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Monthly Archives: February 2013

After an unintentional Friday night out last week, which took in…

– a Peruvian-Japanese restaurant

– a power of wine before the food (mmm, ceviche) arrived –

– a plaza-full of squat bars

– a West African band (to my delight)

– dancing to bassy-dub-type sounds (also to my delight)

– a robbery (to no delight whatsoever)

– a contender for the worst toilet in the Western Hemisphere (to my nausea)

– and walking in a circle for an hour or so before finding the way home

…my Saturday plans were in ruination and I had to spend the entire day languishing, day-dreaming of eating the eggs and toast I was too sickly to get up and cook, and, unexpectedly, feeling an anxious longing to be among greenery, shrubbery, foliage, lush gardens of green.

Sunday, I did the only thing I could to soothe my botanical desires and took an afternoon stroll down by the Guadalquivir and into Maria Luisa park:

Muelles de la...

Not exactly verdant, but one of several fountains along a tidy section of the riverbank, which I assume are dedicated to the various barrios of riverside industriy that would at one time have been present, each fountain bearing a different name.

I put on my 50mm lens since I hadn'y used it is a while, a nice low f-number for making  a bokeh effect of the pink bush.

I put on my 50mm lens since I hadn’t used it in a while, a nice low f-number for making a slight bokeh effect of the pink bush.

GREEN - just what I was after. This was some sort of cheese plant sort. I had an obsession with cheese plants as a child. There was a huge one in the doctors' waiting room. See, cheese has always been on my mind...

GREEN. Just what I was after. This was some sort of cheese plant. I had an obsession with cheese plants when I was little. There used to be a huge one in the doctors’ waiting room. See, cheese has always been on my mind…

Children on tricycles, terrorising the park-going public. At some point I also saw a family of half a dozen or more, careering around on one of those bus-pedalo things, hooting ans screaming and having the time of their lives.

Children on tricycles (albeit with four wheels), terrorising the park-going public. At one point I also saw a family of half a dozen or more careering around on one of those bus-pedalo things, hooting and screaming and having the time of their lives.

Any musings of paradise were swiftly brought to an end, however, when I returned to my street and to the rubbish strike. This was on Sunday - they only called off the protest yesterday. The rubbish mountain is still there. You can imagine... On a political note,

Any musings of paradise were swiftly brought to an end, however, when I returned to my street and to the rubbish strike. This was on Sunday – they only called it off yesterday. The rubbish mountain is still there. You can imagine…  Despite the disruption, though, the strikers didn’t win any concessions and for that, I’m sad. Hard times in España, true dat.

I was refreshed and ready to take in a touch more nightlife again by Sunday evening, heading to Ánima for some live musics – a bar Andalucian in appearance, with an Austrian dueño who serves goulash and mulled wine, and, it seemed, frequented by a fortunate wealth of fit, bearded men. The band wore black hats and played in a klezmer style. I must say, I was relieved to find that there is a little music culture going on in Seville after all. I’d been starting to worry…

I made it out on Sunday night again to this venue, with

Ánima. You can just make out a silhouette of hat and clarinet by the door frame. Beard+hat, by the way – win-win combination.

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It has been a busy old time this last week and two days. Last weekend started with a Friday night cheese-and-wine fest with folks from work, and ended with not remembering getting home sometime around 4am.

One for Dr John - Doctor Bar, with syringe lampshades and anatomical drawings on the wall. I don't remember taking this photo. I feel it's quite telling of the latter end of that Friday night.

One for Dr John – Doctor Bar, with syringe lampshades and anatomical drawings on the walls. I don’t remember taking this photo, which is quite illustrative of the latter end of that night really.

This then posed some challenges for Saturday morning, when I was headed to Córdoba with my flatmate and a few other chicas. We weren´t getting the the train until lunch time, but nevertheless ended up in a mad rush, having to change buses and flee through the train station. That´s surely the only way to go anywhere though, right?

I was excited to get out of the city for the first time since arriving, see some landscape, some hills, some Andalucían streets the same but different. There was a medieval market on that weekend, which we hadn’t quite known what to expect of but it turned out to be a big affair.

Meat was the over-arching theme of the fair.

Meat was the over-arching theme.

Giant and unseemly shaped vegetables, a close second.

Giant and unseemly-shaped vegetables, a close second.

Face-painted men in leather playing bagpipes! Man, medieval times were exciting...

Face-painted men in leather playing bagpipes and drums. Medieval times were well exciting!

Horns and red trousers a-plenty!

Horns and red trousers a-plenty!

The above photo exhibits two delights of the day – one being the horn clutched on the right there – mulled wine from a horn, the hangover cure to beat all. The horns were all the rage within the market arena, but were met with judging glares when we bared them in the outside world…

In the background there you can also see a red-trousered man. My attention was first brought to red trousers by this website. Sevilla (and Córdoba, it seems) is awash with red-trouser wearers and they have become my obsession. Red trousers are a particularly popular weekend choice among the andaluz male. Córdoba also offered a new delight of bright blue trousers, which almost equalled the red in number.

Street art (literally) in the style of the street name letters. 'At last I have found you'.

Street art (literally) in the style of the street name letters. ‘At last I have found you’.

There's not a whole lot going on in Córdoba , but you can find the biggest tortillas en el mundo! There the size of, goodness, I don't know, a whole baby? If you flattened it out...

There’s not a whole lot going on in Córdoba , but you can find the biggest tortillas en el MUNDO. They’re the size of, goodness, I don’t know, a whole baby? If you flattened it out…

Córdoba’s small (or at least feels small, despite being a city of 300,000 people), a one-horse town when it comes to nightlife, but we squeezed all we could out of our one night away and after a visit to a ‘fairy’ bar, a variety of dubiously-coloured shots, and dancing (and singing – !!) along to Elvis, Bon Jovi and some questionable Spanish rock, we clung on until a respectable 7am.

Unfortunately for Sunday, this meant an accumulative hangover and some very bad bus/food choices.

I survived on into the next week though, and if the medieval market had been the close of winter, spring had most definitely arrived by mid week. On my lunch break I was able to bask in the sun and breathe in the aroma of the cypresses released by the heat. Winter is DEAD! Roll on the summertime…

Basking