Bikes, Flamenco and Baklava

Having been captivated by Antequera … could Seville do the same, I wonder?

What better way to see a city, than by bike … so we rented two from Antonio.  Seville has over 150 kms of bike routes throughout and surrounding the the old city centre, and they are well used by visitors and residents alike.  For the most the most part lanes are painted green with bi-directional arrows , and often appear on both sides of the roads – separated from cars by a good solid curb.  However, on cobblestones for example, the paths are marked with rows of shiny metal disks – not always easy to delineate (for bikers and pedestrians alike).  Sometimes, you just have to share with pedestrians as the paths merge.  Spanish drivers are courteous … pedestrians are not!

We started off cautiously, and headed for the huge park surrounding the Plaza de Espana  https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaza_de_Espa%C3%B1a_(Sevilla)

Tree-filled, wide sandy avenues, grottos with waterfalls, rows of ducks sunning themselves on the mosaic sides of

water courses (not intended for such purpose!) … and no traffic other than bikes, horse-drawn carriages and people.  Rounding a corner we skidded to a halt, as the splendor of the vast, curved edifice unfolded before our eyes.  It is truly staggering.  The roofs, every balustrade, bridge and the panels depicting all major towns and cities across the country are created in ceramic painted tiles made right here in Triana.  Off to the right … having found the perfect acoustic alcove … sat a guitarist.  Every classical note clear and sweet.  We propped up the bikes

and listened.  As we dropped a handful of coins into his case, I asked how long he had been playing guitar — 33 years.  First Rock, then Blues and now Classical — he grinned as he gave a quick snippet of each.  Such talent.

Riding closer for a look at that magnificent facade …  there, under one of the protruding balconies … a flourish of impromptu flamenco.  Staccato clapping of hands … a firey stamp, and toss of the head … a swirl of skirt … the swell and throb of the guitar and singer.  They had gathered quite a crowd.  Two ladies … obviously both flamencas at a younger age … joyfully swooped and spun in front of me.  What a delight.   As the music and dance ended with a final crescendo, it was discouraging to see how many people quickly melted away with nary a coin being shared … yet they’d been only too pleased to photograph and film the excellent performance.  We’d originally rented the bikes for two hours — figuring we’d be tired by that point, but not so.  A phone call to Antonio extended our time a further 4+ hours (remember, everything closes between 2:30 and 5:30 … even bike rentals!)

Leaving the safety of the gardens, we sallied forth in search of lunch.  Yesterday we’d spotted a Lebanese restaurant right across the road from the University of Seville.   The mouth-watering aromas wafting out of the kitchen necessitated further investigation. There was an outdoor table with room to park bikes right alongside.  We settled on a Tabbouleh salad and lamb kebab wraps … and were not disappointed!  Bursting with freshly-prepared herbs, vegetables and just the right amount of Bulgar wheat, and melt-in-the-mouth skewers of lamb in flatbreads.  Oh my!  And who could leave without trying even one of their baklava, so we didn’t – we had two.  As we sat savouring our food, lineups of people waited patiently for an available table.  We’d timed it just right.

Now, to wear off all those glorious calories … off we plunged into the turmoil of the busy streets that circumnavigate the city.  Traffic thundered by just a few feet away … separated — but only just.  The bike lanes thronged with commuters – both cyclists and electric scooters … overtaking, dodging in and out of the on-coming lane.  Definitely kept brakes at the ready!  Away from the river it’s less polished and more ‘lived in’ … there are fewer sidewalk cafes and more construction … a  touch grubbier perhaps, but it’s more neighbourhood-orientated.  Smaller, more intimate churches, bars and restaurants.

Back along the other side of the river … past a rather sad-looking Magic Island complex … presumably some sort of amusement park – complete with a defunct rocket from the European Space Agency – but with an air of neglect. Did it close up for the winter, or was it something more permanent?

By 4:30 it had become very muggy … we couldn’t return the bikes yet, so we found a shaded bench along the river bank and sat sipping our water while watching the river-life.  One private yacht-for-rent could be heard long before it put in an appearance.  With a captive audience of a dozen or so on the upper deck, two flamenco singer/guitarists – amplified to the maximum — wailed and warbled enthusiastically .  What they lacked in talent, they made up for in volume.  Forcing their audience (and people on the shore) to endure, with no hope of escape, as the boat drifted first upstream, then back down!

With bikes safely returned, we only had 20 minutes until our ticket time at the cathedral (we hadn’t planned on an all day bike tour when booking!).  Weaving through the crowded streets with pedestrians heading determinedly towards drinks and food, we arrived with 5 minutes to spare . . . . but to the wrong entrance.  The one we wanted was completely on the other side . . .  and this building takes up an entire city block!

Tackling the tower first (it closes at 7:00) there were no steps this time, but a series of 37 upward slopes and right-angle turns … puff, puff. Great 360 views, and the tower still possesses it’s carillon of bells in all sizes.  Surely they aren’t still used while people are up here?  Just in case, we made sure to descend before the 7:00 pm cutoff.  And just as well, too.  Precisely on the hour a great clamour arose overhead as the smaller bells on all four sides rang out … as though the Gates of Hades had just opened. Talk about closing time!  I bet anyone still up there would have been deaf for a week.

The interior of the cathedral was impressive in regards size and architecture, but it didn’t have the feeling and soul of Barcelona’s Sagrada.  One very pleasant bonus to having a late tour, is the quiet and lack of other visitors.  Time to sit and contemplate.

Wearily we trudged back across the bridge into Triana.  It had been a long day … but lunch had been quite a while ago.  Antonio, a native son of Triana, had highly recommended a bar which did the absolute BEST tapas.  It was ten to eight when we arrived and the sign in the window quite clearly stated Cerrado … even though all the tables outside (but one) were occupied.  As we stood undecided, an older senor pointed at the table and asked if we were taking it, his intentions of commandeering it were clear.  In through the window we could see food being arranged on the counters in preparation of opening …. “no, no, no …  esta ocupada!” … and we sat our bottoms down and waited with anticipation.

Fearing a repeat of the other night, we ordered with confidence — not wishing to appear dithery tourists.  Beer first . . . then some tapas.  Maybe something with vegetables  – that salad mix might be good … and you can’t go wrong with lamb skewers.  Er … in hindsight, what I thought was a salad consisting of radishes, beets, and zucchini was in actual fact an ‘either or’ selection.  The radishes were very fresh, mind .. and perfectly seasoned with olive oil and salt … and they certainly cleared the palate (and the sinuses) <grin>  Oh well, you can’t win ’em all!   But the lamb! Goodness, what flavour – and cooked to perfection.  I asked if they had flans, (we’ve been unable find find any yet!) but sadly no . . . so we ordered more tapas instead.  Chipirones (baby squid) in green sauce (herbs).  I don’t think either of us have had squid that tender before.  What a day . . . bicycles, guitars, flamenco and outstanding food.