Last weekend we traveled to Sevilla for the weekend.  We left on a bus to Malaga on Friday afternoon and then caught a train to Sevilla.  The last time I was in Sevilla I was 16 years old on a whirlwind trip with my parents and seven other teenage girls.  The things I remember about Sevilla were my feelings around the place. I remember colors and tiles in my teenage brain. I remember finding myself loving this place over most others we had been too.  We were probably only there for a few days but it left a lasting impression, enough that sometimes the Plaza de Espana still appears in my dreams. I was so excited to share this with Ana and hoping that the expectations were still true.

We got into the city at 8pmish and wandered out of the train station and already I could feel that I would like this place.  As we walked to our Airbnb, we wandered through the labyrinth of small streets, seeing places opening up for dinner and people coming out all over the place to join others.  Ana and I, while eager to see where we were staying, were both smiling at one another. Yes, this is good.  We met our host, who was gracious and wonderful, she gave us dinner recommendations, we put down our stuff and were back out the door to eat dinner in a Spanish timeframe, 9pm or so.  We are adjusting to this eating schedule which could be good or bad.

We found the place our host recommended and sat outside, drank vino tinto, ate amazing tapas and just delighted in the plaza we landed in.

The next morning, we got up fairly early to head out for our walking tour, stopping for a Spanish breakfast of tomato toast and coffee and loving every second.

Our walking tour was great and landed us in the Plaza de Espana, the place that appears in my dreams and it lived into that dream with colorful tiles, bright colors and passionate flamenco to watch. Ana looked around bright eyed and declared this to be one of the best plazas she has ever been in. We wandered and oooed and aaahhed.  Wandered through the amazing park just across the street and made our way to a late lunch by our standards and early by Spanish standards.  Our day continued to be sweet with wanderings around the city to see and do all that we could and ended our day with a Flamenco show that took our breath away and dinner afterward.

On Sunday the rain poured down but we had tickets to the Alcazar, a beautiful and breathtaking mix of architecture between the Islamic architecture and Roman aftermath. Even though we were soaked to the bone and trying to catch any shelter we were amazing by each new room.

We spent our afternoon fleeing from cafe to cafe and walking around the barrio Santa Cruz, the traditional Jewish quarter in between rain bursts until it was time to walk to the train station.

Our time was too short but pretty magical. Sevilla is full of color, passion, and a loud way of living that epitomizes a part of Spain for me.  The speech is quick and full while our coastal town for the month is slower and more paced.  I was chatting with our walking guide in Spanish and he turned to me and said in Spanish, “your language is good!  But it is different…como una cancion (like a song)”  I smiled and thanked him.  He said, “My spanish is muy rapido (very fast).” I laughed, “Oh yes, I try to keep up”  But Sevilla is full of tile and blues, beautiful streets crammed with lively people and all trying to be part of it.

We shall return.