Dispatch: Seville

Prior to leaving on vacation friends and family warned us that Spain was nearly bankrupt, that unemployment was closing in on 25-percent, that larceny was inevitable, and that the best way to foil roaming bands of thieves and pickpockets was to arm ourselves, trust no one, and duct tape cash directly onto our thighs.

 So last night when a scruffy, hollow cheeked man wearing a ragged brown parka walked toward Violet and I on an ever narrowing cobblestone alley and yelled, “No me nucleotidasa bro!” as he reached into his pocket, I sent 50,000 volts of electricity through his body with the Taser gun I had bought to protect Violet and I on our vacation. You can imagine my embarrassment when he withdrew his twitching hand with a picture of his baby daughter instead of the semi-automatic pistol that I had imagined he was reaching for. Upon arriving back at the hotel, the bellman told me that the phrase that had caused me to react so violently, translated into, “Don’t tase me bro!”

This only goes to reinforce my suspicion that I really needed this vacation. Of course that bizarre fantasy didn’t really happen and was simply fueled by too many appearances on cable news programs discussing the latest instance of murder, mayhem, death and destruction.

In truth the Spanish people couldn’t be friendlier or more helpful. Taxi’s have driven directly to preferred destinations, hotel bellmen had indulged my tortured Spanish and responded to my inquiries in English, waiters and waitresses have thanked us in advance for our patronage and we have been greeted by smiles and friendliness at every turn.

The train to Seville was clean, timely and comfortable. As dawn broke at about 8:15 a.m., we preferred to watch green rolling hills with fingers of fog clinging to them, broken up by long dark tunnels blasted through granite mountains, rather than the lame Jennifer Aniston rom-com (Love Happens) showing on the video screen. My ears popped intermittently as we descended.

Seville is most famous for being a primary destination in a recent Tom Cruise movie. Fortunately, it’s picturesque, narrow streets, charming facades, and ancient architecture provides plenty of equally valid reasons to visit and enjoy. Portions of the ancient Cathedral, which houses the tomb of Christopher Columbus and boast the world’s largest altar, date back to the 12^th Century.

The sky exploded with thunder, and Violet fell when her boot heel caught between cobblestones at the Cathedral, but soldiered on drinking in atmosphere as the torrential storm cleansed our spirits. Right now we sit in the Piano Bar thinking Bogart and Bergman as the pianist entertains and the room fills. We are drinking red wine, sampling artisan cheeses and vaguely planning tomorrow’s itinerary.

Oh, and I’m also taking my dear friend Judy’s advice to heart. Starting now, we will partake of the siesta, eat late and assimilate into the laid back Spanish lifestyle.