Seville Seen in Spring

Clerics, bankers, computer hackers, dutchesses, and scoundrels - the characters in this novel are all imaginary. And any resemblance to real events is entirely coincidental. Only the setting is true. Nobody could invent a city like Seville.

—Arturo Pérez-Reverte: The Seville Communion.

He looked at his hands as he slowly lifted them first towards us and then, in one slow, graceful movement, towards the sky. His hands looked damp. His voice sounded uncertain and weak: “My blood...” Somehow he suddenly looked small and out-of-place. His tone of voice was one of prayer: as if he did not — could not — believe what was happening in front of him and around him, as if he was asking us for confirmation or denial of the events.

It was Easter Sunday and the priest was going through the familiar ritual. “Do this in memory of me,” he intoned. I was thinking of Seville (or Sevilla, as the Spanish write it) of which I had no memories, having never been to the city. But my flight was leaving later that day and I was to stay for almost two weeks.

I had been looking forward to this holiday for some time. I don't normally take long holidays, but now I had three weeks. One was gone and the next two would be spent in Andalucía. I don't normally travel abroad. I have moved around in several European countries for work reasons, and I normally find it quite sufficient to travel in whatever country I happen to be in at the time. But I had been in England for five years, and I had a long holiday, and I thought I just deserved it! “I leave you peace, my peace I give you,” the priest continued. I was getting quite excited!

The Journey

British Airways flies directly from London Gatwick to Seville which is really rather remarkable and very convenient. (I guess that as part of their current restructuring they will drop that route, which is really a shame. But maybe not, it is operated by GB Airways rather than BA itself.) Finally something I could use my Air Miles for! I was booked on the BA6920 at 14:55 in the afternoon of April 4, 1999. Business class, even. (If you are going to use your miles you might as well use lots.)

I had read all the gudebooks, and from Fodor's Hotels of Character and Charm in Spain. I had booked what looked like a nice hotel from the following Sunday. It turned out to be a truely charming hotel. Unfortunately there were full the first week, and I was to stay in the Hotel Occidental for the first week. Nothing wrong with that hotel as such, but charming it is not. However, I'm jumping ahead in my story.

At a quarter to three I was strapped into my seat, 4A, in the Boeing 737 they use on this route. On the way down I got talking to the guy in the seat next to me (4C). Only last year he had been in Seville and stayed at the Hotel Alfonso XII. Built specifically for the first international fair, the Exposición Iberoamericana in 1929, as a place for the “leading visitors” to stay, it is one of the most luxerious hotes in Seville, and probably the most famous. Doubles start at around 40,000 Pts, suites are available from 75,000 Pts. I payed 17,500 Pts for my double room, which I thought was expensive. I guessed that maybe he travelled on business?

He explained that his job was to demonstrate and install catering software for the big hotels. Apparently this is big business. He was on his way to Casablanca: the plane continues to there after Seville in a short, half-hour jump. Next week he would be in Warsaw, and so on. Always travelling, and always just a few days or a week at most in each place. He explained that his girlfriend was not very happy with his lifestyle. I said I could imagine that would be the case. He explained that he was young and expected to go through a few girlfriends before he settled down. I imagine he didn't feel he needed to explain this to his (current) girlfriend.

He did mention that he was a keen amateur photographer, but that he had sort of given it up due to his busy travel schedule. He just felt that a SLR was too big and heavy to carry around, but he regretted the missed photo opportunities. Here he was, seeing more places in a year than most of us get to visit in a lifetime, and he had no pictures. Nothing to look back on when he settled down.

For his camera he wanted full manual control: as I said, he was a keen photographer. That rules out the useful little Yashica T5 (“T4 Super” in North America). It is a compact camera with a wonderful sharp and colour-rich Carl Zeiss T* Tessar f3.5 35mm lens. At less than £100 it is unbeatable. But there are no manual controls. I suggested perhaps a Leica, but they are kind of expensive... Please send me your suggestions, since I have a similar problem, which I have for now solved with the Yashica.

We arrived at around 19:00 local time and I said goodbye to my travel companion. The temperature was 29°C and I was happy. This holiday was going to be fun, it was going to be relaxing and it was going to be interesting.

To be continued...

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