City Living

One imagines a vacation destination long before arrival--the sights, the scents, the sounds. Imagining Seville, I thought of Christian art, Moorish architecture, sunshine, plazas and squares--and it has delivered fully on these imagined promises. In fact, the experience of having a rich community life only a block away, full of comings and goings, coffee and wine and conversation, from breakfast to midnight every day, has been eye-opening. I can't wait to join the human race each morning, and I am loathe to return to our lovely apartment, even for a siesta. I would much rather read my book on a park bench, watching the skinny boys play soccer in bright school uniforms, the doting moms and dads and their adorable babies (and there are a million babies here! all dressed immaculately and nestled like little chicks in lovely bedding).

What one doesn't imagine is the things one will miss about home. Like nature. It's hard to touch the earth here: cobblestone, marble, pavement shape every walking surface. When I can find a park with a dirt path, I never want to leave. Last Sunday, I took a morning stroll with the other young couples of Seville in the Guadalquivir gardens.

A side note on the street style of Sevillian seniors--wow! The husbands all walk like this, hands behind back, strolling thoughtfully. The women missed the athleisure wear memo altogether, and are styled casually and carefully, even for a walk where essentially no one will see them. They are never without scarves! The day when this photo was taken was cool--probably about 10 degrees--yet this woman walks in bare legs with her rubber galoshes. And striped socks. So cool.

But I digress. There is no shortage of humanity to comment on--I have already noted that.

At first glance though , not many flowers. It really is still winter. That said, the birds and bees are about--I wish I had the skill to do a soundscape--and there are blooms to enjoy once I slow down to have a look.

The fauna are harder to capture, but the sound is like mid-May dawn in Ontario. Cheeping, whistling, calling. Swans on the river, pigeons diving at cyclists.

And as a closing note: it is Seville so, of course, oranges. Everywhere.

Ken envies the kids here--so many pelting opportunities!

I should note though--the skinny little boys do not seem to view oranges as potential weapons. Maybe all the adoration (or terror of hell--see previous post on Seville art) makes them pacifists.