Sevilla scenarios
We understood why it stood in the hotel brochure that there was no parking near the hotel, as we navigated through tiny streets where even two people could not pass in the middle of the Jewish quarter in Sevilla.
We had reached this enchanting spot after 15km of unrelenting boring buildings with independent TV antennas sprouting from every rooftop and industrial quarters outside of the town. One has to duck into the cobbled streets to find the old, the ancient Sevilla, on your two feet.
Our hotel room was so tiny you really could not swing a cat in it, but the view of the Giralda tower from the flower filled terrace made up for that.
Tiny plazas all festooned with fountains and orange trees, tiles and mysterious doors, one more charming than the other, opened up as we meandered in the maze. And true, oranges were absolutely everywhere. In the trees, on the streets, in the fountains…marmalade magnificence on the make!
Doves flew, tall solid brick walls guarded the Hidden Gardens of the Alcazar and one could just not walk too far without a delicious Tapas stop to let the wonders sink in.
Rain and a chill wind, sunshine, mist. Well I had my down-filled jacket along as we walked for hour upon hour.
The Cathedral rose like Notre Dame, but hid the mosque underneath, the cruel obliteration by the Christians of the elegant, beautiful Moorish past. Only Giralda stood square, albeit with a cross at the top, wide enough for horses to ride right to the top of the minaret. Now it has bells, tens of them, huge gaping forged samples of power, that disappointingly never rang all at once! The voices of the Spanish school children was enough.
The Palaces of the Princes, Alcazar, was almost like the Alhambra, you felt history warm under your feet, the lazy days cooled by water channels and fountains, rooms high with ceilings as intricate as lace. Archways opened to gardens, and as it was low season, and raining, we felt we were alone in there, with the past with its lilting music and eyes behind veils. Spiky pomegranates hung on bare branches and gold fish surfaced gaping from the green depths of pools.
We understood why it stood in the hotel brochure that there was no parking near the hotel, as we navigated through tiny streets where even two people could not pass in the middle of the Jewish quarter in Sevilla.
We had reached this enchanting spot after 15km of unrelenting boring buildings with independent TV antennas sprouting from every rooftop and industrial quarters outside of the town. One has to duck into the cobbled streets to find the old, the ancient Sevilla, on your two feet.
Our hotel room was so tiny you really could not swing a cat in it, but the view of the Giralda tower from the flower filled terrace made up for that.
Tiny plazas all festooned with fountains and orange trees, tiles and mysterious doors, one more charming than the other, opened up as we meandered in the maze. And true, oranges were absolutely everywhere. In the trees, on the streets, in the fountains…marmalade magnificence on the make!
Doves flew, tall solid brick walls guarded the Hidden Gardens of the Alcazar and one could just not walk too far without a delicious Tapas stop to let the wonders sink in.
Rain and a chill wind, sunshine, mist. Well I had my down-filled jacket along as we walked for hour upon hour.
The Cathedral rose like Notre Dame, but hid the mosque underneath, the cruel obliteration by the Christians of the elegant, beautiful Moorish past. Only Giralda stood square, albeit with a cross at the top, wide enough for horses to ride right to the top of the minaret. Now it has bells, tens of them, huge gaping forged samples of power, that disappointingly never rang all at once! The voices of the Spanish school children was enough.
The Palaces of the Princes, Alcazar, was almost like the Alhambra, you felt history warm under your feet, the lazy days cooled by water channels and fountains, rooms high with ceilings as intricate as lace. Archways opened to gardens, and as it was low season, and raining, we felt we were alone in there, with the past with its lilting music and eyes behind veils. Spiky pomegranates hung on bare branches and gold fish surfaced gaping from the green depths of pools.