Well Kim and I made it to Seville. What a neat city. We stayed in an apartment off of Calle Amor de Dios. Which means in Spanish, let’s go get some Tapas and CruzCampos! We could of no way have been any better located. So the first day there our friend Becky stopped by to visit for a week. I had no idea she was showing up. Either did Kim, you know how some neighbors are, always getting involved with everyone’s business.
As you can see, she is quite pushy. Anyway, we did have a good time together, and we three traveled well as a triad.
The daily plan was to wander a different barrio, with a few sites picked out. And if anyone saw anything that they wanted to try, shout it out! After three taverna shout outs, I was vetoed on further stops. Only historic important places, I was told. Historic walks only, like the one trip that Ms Rebecca led us through, a gypsy camp on the way to some old Spanish stuff. I was almost killed. Luckily, I was able to duck in a taverna, and ditch the bandits.
On the beginning of Carnival, we struck out to see some famous church. By the way in Spain, there is a church on every other corner, and the other corner has a taverna. That is why the country is known as the 50/50 nation. You will have a fifty percent chance of getting to where you need to go at every corner. True fact! As I was saying, we went to this church, I didn’t go in for fear of bursting into flames, but the girls said it was great. Then we walked some more and ended up in this street party. It was great, they had this band all dressed up in funny cloths and they sang and must of cracked jokes, because everyone would start laughing. Except me, I could not keep up with their Spanish. Luckily, they had beer, and nothing, but nothing increases my ability to speak in another language like free flowing beer.
Another night the girls wanted to go see a Flamingo bar. I was thinking who has a bar with a bunch of big pink birds in it. I was sure it was a gay dance club, but it was a bar and I am always in to stop in to the old local drinking establishment. And as my friends all know, I am a great dancer, so I was all in. Guess what, no big pink birds, guys wearing frilly shirts and girls wearing tight crazy dresses. I could not dance as good as them though. I was not even allowed on the table to try. I am sure the girls took us to the wrong bar, it was the gypsy camp all over again.
Spain was great, if they would only talk in closed caption I would been sure they all were not talking about me. Africa is on the horizon. Until then adios…