Sevilla

"Adventure is worthwhile." -Amelia Earhart

The airport in Seville is tiny, but our taxi drivers were waiting for us when we arrived. An adventure of crazy turns, instant merging, and near-misses landed us at our first AirBNB. It felt like a complete act of faith to get out in a back alley with all of our belongings and hope someone would be there to meet us, but someone was there. She spoke to us in quick Spanish, handed us some keys, and left with her darling baby. We settled our things, and wandered a true maze of "streets" and alleys in search of "Mercado Comida." We finally found a Spar Express and loaded up with simple-to-fix meal staples ... and Diet Coke. We planned this leg of the trip for Spain to avoid the height of the summer heat, but it's definitely hot enough already. We snacked for dinner and held out on the jet lag until around 6:30 before giving up and going to bed.

Some us more rested than others, we struck out in the morning to the Barrio Santa Cruz. We took a self-guided tour through a labyrinth of what once was the Jewish neighborhood until the Inquisition expelled all Juderia from Spain in the 15th Century. What's left of those ancient lanes is a charming, touristy tangle of "kissing lanes" (streets so close together, you can lean out one window and kiss your neighbor across the street).

We finished up just as the Seville Cathedral opened. I don't know that I went in with expectations exactly, but this place surpassed anything I could have imagined. It's the largest Gothic Cathedral in the world; something I didn't totally understand from being outside it. When we entered through a tiny entry, all of us literally gasped. It is MONSTROUS inside. Literally an entire village could fit here. The main pillars scattered throughout are more massive in circumference than the giant redwoods. Some highlights for me include the high altarpiece that is covered with an expansive sculptured and gilded sequence of the life of Christ; being up close and personal to art masterpieces by Degas and Murillo; the tomb of Christopher Columbus. He had been buried  as he wished in the Dominican Republic, but when that country finally were granted independence, they sent his remains back to Seville. We had anticipated climbing the Giraldo Tower, but unfortunately discovered it was closed. This tower is what remains of the former mosque where the cathedral was built, and from its height, the muezzin called all to prayer.

We followed the cathedral with paella in the Barrio. Isaac's limited Spanish resulted in rather more seafood in his paella than he would have preferred. By then, many of us had hit a wall so we returned to the apartment for Siesta.

We next headed to The Real Alcazar for a late-afternoon tour. This is the palace of the Royal Spanish Family, and where Columbus was received by Queen Isabel. The palace was built by ejected Muslim Moors for Christian Spaniards. What results is a stunning combination of two different techniques, themes, and craftsmanship. The Muslim workmen worked Muslim ideologies into the design in subtle and sneaky ways...prayers to Allah among other things. The stone and tile used keep the palace impressively cool despite the Spanish summer heat. Following our tour, we wandered through the connected gardens that were suitably impressive in a palm-frond, desert-oasis way. Highlights of the palace were the room of massive tapestries, the reflecting pool in the courtyard, and Anna being chased by a peacock guarding her adorable chick. My mistake, a pea-hen. As we were leaving, we caught a glimpse of a beautiful bride in a chic wedding photo shoot.

In the evening, we wandered up to our roof just to see the sunset and were surprised to discover a pilgrimage processional emerging into the street at the small church across from us. A religious procession of ox-pulled carriage covered in lights was led by a Priest when the suddenly appearing crowd of pilgrims sang together "Salva Me" in glorious harmony. Something you can't plan into an itinerary; a magical moment. After a song and words from the Priest, the Pilgrims disappeared as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come.

The following day brought us to a tour of a real and working Bull-fighting ring. The grounds are perfectly groomed red dirt, especially impressive considering there had been a show the previous evening. The tour was professional although a little detached. I'm not sure what I think of this cultural tradition on an ethical level, but it was interesting to learn the history and culture behind it. For all I know, Spaniards might not approve of Mixed Martial Fighting, American ecological disregard, or consumption and waste either.

In the evening we attended a Flamenco Concert. Passionate, professional, mesmerizing. It's easy to hear how Moorish chants and calls to prayer have influenced this cultural style in the same way African-American experience and music contributes to the evolution and development of Jazz. We explored across the Guadalquivir River the up-and-coming hipster neighborhood of Triana and ate lots of pastries including Spanish churros. 

Our last full day in Seville landed on Anna's 13th birthday; maybe the strangest birthday she'll ever know. We explored Maria Luisa Park and Plaza de Espana in the morning. The plaza is the site of the 1929 World Fair for all Spanish-speaking nations. My favorite part was the series of tile-works that display a map and mosaic for each region of Spain.

We have learned to avoid the heat of the day and spent the afternoon packing, doing laundry and playing cards before heading out for an evening "paseo" through the shopping district. We landed at a recommended Tapas bar at 8:00 for dinner to discover we were much too early for Spanish culture...they didn't open until 8:30. Even when we came back, we were the only ones there and they didn't get around to taking our order until closer to 9. The food was worth the wait. Our mediocre Spanish translation of the menu led to a few surprises when the food arrived, but all of it was delicious. As we paid the check, the server brought us little vials of a treat that I sipped and discovered was limoncello. Oops! Sorry, Bishop; I erred in ignorance and prevented the rest of my family from imbibing. When they serve your now 13-year-old complimentary aperitifs, you know you're not in America anymore.

Sunday morning, armed with an address and little else, we tracked down a couple of taxis to drop us at the local ward. We had to walk around the block to actually figure out where it was, but after the ornate style of the many churches in Seville, we instantly recognized the simpler LDS-style building. Though we understood very little of the meeting, it was all familiar and we at least knew the tunes of the hymns; I enjoyed singing them in the purer vowels of Spanish. We navigated the way home Amazing-Race-style, and finished packing and loading up before our taxis to the Train Station arrived.

Adios Sevilla!