HostelBloggers in Seville
It’s time, once again, to turn our attention towards, well, ourselves. Yup, having decided a couple of weeks back that too much time had passed since our trip to the Dam, we scoured the budget airlines (not XL, fortunately), and hastily arranged a trip around that oven-hot region of Spain commonly known as Andalucia. So, armed with a copy of Washington Irving’s Tales of the Alhambra, and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, along with a few haphazardly chosen items of clothing and a stunning lack of toiletry provisions, we set off, all gleaming eyes and thoughts of drunken afternoon naps. Here, pretty much, is what happened…
Day One. Arriving late into the city, we meet a well-to-do seeming Saffer at the airport who is similarly heading for Hostel Urbany. We immediately smell a travel buddy, and two hours later, having checked into the perfectly friendly hostel and negotiated its complex system of electronic key cards, we are sat - along with another parched traveler - outside one of the studenty bars along the Alameda de Hercules (over to the west of the city center).
Spain’s notorious for its late night easy-going drinking, and the Alameda in particular throbs with a lively sociability. A long dusty boulevard, however, it may be the least visually pleasing thing in the whole of Seville. But then, after an hour or so of getting drink after drink brought to our table, we could hardly see anyway - and nor, apparently, could anyone else in the vicinity!
Day Two. Waking later than is socially acceptable even in Spain, a pounding mess of a head takes us straight out of the hostel and to the nearest bar still offering breakfast (desayuno). If there’s one thing we like more than drinking in Spain, it may well be eating in Spain, and breakfast is a particular winner. You simply sit down, order a coffee, some orange juice, and a tostada (toasted baguette smothered in whatever combination of oil, salt and tomato that you desire) and watch the world as it shambles along.
Today, however, each bite of the tostada seems to go the wrong way - up, into our head, where it starts to ferment nicely with the alcohol already sloshing about up there. We pay up and head southeast, to the verdant and cultivated splendor of the Parque de Maria Luisa. The Parque (along with the magnificant Plaza Espana) was created back in 1929 for Seville’s first World Expo - it’s one of the most chilled and invigorating places to be found in the city.
Nighttime falls before we realize, and a date made amidst the carnage of the night before to return to the scene of the crime cannot be broken. With the remains of a thick head still lingering, we trudge over to the Alameda, and another long night of drinking commences.
Day Three. There’s a smell, and it’s us. Having forgotten to bring a towel (along with any kind of soap or deodorant) we’re forced to do an impromptu ’air-drying’ dance in the bathroom to shake off excess water. Unfortunately, having not locked the door properly, we’re promptly disturbed in mid-shake by one of our roommates (she will later that day be heard asking to change rooms, although no explanation was given).
Thus far Seville has been wonderful in a lazy, drunken sort of way, but today things need to change. We grab our books, and head to the Alfalfa - a completely charming and skin-pricklingly alive barrio that marries talkative tapas joints with family-friendly playgrounds. We spend a few happy hours moving from bar to bar, nibbling on tapas and reading Tales of the Alhambra. This is how Spain should be - and is!
Later we head into the Old Town proper, known as the Barrio de Santa Cruz, and take a trip round Seville’s version of the Alhambra: the Alcazar. But more on that later…
Day Four. Today we leave Seville, though not before a trip across the river into the Barrio de Triana. There’s a saying amongst residents that ‘Seville is a Barrio of Triana’, and the sense of community is palpable as you explore this wonderfully scruffy and strongly idiosyncratic area.
Seville is an almost indescribably beautiful place that drips with faded grandeur. If a city could be described as architecturally eloquent, then you get the feeling Seville would have trademarked the term long ago. Across its vast Old Town, the barrios - Santa Cruz, the Alfalfa, Arenal, Triana, San Lorenzo and the Macarena - all segue into one another, each one as intriguing and visually arresting as the last… But there’s little time for rumination, as we’re on the move again. Next stop: Cadiz.
