February half term was a week's break that I looked forward to with both excitement and mild trepidation...I was heading away for a week in the South of Spain all by myself - cue visions of me dressed in pyjamas and kicking my leg high in the air (ala Bridget Jones)... It all started back in November when Ross and I first dealt with the fact that our Feb half term holidays weren't going to match up; in fact my school's chosen half term dates were a week before basically all other schools in the UK. With that in mind, alongwith our plan to go somewhere every half term and take advantage of our holidays as much as possible, we decided separate trips had to be planned. Spain was high on our list for travels, but the South of Spain (specifically Seville) was particularly attractive because of how safe it is for single women travellers! Always a bonus if i come back from my half term trip alive... so in one of our geekier moments, Ross or I (not sure who is madder than the other) jokingly suggested the potential of planning the exact same holiday for ourselves, one week apart. What started as a joke soon became quite appealing, mainly because it meant that we would 'kinda' be sharing the same experiences. So, with that in mind, I booked a Tues to Sat trip to Spain for me, and another for Ross...one week later. Let me tell you, the hotel I booked was mighty confused, not least because I was using google translate to communicate my booking to them in wonky Spanish! I can only speak in great detail about my own experiences, but I assure you that both Ross and I absolutely loved Spain. It's now high, very, very high on our list of places to return to. It is such a picturesque place, particularly Seville (or Sevilla) where we based ourselves. I had found a small famly run pension where the grown up daughters spoke a little English. The rooms were small and monastic but comfortable with ensuite bathrooms for a good price in a central location and I leapt at the chance to stay there. It was cosy and comfortable and housed in a traditional home, deep amongst the winding alleys and narrow streets of the picturesque Santa Cruz district. This district is a series of winding streets, not unlike Venice or other littler towns in Italy or France, featuring countless neighbourhood stores and little pottery shops and tapas bars, all snaking towards the central marketplace, main square and fabulous cathedral. The whole area is amazingly quaint and just begging to be explored. I arrived in Seville on a late night flight and made my way to my little hotel, along the winding streets, feeling extremely impressed with myself. I found a little store that sold plain looking sandwiches, already made up with visible fillings and made the decision to dine on that for dinner...mainly because I know no Spanish and was too tired to whip out my fancy sign language skills just yet. I ate the VERY ordinary sandwiches before grabbing some bottled water and snackfoods from the local store and bunking down in the hotel for the night, laptop on hand to watch a few episodes of Gilmore Girls...(sad, I know...are you picturing that scene from Bridget Jones yet?) The next morning I rose early and after an incredibly embarassing situation where I, clumsily unable to aim the ahower rose correctly, managed to FLOOD MY ENTIRE HOTEL ROOM wandered the side streets and through some divine hand I came upon a Churros and Chocolate storefront where fresh and fabulous hot fried doughnut sticks, famous in Spain and unbelievably yum, were being fried and served with thick hot chocolate. The churros were my saviour after my embarassing morning, where I had had to get out of my shower early after hearing incessant baging on my door. Frustrated, I turned off my shower mid way through, and stepped out of the cubicle...and into massive puddles of water the exact size and shape of my room. The water had seeped through the tiles and down through the ceiling of my hosts... definitely my most embarassing experience ever. Picture me here, apologising profusely to an elderly Spanish gentleman, one hand holding up my towel, the other holding a phrasebook... I purchased a takeaway cone and continued my walk, quickly reaslising the sheer luck with which i had found my delicious breakfast. In my few hours' morning wander, I never once came upon another churros joint, but I did meet numerous foreign tourists who spotted my cone of deliciousness, flagged me down and begged directions. I felt like quite the expert. Seville is commonly divided into several main areas. The central zone is Santa Cruz, where I was staying. It is characterised by the main tourist attractions, places of beauty, tourist and tourist shops, great tapas bars, a lively atmosphere, and of course three Starbucks stores - inescapable. The area to the east of this is known as El Arenal hosts the famous stadium where bullfighting takes place. There's an area further east called Triana, across the wide expanse of river, where bullfighters and gypsies famously lived and still live. Here you can see (and I did) the Callejon De La Inquisition (the alley where people walked to their deaths during the Spanish Inquisition) and numerous pottery stores and workshops making traditional, richly patterned and colourful spanish tiles. To the North of the city is my favourite area, somewhere I explored for hours on my final day in Spain, the Macarena District. I saw no'one performing this tragic nineties dance routine, but I was treated to several nun sightings, a monk or three and some of the most lovely, authentic and picturesque back streets. The last main area is known as San Sebastian and features gorgeous landscaped parklands, some which have been kept beautifully, other which have disappointingly been left by the wayside. This area features a breathtakingly beautiful building called the Plza de Espana that was designed to feature in a World Expo to be held in Seville in the 1930s. Unfortunately, the Depression hit the world and the expo was never to be. The building, a stunning construction covered all over with blue, white and yellow patterned tiles produced in the Triana district and adorned with a boat filled moat, was left alone, unused for decades until recently. It's now a 'buzzy' place and reminded me in atmosphere a lot of central parks and green spaces in Australia like the Royal Botanical Gardens. I arrived in Seville on a Tuesday night and left that Saturday, spending Wednesday and Saturday exploring the sights, smells, sounds and tastes of Seville, easily one of the most beautiful and refined and liveable cities I've ever had the pleasure of visiting. Is it easy to tell I fell in love with the place? I loved exploring its back streets, poring over handicrafts, pausing at heavy gates to listen to the nuns as they chatted and giggled gaily behind their heavily cloistered walls. I loved sampling different local foods (churros of course, but also lomo and paella and calamari and castella cakes and biscuits) It truly is a gorgeous city. On Thursday and Friday i took two days trips. On Thursday, it was an early morning as I headed to Santa Justa, the main station (once famous for being a possible stop on the Orient Express) and took a train for about an hour to nearby Cordova, a Moorish town built up and around a very famous mosque, now under the control of the Catholic church, which has 'changed hands' between Muslim and Christian people throughout history. In the time of Julius Caesar, Cordova was capital of a large Roman province, and the place still has that feeling of importance and history about it. The mosque, most famous for its 856 giant arches, built of marble, jaspar, onyx and granite. Even now, the cathedral is in the power of the Catholic church and Spanish Muslims are still lobbying for the chance to pray in the mosque/cathedral, but to no avail. It's sad in that way, walking into such a significant place; a building built for religious observance by a particular group, with their faith in mind in the architecture...only to find it has been taken over and had additions made that, in some ways, compromise the original intentions of the building. On another note though, it is remarkable in many ways how the icons of both religions have been able to merge quite artfully in the one building. Something to think about...as you sit in the courtyard outside the mosque, a stunning space where you can relax under countless Seville Orange trees. The orange trees is Seville are remarkable. They make the city unique, gorgeous and orange scented! I was unlucky enough to be caight in a massive thunderstorm in Seville, but lucky enough to experience the 'after' where the oily scent of oranges is all over the city, thick in the air and absolutely beautiful. The other day trip I took was a taster of the white villages I planned to see later in the year in Greece. In the early days of Spain, the Moors settled and where they settled they built whitewashed villages, which are still, by law, whitewashed every year (in June, I think?) by the current villagers. These villages are breathtakingly lovely and I had the chance to experience a really special one, perched on a cliffside overlooking dry, green pastures, called Arcos de la Frontera. I accessed the village by train then a local bus from Jerez, home of sherry. Jerez was a less than impressive town that reminded me more of big urbanised country towns in Oz like Geelong or Bendigo than the rest of the more quaint and traditional Spain, but its tapas bars are apparently amazing, and I unluckily met the sleep town during siesta. Arcos however, was stunning. I rode a rickety local bus driven by possbily the friendliest driver in the world. He wasn't put off by my lack of Spanish and happily chatted at me for close to half an hour before another soul joined us on the route, whereupon he redirected his ceaseless chatter and toothy grins to the old lady who had joined us. On several occasions he stopped the bus to have a quick, loud conversation with men sitting on the roadisde. There was lots of throwing arms in the air, shaking heads, and muttering. Had the driver not pulled away with what seemed like a happy cheer and a big grin, I would have supposed them to be arguing. The bus wound through the dry pastures in rural Spain. The landscape here was less lush, warmer than leafy tree lined Seville and much drier. The sun beat down on empty pastures. Horses grazed near cacti. We reached Arcos in mid afternoon, just in time for me to explore the local gypsy market, eat more churros, marvel at the ridiculous items that were being sold and hike up into the main white village streets of Arcos. It was in Arcos that I discovered one of the most wonderful things about Spain, something so quaint and lovely and so very 'Spain'. I noticed as I walked the quiet back streets, attempting to take photos of myself that didn't look ridiculous and managed to feature both my face and some of the scenery, when I noticed a little wooden door, slightly ajar. I stepped through the door and realised I was in the entrance to a cloistered convent. A price list for sweets and cakes adorned the wall next to a kind of odd looking wooden contraption. A sort of confession box crossed with a lazy susan. This, I was to discover, is how the nuns and monks make themselves a bit of money (because that pesky Catholic church really does need the income, right?!) The nuns (and monks) bake sweets and traditional cakes and sell them, but because they are cloistered and meant to live a life with limted to no interaction with people outside the convent or monastery walls, they have to seel their goods by using 'El Torno' a lazy Susan type contraption where the nun sits on one side and the purchaser (ie. me) sits on the other. I ring a little bell and am greeted by the nun, tell her my order for dulces (sweets) and put my money on the Lazy Susan contraption before pushing it and sending it spinning. It then spins back around and the trustworkthy nun has placed my sweets on it! This is not just for tourists - the locals buy their nun-made sweets like this daily! It is the essence of Spain, the lovely combination of modern and traditional that captured my heart.
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