I hastily jumped out of bed, cursing myself for forgetting to set my second alarm. I’d made early morning plans with Katie which included a hot coffee on a cold day and a bit of shopping for Feria dresses (her) and accessories (me). I pulled on dirty jeans, pulished a post and ran full speed out the door, hating to be late for our 9:30 a.m. breakfast date.
In the biting cold of an Andalusian winter morning, I raced towards the city center, dodging a bit of traffic on a long weekend where most where probably still in bed. I arrived and parked my bike right at 9:30 on the dot and had Plaza Nueva to myself. A pilgrim on his way to Santiago ambled slowly on, and I wished him Buen Camino, eager to start my own Camino in August.
I never quite understood why the streets in the city center get washed overnight, though I’d assume it’s from careless sevillanos who let their dogs crap all over the place without thinking to clean it up. Whatever the reason, the last bit of water that hadn’t been evaporated by the penetrating sun cast an eerie glimpse of Rey San Fernando on the marble ground of the Plaza.
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