Sevilla, Not Seville

        The semester before I left for Spain, I sought out and grilled a ton of study abroad alumni about their experiences. I distinctly remember this one guy I was introduced to at a party, who had gone to Spain for a month the summer before through a CSU program led by one of my old Spanish professors. I think the reason why I particularly remember this encounter is because, when I asked him how he liked Seville ('suh-vill') he pointedly corrected me in Spanish; Sevilla (Seh-vi-ya). At the time I thought he was just being a total ass hole. 

        Fast forward six months, and I was just now having difficulty remembering the phonetics of its English name. Sevilla, syllables to roll off the tongue, embodies the rare elegance of this city. It is quintessential southern Spain, a lively 2,000 years old, the historic and cultural capital of Andalusia, and the setting of Bizet's Carmen. A few hours from Granada by bus, Sevilla is an absolute dream of cobblestone streets, horse drawn carriages, warm light and women wearing elegant, colorful clothes and horserace hats. A friend of mine who has spent a lot of time traveling in France, says she thinks of it as the Spanish equivalent to Paris.

La Catedral de Santa María de la Sede, or simply la Catedral Sevilla, third largest cathedral and the largest 

Gothic cathedral in the world. ("Let us build a church so beautiful and so great that those who see it built 

will think we were mad.")

Our first night we sat and listened to live flamenco music in this classy little bar (many thanks to Rick Steves). Even more popular than flamenco around here is a simple, beautiful dance called the Sevillana. Spoiler: I've since learned that this is an old Castilian folk dance and didn't originate here as suggested by its name - still, it is tenderly loved in Sevilla). 

A ginormous stained glass window in la Catedral. 

Construction on the cathedral began in 1402 and was completed in 1506.

Religious art out your ears, and of course, 150 grams of Christopher Columbus' body, 

are housed here in this converted mosque. The original structure was the Almohad Mosque,  (1198) 

but after the Reconquista in 1248 and a bad earthquake that damaged the temple in 1356, 

the mosque was almost entirely rebuilt as a Christian cathedral. 

View of the Sacristía Mayor dome from la Giralda; a minaret (tower leftover from the Muslim mosque), 

now capped with a Roman Catholic bell tower. Many thanks to my highly entertaining Historia del Arte professor, who makes information like this memorable.

Horse and carts, cobblestone streets and labyrinths of antiquated architecture

 contribute to the general ambiance of this city.

The famous Esperanza Macarena de Sevilla, in the Basílica de la Macarena - you can barely see the tears of crystal on her face (and yes, as a matter of fact this neighborhood in Sevilla is where the Macarena song comes from).

Outside the Real Alcázar de Sevilla (Alcázar of Seville), a royal palace that was originally a Moorish fort.

Beneath Real Alcázar, the Chamber of Secrets - or los Baños de Doña María de Padilla (Baths of Lady María de Padilla), rainwater tanks named after María de Padilla, who poured boiling oil on her face to disfigure herself, became a nun and moved into a convent, all to dodge the advances of Peter the Cruel, king of Castile and León between 1350 and 1369.

Plaza de España in the evening ....you can also get a pretty good look at this 

Sevillian centerpiece in Star Wars: Episode II, on Naboo.

        My favorite parts of Sevilla; la Parque María Luisa (a sprawling urban oasis that gives City Park in New York a run for its money), trying to dance salsa to flamenco music amongst some very amused locals, and stopping to pet a horse each time I passed through the Plaza Virgen de los Reyes. But the icing on the cake was a panoramic bike tour, right before we left to return to Granada. When we set out for Plaza de España it had just begun to rain. Hard. (First time we'd seen rain in Spain after weeks of being here, and it was right as we were setting out on a parade of bicycles). It was slick and cold and difficult to see, but I was thrilled to be alive and bicycling and out in the rain. Just as we arrived in Plaza de España (abandoned by the usual throng of tourists, who had taken cover), the rain let up and the sun came out, and we took off across the plaza. It was so beautiful; I haven't felt so indescribably, perfectly happy in a long time. I remember thinking at the time - I hope that this is what it is like to die.