An Oasis of Silence

The only entrance to the square was a zigzagging cobblestone alleyway nestled behind the Islamic-style dome of the Archbishopric of Seville, and hidden behind a row of orange trees on the corner of Mateos Gago street. The only way to find it was to know it was there, or to stumble upon it at noon after the third wrong turn that day, like I did.

At first, I thought I had reached dead end. I had places to be, and by stumbling into this place I was only subtracting from the time I had left to visit all the important places in Seville.

I was about to turn around and leave when I noticed that the din of the city was gone. Where were the scammers shouting to the tourists from the shadow of the Alcazar Gardens? Where were the people rushing into restaurants to escape the heat? Where were the buses? All of those things were only a few steps away, and yet I couldn’t hear any of them.

There was a stone crucifix in the center of the square, shaded by four orange trees. It was clearly centuries old and its features had been worn away by the weather and the passage of time. I examined it, and for a brief moment I was standing in that same square a century earlier, taking advantage of the trick of Moorish architecture that created this oasis of silence to have a moment of contemplation in front of this same crucifix.

I realized that I never would have discovered this place if I had stuck to the itinerary I had found online. I would have passed it by like so many others who were busy following the arrows on their tourist maps.

That morning I had seen a couple who were poring over their map of the city in search of the most efficient travel itinerary. My own map, too, was peppered with asterisks that reminded me of the places where I had to focus my attention. We were treating travel like a series of tasks to be completed, when instead we should have been treating it like an experience. Instead of focusing on what we were doing and where we were, we were focusing on where we thought we should be.

I met with a local tour guide the following day, and I told him about my discovery. When I described the square, he smiled at me as if we were two friends sharing a long-forgotten secret.

“You found Santa Marta Square,” he said. “I haven’t been there in ages. I guess I’ve been too busy.”

Thanks to Santa Marta Square, I found a new way to enjoy the world around me when I travel. In that sense, it wasn't a dead end at all.