This is a seriously beautiful place. The sun shines brightly and unceasingly; in August, the temperature hovers regularly around 40. Sevillians are unfazed; they rest at the hottest part of the day, and then gather at outdoor cafes where a fine mist, distributed by overhead pipes, keeps them cool. At night, they dance and drink local wine, and nibble on local olives and fish.
|Cold water with lemon slices, and plenty of olive oil and vinegar.|
My husband wants to move here.
|Me, with one of my beautiful daughters, enjoying breakfast at a misty cafe.|
|In the orange grove near the cathedral.|
|One of the doors to the cathedral.|
|The lovely young man and horse who showed us around their native city.|
By the end of our stay in Seville, I was exhausted but happy. Bobby had developed a cold, and I could tell it was going to be a bad one; his ears were hurting, and he wanted to do nothing but sleep. I figured that made two of us. Our next stop was Granada, and Bobby and I both slept the whole way there.
|Good night, Seville.|
Coming up: things get interesting at the Alhambra.