There is a famous song about Seville, Sevilla tiene un color especial, which translates literally as Seville has a special colour. “Seville, smiling city, fills me with joy when I talk to the people,” the singers croon. I can’t deny that there is something special about this city and its people. There’s an openness that would be hard to replicate elsewhere. I did my university exchange in this undeniably beautiful city, where a simple promenade along the street is accompanied by the lingering scent of orange blossoms. I have since returned to visit many times. It’s the kind of city that keeps drawing you in.
Some years ago, my brother made his first trip to Spain and we spent some time in the Andalusia. We finished our trip in Seville and he returned to Canada. I stayed on a few days alone before leaving for Ponferrada, in the north, to work as a volunteer. Suddenly alone in such a vibrant and animated city, I was inclined to find someone with whom I could go for coffee. How does one do that in a city full of strangers? Tinder. There’s an app for everything, as they say. In another country, I might not have bothered, or even felt comfortable using Tinder, but in the safety of Seville, knowing the culture, I didn’t hesitate. Spanish men have a tendency of being very open and they are almost always happy to meet and chat about anything, even if it has been made quite clear that this is just coffee, nada más, nothing more. Tinder in Seville, is not a terrible idea.
Setting up a Date
You might think that people wouldn’t want to bother meeting up after you’ve just told them you are in the city for three days, and three days only. Not in Seville. It has never been so easy to make new friends. In a few hours, I had arranged three dates for my three remaining days. A lawyer, a journalist, and a personal trainer walk into a bar… just kidding. In the end, I got a cold and cancelled two meetups, but I did meet the lawyer, J. Being a foreigner he suggested he give me a tour of the city. I cautioned him that I had lived in Seville before and I knew the city quite well. He promised he would find some things to visit that I had not seen before, and he absolutely delivered. It soon became apparent that using Tinder in Seville meant I would hear stories and see places as yet undiscovered for me.
Meeting Point: Las Setas
J. suggested we meet at Las Setas (the mushrooms), the nickname for Metropol Parasol, an enormous wooden structure in the Plaza Encarnación in the centre of Seville. The development of this complex (I’m not sure what else to call it) took many years. I remember the early stages when I was a student back in 2008. Finally, it was complete and open for visitors. My brother and I went up at night for views of the city lit up (the top photo from this post is from that visit). Underneath are archaeological ruins, and a market.
Despite the crowd milling around the base of the mushrooms, J. was easy to spot, though shorter than I expected. We gave each other the customary dos besos, a kiss on each cheek in greeting, made less awkward by his ebullient personality, in contrast to my own reserved nature. Was I ready to see the city? Of course, I was eager to see what he had planned.
The Legend of St. Peter's Bird
Just down the street from the architectural mushrooms is Iglesia San Pedro, an unremarkable church dedicated to St. Peter. On many church facades in Seville you will find an elaborate mural made of tiles depicting purgatory, meant to remind the faithful of this particular fate. They could try to buy their way to heaven by making a donation through the conveniently placed slot under the tiles.
J. brought me to see the tiles and told me there was a legend associated with this mural. The artist, Juan Oliver, painted a bird into each of his works of art. Hidden on purpose, the legend says that if you can find the bird without assistance you will soon find yourself married.
Spoiler Alert: I found the bird, but years later I am still not married. I suppose soon is a relative term.
The Story of the Head of King Don Pedro
We wandered through the narrow streets, chatting about this and that, until we arrived at a small statue of a medieval king. The statue is located on a street named Cabeza del Rey Don Pedro, Head of King Don Pedro. Strange name for a street, but there are stranger names for villages and streets in Spain, so nothing too shocking.
J. asked me if I had been on this street before and if I knew the story behind it. I absolutely did not know the story, and I couldn’t say whether I had walked down that street before or not. Here is the story of the head of Don Pedro:
Don Pedro was king of Castile in the 14th century (Spain didn’t exist yet). He lived in Seville. His nickname? Pedro the Cruel. It seems he was a bit of a disciplinarian, ensuring that for every crime there was a severe punishment. Also, it is said that when he walked his shins made a terrible noise. He didn’t believe that all crimes were being met with sufficient punishment in the city, thus he decided to see for himself, leaving his palace and venturing out onto the streets in the night. He was confronted by a member of the Guzman family, known to support his illegitimate brother’s claim to the throne. A sword fight ensued, witnessed by an old woman, and Don Pedro killed his opponent. The old woman dropped her lantern at the scene of the crime and as the king escaped she heard the noise of his shins, like walnuts knocking together.
The Guzmans went the next morning to Don Pedro to demand the king find the culprit, not knowing the murderer was the king himself. The old woman was brought before the king, but she refused to say who had killed Don Guzman. Eventually, under pressure, she found a mirror in an adjacent room and said that if the king looked out this particular window, he would see the guilty party.
Don Pedro promised the Guzmans that they would have justice and that he would place the head of the murderer in a box at the scene of the duel. The Guzmans were satisfied, and the next day the king’s guards placed a wooden box in an alcove protected by iron bars where Guzman was killed. Years later, Don Pedro was killed by his brother, Enrique. As soon as the king was dead, the Guzmans were finally able to open the box, hoping that the head had not decomposed so much that the person was unrecognizable. Inside they found the marble head of King Don Pedro.
Visiting a Hotel: It's Not What You Think
Next, J. wanted to show me a hotel. I was as skeptical as you are right now. However, this hotel is an incredible piece of the history of Seville and we just walked right in past the reception. I’m actually not sure if non-hotel guests are allowed to enter (in some Spanish hotels you can have a look around even if you don’t have a room), but since this hotel had a spa it was probably not completely against the rules.
Hotel Casas de la Judería is not at all your typical hotel. The name, Houses of the Jewish Quarter, describes it accurately. Twenty-seven houses, the connecting streets and passageways, and 40 patios and gardens from the old Jewish District of Seville, were cut off from the city and turned into a hotel with 134 rooms. Many of the streets and buildings date to the 14th century. The hotel is now a labyrinth for visitors to the city, but was once a neighbourhood for the Jewish population. The hotel website describes the location as charming, and it is. However, it fails to mention the horrific massacre of Jewish people in the city, and the fact that the hotel is reputed to be haunted. I guess that doesn’t attract clients as much as fountains and elaborately decorated rooms. The hotel actually consists of three city blocks, the reason why some tourists complain on TripAdvisor that they got lost inside the hotel.
Funny side story: I was looking through my mother’s photos from a trip to Seville and recognized the patio, pictured below, as being inside the hotel. I’m not sure if she stuck her camera through the metal bars from the street to get the photo, or if she accidentally ended up inside the hotel. She doesn’t remember, so I suppose we’ll never know.
Going Underground
Because the hotel extends over such a large area, and is segmented by privately owned houses, there is a network of modern subterranean rooms and passages to get guests from one area to another. This is probably why so many people find themselves lost in the hotel. Underground you can find the spa, meant to emulate the Roman baths once found in the Iberian Peninsula. I wouldn’t complain if I got lost in the spa. That’s the good kind of lost.
On the Rooftops
A fantastic feature of the hotel is the rooftop terrace, complete with fabulous swimming pool, and views over the surrounding buildings. While sipping a cocktail near the pool, you can soak up the famous Andalusian sun, admire the red-tiled roofs, patios, terraces, and vibrant-hues of the neighbourhood. I doubt anybody complains about this.
A Dark History: The 1391 Massacre
Anti-semitism was rampant during much of the 14th century on the Iberian Peninsula. You may or may not have liked King Don Pedro of Castile from my earlier story, but he did make an effort to protect the Jewish population in Seville from his brother, Enrique, who was known for ordering the massacre of Jews. When Enrique killed his brother in a civil war, the Jewish population lost their royal protection and were subject to increasingly hostile actions against them.
The Archdeacon, Ferrán Martinez, a prominent member of the Catholic Church, preached anti-Judaism. The Jews feared violent repression and reached out to Enrique, who, once king, had become dependent on the Jews financially. Enrique told Martinez to stop persecuting the Jews. Martinez continued, and was banned from preaching. However, in 1390 Enrique died, and the Jews once more lost their protection.
In 1391, an angry mob riled up by Martinez’s hateful vitriol, entered the Jewish Quarter, closed the doors, and in the bloodbath of one night, killed 4000 Jews. Though the authorities managed to stop the killing in Seville, the hatred spread throughout Castile, resulting in the death of an estimated 50,000 Jews.
Ghosts at the Hotel
Considering the horrific events that took place on the streets that are now trod by the soles of tourists rather than those of crazed assassins, it is no wonder there are stories of spectral appearances and activities. An English tourist claims to have seen a ghost at the hotel, a male, short of stature. Other guests complain of having the blankets removed from the bed while they are sleeping.
Despite the potential for a ghostly encounter at the hotel, it’s really an incredible historic location, and I would absolutely stay here given the opportunity! It’s so much more interesting than your standard hotel.
An Afternoon Snack
After the tour of the hotel (nobody noticed we weren’t supposed to be there) we returned to the neighbourhood near the mushrooms. J. thought I might enjoy a new trend in Seville called cookies and copas. A small cookie bakery had opened across from a bar, and young people had started pairing their cookies with a cocktail. There were groups of people lingering in the vicinity with a cookie in one hand and a mojito in the other. The cookie shop (no website, but it appears still to be open) is called Dulce Regina, Sweet Regina, which I thought was funny because I’m from Regina. It seems more likely it was named with a queen in mind, rather than my hometown, but it was a reminder of home nonetheless.
I never saw J. again after that afternoon, but I had a great time using Tinder in Seville and uncovering a part of the city I had never visited before. You never know whom you’ll meet and what you’ll learn!
You tell these stories really well!
Thank you!!