Seville is devoted, static, scorching hot, festive and really, really, ridiculously good-looking.
Plaza de España.
I feel like I have had a good grasp on the locations I have been so far. I have understood the vibe of the cities I have stepped foot in, I’ve got to know them as well as I could over the time I have spent in them. I have been a traveller and a tourist, snapping my pics, speaking bad and very limited Spanish and Italian and soaking it all in like a big ol’ sponge. At the end of the visit when I put together my blog I try to capture the essence of what I have experienced, the good and the bad. Despite doing all of this, Seville remains a mystery to me. Writing this entry has been difficult because I really don’t know what to say about this place. It’s the opposite of my Barcelona writer’s block; instead of being afraid my overwhelmed senses would mean I couldn’t express the true nature of what I had seen, in this case I feel I may have missed what Seville is all about because my visit here has been dominated by the Semana Santa festival.
Iglesia del Señor San José.
Seville looks good. Really good. It is a beautiful place, with stunning architecture, sweeping plazas, lush public gardens and a lovely waterfront on the city-side by it’s river. My favourite place here has been Parque Maria Luisa, a public park that features waterfalls, fountains, statues and hedge-lined rose gardens. We wandered around there in a search for shade, drank slushies and were amazed that swans do indeed also come in white. The location was gorgeous and the park serves as an oasis from the two main roads that it is nestled between. Another great looking space was the Plaza de España which wowed me with it’s mosaic tiled ground, large fountain and semi-circle pavilion building flanked by two towers, all surrounded by a moat that could only be crossed using the ornate bridges or circumnavigated by row-boat hire. It was easily one of the most beautiful plazas, piazzas or squares I have ever seen. It was simply stunning. I madly snapped my camera at nearly everything in the place.
Parque Maria Luisa.
The lifestyle is still relaxed and oh-so Spanish, Tapas, beer and sangria are again the order of the day and people enjoying meals al fresco creates a buzzing atmosphere on the streets. In some areas of ‘Centro’ the festival of food and drink never seems to end. The old town has charming winding back-alleys to get lost in, we are staying in a quiet guest house that seems to have been here for 100s of years and we have even started eating dinner at 10pm like real Spaniards. But, alas, it hasn’t left me feeling a connection to the city.
The streets of Seville.
As I mentioned in my last blog, Semana Santa is a week long religious festival of hooded Hermadads taking to the streets in full Medieval church regalia, walking from their church to the cathedral and back carrying life-sized statues of bible scenes and holy relics. We saw the beginnings of the festival in Granada, but the scale of the occasion is much bigger here in Seville. I may just be me living under a rock, but I had no idea we were going to be here during this festival. Call it poor research on my part, but when I looked up the dates for those classic festivals like La Tomatina or the running of the bulls, I didn’t come across anything about Semana Santa. It has simply dominated our thoughts and time on this trip. The processions have cut off streets and even our path to get away from it all to our room at the guesthouse. I have tried to make sense of the timetable, but I can’t, meaning hearing the bang of the drums, the sounds of the crowd and seeing all those pointed hoods when it is way too late is the way we find out where the procession is going. On our first night as we searched dinner and a place to watch the soccer (seemingly our new favourite past time) we were caught in the middle of two processions running parallel to each other and were unable to get out until the hundreds of Hermadads proceeding and carrying the relic went past (We did make it to a tapas bar about 30 minutes later where I chowed down on the famed Iberian ham and we watched Real Madrid beat Barcelona 2-1). Despite my whinging, being here at this time has given me a whole new understanding of Easter and what it means to people. In Australia this time of year is a commercial experience- chocolate bunnies, hot cross buns and cream eggs occupy my thoughts, not sacrifice, reverence and devotion like it does for the people here. It has been great to see it, but being here at this time hasn’t allowed for the visit I was expecting. Sights are closed and some areas of the city resemble ghost towns, not a part of a thriving and buzzing city. That being said, there is nothing that quite prepares you for seeing one of the hooded hermadads trying to catch a bus, having a cheeky drink at a bar or casually walking to and from the parades with their families. It still gives me a little jolt.
Semana Santa
Seville does not have Barcelona’s artistic edge or Granada’s quirky charm, or maybe it does, but I couldn’t see it through the monstrous crowds of people, the spectacle, and to be honest, the hassle that was being here during a major festival. By not being involved or invested in what the parade is actually about we have not been able to get to know the place very well. Despite this, I am glad I got to see a couple of the processions and be involved in what is a very important tradition of the Andalusian people. A once in a lifetime experience. So instead, perhaps, I have gotten to know Semana Santa, not Seville. The place has got plenty of style, but I feel a void when describing its substance.
Ali's adventure 