I am exhausted this morning and my eyes hurt.
Soon we are on the early train doing 160 kmh from Cordoba to Sevilla. We managed to grab an early coffee at the train station, but no real breakfast today.
If you read yesterday’s blog and looked at the photos, you ran across the one where I had the balcony wide open to the bathroom, thus answering the question, “Did we open all the balconies?”
It should be obvious to you now, my friends and readers: how could I possibly pass up an opportunity like that? Besides, if it was placed there, it was meant to be used… right?
Balconies are just an extension of the room, in cities where space is at a premium and the streets are sometimes so tight you can almost touch the building across from you. You just sort of get used to living your life, I guess, and perhaps that is what everyone talks about all day at work? The neighbor must be dating again as she has fancy new underwear hanging out on the line, and my neighbor must be trying to stop smoking because he is up pacing all night. My other neighbor had spaghetti for dinner and the garlic had us all outside drooling.
We often watch people up on their balconies watching us in the streets below, and just today as we were walking through a plaza, a lady came out on her terrace, second floor, in her underwear to yawn and stretch then stand looking and smoking, oblivious.
When in Spain...
Once off the train, we grabbed bus C-1 (and got the right stop, going the right way, this time) and were dropped off and walked over across a park, through a square and up a narrow alley that twisted and turned, to arrive at the Hotel Murillo.
This is an older hotel, and a huge place for us in comparison to the normal small guest houses we are usually at. It has five floors, a lobby and elevator! It is a pretty old place, cool looking public spaces with some interesting doors and detail work, but the rooms are rather plain, almost drab. But, it is in the heart of the city, close in but off on a quiet, narrow alley, so that will suit us just fine. We have three nights here.
The room will not be ready till 15:00, so first thing we went out to the little cafe right across the alley. The tables are practically in the lobby of the hotel, it is such a narrow space here.
Though we missed breakfast, and technically it is only 10:45, well, it is never too early to jump into the day, so screw the coffee and croissants: we have wine, great wine, the best of Spain so far (and it is the house wine! Oh boy!) and gas water. I order ham croquettes, Gail a cheese platter and olives, we get a basket of fresh, hot bread and settle in. I notice something on the menu called Iberian Pork with Whiskey Sauce and order that as well, and it is wonderful, kind of like a marinated mini pork chop that has been grilled.
As we walk later on, I find out that Iberian Pork in Whiskey seems to be a local specialty, and everyone does it different and they are all great!
The wine is served chilled, but it held a good nose and great mature taste, oak and all, with long finish, and Gail’s wine is not harsh, nor sweet, nor acid nor buttery, just smooth and easy to drink.
Well, we have hours till the room is ready, so we head over through the maze of alleys that serve as streets here; alleys so narrow I can touch both sides, winding this way and that like a maze, leading in a general direction but no one street actually takes you where you want to go. They are so narrow everything is brought in by hand truck (dolly) and if you want to catch a cab or bus you have to work your way out to one of the surrounding plazas. I look at my map and we head out, generally this way, but also that way and across and end up at one of the big, famous sights here: The Real Alcázar. It is a palace built in the 900s, then expanded, improved and updated (new electrical, plumbing, WiFi and satellite TV) in the 1300s. It was in the movie Lawrence of Arabia.
Now it is where the King and Queen of Spain stay when they are in town.
And, in fact, here they are! We are pushed out of the way by an army of police on foot, scooter and horseback. As we crowd back against the wall, a couple police cars, lights going, come roaring out of the main gate, followed by several limos, then a car in which a beautiful, sad looking lady sits staring, then another with a couple men, then more police.
Suddenly, like water sucking down a drain, all the police just suck right out of the square, the horse carts and people go back to clack-clacking and wandering about, and we join in the flow and head in through the gate.
I pay the €8 entrance fee, and we wander around, looking at more Moorish gates, windows, tile work, fountains and so on. The huge gardens are lush with giant trees, but the courtyard in the center with pool was disappointing compared to the Alzacar in Granada.
Is that the place? Granada? Or was it...
I can’t remember any more.
In fact, I am tired of the Moorish influence. Bone-weary of the Moors, their Moorish ways, the word Moor” itself…
I don’t want to see any more great tilework, scalloped edged and cave-like icicycle ceilings, no more ALLAH inscriptions and intricate plaster work that makes you dizzy.
If I see any more Moors (ha-ha. Get it?) I am gonna have a headache. Kind of like a Morocco hangover.
OK. There was a cool thing: tapestries of Columbus and his conquest.
But no more Moor.
I am hoping the cathedral tomorrow will be a more normal European type thing.
We stop back to find the room is ready, but somehow they gave our requested room (with balcony out to the street) to someone else, so we are upgraded to the big room, top floor, with the view over to the cathedral and a little private catwalk of a balcony on the roof. It is nice, the room a little dingy looking, but comfortable and large enough, and the view is good.
We walked our neighborhood, the Barrio de Santa Cruz, finding our way through the narrow streets, trying to remember the landmarks.
This is the old Jewish quarters, the Jewish slums, and as in most European cities it is really a fun, interesting place.
As the sun set about 21:00, we stopped for the first tapas of the night at Casa Tomato. Gail got jumbo olives (which were not so good, but looked cool), and I had a pork sirloin in four cheese sauce, and an order of shrimp croquettes. The pork was great, the croquettes just OK, and they had decent wine.
We took a walk, late for us at 22:30, along the main shopping streets, joining the ever growing crowd of locals who were just coming out. There are fabric sun shades high over the streets, and the balconies are all lit up by floodlights. Beautiful for us to see, like an intricate, lighted tunnel, but I would think it is a pain to live there, what with floodlights shining in your house all night long.
A group of a capella singers in the plaza, so beautiful, their harmonies echo off the buildings and float way way off down the streets. We stand and listen for a while, dodging the silent tram as it comes by.
Our last tapa stop for the night: Gail has a toasted cheese skewer, I get a shrimp and bacon skewer, and more of that pork in whiskey, which is totally different than the one I had earlier today. It is all delicious, and the wine is OK.
This is why I love tapas: good size portions, every one is different, such a variety to try, I can get meat while Gail gets veggies, and most important of all, think of all the different kinds of foods I can try in making up a meal. They are just big enough to get you going until you are hungry, which gives you an excuse to stop again.
And again.
Until suddenly it is 1:00 in the morning and you wonder, what did I do all day?
But it sure was fun.
And so we have eaten and drunk, wasted away our first day in Sevilla.