Plan A. had been to stay in Sanlucar and take the bikes across the river on the ferry and explore the Donana national park. The tourist information told us that access to this part the park was restricted to safari style tours in 4x4 vehicles and independent access on foot or bike was not allowed. We could have pedalled along the beach, but that did not sound so great an idea. So, plan B, we packed up and headed for Sevilla.
Rather than scoot straight up the Autovia and pay the tolls we used the A471 which crosses the marshlands of the Guadalquivir. One thing which is great about travelling, is you look at a map, plan a route, which aside from a few symbols - roads, towns, spot heights - is entirely unknown, then as you go along the landscape unfolds like a new story. Though the map intimated that the landscape would be dead flat, which it was in part, it also had areas of bare rounded hills, some chalk, others loess. There were vineyards and orchards; some areas were covered in olive trees, others with solar panels. Here sunshine rather than soil type defines the agriculture. I like the idea of harvesting sunlight, it has a certain Ballardian charm.
The road was great, empty, rolling through an ever changing landscape. It skirted round white towns stretched along low escarpments, Trebujena, Lebrija; at each one we craned our necks trying to spot a supermarket sign, we needed groceries. In Spain they have a habit of placing the signs for large stores on hundred foot poles, hardly picturesque, but practical! As we approached Los Palacios y Villafranco, 'DIA' in huge red. friendly letters hung above the town. It was not just groceries, but we had actually drunk the cellar dry. Not one wine bottle in reserve, not like the intrepid Turpies at all!
The aire in Sevilla is a couple of miles out of town in a vehicle storage company's yard. Though the access to it is up a potholed lane through tall eucalyptus trees, the area itself is an industrial park next to the river port. Seville maybe more than 30 miles from the sea, but its port facilities can handle seagoing container ships and bulk carriers because a ship canal and the lower reaches of the Guadalquivir are navigable. It's great to see a dock area in a city which still functions, where warehouses still store stuff and have not yet been converted into loft apartments occupied by lawyers and accountants, and other 'B ark' young professionals.
 |
| Motorhomes, tarmac and eucalyptus |
 |
| parked-up at the port |
 |
The guy on reception gave us a fairly sketchy map of Sevilla, circled the city centre in biro; though cartographically challenged, nevertheless, in the spirit of illustrious Andalucian predecessors, Columbus, Magellan, Bolivar et al, we set off to explore. Señor Aire's map had no scale, but it seemed many leagues before we had walked through the acres of industrial wasteland, crossed the lethal Sevilla ring road and the lengthy bridge across the Guadalquivir. Only then did we reach the postage stamp green patch shown on our map as being next to 'Centro.' In actuality there were two parks; the first, The Maria Luisa Botanical Gardens, was a little smaller than Yorkshire, the second, the Real Maria Luisa Park, roughly Belgium sized. This being the case, we made excellent progress, reaching what appeared to be the city centre well before nightfall. The plan had been, go to the park, have a coffee. We had wandered aimlessly about, come across a giant, but somewhat ghastly palace type building, but no cafés. All the while we were being buzzed by the Seville traffic, which has a certain Neapolitan panache. Gill asked a policeman 'Where's the centre?" He immediately went into 'stupid English tourist mode' and we had to persuade him that we were independent enough to be trusted to walk unaccompanied 'just around the corner' to the Cathedral, which, being the largest in Europe, we had failed to find.
 |
| Enormous tiled pavillion in the middle of 'Park Belgium' |
 |
| goat man |
 |
| and 'green' man |
So we stared at the cathedral and agreed it was big, stared at various other monuments and agreed they were big as well. Then over a coffee in a nice little cafe down the road from Burger King, Dunkin Coffee and Starbucks concluded that Sevilla was very big in general, and quite a tourist trap compared to the other places we'd visited recently.
 |
| The only triumph of the day, at the third attempt, Gill emerges from a tourist information office with a street plan. |
Now we needed to get back. Simply being a pedestrian in Seville is a tad challenging. The zone around the cathedral has been remodelled on the 'shared space' concept. This involves pedestrians, cyclists, touristy horse drawn carriages, Segway tours and silent trams all sharing a cobbled Main Street. It may be terrifying, but it does keep you fleet of foot.
We hatched a cunning plan get back to the aire more directly. It involved crossing the river near the city centre and taking a diagonal road that would get us back to the aire in half the time. A good plan. Unfortunately, the route went straight through Seville's Feria de Abril, the kilometre square of empty ground dedicated to the famously rumbustious Spring fiesta . Preparations for this year's were in full swing, including the construction of a hundred foot high garishly painted arch, miles of fairy lights and acres of stalls covered in striped fabric. To assist in the massive construction effort the entire area had been fenced off. What should have been a shortcut became a 2 km detour, and to make things worst, the late afternoon temperature soared to 29 degrees as we slogged down long avenues of faceless apartment blocks with no shade whatsoever.
Later, The inevitable result, a wide-ranging vino-fuelled diatribe from yours truly, encompassing:
1. The difference between the grand and the grandiose in architecture, it's relationship with absolutism and a short and wildly inaccurate summary of the Counter-reformation in Spain.
2. The dangers of trends towards shared space solutions in contemporary urban planning.
3. The prevalence of mobile phone usage among younger Spanish drivers.
4. The malign effect of American tourists on the cafe life of European cities...
Luckily I think Gill was too immersed in Candy Crush to suffer to much from my pearls of wisdom.
After a while she said suddenly, "I'm off to bed, when we go back to Seville tomorrow, we need a plan, we can't simply wander about."
Sent from my iPhone
No comments:
Post a Comment