Brian's Rick Steves' Tour of Spain Scrapbook
The next day we went to Sevilla, our last stop on the tour. Before unloading our luggage at Hotel Alcántara we left the bus to tour La Macarena (named after an Arabian princess) in order to appreciate the religious floats housed for the procession during holy week. Our local guide, Concepción, had a sense of humor, much knowledge, and an aura of reverence for heritage of the church.
A Shop Entrance in Plaza de Los Venerables
Our hotel was in the heart of the old Jewish neighborhood now called Santa Cruz. After checking in and doing some laundry in the sink, we reconvened and Concepción guided us through the maze of medieval streets taking us past the Plaza de Refinadores with its statue of Don Juan, through the Plaza de Los Venerables and ending in Plaza de Elvira which is lined with restaurants and shops that surround a very pleasant park of orange trees and porcelain benches. It is an ideal spot for people watching. I never did, however, see the Barber.
We emerged onto the Plaza Virgen de los Reyes outside the cathedral (third largest gothic cathedral in the world)
A courtyard within the walls of the cathedral contains an orchard of orange trees – very beautiful. Inside the big structure, four painted statues depicting kings from four regions of Spain bear the casket containing the remains of Christopher Columbus.
Annie and I made our way up the ramp of the Giralda Bell Tower and enjoyed a spectacular windblown view of the city and the Rio Gaudaquivir, which runs through it. This is the river that Spaniards navigated going to and returning from the new world. On the return of the explorers, great treasures were left in the Torre del Oro in Sevilla.
After touring the cathedral we said goodbye to Concepción and went for lunch on our own. We found a nearby restaurant outside among a few cigarette smokers and ate very tasty grilled vegetables and balls of breaded fried cod. We were finally learning how to order. During the siesta time, I had coffee with milk (very strong flavor) at a bar on Calle Ximinez de Enciso, the same street as our hotel, and Annie shopped.
In the evening we regrouped in the hotel lobby and walked with Jorge and Augustine past Sierpes, the street of expensive stores, to the Casa de la Memoria Al-Andalus. There we enjoyed an hour of “authentic” flamenco. The show began with a woman making a primal scream for a few minutes followed by a kind of tap dance and primal cracking of the heels and claps of the hands. Annie preferred the dancing we had seen in Madrid, but I liked this wailing, grieving, insistent stomping – the agony and ecstasy of living next to death in the dance.
Outside it was dark. A gentle rain fell and I used my paragua. For dinner Annie and I found a place near Giralda - the one time mineret and current cathedral tower. We sat inside (it finally dawned on me that there was no cigarette smoke when one was inside) on stools and ordered Spanish tortillas, very tasty, very satisfying.