Sevilla

     You could smell incense in the air. Two cops stood side by side blocking the thin street from cars. People were walking, trancelike, to a giant gilded statue of the Virgin Mary, perched on invisible shoulders hidden beneath a velvet curtain. There were black suited musicians, most of them young, with gleaming brass instruments and drums, silently waiting behind. I took my place among the other onlookers. The air was starting to get cold but the heat from a dozen candles warmed the tiny street and sent shadows dancing up the cobblestones. Suddenly, and with a volume that made me jump, the drums started. BOOM! Silence except for the echo rolling out like a carpet along the street. Then the brass started. One by one, the musicians started to sway.

     We went down to Sevilla without a plan, without a place to stay, and without knowing much about the city beforehand. We knew we had a long weekend to take advantage of and my good friend from school offered us a cheap way to ride down. On the way we stopped off in Trujillo, a small pueblo an hour south of Madrid famous for being the birthplace of the conquistador Pizarro. It was the first truly cold day we had and people were wrapped up in big coats, walking across the town square where a statue of Pizarro stood beneath the shelter of a medieval church. We had café and tapas under an awning. Stalls on the outskirts of the plaza sold roasted almonds, walnuts, and sweet pecans. I bought a big bag before we headed back to the car.

    

Trujillo

          When we got to Sevilla, Cody, Jake, and I thought it best to go ahead and figure out a place to stay. It was the day after Halloween and we didn't realize that the hostels would be all booked up. We followed our phones around winding streets, looking for the blue and star sign of a hostel. Finally, after four rejections, the owner of one offered to rent us his private apartment. Altogether it was only 10 euros more a night than a regular hostel room and this way we wouldn't have to share a bathroom or kitchen.

          Not planning turned out in our favor. The view of the city was incredible. We spent the next two days travelling with a friend of mine who showed us all of the best places to walk, eat, and drink in the city. Here are a couple of my favorites:

1. Serranitos in El Patio: Serranitos are a specialty in Seville, especially if you find yourself in El Patio. The bar was packed with people and we had to scream to get our orders heard but the atmosphere was amazing. When you get your bocadillo you sit on raised steps in the back of the bar and eat, throwing your napkins and toothpicks on the ground in true Spanish style. A serranito is a ham, green pepper and mustard sandwich served hot. Wash it down with a glass of beer and you're ready for a couple more hours of sightseeing.

 

 

2. Las Setas : Literally The Mushrooms, Las Setas is the largest wooden structure in the world and dominates the middle of downtown Seville.  For around 3 euros you can go take an elevator to the top and walk around the curving stairs that follow the contours of the sculpture, getting amazing views of cathedrals and white washed buildings. At the end you trade your ticket in for a beer or glass of sangria. This is a great starting part if you're touring the city for the day because it allows you to orient yourself to where the major sites are.

 



 



3. The Cathedral and main square: Nearly every town in Spain has a major square around which are the major sites but Seville's was by far the most picaresque for me. Whitewashed walls, orange trees, clean streets, flamenco dancers, gypsies that try to steal from you while handing you a sprig of rosemary. It's the picture of Spain you always had in your head. Add to that amazing weather, horse drawn carriages and street music and you have an unforgettable experience.

4. Plaza de Espana : At dusk we headed to Plaza de Espana. Originally built for Spain's world fair, the massive complex is now one the greatest tourist attractions in Seville. We walked through giant pillars just as the sun was setting. I've never seen anything like it. The Plaza is shaped like a horseshoe with a circular moat on the inside. The size alone knocks the wind out of you and we all split up to explore it on our own before we were capable of speaking again. Around the outer walls are murals depicting the different regions of Spain. Bridges span the moat and connect to a giant tiled circle where carriages and street vendors sell roasted chestnuts and drinks.

 

 

Like the procession we wandered into that night, Seville was strange, beautiful, and totally unexpected. It goes to show you that sometimes the best adventures are those unplanned. 

The night Spain ruined pizza

     Moving abroad has its share of challenges. In Spain, for example,  most apartments don't come with dryers or air conditioning. Totally cool, I'm fine with that. Just don't use a comforter and leave your wash out for three days until its starting to sprout. I can deal. One thing that definitely doesn't suck about Spain is that the food is fantastic and super cheap. You can get a mini beer and a plate of paella for 2 euros down the street, and a weeks worth of groceries for 20. Not bad at all. But one thing I have been missing is pizza.
     I'm going on record now to say that pizza is the perfect food. It's portable, deliverable, can be folded, cut into squares, reheated, eaten cold. It's cheap and has a high calorie count,which makes it ideal for starving college kids. You've got the whole food pyramid hidden in its layers of cheese, tomato sauce, pepperoni, and crust. It's beautiful really.
     So last night I started going into withdrawals thinking of that greasy perfection that I had gone nearly a week and a half without. I decided to take a run at a frozen pizza from the mercado down the street. After spending exactly 18 minutes trying to understand the three strange flavors they had in the frozen food aisle I decided to go with Atun y Bacon. Being that bacon was the only ingredient I recognized, I snagged it and a bottle of vino and headed back.

     With two episodes of Breaking Bad on my laptop, my roommate out for the night and a pizza in the oven I was good to go. Soon my lust would be quenched and I would fall into that zone of greasy comfort that one experiences post pizza guzzling.
     Suddenly a smell began to waft its way into the living room. A pungent, thick smell. A fishy smell.
     I cautiously entered the kitchen and closed the window to the courtyard outside, thinking some awful paella related food disaster had drifted in. But the smell grew stronger. I sniffed the trash, the sink, the fridge.
    Then I opened the door of the oven and out came the horrific burnt fish smell. I turned off the heat and rushed to my computer to find out exactly what the hell was on my pizza.
    Atun. Tuna. I had bought a bacon, and tuna, pizza.
    I wanted to rush down to the market and demand my money back. I wanted to explain to them that there was a reason most photos of pizza show the simple but elegant relationship of pepperoni and cheese. You don't mess with a classic. But they were closed and my stomach was growling menacingly.
     So when I got over the initial shock I tried it. I really did. I sliced a piece off and gingerly tested it...and it came right back up. This was no freshly caught tuna but dehydrated, grated tuna, with a sickly grayish color. I felt defeated. And hungry. Mostly still hungry. So I did the only thing I knew. I scraped off the cheese, bacon, and tuna, and doused the sad looking pile of dough and tomato sauce in front of me with balsamic vin to cover up the smell.
    When this farce of what was supposed to be a gluttonous feast was over I donned a hazmat suit and deposited the tortured remains of my meal into the trash outside.
   
    I rinsed my mouth out with a heady dose of red wine and lay down to a comfortless sleep. It was  the night Spain ruined pizza.