It's not the oranges in Seville it’s the tapas

Seville

Weather: finally had a morning shower without the water seeming to burn my white, dead with cold, fingers!  Memories of motherly warnings about catching chilbains.  AND David’s hair no longer standing on end with cold.

Seville: gracious avenidas, enough attractions to have several sight-seeing bus companies fighting for your euros and plenty of parks and nightlife to satisfy every age.

Decided this is our last Cathedral.  Impressive but none match my all-time favourite in Amiens, even taking out the bias that I had the biggest and best ever macaroons in Amiens.  However the Real Alcazar was fabioso.  We only had 40 mins which was nowhere near long enough to wander through all the courtyards and tiled rooms.  If we’d planned better we could have spent a few hours and had a picnic in the gardens.  Made me look forward to visiting the Alhambra in Granada.

But then we had another Silvia recommendation to look forward to.  Exploring the tapas bars near La Giralda, the bell tower of the Cathedral.  Last night’s selection was venison stew, shrimps in batter (like a huge prawn cocktail crisp) and mushrooms with ham and garlic.  The mushrooms also seemed to have added prawns and enough chilli to require a paper serviette to mop away the tears.  All delicious enough to make us alter our plans so we can repeat the experience (with a different selection).  We didn't stay out late enough to check out the hubba bubba bar!

And a boast to my teacher Fabiola.  I managed to explain in Spanish to a receptionist in a garage that our campervan had 3 faults.  1, the corner of the pipe for the grey water was broken, 2, the warning light for the chemical wc wasn’t coming on when it was full, 3 – well that was a pointing at a picture job.  The crunch was that when I asked if there was public  transport to Seville the answer was “no” so we didn’t book the van in and maybe fortunately I didn’t have to repeat it all to a mechanic.

We wandered into a place called the British Institute to see what our taxex were paying for but I think it was an English Language College.  Beautiful tho.

 Staircase as modelled by my lovely assistant post bar crawl.