Join Notes from Vivace in this four part write-up of his journey through Sevilla, Spain as he explores it’s historical streets without a smartphone and attempts to find it’s local music scene. Part III will be up on Tuesday April 26th. For Part I (Getting to Sevilla) click here
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Sightseeing
The next morning, I decided to head to the village of Santiponce to see the ruined city of Italica, an ancient Roman City. The nice thing about where my hotel was situated was the fact that it was only walking distance to a major bus hub. I got my bus ticket and stood at the proper bus stop. But the bus that was there showed a different destination point than Santiponce on its electronic front window schedule. Hmm. I went up to the driver inside and asked if he was heading to Santiponce. He pointed to a bus stop that was one over. I stood there, a little confused on why they’d say that the bus to Santiponce was at such and such bus spot, but in reality wasn’t. I wasn’t the only person confused – which made me feel good. As that bus started to pull out, an elderly man (who appeared to be a Spaniard) ran after it asking if that bus was heading to Santiponce. Bad parking, I guess.
The two of us got onto the correct bus and off we headed to Santiponce. I had a good time walking through the ruins of this city. What is sad, I suppose, is that so little of Italica remains not because of earthquakes or weather or war, but because much of the city was taken apart to help build Sevilla in the middle ages. Luckily, the population in Sevilla left the Roman amphitheatre in-tack and this is the main tourist draw.
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When I got onto the bus to head back to Sevilla, we were forced to wait at a gas station as a 5K or 10K run went pass us. Part of the race occurred within the city of Italica – that must be rather cool, running through the ancient ruins of the Roman Empire. We started back towards Sevilla about thirty minutes late. As the driver picked up passengers in Santiponce, there were some loud exchanges (loud in the sense of conversation, not loud in the sense of anger).
The first person picked up was a young girl. She went after the driver in the following made up conversation.
Girl: “You’re late.”
Driver: “Blame those slow-ass runners.”
Girl: “You know I baby sit on Sundays.”
Driver: “What can I do? Get myself arrested by the police.”
Girl: “I need the money for some presents. I can’t lose my job. And there’s that cute pizza delivery boy.”
Driver: ” Oh yes, I must run over a couple dozen runners so that you can order your pizza.”
Girl: “It is too late. The parents probably ordered the pizza already and he is long gone.”
At the next bus stop, an elderly man got onto the bus and the same loud exchange continued.
Old Man: “You’re late.”
Driver: “Blame those slow-ass runners.”
Old Man: “I have an appointment I have to meet.”
Driver: “Appointment? This is Sunday, what possible appointment might you have.”
Old Man: “I took the blue pill. I have an appointment, get it.”
Driver: “Oh, I will speed up as much as possible.”
On our way, the driver hit the horn and waved at a friend who was standing near a café.
Music
Strike 2: I decided to catch a Flamenco show at Casa de la Memoria de Al-Andalus – as suggested by Lonely Planet. I headed out. Both my feet were in pain. By this point, I had blisters on both feet. The original blister that had started on my right foot was about the size of a euro. I walked the various winding roads (as was expected by this point, the direct route was not taken) and found my way to the Flamenco spot. When I got there I was told, “Sorry, sold out. You should buy your tickets in the morning to assure you get a seat.” And so the painful walk back to the hotel began.
Sightseeing
After getting back from Italica, I asked the desk clerks at my hotel about them potentially booking a tour to the city of Granada for me so that I could see the Alhambra (Moorish palaces). Now a couple of the bullet points on Expedia for my hotel were: tour assistance and a concierge desk. Now in my mind, tour assistance means that they book the tour for you. I guess that is just my fictional impression, because tour assistance really meant: here’s a brochure and this is the phone number you call. Yeah, I think I can get that type of service at a Motel 6 and for far less of a nightly charge. Okay, whatever, I made the phone call and booked myself onto a tour group to Alhambra.
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(Click on images to enlarge)
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Now I’d suffered through some jet lag on Saturday and it continued Sunday night with my waking up (like a rocket again) at 3:30 a.m. That was it for me as I was unable to get back to sleep. My tour guide picked me up at 6:30 a.m. There were only three of us heading out to Alhambra that day from Sevilla. The tour guide mentioned that on Sunday around 35 people went to Alhambra. My own observation was that Sevilla was packed on Sunday and during the rest of the week it emptied out.
My initial conversation with the tour guide went like this:
Guide: “So you are going to pay me €120.”
Me: “Yes.”
Guide: “Will you be paying by cash?”
Me (this next line driven partially from the fact that they took my credit card number over the phone): “Do you mean I can pay by credit card?”
Guide: “Cash is best, but you can pay by credit card.”
Me: “I would prefer to pay by credit card.”
Guide: “But cash is best as you did say you’d pay by cash.”
Me – thinking: So why exactly did you just say that I could pay by credit card? (Maybe I could be blamed for leading the witness.)
Under normal circumstances, our tour guide would have driven us out to Granada, but since there were so few of us the tour company decided to send us off via the train. So he dropped us off at the train station.
Before heading off to the train, I decided to withdraw a few more euros. I went to an ATM machine in the train station. ATM 1 message after refusing to give me cash: We are having technical problems. ATM 2 message after refusing to give me cash: Your bank won’t allow the transfer of money. Oh no, did Bank of America shut down my ATM card? I wasn’t panicked, but I was worried. Whenever I go over-seas, I always bring along a few hundred US dollars so it wasn’t like I was without cash, but I always consider that my emergency fund – a fund to exchange into the necessary currency only if there is a serious problem such as losing my credit card or getting stuck in a country for an extra couple days.
Oh well, I wasn’t going to resolve the problem anytime soon so I hopped onto the train and off we headed to Granada/Alhambra. The three of us were picked up by another tour guide who drove us up to the Alhambra. There, we were met by another tour guide who asked me, “So you’re going to pay us €120?” My mind raced, are you kidding me?
Me: “I paid the driver back in Sevilla.”
Guide: “Where?”
Me: “At the train station. Look, here’s my info.”
Guide, takes my info: “This is your train ticket. You need to pay for the tour.”
Me: “I did. I gave the driver €120.”
Guide: “What driver?”
Me: “Do you mind giving back my ticket? The driver who picked me up at the hotel.”
Guide: “You mean the tour guide?”
Me: “Yes, I paid the tour guide.”
They let me go ahead on the tour – probably speculating that I was some foreigner trying to pull a fast one on them. Alhambra is a major tourist spot, but I have to say I wasn’t that impressed. It might have had something to do with:
Everything eventually worked out. The tour guides in Granada called up the guy in Sevilla to verify that I had in fact paid – though perhaps my Sevilla tour guide complained to them about how I’d wanted to use my credit card to pay for everything. I went to a Barclay’s ATM in Granada and was able to pull out some Euros. I stopped at a grocery store and bought some tangerines.
But just because things started to work out, didn’t mean that everything ended perfectly in Granada. I walked into a department store and headed to the bathroom. Inside was a young man I’ll describe as the Strange Bathroom Dude. He stared at me. I walked into the stall. After finishing my business, I walked out. He was still there. I washed my hands. He was still hanging around. (Think about the bathroom a little smaller than the ones you’ll find at Target.) I walked outside and he followed me out. We reached a double door and I opened it for him and indicated that I was holding the door open for him. He reluctantly took the offer. I walked behind him. He stopped where the entrance to the bathroom area was and watched as I walked on pass. Strange Bathroom Dude. I almost reported him, but didn’t.
Funny moment in Granada. It was pouring rain and an elderly couple was taking shelter under a store front. As they saw me coming to them, they called out to me, asking a question – in Spanish. After they saw that I was carrying a tourist map, they waved me off, laughing. I shared in their laughter.
After a couple hours in Granada, we were taken back to the train station. I noticed police walking around the train station. Near the ticket counter, a police officer began to interrogate a disheveled man. I did a quick search of my pockets, making sure I knew where my passport was just in case I got questioned. More police arrived. A trio of them began to interrogate the man. A woman who had been sitting next to the guy slowly got up and walked away. They eventually led him out of the train station. Another police officer walked through the station and I noticed that he had a handful of passports with him. At the time, I thought, some folks must be pissed, because the train to Sevilla was about to arrive. When I arrived at Sevilla, I asked my tour guide what that might have been about. He ventured a guess that the police were looking for shady individuals from North Africa. A couple days later, I learned that Spanish authorities had arrested al-Qaida suspects. The time line doesn’t line up, as I was in Granada on Monday and the arrests took place on Tuesday, but I’m sure the search for al-Qaida started earlier than Tuesday.
Anyways, the train ride back to Sevilla was full of minor adventures. All three of us Sevilla tourists were in the same car along with two teenage girls – I’m guessing they didn’t know each other. The two teenagers began chatting away like any normal couple of teenage girls (I suppose). They chatted so much that my fellow two tourists requested a different car. My car also had a coke vending machine. After awhile, it stopped working. Folks would come by and drop in their euros. Nothing would come out. An older guy would try and help them out. They’d bang on the side of the machine, trying to get a bottle of water. They’d try different coins. Personally, I suspected the coin container was too full. I also had a nice conversation with a guy from Singapore. He worked for UPS and was on vacation with his wife. We shared some notes about our time in Spain. He asked where I lived. I told him Los Angeles. He mentioned he was in that area often as UPS had him fly into San Francisco for meetings all the time. I wanted to mention that San Francisco and Los Angeles were rather far from each other, but let it rest.
Random Observations about Spain
Music
Strike 3: After coming back from Granada, I decided to give it another go at the local music scene. Per my internet search, I believed there was a small music venue not too far from where I was staying called Malanda Chamber. Off I went, and well I couldn’t find it. And doing some post-research, I am unable to re-find it via the Internet. Strange.
Check back next Tuesday to see if Notes from Vivace has better luck finding the music scene in Sevilla in Part III of this four part series.
