To thine self(ie) be true

We have officially crossed the Rubicon.  We're old.  We're also, apparently, the only two people visiting Sevilla this week who are not featured in every photo taken by cameras/phones/tablets.  Half of the travelers are using selfie sticks.  Another quarter are using phones for their selfies.  That leaves all the visitors from Asia.  They're using tablets to take their own picture over and over and over again.  The upside of this is that we get to see everything we want to see without anyone else getting in the way.  We're virtually alone while we soak in the incredible beauty.

Today, we headed to the Real Alcazar and the cathedral.  Lines for both snaked half way to our hotel.  Both are across the street from the hotel, fortunately, so we were inside within 5 minutes in each instance.

The Alcazar is still used by the royal family when they're in Seville.  No signs of them today, but we enjoyed their digs.   More than the palace itself, the royal gardens were incredible.  The tropical plantings (Terry pointed out that there was not a weed in sight) were dotted with fountains and 'water channels' with the overall effect being a peaceful, cool space in the middle of the city.  Maybe it was the 30 foot high wall surrounding the gardens and keeping out the riff-raff that lent to the quiet.  Peacocks roamed the grounds freely.  Fortunately, Terry couldn't find any dandelions--his usual 'bait'--to entice the royal poultry into his clutches.



The cathedral is pretty impressive (the larges gothic cathedral in the world), but its star attraction is, without a doubt, the tomb of Columbus.  His remains (what's left of them--as he has parts scattered all over the place) are held aloft by four kings of Aragon, Navarre, Castille and whatever the other one is.    Monday was a national holiday...the day he discovered the new world.  He, of course, died never knowing that he hadn't found his route to the far east.  Someone should have told him.


Day two and we've found 'our routine'.  After siesta, we head out for drinks and tapas. Every place serves tapas, but the quality and reputation varies pretty wildly.  Few of the waiters are forthcoming with their English skills, so we have to make due with my quasi-Spanish.  At least they don't laugh.  They bring food without asking me to repeat myself.  That's something.  On the other hand, we never really know for sure that we're eating what we think we're eating.  You can spend an evening going from bar to bar feasting on small plates and never hit $30.  This could become a habit...easily.