Staying civil in Seville

"You go up the tower and I'll wait here." Except Lyn was gone when I came back and stayed missing for some time. The last time she did this to me was Kalabaka, in Greece, in January 1987. I thought I made my thoughts on this sort of thing clear then but I suppose it has been a while. The thing is that Lyn has no sense of direction so I had to trust the Torre D'Oro would a big enough landmark for her to find her way back. 

We were there because, when we arrived at the cathedral and walked into the open door, the only interesting sight was a squad of locals scraping candle wax off the floor from the previous night. We were shooed away and so went to the Alcázar to see a stupendous queue which seemed to be moving not at all.

 

Plan 3 was a walk to the river where I decided to climb the queueless Torre d’Oro. Lyn demurred but promised to wait below and read her river cruise pamphlet. The tower proved to be a dullish naval museum with goodish views from the top. (Seville’s river port was the starting point for Columbus et al.) I was only in the tower long enough for Lyn to vanish.

Lyn eventually reappeared claiming to have been within sight the whole time. She had resolved that we would go on a river cruise tomorrow. We walked to the bullring and lined up, only to be told that entry was by tour only and the next was 70 minutes away. We were a bit morally conflicted anyway, so we passed.

Back to the cathedral we wandered, to discover a long but moving queue which we joined. Finally, we entered the world’s biggest Gothic church and 3rd biggest church. It is immense, gloomy and of course, crowded with tourists like us. We saw Christopher Columbus’ tomb, shiny altar thingummies, some nice ceilings, one Goya, a huge organ, gated chapels and choir stalls, and, this being Andalucia, a courtyard of orange trees. Lyn, who loves a nice church, felt unmoved. The sole Goya, seen from a distance, left me pondering the problem represented by the hundreds of other paintings in such buildings. Almost all are dull and some are just bad. Sadly they are religious so nobody seems to have the heart to get rid of them.

After a bite to eat we revisited the Alcázar queue. The pre-booked line was moving but not us. We gave in and walked towards home, buying flamenco tickets along the way. We passed an Easter procession but after standing to watch the band and about 500 Nazarenes walk by, the pasos was still out of sight, so we gave up on that too. We went to the supermarket and finally home where a siesta beckons.

In the early evening we allowed plenty of time to negotiate processions on our short walk to a flamenco show. In fact, enough time for Lyn to find a dress shop, try on three tops and buy one. The show was thoroughly enjoyable even if the singing is an acquired taste.

On the short walk back we crossed paths with a procession just as the pasos was passing and then had to wait for a pause before we crossed the road between cross carriers. Altogether, you can’t get a more Seville sort of evening than that.