Seville, with COVID: A touristic darling devoid of tourists

It cuts through the exhaust fumes that hiccup from a bus, from the poop left by a horse stalling at an empty carriage in the shade of an orange tree. The azahar is blooming, the de facto sign of springtime in Seville.

Mateos Gago and the Giralda in Seville

The midday bells are about the shrill from the Giralda. I duck into shady Plaza Santa Marta, where the overgrown trees send lines of light against whitewashed walls and the stone cross. It’s one of those places on the tourist drag that no one seems to know about, hidden deep in a maze of streets in the city’s old Jewish quarter.

Plaza Santa Marta Sevilla

The bells sound, clear and solitary – there are no clipping hooves or megaphones or even cars.

Mateos Gago has been paved over, a pedestrian paradise for whenever it is that the tourists will return. But half of the storefronts sit empty – there are no tourist shops, and only the mainstays of Peregil, Patio San Eloy and Cervecería Giralda, which recently made headlines because of the Arabic hammam found during recent restoration work, are open.

The sevillano Disneyland of Santa Cruz is a ghost town.

 

Barrio Santa Cruz Sevilla

¡Sevilla para los sevillanos! they always say. But then one realizes the extent of destruction that the castle in the sky that the city on the Guadalquivir built. A city built on tourism will fall when the tourists aren’t coming.

Helen and I sit under an awning on the breezy afternoon. It’s been more than a year since we’ve seen one another, so we chatter away in English as if we’d had a coffee together last week.

Empty bar on Mateos Gago Sevilla

“Hello my friends!” A sevillano, patillas and gominola and all, smokes a cigarette nearby as I move the stroller out of his way. “No, no, please! Please do the work!” The work is feeding a baby but we humor him as his wife, above us on the first floor, shouts down that his English is shit. “You like my city?”

I point out that he’s wearing a mask emblazoned by the flag of Extremadura with “extremeño” embroidered (of course it’s embroidered) on one side. Helen points out that we’re locals.

He looks as though he’s been sweating on the only cool afternoon we’ve seen in the city this month but starts in on his life story: an extremeño whose family sells pork products to many of the tourist-catering eateries on Mateos Gago. Judging by how empty those bars are, I can imagine he’s had a tough year.

IMG_5248

But he continues exuberantly, listing off his wares as if he were entertaining a moonstruck guiri over a cervecita in Plaza Salvador: “…sausage, ham with the black foot, white wine, the sweet and the dry, whateveryoulikeeh!…”

Seville has succumb in the last dozen years. Menus are in English (and French, and Italian, and German). Souvenir shops have elbowed out the neighborhood staples. A city that prides itself on lo castizo y lo popular is becoming a place where you can hear a puño of languages on any given street of Barrio Sant Cruz. In my early days, hearing English was a momento for rejoicing, not eye rolling.

Triana and a great number of its mainstays have weathered the pandemic that brought the world to a near standstill. El Centro has not.

El torero. La flamenca con la guitarra. Ese es el imagen que vendemos a los extranjeros. Es lo que les llama la atención. The guide at Casa Fabiola doesn’t realize that the last to join her 12:30 tour is extranjera as she takes us through the Fundación Bellver pieces painted by foreign artists. The bullfighter. The flamenco dancer with a guitar. That is the image we sell to foreigners. This is what gets their attention.

Calles Cruces Sevilla

Maybe it’s alegría, it’s joie de vivre that you should be selling us. Where are noontime libation is taken in a bar that once housed an Arabic bath. Where sobremesa is a way of life. Where a city sealed off to the world (and anyone outside of the province for the time being) is both a death sentence and a nirvana for locals.

I breathe in the azahar once more. Like the empty streets of Santa Cruz, I know it is fleeting.

How to Spend an Afternoon in Triana

Most people leave Triana off of their Seville itinerary – there isn’t much by way of museums or grandiose churches, and it’s across the Guadalquivir from the city’s major draws. But what the historic neighborhood lacks in monuments, it more than makes up for in feeling.

Triana is a barrio that’s equal parts sevillano, capillita and gitano.

Puente de Triana Seville

While most opt to stay in the city center, Triana is only a stone’s throw from the Giralda and Plaza de España, commanding the western bank of the river that slices the city in two. And you can feel it – Triana seems like a world away, despite being connected by bus and subway to every part of Seville.

Consder an aparthotel like the comfortable and spacious ones offered by Pierre&Vacances Sevilla, right in the heart of Triana on Pagés del Coro, on your next Seville holiday. You’ll wake up to the sound of church bells from the adjacent San Jacinto church and be able to pop down to El Pulido for a tostada as long as your forearm.

pierre et vacances

Historically speaking, Triana was a poor, working class neighborhood of fisherman, bullfighters and gypsies and one of the seats of the Holy Inquisition, headquartered at the Castillo San Jorge on the riverbank. Today, it’s a neighborhood known for its fiercely trianero residents, flamenco culture and tile production, and is home to several well-known bars and eateries.

I may be biased, but it’s my favorite part of the city, and one whose streets I walk every day as a resident of the 41010. Many days, there’s no need to even cross the Puente Isabel II into town.

Screen Shot 2016-01-05 at 10.09.32 AM

If you have a free afternoon, don’t miss Triana’s charm.

12pm – Start off with food

Start by crossing the Puente Isabel II over the Guadalquivir river, the official entrance into the República Independiente de Triana. The bridge was the city’s first, replacing a pontoon bridge in 1854 and built by an Eiffel disciple.

Capilla del Carmen Triana Anibal Gonzalez

It’s easily my favorite monument and the nearly official symbol of the neighborhood. At the western end, you’ll find the minuscule Capilla de Carmen, which was built by famous sevillano architect Aníbal González (you’d recognize him from the Plaza de España) in the early 20th Century.

Your first stop in 41010 should be the newly renovated Mercado de Triana. Still very much a local’s market, fruit and vegetable vendors, fish mongers, butchers and specialty producers hock their wares just steps from the river. The market was built atop the ruins of the Castillo de San Jorge, visible in the adjacent museum and even in the walls of the mercado (C/San Jorge, 6).

Mercado de Triana typical market

If you can’t stick around all night, there’s a small flamenco theatre flanking the western edge of the market with shows at noon on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

1pm – Work up an appetite

Triana has the privilege being where the sun chooses to sleep nightly, as the famous song goes, and it lingers over the district all afternoon long. Retreat back to the Puente Isabel II and to the yellow bar that sits opposite the Carmen chapel. Trianeros know that the food at El Faro de Triana isn’t anything special, but the views from the terrace or even the steps leading down to Calle Betis get the most sun midday. Order a cervecita and take it outside if it’s a nice day (Plaza del Altozano, 1C).

El Faro de Triana bar in Seville

Continue walking down Calle Betis, the Roman name for the river, away from the bridge and towards the Torre del Oro. The thoroughfare is packed with bars and restaurants, though you should steer clear of them for now and walk on the other side of the road so as to avoid hawkers while drinking in the view across the river to the bullring, opera house and the Torre del Oro itself.

2pm – A comer!

Though 2pm is still a little early for me, it’s time to tapear, or eat, your way through Triana’s tapas bars. At the southern end of Calle Betis, stop at La Primera del Puente, a nondescript tapas bar lined with tiles and grilling fish over a hot skillet, and order just one thing: patatas bravas and a glass of Cruzcampo. In eight years, I’ve tried countless dishes of fried potatoes with a spicy red sauce, and La Primera has some of the best (even if their barman makes fun of my accent constantly (C/ Betis, 66).

Tapa of salmorejo

Backtrack to Calle Troya and head away from the river, then take the first right onto Calle Pureza. I photographed a couple’s first look photos on this street because of its colorful houses and ornate doorways, and it’s home to both Triana’s first church, Santa Ana, as well as several watering holes (C/ Vázquez de Leca, s/n).

If Santa Ana is open, it’s worth a quick peek – commissioned in 1266 (yep, 750 years ago!), Santa Ana is known for its mudéjar hallmarks and Baroque facelift after the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, whose aftershocks were felt in Sevilla.

Just in front of the north facing door is Bar Santa Ana, a typical tavern featuring local dishes, like espinacas con garbanzos, bull tail and small grilled sandwiches. This is the bar I bring visitors to when I want to tell them about Holy Week, as paraphernalia of weeping Virgins and Bloody Christs adorn the walls. This is the sort of bar where locals have been locals since the 50s and where waiters still write your bill in chalk on the bar (C/ Pureza, 82).

Tapa of Tortilla Española

You can pop into the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de la Esperanza de Triana just down the road, a stark white chapel that stands out amid salmon, cornflower and albero shaded homes and palaces (C/ Pureza, 53).

A little bit further up the road in La Anigua Abacería, a cozy, dimly lit cold cuts bar whose menu is long and has quite a few surprises. There are plenty of good vegetarian options here, too, and gobs of wines to try (C/ Pureza, 12).

Once you’ve had your fill, the serpentine calles and callejones of this part of Triana are good for walking off the calories – as well as staving off the siesta.

5pm – Explore Triana’s ceramic production

Around the corner of Calle Callao is Cerámica Santa Ana and the Centro Cerámica de Triana. The neighborhood has a long tradition of ceramics production and boasts several small shops that still make azulejos in the ancient way, though the clay no longer comes from the riverbanks. Hand-painted ceramic bowls, pitchers and magnets are my go-to souvenirs and even made them a prominent part of my wedding decoration, and Plaza de España’s elaborate tile depictions of Spain’s 50 provinces were made in factories here (C/ San Jorge, 31).

Where to buy Ceramics in Triana, Seville

If you’re not looking for souvenirs, poke around the Centro Cerámica de Triana‘s small museum, one of the city’s newest. Though the kilns are no longer operable, they can be found in the museum, which also explains traditional techniques in English and Spanish. Plan around three-quarters of an hour (C/ Antillano Campos, 14).

6pm – Grab merienda and an afternoon drink

Head back to Calle Pureza and straight to Manu Jara Dulcería, a pastry shop owned by a French chef of the same name (and did I mention his Michellin stars?). While his brand of desserts, MasQuePostres, aren’t made on-site, they’re fresh, delectable and the shop itself a treat (C/ Pureza, 5).

Manu Jara Dulceria Sevilla

Sevillanos usually take their sweet afternoon snack, called a merienda, with a coffee or tea, then follow it up with an adult beverage. Around the corner, back on Calle Betis, sits La Tertulia, a watering hole that plays off of the famous political and social discussion groups of the turn of the century. Avoid heading inside for anything more than ordering if you can – the bar smells like dirty pipes and mold – and grab a seat along the bench with your mojito. You’ll be rewarded with the same views you had before lunch, just this time as night falls and the Triana bridge lights up (C/ Betis, 13).

9:00pm – Dinnertime again!

Triana is known as one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city, and as night falls, bars and restaurants again fill with patrons. If you’re not hungry just yet, have a beer at Cervecería La Grande back on San Jacinto (C/ San Jacinto, 39).

Back when the Novio and I started dating, we’d have a routine called the ruta trianera, in which we’d have a few beers at La Grande before popping around to different bars in the area for dinner. Begin at Bar Casa Diego on Alferería (5). Don’t expect an English menu here; order a heaping media ración of pollo frito, friend chicken, and one of croquetas de puerros, or leek croquettes. Local lore states that Diego’s wife grew so tired of making béchamel and rolling croquetas for hungry clientele that she up and quit in the middle of a shift!

Yes, they’re that good.

champiñones mushrooms at Las Golondrinas

Walk around the corner on Antillano Campos to Las Golondrinas I, a Triana institution and at the top of my list. The micro kitchen produces just a few dishes, and tapas are only available at the crowded bar. Ask Pepe for a glass of house wine and a tapa of punta de solomillo, a piping hot pork loin sandwiches, and champiñones, sautéed mushrooms crowned with mint sauce (C/ Antillano Campos, 26).

If you’re still hungry, Paco España has big plates of food to split, most notably their open-faced sandwiches, called panes (C/ Alfarería, 18).

11pm – Take in a flamenco show

Flamenco show in Seville

Though I’m not a huge fan of the boisterous woman whose name and large presence give Casa Anselma her name, the flamenco bar is hugely popular with locals and tourists. Passing down Pagés del Coro, you’d never expect to find a bar behind the aluminum gates at the corner of Antillano Campos (49), but between 11 and midnight, Anselma opens her bar to patrons for impromptu flamenco shows.

Just be sure to count your change – though there’s no cover charge, drinks are twice as pricey here.

Bonus: looking for different food and drink options?

There is no shortage of good restaurants in this part of town, from bars that resemble a closet to restaurants that have garnered top foodie prizes.

Pura Tasca – One of Triana’s first gastrobars was built into what was once a butane tank distributor. The decoration evokes a storage space, but the rotating menu and top-notch wine list are always on (C/ Numancia, 5).

Bar Juan Carlos – Cheese and craft beer, and little else, the small bar is usually packed in the evenings. You can order samplers, cheese skewers and fondue, and there’s a beer of the month selection on offer (C/ Febo, 6).

Plaza del Altozano Seville

La Fábula – People spoke so often of La Fábula that even the Novio, a creature of habit, wanted to try it. Spanish favorites with a twist are the hallmark of the pub, which bills itself as a gastrobar and has a few local craft beers on offer (Ronda de Triana, 31).

Casa Ruperto – known to locals as Los Pajaritos for its signature dish, this typical cervecería roasts quails on a spit. They’re also famous for their snails in tomato sauce (cabrillas) (Avda. Santa Cecilia, 2).

Jaylu – I’ve never eaten at this renowned seafood restaurant, but it’s purportedly one of the city’s best (López de Gomara, 19).

Sala El Cachorro – Started as a playhouse, the eclectic space soon morphed into a cafetería and bar. Grab a slice of carrot cake and a coffee and sit in the outdoor patio, full of plants and sculptures (C/ Procurador, 19).

Hot to Spend an Afternoon in

As always, be sure to check opening times and dates. You can reach Triana by metro (M: Plaza de Cuba and Parque de los Príncipes) or bus (5, 6, 40, 43, C1, C2), or simply walk from the city center. This post contains an affiliate link to Devour Tours’ wonderful Tapas Like a Local – Triana tour, which I have had the pleasure of walking! You can click at no extra cost to you.

Have you ever spent time in Triana? What are your favorite places to eat, drink and visit?

Photo Post: A Visit to the Seville Cathedral Rooftop

There are some things in Seville that don’t need any further explanation – a cotton candy sunset over Triana, Plaza de España’s beautiful tile benches, the dreamy chords and staccato of a flamenco performance.

And then there’s the largest Gothic cathedral in the world and its stunning minaret. Visiting the rooftop has long been on my to-do list, and even with a guide recounting the history, lore and practicality of the temple, the views of La Hispalense needed no explanation.

Florentino met us at Puerta de San Miguel, adjacent to Avenida de la Constitución. It was a busy Saturday evening, and the streets were clogged with families and street performers. Once we’d stepped inside – our guide with an enormous key and soft feet – we’d get ground rules: watch your step, stay with the group, and don’t touch any wires.

The massive cathedral of Seville

We climbed a winding staircase, worn down by more than 600 years of history. Etched Stars of David, rhombuses and other figures were a testament to the 100 years it took to build the cathedral once the city was reconquered. It was dark and cramped, but we emerged just over the sacristy, affording us views of Plaza de Virgen de los Reyes below.

The Giralda

cathedral in seville

For someone who has climbed the Giralda and visited the cathedral itself two dozen times, I didn’t think the building and anchor any touristic route would hold much mystery. 

Florentino reminded us to watch our step as I nearly tripped over a stone pod on the uneven surface. These devices were used as weights for the reliquia below – statues, paintings and even old altarpieces were hoisted using this archaic system.  So, there, I learned something. He pointed out features in the building process, from the stained glass to the buttresses, navigated a labyrinth of staircases, rooms and small patios.

sunset from the seville cathedral

sunset Seville Spain

When you’ve admired the sprawling cathedral from below, it’s incredible to see the details up close. So close, in fact, that I received a shock from wires designed to keep pigeons away. Oops, broke rule three.

We climbed and climb, retracing the Latin cross as Florentino recounted the 500 chapels below our feet and lore about the construction and consecration of the cathedral. Like everyone else, I gasped when we reached the highest point of the tour.

The Giralda Tower Seville

We were just a few yards from the Giralda, and climbed up the dome of the sacristy to contemplate the tower. Along with the Patio de los Naranjos, the minaret is a trace of the mosque that stood here until the reconquest in the 12th century.

Rooftop tour of the cathedral

Entering the temple shortly after, we walked behind the organ on a small walkway that could only accommodate you if you squeezed by, careful not to trip over the wires that light the naves. I had lost Florentino’s voice by now, but that hardly mattered.

Stained glass at the Seville Cathedral

rosette window in the catedral de sevilla

Once back on the ground, I could truly appreciate the immensity of the cathedral and its importance in Seville lore and history. The church built to inspire all those who see it to think that the architects and commissioners must have been crazy. Crazy, maybe.

If you go: Conocer Sevilla runs weekly visits to the cathedral rooftop – called the Cubertizo de la Catedral. Tours are about 90 minutes, cost 12 per person and it’s recommendable to wear comfortable clothing, as surfaces are unsteady and there is a bit of climbing involved. For more information and reservations, check Conocer Sevilla’s webpage.

Logo TNS-01

I visited the cathedral as part of the Typical NonSpanish project with Caser Expat. For more on the project, visit their webpage or find them on twitter.

Seville Snapshots: Colorful Windows in El Centro

Madrid and I have a complicated relationship: it took me a few years in Spain and several trips to discover what was beneath the flashy Gran Vía, to understand the pulse of the big city that houses Velázquez and Guernica. Then my friends showed me where to have the best Thai on Atocha and Indian in Lavapiés, the metro became second nature.

I’m a city girl. I love walking over grates and feeling the subway thunder under me (or above me back home in Chicago), anticipating the changes of the stoplights and the cacophony of car horns and radios.

But returning to Seville after ethnic food and cañas with friends in La Latina or Malasaña feels like the new me. The car horns are replaced by horse hooves in the city center, and the metro can’t take me as far as my feet or bike. The garritos in Madrid aren’t as lively as the flower-clad iron bars in Seville, and while the orange and stone buildings of La Capital are beautiful, I prefer the crumbling, whitewashed walls of Andalusian villages like Osuna or Arcos. To me, the hallmarks of Andalusian architecture help it stand out from Madrid’s busy streets and high-rises.

Te dejo, Madrid. It’s an inevitable stop for me while traveling or for work, and perhaps the Novio and I will end up there in a few years, but for now, yo soy del sur.

Have any photos of Spain or Seville to share? Sunshine and Siestas is looking for contributions from readers for the busy summer months ahead. Get in touch with me through Facebook with your ideas, photos o lo que sea!

Seville Snapshots: Who’s That Nazareno?

Smell that? It’s incense. Feel that? That’s some sevillano whose trying to push his way past you.

Yes, amiguitos, Holy Week is upon us, the stretch of time between Viernes de Dolores until Easter Sunday where sevillanos dress in their finest, women don enormous combs and black lace veils and pointy capirote hats dot the old part of town. The faithful spend all day on their feet, parading from church to Cathedral and back with enormous floats depicting the passion, death and resurrection of Christ.

I’m not much of a capillita, but ten days of religious floats means ten days of travel for me.

That said, I’m off to Dubrovnik, Croatia and the Bay of Kotor, Montenegro, country #30 on my 30×30 quest. Where will you be during Semana Santa? Do you like Holy Week, or would you rather get your fix in a Holy Week bar?

Seville Snapshots: Reflection of the San Fernando Statue of Plaza Nueva

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.

Have photos of Seville or Spain to share? I gladly accept them and run them as part of my weekly photo feature! Send me an email to sunshineandsiestas @ gmail.com, or upload to my Facebook page.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...