Sevilla this morning after a fitful night of sleep... I think I slept a total of 2 hours! The cappucino I had at 6 pm yesterday must have been pretty strong.

Luckily, I slept pretty much the entire bus ride, about 2 hours and 45 minutes, and was ready to go when we arrived in the city. First stop, the cathedral!!

Oops, wrong picture! That's Zara, one of my favorite stores, and it's absence is definitely missed since I've been in Seattle. At four stories high, this Zara was sort of cathedral-like...

But really, here we go. As we neared the cathedral, we saw that the surrounding area was set up for the Easter processional that would be happening later in the evening. Jack read somewhere that each one of these seats in the corded off section cost upwards of 70 euros each!

The cathedral in Seville is the largest in Spain, and the third largest in all of Europe, after St. Peter's in the Vatican, and St. Paul's in London. It was truly impressive. Built on the site of an old Moorish mosque, some of the structure still had signature Moorish details, like the keyhole-shaped doorways, and the irrigation streams in the courtyard. Inside, the high altar gleamed with gold frescoes, and the marble columns arched gracefully over the domed roof.

We climbed the ramps up to the bell tower, and caught some amazing views of the beautiful city.

For lunch we decided to try out a tapas bar that Jack had read about, and were rewarded by a small bit of counterspace right in the doorway, as we nibbled elbow to elbow with well-dressed locals, coming from church.

After lunch, we returned to our hotel so that I could take a 3 hour siesta, before heading out again at 7pm. We strolled across the bridge to the other side of the river, then crossed back again to make our way up to the cathedral.

We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the the Christ-figure platform marching slowly up the steps of the church, as a whole marching band played a mournful processional. From a distance, the high pitched bugles actually sound like human wailing. Behind the processional, women dressed in black mantillas followed somberly, mourning for the Christ, as the scent of candles and incense permeated the air.

We left the scene and turned torwards the cobble stone streets of Barro Santa Cruz, the old Jewish quarter, and though, still full from lunch, we found a quiet little cafe on a remote corner, where we nibbled a few small plates of tapas, as I sucked down yet another Fanta Limon, and Jack had his usual draft cerveza.

At 10:30pm, we headed over to the Casa de la Memoria de Al-Andalus ("House of the Memory of Al-Andalus"), where we had tickets (14 euros) to see the flamenco show. We walked into a lovely courtyard and found some seats along the edge of the square, which had a wooden platform right in the middle.

While planning this trip, one of my most highly anticipated experiences was to see some real flamenco in Sevilla, which is known as the city of soul. What a treat! At 10:30 on the dot, two men strode onto the stage, one a singer, and the other the guitarist, and for the first act, they performed a ballad, which seemed to set the mood for the dancer. At the opening of the next song, a beautiful, petite woman strode danced her way onto the wooden platform, dressed in a narrow, black and purple flamenco dress, edged in pink lace, which flared out below her knees. Her red, patent leather flamenco shoes had thick heels which added pronounced percussion to the clapping and singing of the singer, and the thumping and strumming of the guitarist. We were treated to an hour of incredible artistry, as she twisted and clomped, graceful yet passionate. Her face at times twisted into a fierce and concentrated frown, and other times, the corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, smiling seductively through her thick lashes. I don't think I've ever seen anyone move their feet so fast, especially when she did the quick, stacatto stomping, which seemed almost like a camera trick- you couldn't even really see her feet anymore, they were moving so fast. Other times, during the slower parts, her movements were incredibly graceful, the turning of her wrists and the movement of her hips almost a bit like Hawaiian hula. But always, it was picked back up with a quick clap, into a frenzied, ecstatic state, with all three performers playing off of each other in a complex interchange of duple and triple meter, the two against three rhythms sometimes leaving the listeners to hold their breath, fearing that, oh my goodness... will they end on this cadence together? but they always do.

For the second half of the show, the dancer came back out wearing a white toriodor outfit, complete with a short bolero jacket, and still, the red, patent leather shoes.

Totally worth it. We left the show in awe, singing and clapping our way through the streets. I tried to do a few, quick flamenco steps, and Jack just laughed and shook his head. He says that if I learn flamenco dance, he'll learn flamenco guitar, and then we can put on shows together! Ha! We'll charge... 1 euro.