A dose of wonderful: Seville, part I

After a long bus ride into the night, I found myself walking the streets of Seville in the dusk before sun rise. The sleeping city (well, sleeping minus those who were just heading home from their nightly activities) was calm and surprisingly relaxing. I struggled to find the hostel in the jagged, poorly marked streets but I was welcomed by a smiling receptionist who handed me a key (even though check-in wasn't supposed to be for hours) and invited me to breakfast on the terrace. I welcomed the glorious sight of the morning sun on the terrace as I sipped my coffee.

I wasn't sure if my friends were awake - or even what room they were in actually - so I headed out for a morning stroll. Despite the early hour, the city was slowly coming alive. It was precisely these next few hours, as I observed the day begin, that captivated me. I wandered through the streets without a particular direction, walking along the main roads branching from Plaza Nueva and the cathedral (the biggest cathedral in Spain!), then winding through the quaint narrow streets of the Jewish quarter.

Honestly, I had been feeling a little lukewarm about Spain lately. Something about my classes and uprooting every weekend to travel was wearing out the spark that reminds me how lucky I am to be here (ironic, right?). Seville was the perfect antidote - it was just enough quintessential Spain to get me to fall in love all over again but modern enough to offer more than a cathedral and a famous plaza. Seville may have just won as my favorite city in Spain!

Later that day, I went in search of flamenco tickets. I made a half-hearted effort to find a place a friend of mine had recommended but actually got sidetracked by a charming bar which turned out to have flamenco shows as well. Something about the place won me over and after talking to the bartender I scored VIP seating in the front row :) I had some time to kill before the show so I went off for some tapas and more drinks. It took me a while to escape the tourist traps but the place I found was a no-name gem - and I met my first real, live Francoist. I indulged him in conversation for about an hour and was fascinated by the way he truly believed Spain has slowly deteriorated since Franco's death.

Being my first flamenco show, I really have nothing to compare it to, but I was simply blown away. The space was small, which meant that 40 people were crowded around a small stage that must have measured 50 sq. ft. in total, but the intimate setting was actually the perfect prelude to what was about to be an amazing show.

Each member was incredibly talented individually, but the best part of the show was the way they all fed off of each other's energy - you could see the lead singer give up his heart and soul as he watched the dancer step to the tune, the guitarist's fingers moved like a spider's legs when spinning a web and were matched only by the dancer's feet. The sound of the guitar, the rich, sonorous voice, and the tapping on the floor enveloped every person in the room until we became a part of the show itself. If you are ever in Seville, watch the Huelva Ocho flamenco show - it is worth every euro.