Moved by Sevilla

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We're in our third large Spanish city, Sevilla. Each one has gotten more beautiful and with characters of their own. I've been moved by Sevilla more than the others at many levels.

We're staying in a lovely casa that was converted into a small hotel, Casa Numero 7. It's delightful but situated on a maze of tiny streets. I finally left Mike with the car to seek it out on foot. One of the staff went with him to park the car & lead him back! The staff were great and helped us with everything. Thanks Maria, Isabella and Guilermo!


Our first stop was the Alcazar. It is a large palace that started life as a Moorish structure. It was my first experience with Moorish architecture. To my great surprise, it's beauty literally moved me to tears. Having studied Greek & Roman architecture I was unprepared for the sheer beauty of the Moorish style. The extravagant colors and textures were masterfully balanced in intricate pattern next to pattern. I loved it- and this from the person who gravitates to simple, clean design.





The next day we visited Pilate's Palace. It was Romanesque with Moorish design superimposed on top. It didn't work - in my view. It looked busy & out of balance. I was surprised that I could feel - & it was a feeling - the difference. It made me appreciate even more the art & mastery of Alcazar.

I will say, however, that this palace had stunning tile work. Every surface was covered in intricate tiles and the pattern changed each time the wall direction changed.




By contrast, the cathedral is across the plaza. It's the largest in Spain. It's huge & stuffed full of church art much of which are silver alters & such. There are only two larger cathedrals in all of Europe and one of those is the Vatican. It's overwhelming in its size. But, it left me cold.
For me personally there was none of the grace and warmth that exuded from the Alcazar. The cathedral did, however, include Christopher Columbus’ tomb and the second largest pearl in the world as part of a jewel encrusted crown.


We managed to keep ourselves awake for a 10:30pm flamenco performance by enjoying a lovely dinner (my best yet) at an outdoor tapas bar. It was a delightful meal that set the stage for flamenco. And, wow- this was movement at another level entirely. I've always heard flamenco described as fiery passion & that sums it up. I've never seen dance with such intensity of emotion. Energy sometimes angry, sensual, even violent leapt from the stage.


The next evening we swapped intensity for relaxing with a boat ride on the river. It was calm & soothing with a comfortable breeze blowing. In the process we saw bridges by Eiffel & others that we incentive designs that this engineer enjoyed.





Since we've been in Spain Mike has been in search of bulls. We haven't seen any yet so we went to the Sevilla bullring. We had a guided tour of the ring with an explanation of the sport & tour of the museum. I went in with trepidation & left disappointed. Here are tidbits I learned. The picadors are on blindfolded, armored horses. They start the process of weakening the bull the matador wears an elaborate suit (we saw one that cost 6000€ - yep, the decimal is in the right place. He wears it in the dust & blood). A good matador can make 200,000 per fight. There is a long history & the details have evolved over time.
There are powerful, beautiful images of bulls all around. My feeling here was - conflicted. I tried to appreciate the history & pageantry. Mike & I looked for some deeper symbolic meaning. I even asked the tour guide. But after all the searching, it's just a bullfight & the bull always loses. I'll spare the details. In this case, the facts bore out my trepidation.


Our last day here is quiet & slow & welcome. I wrote this morning followed by a picnic & nap in the park. This park is lush. Dense trees & shrubs that make the public space feel private. Fountains & pools of water are woven throughout & acanthus blooms around every bend.
There are arbors draped with luxuriant bougainvillea in fuchsia. The color pops against the blue sky. The air is filled with the cooing of dozens of doves.



Families & kids are out together on a Sunday afternoon. What fun to see these children play among the art & literally in the fountains. It's like seeing the groups of school children in the Prado entranced by Picasso or Velasquez. I can't imagine growing up surrounded by & taught by great art - almost at every street corner. It's a far cry from the Smithville end of school year trip to the refectory.
I realize that the money for much of the art came from less than noble places - pillaged wealth from central & south America for example, but I can't help but wonder how you measure the value to our lives. I'm not advocating a monarchy but who gets the richer experience? Where's the appropriate balance? Maybe the balance is somewhere between our investment in art in the US & here.




Finally I’m moved by those moments when we're not moving - a rest in the park, coffee & tea in a shady cafe, & a late night dinner in the cool night air at a charming tapas bar with a glass of sangria close by. Perfect.