Seville

Most of my itinerary was planned by the wonderful people at Travel Central. There were only a few connections that I had to arrange on my own. The first one would be getting from Granada to Seville. 

The concierge at the Hotel Navas in Granada told me that the train station was being renovated. The construction was causing big traffic problems. “I tell people to take the bus.” That was good enough for me.

  I took a taxi to the bus station. There were vending machines to get tickets, but I didn’t feel like figuring that out. I wanted to buy a ticket from a human and be able to ask questions. Even if it was just: “Ticket to Seville?”  

There were four ticket booths. The agents were behind protective glass. I asked at the first one, “Where do I get a ticket to Seville?” She pointed me to the last window. There was a line of about twenty people. I didn’t know when the bus to Seville would leave. The line wasn’t moving.

There were people inside the other ticket booths, but they were not selling bus tickets. It seemed every customer at the bus ticket window took at least five minutes. The line was moving very slowly. 

I wasn’t the only one losing patience. A middle aged man came up to me. He was aggravated and started speaking rapidly in Spanish. Did he think I was Spanish? This happened to me a couple of times. Someone would come up to me and assume I knew the language and they would just keep speaking to me in Spanish. 

I did understand what he was saying. It was the international language of aggravation and complaint. He went up to one of the other booths and ranted loudly again. It didn’t help the line move. 

When I got near the window it became clear. An old guy was selling the tickets. He didn’t seem to be too motivated. He was probably my age. Then there was a turnover. His shift was over and another guy took over. Things moved faster. I got the ticket. 

It wasn’t the wait. It was the uncertainty. I didn’t know when the next bus to Seville would leave. Uncertainty creates stress. Once I got the ticket, and learned when the bus was scheduled to leave I relaxed. When I left I saw attendants helping people figure out the ticket machines. Maybe next time I’ll be brave enough to try the machine.

   

I had over an hour before departure. It was hot. I considered going across the street to a restaurant. It looked like part of a mall. I didn’t want to cross the street in the heat. The air conditioning in the bus station was a factor. There was a cafeteria. The food looked pretty good.  

The men behind the counter were gruff. They looked displeased with the people in front of me. They should be ordering and moving faster. I watched the people ahead of me in line. They didn’t dare waste the counter guy’s time. It reminded me of The Soup Nazi on Seinfeld.  

People were ordering the paella and it looked good. People were served a piece of fish with it. I copied them and the fish was a nice piece of cod. It was five Euro. The paella was a bit dry, but it was certainly worth the price.

Near the departure gates there was a large area selling paperback books. Most of them were current best sellers or mysteries, but there were many Spanish translations of classics from American literature.  

The bus showed up and there was some last minute confusion. Some people in line were directed to another bus. The driver assured the rest of us that this was the bus to Seville. Inside the bus was kind of tight. Almost every seat was taken. There wasn’t much leg room, but I did get a window seat. 

It’s 206 kilometers from Granada to Seville. 123 miles. We were on the highway so there were the usual signs of life on the road: gas stations, hotels and restaurant rest stops. Once we got away from Granada we went through some desolate territory. It was my first ride in the countryside of Spain. The road signs were a geography lesson. Cordoba and Málaga were not far away. There were many stops: Antequera. Molina. Osuna! La Puebla de Cazalla. Paradas. Alcarade Guadaira.    

It reminded me of the Central Valley in California. There were large modern wind mills and solar panels. There was something grander about the scenery. Maybe it was the mountains in the distance. There wasn’t much trash on the roadside. Certainly not as much as on most U.S. highways.    

As we got closer to Seville there were little road side resorts. Most were just a restaurant and a motel. They looked like nice little setups. They were a last place to stop for a cheaper night of lodging before hitting the big city. When we got closer to Seville there were some large, older wind mills. They were relics from another time.  

 

My travel agent, Leatta Perdue, had warned me that the Hotel Murillo was hard to find. I took a taxi from the bus station. We passed through a large urban park, the Jardines de Catalina de Ribera. It reminded of Grant Park in Chicago. We went through a turnaround with a large statue of Columbus in the center.   

The park was fenced in wrought iron. The driver pulled over to a large gated entrance. Across a small street was the medieval part of town. “It’s right over there,” he pointed.The streets were too narrow for motor traffic.  

  The narrow streets formed another maze. Didn’t they ever hear of a grid pattern? I was very close to the Hotel Murillo, but it still took a while to find it. The Hotel Murillo had an interesting lobby. There were great prints, some antique weapons and a suit of armor. The ceiling was carved dark wood.   

Leatta had highly praised the roof top bar here. “Don’t miss it.” That was tempting after the bus ride, but I went for a walk first. The concierge gave me a two for one coupon for the bar. 

Hotel Murillo was in Barrio Santa Cruz. I was staying in the oldest part of a Spanish city again. Santa Cruz was the Jewish quarter. It is home to the Cathedral and The Alcazar.

The labyrinth of narrow streets was designed to create shade and keep people out of the sun. There was a method to the madness. The lack of motorized traffic added to the time machine effect.  

The hotel was at an odd intersection of three streets. There was a restaurant across the street. I walked down the narrow street the hotel was on. Lope De Rueda 7-9. I knew that remembering landmarks would be key. I was learning some tricks. 

Lope de Rueda led into the large park I had passed through in the cab. There was another large iron gate and an entrance to the park. White stone walls were on my right. It was the Alcazar! It was too late to enter. I wanted to wander anyway. There was still at least an hour of sunlight.

It was early evening. People strolled through the park. Some sat at benches and just hung out. I got a much closer look at the Columbus Monument. It had two columns with a sailing ship in the middle. A lion stood at the top of the columns. The monument is surrounded by beds of flowers and palm trees.

The Paseo de Catalina de Ribera ran next to the park. I followed this to the water. It looked like a river, but it was the Canal of Alfonso XIII. This ran into the Guadalquivir River.

It was clear. Hot. A perfect summer night. There were many tourists out, enjoying the great views by the water. The street ended in the Plaza del Altozano. This was near a bridge that crossed into the Triana area. The Puente Tirana. The plaza looked like a perfect place to busk. A group of musicians were performing. They all wore traditional Flamenco clothes. The women were in long flowing dresses and had mantillas in their hair. At least thirty tourists watched the dance performance. So, I did get to see some Flamenco dancing after all.  

I was tempted to turn left and head towards an area with large civic buildings and monuments, but I was drawn the other way by a large stone tower. It’s the Torre del Oro, The Tower of Gold. It looks like a peaceful area now, but Seville had a “turbulent” history.

The Tower was built in 1220 at a crucial spot on the river. It’s a military tower designed for heavy duty defense. Legend says it was tiled in gold. Some say it was called the Tower of Gold because it reflected the gold color in the river. Others say it was because of the color of the stone.   

Like much of Seville the Torre del Oro was damaged in the Lisbon earthquake of 1755. During the Revolution of 1868 mobs vandalized the Tower and tore off its “decorative facing.” The Torre del Oro has been repaired and renovated over the years. There were several plans to take the tower down to widen the road. Sevillans always protested and saved it. It’s a symbol of Seville. The Tower is now home to the Naval Museum. Unfortunately the museum was closed. 

I retraced my route through the park on the way back. Parrots cawed from the palm trees. There was a whining drone that I didn’t recognize at first. It was the oddly familiar sound of cicadas. It’s a sound I knew from the Midwest.   

I was glad to find the entrance gate where I had entered the Jardines. I thought I was doing better at navigating the maze, but then somehow I walked past the hotel. At least I knew I had gone too far.

I knew the home of Murillo, the Casa de Murillo, was past my hotel. Very friendly staff at the ticket counter patiently gave me directions. I still had a little trouble finding the hotel, but I recognized the nearby restaurant.  

It’s hard to explain getting lost so often on medieval streets. I had experienced them in Italy. I always had a map, but if I took one wrong turn I could be lost in the labyrinth. Sometimes if I just went a few feet to look at something I would lose my bearings. 

Maybe I was just used to always having at least a vague idea of where I was, especially in a city. Being lost wasn’t always an unpleasant experience. My original plan had been to wander Europe aimlessly. Time won’t let me.  

Laundry is always a problem when traveling. I was determined to get some done tonight. Not just a sink rinse out, but a real cleaning. I would have gladly paid for laundry service, but it wasn’t available. There was a “laundromat” in the hotel’s other building. It sounds moronic, but I wondered if I’d find my way back. It was two doors away.

I had three days in Seville, but I really wanted to get the laundry done tonight. There was another concierge in the next building. He’s friendly. No problem. The laundry is on the roof! It’s getting dark out. I walk around the roof. It’s kind of cool to be up there snooping around, but I’m not seeing anything resembling laundry facilities. 

I went back downstairs. The concierge wasn’t as glad to see me this time. He spoke good English, but he wasn’t getting the message across. Should I just forget it? I was determined to get it done tonight. I got the same directions again and went back upstairs. It was becoming a charade. I was going around in circles.

I did a stubborn methodical search of the roof. Section by section. I finally found the washer and dryer. They were behind a plastic door. It was almost a closet. 

They didn’t make it easy. It was like it was hidden. What did I know? Maybe people did sneak in here and do their laundry.  

The washer only worked with “special” serrated coins that I had gotten from the concierge. The marks on the coins made them fit perfectly into the coin slot of the washer. Why not just use regular coins? Maybe it was some kind of defense. It seemed to be a lot of security for a “laundromat.”   

It was time to check out the rooftop bar. I went up there during the wash cycle. My travel agent had been right. There was a great view of The Cathedral. It was brightly lit and dominated the view. It was exciting to realize I’d be going into the Cathedral tomorrow. 

Most of the tables were taken. There were a lot of Australian accents. I did find a table with a tall bar stool. I had my little perch. The waiter was young, shy and nervous. He acted like it was his first night on the job. I showed him the two for one coupon. I wanted a Rosé, but he brought me a Vino Blanco. The two for one coupons were good for my entire stay! 

During the dry cycle I found the “Library.” It was a comfortable nook with a fireplace. Most of the books were in Spanish, but they still made for some interesting browsing.     

9/12. Wednesday. I was scheduled for the Seville Markets and Bites tour. The tour would start at ten and end at two. I’m sure it was great, and I hate to miss a tour, but I wanted to wander Seville on my own. A big priority was seeing The Cathedral, and I had a secret project.  

  I grew up in the St. Thomas Aquinas parish on the West Side of Chicago. Lately I’ve been on some web sites where people from the Fifties and Sixties reminisce about the Austin neighborhood. One post mentioned the large painting that hung behind the altar. It was a reproduction of The Apotheosis of St. Thomas Aquinas by Francisco de Zurbaran. The painting was dark and mysterious. It had puzzled grammar school kids for decades. A post mentioned that the original painting was in the Belles Artes Museum in Seville. I knew it was one of those things I had to do. I wanted to see that painting.  

I got an early start. The Alcazar wasn’t open yet, so I wandered through the nearby park and gardens again. The Jardines de Murillo were being renovated. Even though it was fenced off and obviously under repair, it was still impressive. 

The Jardines Catalina de Ribera was once part of the Alcazar. It was early fall, but there were still flowers everywhere. 

The winding streets were narrow. There were covered passageways where the street went under buildings. It was all designed for protection from the sun. 

I walked along the crenallated walls of the Alcazar. Benches were built into the stone walls. The seats weren’t very comfortable, but the bright blue tiles looked great.   

Signs were a big help here. I didn’t bother looking at the map. I could just follow the street signs to the Cathedral or other main sites.   

The Archivo de Indias was a distinguished looking older building. It was a normal weekday. People were going about their business. A streetcar loaded with commuters went by me. The Avenida de la Constitution was lined with old government buildings. This area is the center of government.       

The Cathedral is the third largest church in Europe. The back of the Cathedral near the entrance was dark. A service was going on, so visitors could only walk around the back half of the Cathedral. I still had a good look and because of the service there was no admission charge. The organ filled the huge Cathedral with mournful music. I took a one minute video. Cathedrals are usually quiet. It was dramatic to hear the organ. The historic organ was “reworked” in 1996.  

It was still early, but the morning light gave the upper reaches inside a golden glow. The sunlight lit up the white marble. The main altar is in gold leaf. The panels show scenes from the life of Jesus. 

I saw the tomb of Christopher Columbus. Oddly, it was like seeing an old friend. I mean I never met the guy or anything, but he did discover America. Are his remains really in there? 

It was still hard to wrap my head around how huge these cathedrals are. Especially when I was inside of them. The highest point inside the Cathedral was 120 feet. 37 m. It was 126 meters long. 415 feet!    

The Cathedral was built on a site already sacred to the pagans. When the Moors took Seville in 1172 a mosque was built on the spot. After the Reconquista the mosque was destroyed and a cathedral was built as a celebration of victory. Like Seville, the Cathedral had some lean years. Part of it collapsed in 1511. An earthquake in 1888 caused another collapse with much damage. 

After the Cathedral I wandered towards the Belles Artes museum. I passed the Ayuntamiento, the Town Hall of Seville, and went through Plaza Nueva.  

I wandered over to the famous shopping area on Calle las Sierpes. It was early and few shops were open. Colorful awnings are hung between the buildings to keep out the sun. This is the shopping center of Seville.

The Calles las Sierpes. The Street of Snakes. What was the story on that? Some say the street was named after Don Álvaro Gil de la Sierpe. There is a wilder legend that a giant snake lived here. Children were disappearing and a search found a giant snake living in a cavern under the street. 

Columbus had sailed to the New World from Seville. This made it the center of trade with the Americas. The treasures of the the Spanish Empire flowed through Seville. The city became fabulously wealthy. It inspired them to build a cathedral so beautiful and grand that, “Those who see it finished will take us for mad.”

The strategic port of Seville made it valuable real estate. The city followed the regular pattern of Spanish history. Rome discovered the port. It was later ruled by the Visigoths and then the Moors.  

Seville did hit some hard times. The harbor silted up. The Spanish Empire collapsed. Seville was eclipsed by Madrid. The 1992 World’s Fair rejuvenated the city.

My goal was the art museum, the Belles Artes, but I had learned that it’s always worth going into the local churches, even if just for a short look. 

The Capilla de San Jose (Chapel of San Jose) had a Baroque exterior. It was started in 1699. The facade looked like it might have been added on. The church was built by the guild of carpenters, so the woodwork had to be grand. The building itself wasn’t that impressive, but the interior was ornate. It was a local parish, not a huge Cathedral. There was a mass service going on. I quietly walked around the stone columns. 

There were some surprising art works. There is a painting of Santa Justa and Rufina, the patron saints of Seville. The church has Flemish paintings and Neoclassical reredos. The stained glass windows are the oldest in Seville. On one side there was a niche with a sculpture of San Jose.  

The next church I stopped in was not far away. The Iglesia de la Magdalena. It was begun in 1691 and completed in 1709. It was built above a medieval church. The altar and much of the church is gilded. There are three portals. One has a sculpture of St. Dominic by Pedro Roldan. The church is known for its oculus. There are figures on the exterior that are said to be Incan Indians. It’s one of the first images of American Indians in Europe. 

It’s 11 a.m. when I arrive at the Museo de Belles Artes. A security guard greets me, “It’s your lucky day! It’s free today!” I had brought my small USF bag and had to check it in a locker.  

The Belles Artes presents paintings from medieval times to the early 20th century. Many of the paintings at Belles Artes were confiscated from convents and monasteries during the “Disentailment” of 1835. Churches were being attacked during the civil unrest of the time. Art work was confiscated from convents and monasteries. The government said the art was gathered for safekeeping.

The Belles Artes Museum building was once the convent for the Merced Calzada de la Ascuncion, the Barefoot Sisters of Mercy. The present building was “laid out in 1603.” The rest of the ground floor has three cloistered courtyards. There is a great outdoor garden area with a well.  

I made a bee line upstairs to Room X, The Zubaran Room. I wasn’t too surprised that The Apotheosis wasn’t there. It was a large painting. I did enjoy seeing some of his other works and checked out the other rooms upstairs.

Zubaran’s paintings are religious, but most of them are so sad and mournful that they border on the sinister to me. There are a lot of hooded monks. Zubaran is the master of dark, Catholic mysticism. Where is the Apotheosis?

The other galleries on the upper floor had large paintings of battles and religious themes. One standout was a large battle scene by Sebastián Vranckx. There was a banquet scene by An’ Oimo Sevillano. A skinned rabbit awaited its fate. There was a piano from 1750! 

One painting that really caught my eye was the Carro de la Común Alegria. A procession with large decorated floats goes through the streets of Seville. Satyrs frolic. It looks like quite a party, especially compared to the religious paintings it’s surrounded by. The parade celebrated the wedding and regency of Ferdinand VI and Barbara of Portugal in 1748.    

  

The Apotheosis was in one of the main halls downstairs. It might not have fit up the stairs. Maybe they just didn’t want to carry it upstairs.

The Apotheosis is Zubaran’s largest work. It’s about sixteen feet high and twelve feet across. I’m not sure how big the reproduction at St. Thomas Aquinas church in Chicago was, but I think it was about the same size as the original. I took some pictures with the iPhone and started taking some video. A vigilant guard came up behind me, and said video was not allowed.

There is a definite divide in the painting. Clouds separated heaven and earth. St. Thomas looked up to the sky. His eyes look crossed in spiritual ecstasy. Maybe he just had crossed eyes. He was surrounded by old men in robes and garments. The Fathers of the Church.  

I bought about eight postcards of The Apotheosis.The lady at the register said, “You really like this!” I explained that a reproduction of the painting had been in my local church. On the way out, the friendly security guard asked me, “How did you like our museum?” “It’s one of the reasons I came here.”

  

I sat in the Plaza del Museo for a short time. It was a small, nice little neighborhood plaza. It was peaceful. It felt like a world away from America. I thought about what a large world it is. It’s a long way from the West Side of Chicago.  

Granada had been hot, but it was in the upper nineties today in Seville. The Museo de Belles Artes was close to the water. I walked to the Puente De Isabel II. The bridge goes into the Triana section of Seville. I went onto the bridge. I passed the Plaza De Toros De La Maestranza and saw the bull ring.  

I strolled by the river. I wanted to get on the Hop On Hop Off bus. A black couple came up to me. A fat guy and a young woman. They wore caps that identified them as ticket sellers and they had French accents. They were all over me. Did I want tickets to the Hop On Hop Off bus? It was like they knew, but I had learned in Rome. Buy the ticket right where the bus is, preferably on the bus.

  At the Hop On Hop Off ticket kiosk there was a long line. I was surprised when one of the guides said, “I can’t guarantee you’ll get on the next bus.” That was good enough for me. I went back to the Cathedral area and found a Starbuck’s. I needed air conditioning and a Pumpkin Frappacino while I consulted the map and pondered my next move. I was near the main entrance to the Alcazar. Just across the street was the Plaza del Trinfo that was behind the Cathedral and led to the Alcazar. 

It was early, but the Plaza del Trinfo was still tourist central. Horse drawn carriages waited for customers in the area between the Cathedral and the Alcazar. It looked like a slow day. Carriage drivers stood around. They looked impatient. There’s not as much action in the plaza in September. 

There were about twenty people in line at the entrance of The Alcazar. I found out later that lines are much longer in the summer. The ticket booth was below the turret of a castle. A regular ticket was 9.50 Euro. I didn’t see any tour offered, so I just went in  through the twin turrets of the Puerta del León. 

Alcazar is the Arabic word for castle or palace. Just inside the entrance is the Patio de las Doncellas. The Courtyard of the Maidens. It was the center of official life. There is a large reflective pool. There is a legend that it is here that virgins were handed over by Christians to the Moors. It was once paved in marble. Director Ridley Scott had it temporarily repaved for the filming of Kingdom of Heaven.   

  The Alcazar was more of a royal palace and not as military as The Alhambra. There were areas and rooms that had royal splendor. The Alcazar was meant to be more of a place of relaxation for royals. It was designed to be “paradise on earth.”  

It was a “residential fortress” for the Abbadid Muslims. Much of the Alcazar was destroyed after the Christians retook Seville in 1248. It was rebuilt by the Christians in the Mudejar style in the fourteenth century. Scholars debate why they kept the Moorish architecture.   

Some of the upper levels are still used as an official residence of the Spanish royal family. It’s the oldest royal palace still in use. The Alcazar is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The Patio de la Monteria is a large open space that leads into the Mudejar Palace, the Palacio del Rey Don Pedro. 1364. Large wooden doors guard The Ambassador’s Hall. The Salon de Embajadores, sometimes called The Throne Room.  

Dolls Courtyard (Patio de las Munecas) was used for more private occasions. There are small faces in stone decorations. The Mudejars did allow some images in their architecture. It’s said that seeing the small faces leads to good fortune. 

Parts of the Alcazar were salvaged from other palaces and buildings. Isabella had much renovation done. 

Our Lady of Buenos Aires is the patron saint of navigators. Our Lady of Good Winds. She protects all, including Indians. A painting in her chapel by Alejo Fernández is thought to be the first time the indigenous people of the New World were depicted. The Indians were converted and protected by the Virgin.

I wandered the gardens. They were indescribable. Almost a fantasy. It was hard to imagine what it had been like when it was a royal palace. 

There are still orchards with fruit trees. fragrant flowers. horticultural produce.

OSEQ: video is taken from Galeria de Grutescos. Grotto Gallery. Muslim wall made into loggia. map layout on Wiki.

Patio del Yeso. most significant of Almohad Moorish remains. 

drain pipe pouring water? kapok tree. with flowers. Mudejar.

 

The Gardens. 

I spent at least a couple of hours wandering the gardens, pools and fountains of the Alcazar. I saw a sign leading to the cafeteria. Just what I needed. Found the last table in the shade. It was the perfect spot to rest and think. 

The Alcazar was very close to Hotel Murillo. I could walk along the walls to the gate where I had first entered the gardens. Just follow the wall. Buildings covered the small street and created covered cool passageways. It wasn’t ancient, but it was medieval. 

I took a short break at the hotel and was ready for my last night in Seville. I walked down the Paseo de Cristobal Colon towards the river again. I took another good look at the Torre Del Oro, then I walked next to the river.  

The colorful facade of the The Maestranza Bull Ring was right across Paseo de Colon. How could I resist this? It was early evening, but it was still open.  

Bullfighting may be cruel and barbaric, but it is a big part of Spanish history and culture. I didn’t give much thought to the ethics. My attitude was, when in Rome. It was just a tour of the museum. There would be no blood spilled tonight. It is tradition, but there is a movement to end bullfighting. 

There were about six people in the line waiting to buy tickets. Each customer seemed to be taking a long time. Even with my limited understanding of Spanish, it was clear that people were complaining and haggling over the price of the ticket. An older couple left. Apparently they didn’t like the admission price. It was eight Euros. Maybe they had just raised the price. 

A group of about thirty young Spanish entered. It looked like they were students on a tour. They were well dressed, but they were rambunctious and loud. They looked excited about seeing the museum as they wandered all over the entrance area. Maybe this is normal for Spanish college students. 

There were already about twenty people waiting to take the tour. I was the last to join the group. The first college students that had bought tickets tried to join the group, but the guides wisely made them wait for the next tour. 

The Maestranza was built in the 1700s. This is where the traditions of bullfighting began. The temple of tauromachy holds 12,000. Most of it is made of limestone. It has been rebuilt and renovated over the years.

Our guides were attractive young women. We were given audio guides, so they just moved us from area to area and answered questions.   

We walked under the white stone of the grandstand and into the Bullfighting Museum. The Room of Paintings was full of dramatic oil paintings of bull fights and matadors. This was my kind of art: colorful, with a lot of action. The Room of Prints had exciting prints including some by Goya. There were colorful original posters advertising bullfights.   

We entered a larger room with the relics and artifacts of bull fighting history. Matador suits and capes were displayed including some of the first known ones. Bulls that had distinguished themselves in the ring were rewarded by having their heads mounted on plaques. They stared back blankly from the walls above us.

Matadors were the Rock stars of their time. Maybe Rock stars are the matadors of their time. There must have been a lot of perks. It must have been a great lifestyle, but they had to risk everything in the ring. Or did they? The odds may have been stacked in their favor, but matadors did get gored in the ring. The Room of Paintings had portraits with scenes of matadors on their death beds.  

We were moving to the next room and I saw a bizarre statue. A guy was holding a severed head on a chain. It was puzzling. I took a picture, but I still can’t find out what it is.   

We left the museum and walked under the stands again. We went along the whitewashed walls to the stables. The inner workings of the bull ring were in here.    

Before entering the bullring we came to the Bullfighter’s Chapel. Matadors said their last prayers before entering the ring. “You can feel the tension.”

Maybe it was the drama, but I kept thinking of professional wrestling. Pro wrestling isn’t usually a matter of life and death, but it does have its own bluster and bravado. It’s the American ritual.  

We get to go into the ring! I hadn’t expected that. The ground is brown and hard. The surface feels like compacted clay.

It’s very exciting to be walking around inside the corrida itself and looking out at the grandstand. There’s a chain anchored in the middle of the ring. From the center of the ring the stands look small. They certainly don’t tower over us. Even the highest seats are close to the action. I took a short video.  

Two guys were in the middle of the ring. They were yelling at each other in Spanish. One was furious. The other was trying to take pictures with a real camera. It wasn’t an iPhone. This was an important shot, and the photographer was screwing it up.  This photo had to be perfect! 

  Wooden barriers are around the perimeter of the ring. They’re not closed off. The barriers are staggered so that a human can walk around the barrier, but there’s no way a bull can. There are ominous marks on one of them. Large gashes in the wood showed the power and sharpness of bull horns. 

Red and white arches above the top seats do create some shade. We don’t go up into the stands. The seats are stone. We stand in front of The Prince’s Royal Box. (Palco del Principe) It is reserved for the royal family only. 

We were able to wander around the ring as the sun set. It glowed on the arches above the bullring. We exited through the Prince’s Gate. This was the exit for “successful bullfighters.” 

I wondered what it would be like to see a bullfight. What would the crowd sound like? There would be a bull fight here September 15. I would just miss it.

I walked back to the hotel along the walls of the Alcazar. On top of the wall was the silhouette of a large bird in the twilight. It was a peacock roosting on the tower. It was the perfect image of Seville.  

Touring the bullring gave me a craving for steak. Seville is famous for steak. I went to the place near Hotel Murillo. The Rincón de Murillo was small. There weren’t many tables. It was more like a cafe, but they did serve dinner. A plastic see through floor revealed small winding stairs that went down to a wine cellar. It looked ancient. The steak was a little tough, but the rest of the meal was fantastic!   

People sat outside at cafes. We certainly heard him before we could see him. A deep, bass voice echoed on the medieval walls. Someone was loudly singing “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” It was a tall black man who looked ragged. He sang the same line over and over. He had a big smile. This was his thing. One line from the song. Over and over. Don’t worry... be happy! He seemed confident people would pay him. People sitting at outside tables looked a little intimidated. Waiters frowned. It was clear they saw this guy as a pest.

It was getting late. I’ll go for a short walk. I’ll just stay on one street. Can’t possibly get lost that way. But something caught my eye. I took a picture of the saffron place. I walked about a half block to see the outside of the Flamenco Museum. 

I had lost the route! How could I get so disoriented? it’s only a block away! Sometimes when you’re traveling, you just feel dumb.