Spain Pt 1 – Madrid and Seville

JUNE 2015

As of June 2015, I’d only ever been to Spain once in my life, which for most Brits is a barely conceivable thought. Living in London in the late’ 80s and early 90’s was a rather penniless time when expenditure on overseas travel was not in the budget. It was only since being in Hong Kong, and establishing some sort of career, that travel became affordable, and that was rather Asia-centric. So now more of Europe is on the cards…and for this trip, it’s Espana.

And I must confess to feeling rather unprepared for Spain. For the first time in ages we were going somewhere without a sacred Lonely Planet and I felt uninformed, bereft, ignorant; mentally naked. My knowledge of Spain and the Andalucia region to which we were headed was limited to the Clash’s Spanish Bombs, part of which is written in Spanish and which of course I don’t understand; and the recommendations given by a mate in Hong Kong who goes by the name of Shifty, who visited the same region just a few weeks earlier (earlier than me that is, not the late, great Joe Strummer). And I must say Shifty provided a very good itinerary. If he ever tires of corporate finance, a career as a travel agent awaits.

“Spanish bombs, Yo te quiera infinito, yo te quiera, oh mi corazón…”

A short flight to Madrid, a taxi into town, and we settled in to the gorgeous Catalonia Les Cortes Hotel in Calle Del Prado, one of Shifty’s recommendations. And it is tip-top. We’d booked a standard room but were upgraded to a superior room, and it is very generous indeed – beautifully appointed with the largest bed you could ever wish to see. We’d wake up in the morning lying together on one side with room for several other families on the other but that’s by the by. They also kept a generous, and complimentary, selection of breads, olives, cold meats and fruits available in the dining room throughout the afternoon. I could have just stayed there and stuffed my face.

But we had only one night in Madrid so sitting in a hotel room, however luxurious it is, was not acceptable. We were up and out despite the 35 degree afternoon heat. With no real agenda we walked down to the Prado art gallery (albeit inadvertently…I meant to head in the opposite direction), and on to Plaza de Santa Ana, the Plaza Mayor, the foodie heaven of Mercado de San Miguel, over to the Cathedral and the Royal Palace – too late in the day to visit either – and then back to the market in search of tapas and vino.

The food in the one hundred year old Mercado de San Miguel is just gobsmackingly delicious; tons of Iberian ham; olives in every way, shape, form and combination; fresh fish and shellfish brought in daily from Galicia; cheeses from Castile, Asturias and the Basque Country; Mediterranean rice dishes; and just about every other kind of tapas you can imagine. It’s nibbling and sharing rather than a main course of meat and veg, and it’s all the better for it. The variety of tastes is staggering. And all washed down with a few local brews.

But for the time being, that was all we would see of Madrid. The following morning we vacated the hotel, and headed down to Atocha Railway Station to pick up a hire car, a brand new VW Golf, automatic transmission, SatNav, and a steering wheel on the wrong side of the car. Holy shit. Having only learnt to drive eight years ago, and having barely been to Europe, driving on the wrong side of the road was something I’d never encountered before. At least being an automatic meant there was one less thing to think about. 

But with the indispensable SatNav providing directions we tentatively made our way out of Madrid and onto the highway, where there was a little more room to get comfortable with the car and the road, and before you know it we were hammering our way down to Seville, some 500km away.

Spain is a dry and arid country – a landscape of yellows. Due to its northerly location, island geography and wet climate, the British Isles are green. Fields are green, woodland is green, moorland is green. Spain is yellow. Field after field of dry, arid yellow. And the roads are empty. Where the flock is everyone?

And then…disaster. The USB connection on the stereo is for charging only and despite all our efforts we could not get the stereo to talk to either my ipod or my iphone. Which meant we were left with Spanish radio for the next bazillion miles. And no London Calling…

“Spanish songs in Andalucia. The shooting sites in the days of ’39…”

We passed through towns such as Gropesa and Trujillo without so much as a backward glance. Merida. Almendralejo. Monasterio. Google Maps had put the journey time at five hours. But with a few accidental diversions around Madrid and a few stops along the way it was some seven hours before we reached Seville and found Hotel Becquer, although not before I’d almost missed a right turn, still tried to make it and ended up on the wrong side of the road. Crap. 

The original plan incidentally, had been to drive clockwise from Madrid to Toledo, to Granada, to Seville, and then hammer it all the way back to Madrid on the last day in time for a 4pm flight, until Sue rightly pointed out that this plan was foolish at best, if not downright insane. So we reversed the agenda, scheduled the longest drive for the first day, and would be back in Madrid one day ahead of the departing flight. Much more sensible. Good job I spotted that flaw and re-arranged it.

Hotel Becquer incidentally is the one case in which we deviated from Shifty’s recommendations. He stayed in a Best Western in Seville but noted that it was rather old, and judging from the Trip Advisor reviews he was being rather generous. But Hotel Becquer wasn’t much better, especially after the sumptuous luxury of Catalonia Les Cortes. The room was small but okay, but was on a low floor, overlooking the street, which meant keeping the stained glass (?) window closed. And it smelled musty. But neither of us could be bothered to make a fuss, it was only two nights, so we shut up and put up.

It would be late afternoon by the time we arrived in Seville and it was still stinking hot. But we were not to be deterred and were straight off to Espacio Metropol Parasol, a modern sculptural structure with a rooftop walkway and viewpoint, and which resembles a giant waffle suspended in mid-air. I somehow doubt that description is what the architect had in mind. We took an aimless wander around some of the lovely narrow old streets before heading over the Guadaíra river to Calle San Jacinto and Calle Betis for a much deserved thirst-quenching beer, and some dinner. The food in the first, very local bar we went to for a drink didn’t look too appetizing; nor did the second; and we subsequently ended up in a rather touristy spot right on the river. The location is tip-top – lovely view of the Puente de Isabel II bridge, the riverside activity, the Moorish architecture and the tropical vegetation of Seville – but the food rather disappointing. The mussels were good but while it may be the national dish in Spain, paella is still too heavy and stodgy even for a greedy hog like myself.

The serious tourism began the following morning with a wander through the gorgeous old streets of Seville towards the Cathedral, which is nothing short of amazing. Cathedrals astonish me with their sheer size and grandeur. They built ‘em big to demonstrate their wealth and their devotion to God, but do they really need to be that big? Wouldn’t God have appreciated something a little more humble? I can do without the commentaries about the religious significance of every nook and cranny, but from an architectural point of view the best ones are simply staggering. 

This one is technically the largest cathedral in the world and the third largest church in the world (the two bigger churches, in Brazil and the Vatican, are not cathedrals as they are not the seat of the bishop), and is the burial site of Christopher Columbus (although having opted against the audio commentary we weren’t aware of this at the time and only discovered this via Google a few days later). The 105 meter tower, the Giralda, is easily scalable – it has a ramp inside rather than stairs – and affords splendid views over the city rooftops and the cathedral itself.

St Michael’s in Brussels. Durham. St Paul’s. Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur. St Mark’s in Venice. Il Duomo in Milan. Now Madrid and Seville. Is it possible to be a cathedral geek?

From there we moved on to the Alcazar, a royal palace originally developed by Moorish Muslim kings and renowned as one of the most beautiful in Spain. I’ll leave such assertions to those more qualified, but it is certainly bloody big – you could get lost in those gardens for hours. Then we had a little wander through the old Jewish quarter and on to the Plaza de España, which is again staggering in its sheer size and scale. Originally built as part of the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition, it is a huge half-circle with buildings running around the edge, a generous plaza, a moat and numerous bridges. Today the Plaza de España mainly consists of Government buildings – making it a rather splendid location for your local civil servant. 

A street entertainer stomped around in a noisy flamenco dance and while her silhouette provided some good photos, she was not exactly svelte and I suspect she wasn’t actually very good. I didn’t challenge her to a dance-off mind you.

The heat is quite relentless so refuge was sought in a beautiful little square just behind the cathedral, where I think I could have remained forever. With a chilled cerveza or three, shade from the sun, even a cooling spray, and a steady procession of people passing by, afternoon turned into evening, and evening turned into dinner.

Tomorrow morning we’d be on the road again, heading west towards Granada.

Go to: Spain Pt2 – Granada, Toledo and Madrid (again)