Then we walked into the Alcazar in Seville and finally found a building we didn't want to leave, in which we developed a complex love-hate relationship we still haven't digested. Perhaps we never will.
In a word, we were overwhelmed.
There isn't a lot to say before we got there. We arrived in Cadiz before dawn and could see only port from our window. The bus ride was nothing spectacular; for once "Seville on Your Own" included no wannabe guide, only a nice young woman named Gisella who handed out maps and coordinated meeting times. We knew no one on the bus. We did see Amparo and Antonio, who were trying to get to Seville by regular bus, on the way out, but haven't seen them since (I'm writing this over two days; actually, we ran into them twice today, Thursday).
You get dropped off in front of the San Telmo Palace, which is pretty special itself.
The building next door looks just as special; it turns out to be a hotel.
From there, we needed a bathroom, so we ran into the local Starbucks. Oddly, the bathrooms didn't have any toilet paper. Luckily, we pack Charmin-To-Go. The Starbucks was filled with American students studying at the nearby University of Seville. In fact, it reminded me a lot of the University Village QFC Starbucks, which is often filled with students studying for hours.
Interestingly, the University of Seville has something else in common with the University of Washington: both are located (as is Washington University in St. Louis) on the site of World's Fairs.
We wandered past the Cathedral and then entered the doors to the Real Alcazar. I have to admit, I was wandering toward the next interesting building, and only after we got there did I realize it was the Alcazar. Nor did I really understand where I was til I got there.
A few facts about the Alcazar. It has been the site of a royal residence, in continuous use as such, since the 10th century, and probably since the 7th century. It is still in use as a royal residence. The second story, nearly all of which was closed, is the royal residence of King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia when they are in Seville. For all we know, the royal apartments were closed because Sofia was up there scarfing dates from her palm in Elche. Oh, yeah, and it was the location where Christopher Columbus got the go-ahead to do that New World thingie you may have heard about.
Plus, it's simply gorgeous. I took 300 photos in Seville. I took 200 in the Real Alcazar. And, as you'll see, it's not because there was nothing else beautiful or interesting in Seville.
You want pictures, we got pictures. The first thing you see is a courtyard, the Patio de la Montreria.
It's gorgeous behind that curtain, but they are fixing it. Then you enter the part called the Admiral's Suite. The Admiral was that Columbus guy. This is the room where the Admiral got the go-ahead, the money, the contracts, the silly little title of Admiral of the Ocean Sea. As I sit here on the damn ocean sea, and the boat is rocking so that my very temperamental CD player is struggling to let me hear Andy Statman without interruption, I think about Columbus and his men, past Madeira which he knew as a kid going on fishing voyages, what the hell they were getting themselves into. I don't think they had their iPods, but who knows.
Then there is a room of fans. When you think of Seville, you think of fans (and we'll even buy one later), but these are not your grandmother's fans. Unless your grandmother was, say Queen of Spain (if she was, you've been holding out on me).
I'm really not going to go room by room, but here are about five incredibly gorgeous rooms, details of rooms, ceilings and other small items.
The architecture is a mix of Moorish and Spanish and a lot of Spanish eras, with little hints that maybe a few Jews snuck in from time to time.
On the other hand, there is the Hall of Justice. I walked into the Palace of Justice, and the same thought I had when I first touched Spanish soil in Barcelona hit me: it was time to chant the Kol Nidre. The Kol Nidre, you will recall, was a prayer by Spanish Marranos asking in advance on Yom Kippur to be absolved of the vows they would need to make during the coming year in order to stay alive in a Spain where to be Jewish was a crime. And here I was in the Hall of Justice of the very kings who were imposing that upon those very Marranos that Hobson's Choice. So I sat there and chanted the beginning of the Kol Nidre to myself. And I mimed spitting as I walked out of the room. No one saw me. No one heard me. I was having a wonderful otherwise in the Alcazar and otherwise in Spain, but it was not technically legal for a Jew to live in Spain until well into Franco's reign, well into my own life. It was not something I was going to just ignore.
On a lighter note, if you ever go to the Alcazar, I strongly recommend you use the toilets. Marjorie and I did in sequence, and when we were done we compared notes: we had each in fact photographed the inside of the stall. Here's the men's room.
Here's some more of the details and a bit of the gardens.
And some tapestries depicting the victories of Charles V. They are great tapestries, but I thought the whole point was that Charles V didn't have a lot of victories.
And some details of the tiles:
We spent a lot of time (and money) in the gift shop, including a guidebook which turned out to be interesting in its translation, if that is the right word, from the Spanish.
On the way out, we found we were in the middle of a group of schoolchildren, who were incredibly noisy, but we didn't mind. We were noisy schoolchildren once, too (I believe that my class at Oak Park High was eventually kicked out of every venue for field trips in the greater Detroit area at one time or another for our unruly nature, and no, I wasn't an angel on those trips myself).
Two Spanish policemen seemed just as bemused as we were, mounted on their horses.
From there, we walked a few short blocks to the Barrio de Santa Cruz, the neighborhood of the Holy Cross. Of course, that wasn't its original name. The Barrio de Santa Cruz was the name given to the former Jewish quarter of Seville after the Jews were expelled in 1492. It's a lovely part of town, and the current climate is such that, well, don't let me get ahead of the story. The area is characterized by narrow streets.
It is filled with lovely tourist shops, and this was probably the lowest part of the tourist season, so it was nearly empty, other than folks from our cruise.
But the shops had some really original looking art over them.
And in them.
And they didn't deny they were the old Jewish quarter at all.
Marjorie was very taken with a maker of fans, and went to take a picture of her making fans (she has the picture; maybe she'll let me post it). And then when we discovered there were fans for reasonable prices, she wanted to go back and buy from the woman she'd photographed.
On the way out, we passed this trash bin, which answers the question you've all been wondering about: what happened to Rosie, the Jetsons' robot maid.
We also passed the old Moorish entrance to the Alcazar, which has been bricked up. Or else we passed the back entrance to Moria (Moorish/Moria, hmmmm....).
Say "friend" and enter.
We wandered past the Cathedral again, past the worst Christmas market ever, and into the shopping district. Another couple on the bus said it was for them the best Christmas market ever. I guess they liked no crowds of actual Spaniards or anything artistic. I don't buy Christmas stuff, so who am I to say?
We'd seen a lot of H&M stores in Europe, but I don't think this one looks like the one in Harvard Square.
Since we didn't have Amparo and Antonio to help us find lunch, we wandered around til we found a little hole in the wall that had a menu that was sort of in English.
We passed on Sirloin to the Whiskey and actually had fish and chips and calamari (Marjorie) and eggs and chicken and chips (Rick), which were wonderful, but the guy next to us had ordered chocolate and churro, which turned out to be a churro you dip in a very thick hot chocolate, and it looked heavenly.
We decided we had enough time to see the Plaza de Toros, the famous bull ring, and on the way, we passed this building.
Where you live, this would be a major tourist attraction. In Seville, it is home to a toy store.
Now, start humming the Toreador song, okay?
The front of the statue of Pepe Luis Vazquez. Now the back, with the Plaza de Toros and Pepe's butt.
You may now stop humming. Or not, it's up to you. I mean, I'm writing this on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic and you're not going to read this for over a week, so how am I to say? Maybe you were actually playing Carmen on a CD when you started reading this. Maybe you're going to Carmen tonight. Maybe you are appearing in Carmen. Maybe you're playing Carmen. Okay, so I'm a little crazy.
From there, we walked along the Guadalquivir River, which was the only river in Europe whose name I forgot on one of the tests my 10th grade geography teacher, Mr. Weaver, a/k/a "Master Teacher", used to give, where you had to fill in the map with just the rivers and mountain ranges showing (Mr. Weaver called me "Master Student"). My problem was in my notes it looked like "Guadal Qu IV ir."
Right next to the San Telmo Palace was the Torre de Oro, the Tower of Gold.
From there, we walked back to Starbucks for the same reason we went the first time (I'm sorry about the references to bathrooms, but wait til the next entry, which is pretty much all about the digestive tract), and wouldn't you know it, they still didn't have toilet paper. If I were a paying customer, I'd complain. Or, as Marjorie put it, Howard Schultz owes the citizens of Seattle enough for how much he screwed up the Sonics that we think the least he could do is put toilet paper in the bathroom for us, even if we aren't buying anything.
We walked along the other side of the Cathedral this time, and took some photographs.
Those chimneys look like a forest. These icons aren't bad either.
But then we saw these on San Telmo, as we passed it in the sunshine.
That's Seville, when you've seen something, assume you'll see something just like it only nicer in the next block.
South of San Telmo was the area where the World's Fair was held, now occupied, as I mentioned earlier, by the University of Seville. Unlike the University of Washington and Washington University, however, the University of Seville still calls its buildings by the names of the countries whose pavilions they were during the fair. Thus, this is the Peruvian pavilion, which you can tell from the detail on the balcony.
Originally, our cruise was supposed to go to Casablanca instead of Cadiz, which is where we had docked for the trip to Seville. I would have loved to go to Africa, I would have loved to see Casablanca, and to have taken a tour of Marrakesh, which I believe was offered. But I have to say: I would not have given up the trip to Seville for anything. It was beautiful, it was intriguing, it was enervating, it was frustrating, and it was life-affirming. We didn't see enough, we'd love to go back.
I'd like to know some Spanish before I do, though, or take along someone who does.
Are you still reading this, Philip? This means you.
P.S. Here's the eight candles shining for the Maccabees. If you look closely, the red felt actually has little bits of shiny stuff in it. We did this a lot more carefully than you might think.
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