Common Sense was looking like a building site with parts, tools and blokes taking up every space, both inside and on deck. What a great opportunity to escape for a few days and leave them to it! Having visited Vasco da Gama’s tomb in Lisbon, we thought a visit to another great legend from the social studies textbook, Christopher Columbus, was in order. Seville, where his remains lie in the great cathedral, is only a few hours away by bus.
Seville – oranges and operas were my only background knowledge apart from Columbus' tomb. The Barber of Seville, Carmen and Don Juan are all set there, so it’s clearly a romantic, larger-than-life kind of place. Then there are the oranges. This is a story that Martin told me about their introduction to Spain (ie not a particularly reliable source, but a good story.)
A young knight had to leave his beautiful lover in Seville when he went to the Holy Land to fight in the Crusades. When he returned, he said he had brought her a unique gift, something precious from the exotic shores of North Africa – and he handed her … an orange. Disgusted, she hurled it back at him and spurned him forever. The knight died of a broken heart and was buried with his rejected gift. From his grave, its seeds sprouted Spain’s first orange tree.
Apparently this is why Seville oranges taste bitter. They are certainly beautiful, however: avenues and groves of glossy dark green, cooling the glare of white stone and baking terracotta. It’s a lovely city, nestled around its massive cathedral whose tower, the Giraldo, was actually part of the site’s original mosque and is visible from almost everywhere. This location on the plain of the Guadalquivir River has been a human settlement for at least 3000 years; archaeological digs have revealed artefacts from Phoenician, Visigoth, Arab and Roman cultures, but the locals are sticking with the legend that the city was founded by Hercules, from whom all true Sevillanos are descended.
The first immediate difference from Portugal was the language. While the written languages are similar, they sound quite different – all the ‘sh’ sounds and its guttural quality make Portuguese sound almost eastern European. Also, virtually every Portuguese, in the Algarve and Lisbon at least, speaks English willingly and well. The Spanish in Seville broadcast their language loudly and flamboyantly. If you don’t understand, they speak it louder and with more extravagant gestures! It’s a good lesson for an English speaker to experience this linguistic chauvinism, as we do it to everyone else. Between my French and Terry’s Latin, we managed to make sense of most things eventually. We think.
The food is different. Portuguese food is good quality and fresh, but I could just about write the menu that virtually every restaurant offers. In Seville, tapas bars dominate, but there is a lot of innovation beyond the standard fare. In both countries, being a waiter is clearly a real profession, and a male-dominated one. Everything is done with expertise and flair – it’s part of the dining experience, and quite different from the earnest high school kids who wait tables for dismal wages in the US. Tapas are a great way to try small serves of interesting dishes – we enjoyed lamb casserole, prawn skewers, seared tuna, patatas bravas, sea urchin roe, chickpeas and spinach, peppers stuffed with codfish, mushrooms, mussels, olives … all sorts of goodies washed down with cold beer, vino rosaldo or sangria (Terry was the victim of a killer sangria made with wine, vodka, vermouth and gin!) We tried the house paella in a couple of restaurants as well – totally delicious, I could just about live on it. Terry will review some Seville drinking and eating in a future blog.
Well there is a lot more to tell, but I'll close for now. This blog is driving me crazy by refusing to upload photos so I'll post some on Facebook and save the rest for next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment