We love Seville; it seems to us just about the perfect city. Leafy, shaded parks that provide contrast and refuge from the warren of narrow streets in the old town. Majestic plazas and hidden plazuelas. The Giralda, a twelfth century Almohad minaret, emblem of Spain, and the cathedral to which it later became attached, the world’s third largest church. The cradle of flamenco across the river in Triana. The Alcazar with its insanely ornate mudejar palaces. The old juderia of Santa Cruz, its boulevards and squares lined with orange trees. The bull ring. The Torre de Oro. Everything, basically.
K is in her element with the big city shopping and I am in mine with…well, anything – as long as it isn’t shopping. What we share is the opinion that this is the best place to eat in Andalucia; were El Tapeo a country, this would certainly be its capital. If it has one minor flaw, and this is in fact the only criticism we can ever think of, it’s that it isn’t Granada. But let’s not quibble.
We part for the afternoon – K for the shops, me for this other thing I want to do. When we meet up again she hasn’t finished and suggests I go down to the cathedral for a look. For all it’s glory there has always been something inaccessible about the cathedral for me. More