Brian's Rick Steves' Tour of Spain Scrapbook
In Madrid we took seats on the T4 train for the airport and as we pulled away a woman standing between our car and the car in back of us began delivering a mournful speech about her lack of work and her need to feed her children. After the deep-voiced, five-minute rant she passed through our car and collected money from most of the passengers. Spain has seen much violence in its past, but Spaniards are a people with great kindness. At the next stop security police boarded the train because I assume they had been called to do something about the woman. I hope she managed to get off the train before being caught. Sadly austerity and poverty are a huge part of Spanish life right now. The next morning we flew back to Seattle.
Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World. Christopher Columbus
The next day everyone except Annie and me checked out of the hotel and said goodbye. Our train tickets to Madrid were for late afternoon the next day and I am glad we had a chance to explore Sevilla a little more. Recently I read a novel by Arturo Perez-Reverte – The Seville Communion – which I thoroughly enjoyed in part because our extended stay gave us a chance to see more of Sevilla.
Left on our own we followed the streets labeled in our map and found the bullring, maybe the most famous in Spain. It was here that the matador Manolete died after being gored by a bull in 1947. Perhaps it was poetic.
The Spilled Blood (From Part Two Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias) by Lorca
I will not see it!
Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand.
I will not see it!
We did not go inside to see the bullring or the museum or the chapel where the matador prays. But I thought about Hemingway’s story, The Undefeated:
Out in the centre of the ring, under the lights, Manuel was kneeling, facing the bull, and as he raised the muleta in both hands the bull charged, tail up.
Manuel swung his body clear and, as the bull recharged, brought around the muleta in a half-circle that pulled the bull to his knees.
It is one of my favorite stories. It’s about an old bullfighter who has unrecognized greatness.
Once past the bullring we crossed the street and Annie took a picture of the bullring with a statue of Pepe Luis Vasquez in the foreground.
Afterward we walked along the river to Puente Isabel II, better known as the Triana Bridge. We crossed over into Triana – the old Gypsy neighborhood -- and sat at the base of a statue near the Plaza del Altozano. We needed a plan. And so we decided to visit the Museo de Bellas Artes. Returning across the river, we noticed lots and lots of padlocks secured to the railing of the bridge. I thought it might have something to do with bicycles but Annie thought it might have something to do with romance – and she was entirely correct. We found out later that it is a custom among lovers in Seville to signify their feelings by placing a lock on the railing and also by then tossing the key into the river. Every so often, city officials snip off the locks because they are worried that the weight of so much metal will damage the bridge.
We looked at several paintings at the Museo del Bellas Artes in Sevilla. A painting by El Greco was my favorite. It is of his grown son whose eyes are full of humor. It’s a nice greeting from several hundred years ago. Two paintings by Velazquez are on display in the same room as the El Greco. One is the face of a gray haired, bearded old man whose eyes are full of the knowledge that not all situations are black and white and that all of us are human. Is that wisdom?
This was a Sunday and church bells rang as we walked back toward Seriepes, past closed shops and onto a lunch of grilled vegetables in the same place we had eaten the day before.
Afterward, Annie visited the Jewish Museum next to our hotel. Everywhere the cruelty of Spanish Christians against the Jews and Muslims haunts Spain, but the force of that cruelty is especially strong in the Santa Cruz neighborhood.
The next morning we had breakfast in the hotel and afterward wandered over to the big market – Mercado del Arenal. It was Monday so we knew we wouldn’t find fresh seafood, but we had hoped to find the makings for a lunch. In Italy we would have ordered bread, cheese, fruit and water, but were never successful doing this in Spain. In the case of the Mercado del Arenal, most stalls were closed and we ended up wandering over to Avienda Consititución where there were several restaurants. With my bad Spanish and Annie’s excellent use of pointing with her right index finger, we ordered sandwiches to go – mine was chicken with verdures and Annie’s was cod. We went back to the hotel and sat briefly in the lobby while we waited for a cab to take us to the train station.
The Isabel II Bridge
On Our Own in Sevilla
We Had A Wonderful TIme
Bullring of Sevilla
After lunch Annie joined me for coffee across the street from the place I ordered coffee the previous two afternoons. Then we shopped. I bought another tee shirt, this one with the opening lines of Don Quixote printed on the front: “En un lugar de la Mancha de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme…” In a place in La Mancha, the name of which I don’t remember…” I had envied Marcus and David when I saw them wearing the same shirt in Consuegra. I was glad to have one of my own.
A Literary Tee Shirt
Display In The Jewish Museum
Tourist Amazed by His Experiences in Spain
The Story of the Spanish Jews
The End
