A few weeks ago I asked Beth whether she prefered living in Bologna or Sevilla. If she had to go back and pick only one, which city would she select for an experience like this? After some consideration she decided that she would pick Bologna. I think her decision might have been heavily influenced by the quality of the pasta and limoncello alone - who can blame her. However, by the end of this past Saturday, she told me that she was changing her answer to Sevilla. Though the streets of Bologna blossom with people in the spring, they simply do not simmer with life and celebration the way they do in Sevilla - there really isn’t even a comparison. Beth has remarked on numerous occasions that the Sevillanos seem to be in constant party mode; what impresses me is how fully they embrace the celebration, whether it is a weekday lunch, a bachelor party or a march supporting public schools (I’m not making this up - we saw a full on protest this week demanding that schools not be privatised, and at the front of the march was a spectacular drum band. The march was serious, but it was also a mobile dance party.). They dress up, wear costumes, eat, drink, sing, and dance...all while laughing -- even the serious things are made into a party as far as I can tell. And, we haven’t even gotten to the Feria de Abril, the festival that is famous for truly bringing out the spirit in the Sevillanos. We have seen many women shopping for the materials for their Feria dresses; there are whole streets of shops dedicated to selling the materials for making the dresses and accessories - from flowers to shawls to fans...whole shopping districts dedicated to making dresses for a single week of the year...now that is commitment.For now I can only attempt to describe an average Saturday...which relative to our normal experience is anything but average.
We started our Saturday with a perfectly touristy visit to the Real Alcazar, the royal palace in the heart of Sevilla - our expectations of the Alcazar and of our day in general were about to be totally exceeded. The Alcazar was built in the same mudejar style as the Alhambra, combining the Moorish beginnings/influence with the later additions by the Catholic kings. However, unlike the Alhambra, the Alcazar is magically wedged right in the middle of a vibrant and bustling city. If you don’t go inside the walls, you basically don’t know it is there, but once you enter, you are treated to a palace that rivals the Alhambra in style and scope, surrounded by gloriously expansive and varied gardens. Beth still can’t comprehend how the Alcazar can be so expansive given where it sits in the city. Not only is the palace right in the middle of the city...it is still used as the royal residence - I think it might be one of the oldest continuously inhabited palaces in Europe. The King and Queen still use the palace when they are in Sevilla, AND it is also the filming site for the city of Dorne in Games of Thrones. I’m not quite sure how you convince the King to let you use his palace to film a TV show, but I guess there is a price for everything. I think The Emerald City was also filmed in the Alcazar. For me, the Alcazar is as spectacular as the Alhambra, and it feels more alive and vital...perhaps because it is magically set in the middle of the city or because it is a block from our apartment - either way, a visit to the Alcazar makes for a delightful start to the day.
When we went into the Alcazar in the morning the city was still pretty sleepy - nothing much happens in Sevilla before noon-, but when we emerged from the palace, we encountered a city that was simply exploding with life, and I do not just mean that there were a lot of people (though there were). No, we could just feel the spirit with which the Sevillanos embraced the day. Right near our apartment, there must have been one or two weddings...or other types of parties of some significant pomp and circumstance...because we passed group after group of men in tails and women in elegant dresses and hats stolen directly from the Kentucky Derby. In fact, the streets had a distinctly Kentucky Derby feel...full of revellers - young, sleek, and unabashedly dressed to the nines. We also passed a number of bachelor and bachelorette parties, which adopted a distinctly different feel...a groom dressed as a flamingo at lunch with 20 friends in matching polos or a roaming bachlorette party that had hired a small band to follow them around the city, stopping to dance with people on the street. What was striking was that all of this activity was independent but somehow symbiotic; there was no big event in city on Saturday - there just seemed to be various parties, events, and celebrations throughout the city feeding off of each other. Sitting down for a long lunch at a table on the sidewalk provided constant entertainment...and it was only 2:00 in the afternoon.
After lunch, we got an ice cream...we finally found a place that rivals the gelaterias in Italy...and we headed toward the subway to see the Sevilla FC soccer game. On the way, we ran into the Bolivian Culture parade passing in front of the Cathedral. If I could explain why there was a Bolivian Culture parade, I would. We had no idea that there was a significant Bolivian population in Sevilla, but there they were - a full parade of Bolivians, dancing in remarkably gaudy costumes. It almost felt like there couldn’t possibly be so much going on - the restaurants were full, the Kentucky Derby weddings (or whatever it was) was still in full swing, there were parties of bachelors and bachelorettes all over the place, and there were still enough people to fill a crowd along a parade route...Plus, the Alcazar was full of tourists, and the soccer game we were headed to was sold out. The whole scene was thoroughly exhilarating and delightful. Maya was having second thoughts about heading out to the soccer stadium because she was so enjoying being in the middle of all of the city action. However, she didn’t need to fret because when we returned from the soccer game two hours later, nothing had changed. There was a dance party in one square - partners dancing salsa - and many of the groups we had seen earlier were still drinking small beers and enjoying the sunshine. By evening, when Beth and I went out for a Copa, the Calle Arfe behind our apartment was almost completely full of people spilling from the copa bars, each with its own unique character. We had a gin and tonic and watched as the party continued...seemingly unabated since lunch...and certainly continuing until well after we went to bed. Maya later mused, “I am not sure I can go back to California. It will be so boring.” She followed the comment up with this thought: “I just wish I could have my friends come here.” Makes sense to me.
Some Observations:
I think I got it wrong
When I wrote about our wonderful lunch in Granada, I told a story about asking the waiter about dessert and his reply that they had gin and tonic for dessert. I liked the joke...it made me chuckle. However, I now think it wasn’t a joke, at all. This week we went to lunch at a little restaurant call El Puntal. The food is spectacular..you must try the Scallop Salad with chunks of bacon….and it is tucked nicely in a small side street. At the table next to us were five Spanish men of about my age - all dressed for work in coats and ties - slim, fit professional types. They were at the restaurant when we arrived, sharing small plates and a couple of bottles of wine...and some small beers. Throughout our lunch, they continued to eat, ordering and sharing various plates, and they had another bottle of wine. As I was paying the bill for our lunch, the waitress asked if they were interested in dessert, and they said “no, we will just have five gin and tonics.” So, I guess it wasn’t a joke - a G&T is an appropriate dessert...I like it! And I am assuming that these guys were going back to work at some point. This wasn’t Saturday - it was Tuesday...Impressive!
Empty art museums
For as busy as the Cathedral and the Alcazar get in Sevilla, the city’s main art museum, Bellas Artes, seems to be almost forgotten by tourists. Certainly the collection does not rival the Madrid’s Prado, but the Spanish art is impressive and the building is a work of art itself. However, what struck me about visiting the museum is how much I love visiting an art museum where I can enjoy some tranquility in the space. Looking at the vast Murillo canvases without anyone else talking or snapping photos was wonderful. It made me remember the frustration I felt visiting the Sistine Chapel. There couldn’t be more signs telling visitors to be silent and that photographs are prohibited, and yet, as soon as our group was herded into the Chapel, people started talking and taking photos. Sadly, I tend to remember my annoyance with the scene more than I recall the splendor of the ceiling. Visiting the Bellas Artes with virtually no one around left me appreciating the work of Murillo in a way that I did not expect. Murillo is not Michelangelo, but I might have enjoyed the experience more.I guess art is much like wine and food, the environment and one’s psychological state influences one’s appreciation mightily.
A quick comment on Spanish fashion...at least in our neighborhood
I think that the Sevillano men living in, or at least coming for copas in, our relatively wealthy and cosmopolitan neighborhood dress a little like they have stepped off a polo field in the late 1980’s, except that they stopped to have their shirts tailored - slim fit...maybe with a light vest. The uniform appears to be jeans/khakis with a white/pink/blue button down with a light sweater….yes, that’s right...draped over the shoulders like they are at a country club. I am not sure that I can so generalize female fashion...I expect I would get myself in trouble with that topic. However, I have been intrigued by how many women wear prescription glasses and bold lipstick, a look that is a sort of contradiction at home, but seems to be fully in style here. I think it is fun - I like the spirit.
