Seville, Sangria, and Tapas

My two days in Seville consisted of many stops for tapas, one at the oldest bar in Seville open since 1670 (!), meetings with some amazing lovely people, and consistent random outbursts from yours truly of “I’m so happy right now!”

Yes, stating the absolute obvious.

First of all, let’s take a look at where I was staying:

The oh so pretty Spanish entrance

Perfect little studio

And it gets better...

Awesome shower

And oh, hey patio bigger than my Brooklyn apartment, we are new best friends.

I probably could have just stayed in the apartment the whole time and still been happy. That’s how nice it was. Even better when you’re not paying for it. God bless work.

My first day in Seville was full of meetings and general networking with lovely people as well as a Spanish class. I was able to observe students at our partner school during their lesson and brush up on a little of my own forgotten Spanish. It was certainly an eye opener into how much I could easily remember and how easy a language it truly is.  I may just sign up for one our Spanish classes when I get back to NYC and commit to getting it back. Can’t hurt to have a third language under my belt, right?

In the midst of all the meetings and running around town visiting the varying sites that I need to sell, I was treated to many tapas and servezas. Yup, I drank beer. Me – the cocktail queen – drank beer! I didn’t want to be rude, and I figured everything tastes better in Spain, why not the beer?

Tapas throughout the day included cheese and ham croquettes, potato balls in creamy goat cheese sauce, eggplant smothered in tomato cream sauce, salmon salad, Sevillan cookie cake (it’s a real thing, trust me), chicken a la plancha, and battered cod. Sadly, there are no pictures as I had to pretend to be professional and not obsessed with my food.  I’m sure they would have found my desire to photograph my tapas quite entertaining but I opted against it. Just like I opted against the liter of sangria I was offered at lunch by the oh so friendly waiter. If only, my friend, if only.

My second day was even better if that’s possible. Nothing but touristy walking around, a visit to the amazing cathedral, a walk through the Jewish quarter, and a well deserved lunch of paella and delicious sangria (finally!). Here’s a sampling of photos from my tourist day before catching my train to Malaga:

The cathedral

gorgeous

Christopher Columbus' tomb - I had no idea it was there, I just went in to see the pretty cathedral and was pleasantly surprised. Given how his "discoveries" were shoved down our American throats in history classes it was actually quite special to see

bell at the top of the tower

the tower

beautiful

Lunch time. More importantly SANGRIA!!!

and PAELLA!

And more sangria! I could drink it ALL day long.

Seriously, Seville, thank you for such a warm welcome and your endless charm. I will be back for sure as soon as I can possibly manage it, friends and family in tow.

Next up Malaga, let’s see if it can possibly compare!

Seville – It’s Love, Officially

So Seville and I are in love. True love, with tapas.

If you never hear from me again it’s because I’ve abandoned all responsibility and ambition, all American “necessities” and I am hiding out in Seville. And by hiding out I mean hanging out at a tapas bar bonding with the amazing Spanish people and telling all my friends and family to come visit me because I’m not coming back to the States. Ever.

The love affair started when I arrived last night at about 9pm by train from Madrid. I had been instructed by my work colleagues that in order to get the keys for my studio apartment I’d have to first go by a hotel and then go to my apartment. Simple, really. Except, I’ve never been to Seville, so I had to take a cab and I don’t speak Spanish. A recipe for disaster in any location, except apparently in Seville.

My cabbie bellowed an extremely friendly laugh when I asked if he spoke English and proceeded to assure me in words I did not understand that it will be fine, we can communicate, no worries!  In my broken high school Spanish I somehow managed to communicate “two stops” and “don’t drive away while I go inside to pick up my keys’ in broken Spanish and managed to get to my gorgeous little studio in one piece, without being ripped off. That’s a New York miracle.

Arriving late with no open grocery store in sight, I decided to treat myself to dinner, and walked out my door and around the corner to a line of neighborhood restaurants on the plaza. I settled into a seat on a patio and was greeted by an extremely friendly man who asked the question I love the most, “Para beber?” I noticed then that there were cocktails on the menu and my face immediately lit up like a overdecorated Christmas tree. It was one simple line, stating only the word “cocktails” for 5 euro with no actual description in sight. But I was not to be deterred and I embraced the challenge for hard alcohol and proudly asked, “Cocktails…quel typo?”

His response all in Spanish made my head spin until I recognized something familiar, “bdlddlhddhadldldhfrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnaldldla RUM AND COKE”

“Si! Rum and coke! Si!”

“Abhhhh, bien!”

With a triumphant smile I went back to my book and minutes later looked up and my lovely waiter was not just bringing me a rum and coke, but a full pint glass of rum and coke and I just about kissed him. A full pizza and another rum and coke later and I was in absolute heaven sitting outside on a cool February evening surrounded by a few tourists and relaxed Seville residents.

I must have looked as happy as I felt because when my waiter came over with the bill at the end of the evening, he looked me deep in the eyes with more heartfelt emotion than I’ve gotten from some boyfriends and said, ”Como se dice…you are very beautiful when you eat, muy contenta.” This led to him comping me one of my cocktails and us sharing a shot of limoncello before I left.

Seriously, why would I ever leave?

Needless to say, I may not get on my train to Malaga tomorrow. Why bother? When it’s love, it’s love. Best not to question it and stay where I’m appreciated and men tell me I’m beautiful when I’m stuffing my face with pizza.

God bless the Spanish.