Seville, day two: Private Johnston Assigned To Squinting Detail

Seville, Spain (Sevilla, España)
November 2015
Our main goal of day two in Seville was to see the monumental Real Alcázar – royal palace. The majority of the palace was constructed in the 13th-century by Moorish kings. As the Spanish royal family reside here for part of the year, it the oldest palace in Europe that is still in use as a royal palace.

On the way, we clutched our jackets around ourselves in the early morning chill (it was before noon, for heaven’s sake).

A tour group could be heard fast approaching from behind, so we stopped dead in our tracks to let them ahead of us, not wanting to be caught in the bum-bag-toting throng. This turned out to be a cloud with a silver lining, as we discovered a beautifully bright wall with an attached fountain. How picturesque!

Once inside, we were immediately struck by the awe-inspiring architecture and decoration. Every single inch was covered in stone and plaster carvings, painted tiles or tapestries. Having entered the royal quarters (Alcoba Real), I stared up in the Salón del Techo de Felipe II and turned in circles trying to take every little detail in with my hopelessly inadequate eyes. Such precision! Such opulence!

Not all tiles were of the geometric variety – some were incredibly well-painted fragments of a much larger wall mosaic.

Under the Maiden’s Patio (Patio de las Doncellas), excavations uncovered evidence that a pool with gardens used to be present here. At the time, the whole patio had been covered over in marble tiles since the 16th-century, so they undertook work to restore the space to former glory. Shortly after reinstating the garden and reflecting pool, however, Ridley Scott requested it be tiled over again temporarily as part of the set for the 2005 film Kingdom of Heaven. Over ten years later, the garden is in full swing.

At one of the alcazar’s highest points stands a tiny figure of the Roman god Mercury, gazing out over a pool, with a “gallery of the grotesque” behind (grotto-like decoration). He and many other elements around the pool were gilded in their heyday, but now only the bronze remains. Underneath the calm water’s surface, a stampede of catfish surged toward their afternoon meal that was being scattered about by a staff member.
Trailing down from Mercury’s pool, we performed a cursory sweep of the gardens, but found that we were more impressed with the stunning architecture indoors than of a load of plants. No offence to plants. They are wonderous, too.

We did pause in the gardens for a quick rest, and took in the ornate blue ceramic tiles, which seem to be immensely popular in Seville (tiles in general are popular here, but the blue ones are special).
Leaving the palace, our minds enriched, we sought to nourish our tastebuds. 

Our AirBNB host recommended Bolas, which literally translates to balls (…of ice cream). When we first entered, the shop was deserted, yet we were swiftly joined by a girl in an apron appearing from the back room with a ta-da! flourish. She was fluent in English and explained many flavours to us, giving us little sample spoons so we could partake of the various tastes. Being accustomed to Italian gelato and not Spanish ice cream, we thought that three scoops would be an acceptable amount and picked an array of flavours including fig cream, caramel chocolate and lemon cinnamon. Less than halfway through we knew we had made a mistake and might not be able to finish our delectable pots of goodness for they were much denser in texture than gelato.
At one point, the sprightly server bounded over to extend to us two spoonfuls of the hot-off-the-press pistachio ice cream, which she thought tasted better when just made because of how the sugars behaved. Though we didn’t (and indeed, could not) finish our pottles, it was a great experience and we knew we would be back for mid-afternoon pick-me-ups again.

That evening we stocked up on oranges and purchased a cava to go with our dinner of sandwiches. In the little Carrefour I found a mini trolley, which I propelled through the aisles in fits of happiness – it was so light and manoeuvrable! I wanted to take her for my own and call her Bindy. Alas, at the end of the shopping trip we were forced to say our tearful farewells.

Today’s post was almost called: Meet My Tiny Naranja Perambulator

Seville, day one: Naranja Bonzana – A Dirty Street Orange Para Todos

Seville, Spain (Sevilla, España)
November 2015
Arriving into Seville in the evening, we rolled up to a street near our AirBNB and waited for our host to turn up after sending him a message. He said he’d be right down and a few moments later we saw a man standing about looking lost. I asked him “Manuel?”, he nodded. I followed up with “AirBNB?”, to which he shook his head sadly and wandered off. Then the real Manuel approached, hopped in our car which was embarrassingly full of all manner of road trip supplies, and directed us to the apartment’s carpark. Once inside, he took the time to give us a few information sheets and talk us through a map of the city. We were ready to explore!

The next morning we walked into the centro storico and on the way we saw a fragment of a Roman aqueduct. It was built at the same time as the city walls, sometime during the reign of Julius Caesar. According to legend, it was the Greek hero Heracles who founded the city, which was first called Spal. During Roman rule it was changed to Hispalis, and during Moorish rule it was altered again to Ishbiliyya, where we derive the modern name. Ishbiliyya sounds very similar to the Spanish pronunciation of Sevilla: ‘say-bee-ya’. 

A handy insight that Manuel let us in on was the combined entry ticket for the church of El Salvador and the mighty cathedral. Most visitors waste valuable sightseeing time in the long line for the cathedral when they could be skating on through to the church first. We followed his advice and later were able to enter the cathedral without queueing for either attraction at all!

The church was enjoyable, for me mainly because of the disco colours that the stained glass windows cast upon various pillars, walls and floors (and even me!). 

Once inside the cathedral, we decided to scale the Giralda first in case we ran out of time (the afternoon was already pressing on due to our terrible sleep patterns). Of Moorish construction, apart from the top part with the bells which came later, the tower is considered one of the most beautiful buildings in the city. Climbing up was a novel experience, as there were no stairs but rather a long ascending ramp. This was put in place so that the tower guards could ride their horses up and down.

On the way to the top, there were several rooms open in the centre which taught us historical facts. Don’t try to quiz me on them though, as they whooshed straight out of my brain the second we were back at ground level. I did snap a picture of this complicated clock, though, so you’re welcome for that.
I’ll also mention that the whole way up, I would occasionally exclaim “TO GIRALDA!” all thanks to the film The Road to El Dorado. In the movie, you can make an offering to the gods by sending it “to Xibalba” (pronounced she-balba) and in one scene the protagonists shout it enthusiastically… I guess you kinda had to be there.

Admittedly, the view from the Giralda wasn’t as wonderful as I was hoping for, but it was still a city view and gave us a good perspective. I like to be able to compare a map with a decently high vantage point so that I can imagine the map as a real city. That sounds weird, but when all you see are lines and squares on a bit of paper, you can forget how much goes into a city – all the little passageways and grand buildings, hidden gardens and bustling plazas.

We spent the rest of the afternoon finding all the different areas of the cathedral, including a room seemingly made solely for a small fountain.

One painting in particular caught Yannick’s eye – that of Santa Justa and Santa Rufina, painted in 1817 by Goya. He gleefully pointed out that they were eating soup while a lion suckled their toes. Well, the story goes that these two 3rd-century sisters were potters by trade who refused to provide pottery for a pagan ceremony. They were ordered to renounce their Christanity, but resisted and faced several trials. Santa Justa was starved to death and thrown down a well. It was believed that Santa Rufina would give in after her sister’s death, but her resolve only grew stronger, so she was thrown to the lions. However, the hungry lions did not attack, and instead were as meek as domestic felines. So the pagans had her strangled. Martyrdom, etc, the end.
You can see in the background a little Giralda, and that’s because the saintly sisters were allegedly protectors of the tower and the cathedral, even protecting them from the Lisbon earthquake of 1755 (according to legend).

Spending a bit of time looking into each chapel, we saw a tomb in one which was set upon marble so polished that you could see a reflection.

We overheard an American couple say “Okay, how about we do Columbus and then we do the tower?” And indeed, Christopher Columbus was there as well! Although it’s a bit uncertain where exactly his final resting place truly is, at least some of his bones are in the cathedral. His tomb was super fancy, with statues of four pallbearers hoisting his remains. Clearly the people of Seville thought him a top bloke.

Outside in the courtyard we gazed up into the trees and had visions of how much orange juice we could make from nature’s bounty.

Though apparently the oranges growing on trees in the city taste rubbish and aren’t worth the effort of collecting them. How sad! At least they look pretty.

On our way out, we noticed that the enormous door had an enormous handle with intricate designs. They don’t make ’em like they used to.

Today’s post was almost called: Caballo Del Vertigo – Animal-Friendly Buildings

Zafra: Dodging Cuttlefish Like a Pro

Zafra, Spain (Zafra, España)

November 2015

Smack bang between Mérida and Seville is a town called Zafra. Our reasoning is usually that if it’s on the way, why not take a look? If we don’t like it, we can leave. No harm done.
When we arrived, it was just about breakfast time. But for us, breakfast was a little later than most people’s breakfasts, and that includes Spaniards who never wake before 10:00. Spotting a bakery, Yannick acquired a chocolate-covered dougnut, but then I was like woah hold up, wait a minute! Isn’t that a churreria over there?! It was! But they were just closing for the day because no one has breakfast churros at that late hour. He busied himself with the chocolate-covered doughnut and had to be happy without sugar-covered doughnut sticks that are customarily dipped in chocolate. Hard life, huh?

The air inside our car was nice and toasty, but as soon as we opened the doors a crisp breeze rolled in that reminded me of being back in Wellington. We hustled through a lush park and gazed up at the alcazar. When the Christians seized Zafra from the Moors during the Reconquista, a nobleman set about constructing walls and a big mansion-casle for himself. Interestingly, the town’s name derives from the Arabic word for yellow, where we also take the word “saffron”.

Now, you may be thinking that we had had breakfast not that long ago, so lunch would be far off. Not so! Tapas are needed frequently to keep our bodies and minds at peak nutrition. Doughnuts also. On our way to find fodder, we passed through a square with lively striped banners strung between the trees and dangling from balconies. There was no indication of what purpose they held, so I’ll assume they were to show support for a local sports team. Football seems like a safe guess.

Though not by the seaside, many of the tapas bars specialised in various seafoods which did not appeal to us. We used our iPhone’s translate app to furiously type in every word, trying to find something that sounded even plausibly like something we would eat. Every time it would pop up with “tuna”, “anchovies”, or worse (namely cuttlefish, and marinated dogfish – which is a type of shark).
But eventually we found a bar with several non-seafood dishes on the menu! Handily, every tapas bar will provide you with a basket of bread, and some other snack like olives and fava beans. The first tapa that arrived was a tasty melange of spinach, garlic and chickpeas. With a vino tinto on the side, lunch was a success! Praise be for Google Translate.

Almost as soon as we sat down to eat, a small furry sausage dog waddled up and sat at our feet. His puppydog eyes were on point, but he wasn’t getting any of our food, no sir! He persisted, staying for the entire duration of our meal, and was even joined by a twin at one point. Sorry, boys. Hey, you probably wouldn’t like garlicky spinach anyway.

True to our nature, we returned to the car and siesta’d for an hour. What a charmed life we live. Though, the ambient air temperature could have been warmer. Seville’s forecast was for much higher. WHY YOU NO, Zafra?

Today’s post was almost called: The Curious Case of the Donut Nutcase (Or: Yannick Has Breakfast)