Life in Sevilla

Today marks the end of my second month in Spain, nearly three quarters of that time spent in Sevilla. Needless to say, I’ve begun to settle into a sort of routine.

My first cup of morning coffee made at home was a bit of a challenge. Drip coffee machines are not used in Spain, or really in Europe for that matter. In their place, Spanish kitchens are usually equipped with a moka pot (see photo at left).Water is placed in a container below the pitcher where it heated by stovetop to produce steam. This steam then passes through a tray of ground coffee beans in the middle of the machine and then condenses in the top compartment where it is ready for pouring. On the whole, the process is exceptionally fast and produces espresso for mixing with milk to make a few cups of cafe con leche. My toaster (see photo at right) was also a bit challenging at first with its exposed coils on both sides, but I’ve now figured out how to use it without burning myself every time. On my toast, like a good Spaniard I’ve developed a taste for aceite con azúcar (olive oil with sugar). At first I was a bit alarmed by the way Spaniards smother their toast in olive oil, especially considering olive oil is used to cook nearly everything here, but the taste is much better than butter. Good extra virgin olive oil I’ve found tastes somewhat nutty but smells like fresh tomatoes.

On days where I get a slow start, I sometimes head straight to the archive and take a mid-morning break para desayunar (eat breakfast). In place of my rather Spartan choice of olive oil and sugar on my toast, the cafes usually offer olive oil, blended tomato paste, and salt. Even more of a treat, the occasional tostada con tomate y jamón serrano (toast with tomato and cured ham) serves as a great start to the morning. Of course, by far and away the very best way to start the morning is by chocolate con churros. That’s right, imagine the Mexican fried dough that is such a staple at street fairs and select dining establishments in the U.S., and you’re not far off from the Spanish varietal. In Spain, churros are served without the heavy coating of sugar common in Latin America along with a large cup of creamy chocolate for dipping...and

drinking.

My days usually begin with a trip to one of several archives in the morning. Like most Spanish businesses, the archives close promptly at 2:00pm for siesta. Also like many businesses, the majority do not reopen, at least not to the public in the afternoon. The singular exception to this rule has been the archive of the Archdiocese of Sevilla in the Palacio del Arzobispo, which reopens for three hours on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons and serves as the only means to satiate what locals have described as my American work habit. Although on some days I manage to go for a run, Seville is definitely not a place for runners with its windy streets and narrow sidewalks. However, the riverwalk or to the Parque de Maria Luisa with its former pavilions from the World Colombian exhibition of 1929 (see photo at right).

Beyond Sevilla, at this point I’ve made it to the beach in the province of Huelva near the Portuguese border for the first three day weekend in October to mark the double holiday of “La Fiesta de la Virgin del Pilar” and “El Día de La Hispanidad.” As is customary, most coastal towns carry their local statue of the virgin by way of religious procession to the beach for a benediction on the Sunday of the Virgin. This tradition provides good cause to leave the major urban centers to flock to the coast for one of the last warm weekends in the year. It’s the cultural equivalent of Labor Day weekend in the United States. El Día de La Hispanidad, always October 12 to celebrate Christopher Columbus’s arrival in the New World, features a military parade in Madrid presided over by the King. Although I arose early to watch the telecast, an interesting reminder that Spain is a constitutional monarchy, it seems the parade is a virtual non-event for most Spaniards.

The following weekend I went to a romería, a sort of day-long rural pilgrimage, for the Virgen of Valme. My friend David invited me to see the return of the cavalcade to the parish church in Dos Hermanas. We skirted by car along the outskirts of town in the evening trying to find the festivities in transit to the church, but for much of the time only managed to find drunken revelers encircling bonfires who found it only too funny that we missed the passage of the parade by hours. Giving up on the idea of catching the celebration mid-route, we went into the downtown area to wait. The procession included around thirty oxen drawn carts decorated to the hilt and surrounded by revelers on horse and by foot in traditional Andalusian dress - Flamenco dresses for women and horse riding gear for men. The last ten or so oxen drawn carts were literally mobile bars on wheels dispensing freshly cut slices of jamón serrano, beer and manzanilla. The triumphant return of the Virgen to her resting place within the town church featured fireworks and a tolling of the bells to mark the end of the trek. Sadly, because the trip was rather spontaneous, I forgot to take my camera and so I have no pictures to share.

I’ve also made several day trips to neighboring towns within the Province of Sevilla to visit local municipal archives. I think it best to leave those trips for a future post. Next weekend I’m off to Munich, Germany. I should have photos of the Bavarian capital to share shortly after my return.