I had a hair appointment at the Sassoon Academy today. For £5, a student from the academy would be cutting my hair under the supervision of a teacher. I think the full price is £12, but I had a coupon. When I called last week to set up the appointment, I was told to plan to be there for three hours and was asked if I wanted a classic cut or a creative cut. I chose classic. I know, boring.

I wasn't sure what to expect. When I arrived about five minutes before the appointed time, the reception area was full of women. We had to check in, pay, and then get our assigned classrooms. My classroom was four doors down and then up two flights of stairs. I sat at one of the 14 stations and waited. I chatted with the woman next to me, or rather she talked at me. I learned that she had been here before, she was a homeopath, she was a vegetarian and gluten free, that vegetarians don't get cancer (she then amended that last statement by saying they have a 30% less risk for getting cancer and vegans have 60% less risk). I interjected that genes played a role to which she agreed. She also told me that her three children have never taken any antibiotics and they are in their thirties. I also learned that she is from Jordan but has lived in the UK for over 40 years, that she came as a student and never left. She also told me that babies today have many more health problems than before and that this was because of their parents' promiscuity. She herself knew of three babies right now who had to be on antibiotics right after they were born. I was rescued from this lecture by the arrival of the two teachers and shortly after that the students. (She did continue to complain that they were running late and that they were doing things differently than before. She had an appointment with a patient at five and she would have to leave by 2:30 in order to get home in time. It was already after 2 by this point. She did stay until 3:50, leaving with wet hair and only the hair at the back of her head cut. Her stylist was left without a model.)

My student stylist was Veera from Helsinki. She was great. There was a lot of down time during the course of the afternoon, allowing plenty of time to talk, and her English was excellent. I think I lucked out with the group I was assigned. They were already stylists and were here for a one week certification program. Students in other classrooms had no experience before they came here and their classes go for a minimum of 24 weeks.

I was Veera's first Sassoon haircut and she was more excited than me. The haircuts were much more involved than you would think. James, the instructor on our side of the room would come by, show Veera the first step in the process for my particular cut, she would get all excited about it and then complete the step, then we would wait until James could get back to us to check out how Veera did, maybe fix something, then demonstrate the next step. The three hours turned into four. At the end, we took a selfie to commemorate our first Sassoon haircuts (she the giver and me the receiver) and of course we hugged, because after all we did spend four hours together. The haircut came out very well; the after photo doesn't demonstrate  that very well.

Before

During

After

Oxford Circus

Gord and I had tickets to a play and were planning to meet at the flat first and eat some leftovers. I didn't leave the Academy until almost six. At Oxford Circus it was so crowded that four trains came and went before I could board one, but I must say that at that time of day there was a train every minute. We had to meet at King's Cross station. I had a package of crisps at the theatre (and some of the leftovers when we got home).

The play was a Royal Shakespeare Company production of Shakespeare's Cymbeline, at the Barbican. Wow. First of all, we had never seen a performance of this play before. It was over three hours long, not counting the one intermission. It would have been helpful to read a synopsis ahead of time. There were close to 30 characters, and talk about subplots. The set and lighting designs were outstanding, and there was live music, which I found to be very interesting. The female vocalist was particularly good. The actors were great. This was opening night, and from all appearances things went off without a hitch. The only thing that didn't work for me was the use of projected translations of the Italian, French, and Latin spoken occasionally by the actors. It was too difficult to read and watch the actors at the same time. I would definitely see this play again.

It's 2:15 am and I'm going to post this without proofing it another time, because I want to go to bed. Hope everyone had a good Halloween.

Read: Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" (1892) from London Stories

We went over to Granary Square for a midday meal, this time to the Grain Store. While we were waiting for a table, we went over to the Canopy Market that was being held in the Square this weekend. There were fruit and vegetable vendors, a couple of food trucks, cheeses, meats, lots of vinyl, and a dj.

Back at the restaurant, they said they could seat us if we were finished by 2. According to my watch that gave us ten minutes to order and eat. That's when we found out that Daylight Savings Time ended here last night and we were supposed to turn our clocks back an hour. That means we have a week when there is only a four-hour time difference between here and home. At our table I silently wondered why they would want to make sure we could leave by 2. They don't take reservations so I wonder what was happening then. I guess I'll never know. When we left before our allotted time was up there were many empty tables. At any rate, I don't think we'll go back. The food was just a little too creative with not a good result. I've seen that a lot here. It's not that I dislike new and creative food, but it has to work. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something a little off from what I'm used to. I find myself thinking fondly of restaurants back home. Today it wasn't even the blueberry chutney--that was actually quite tasty. It was more the combination of items on the plate.

Our bill (or check or ticket) came in this wooden pear.

We then did our grocery shopping (nice to do on a full stomach to avoid making poor choices). Today was a bit colder, especially on the walk home, and I should have worn something warmer. The rest of the day was spent at home, talking to Meg, doing the Sunday crossword online with my sister, writing a couple of birthday notes, editing some more, making dinner, reading--a pleasant enough day but doesn't make for interesting blog reading.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but apparently the film director Stephen Frears lives in the penthouse above us. Someone up there plays trumpet, usually at about 8 in the morning, but tonight it was after 10 when they started and after Gord had gone to bed. They don't play too loudly nor for very long, but they do pick strange times to practice. And, no, they don't play Reveille.

Read: Eliza Lynn Linton's "My First Soiree" (1891) from London Stories

Today (Saturday) was spent copy editing. Gord had chapters 18, 19, and 20 of his two-volume book for me to look at. I'll be working on it tomorrow, too. One more section and he'll be done volume one. Easy for me to say, but I think it's going well. He, on the other hand, would like to be further along. He'll have a full teaching load in January and won't be able to devote much time to writing.

We walked to a Vietnamese restaurant, appropriately called Pho, for dinner. (I had noticed it on my first walk up that way back in August and had been wanting to try it.) It was a beautiful evening for the mile walk and good to be outside after being holed up in the flat all day. We arrived about 7 to find many open tables. About 10 minutes later, the restaurant was completely full and, soon after that, we were too. The food was very good and the three tipsy women at the next table were entertaining, air drumming to the music with their chopsticks.

We walked around afterward. It was a busy Saturday night in Islington. Some people were dressed for Halloween already and some, I think, were also in costume, but I couldn't be sure. (I'm thinking specifically about three women on a corner outside a pub who looked like ladies of the night, one wearing only a full body girdle.)

Oh how I want this perfect weather to last.

In the middle of writing this post, I got a text from my eldest daughter with a question, so I called her. When I went back to the blog after the call, my laptop was in the middle of a very long update. It was already 2 am, so I wasn't able to finish it last night.

Read: Henry Mayhew's "Watercress Girl" (1851), Charles Dickens's "Down with the Tide" (1853), and C. Maurice Davies "The Walworth Jumpers" (1876) from London Stories

I decided to go to the Old Operating Theatre Museum and Herb Garrett today and then to Borough Market. Instead of the underground, I took the #63 bus to Blackfriars Station, South Entrance, then walked along Bankside, past the Tate Modern and Shakespeare's Globe. It was mobbed with people, some sauntering, some walking three and four abreast. Now I wouldn't say I'm a particularly fast walker, but I do like to get where I'm going. As my frustration level rose, I began to wonder how it would be if everyone walked at the same pace and kept to their half of the sidewalk. And could there be a special lane for those who feel compelled to come to a dead stop? Is my impatience with trying to maneuver through the streets of these large cities (like Barcelona, Madrid, London, New York) higher precisely because I don't live in a big city? People around me don't seem to be bothered by it. Are they just used to it? Do they just not sweat the small stuff? Or are they all just more accepting of things they can't change? I guess I'll never know. But I can work on not letting it get to me, and to recognize that I don't always have to rush to be somewhere.

The Old Operating Theatre is in the attic of a former (18th century) church and the entrance is up a narrow spiral staircase, in the church's tower.

St. Thomas's Church became a hospital, and the operating theatre was opened in 1822. Florence Nightingale set up her nursing school at this site in 1959 until the hospital moved to Lambeth in 1862. It was closed up and forgotten for 100 years and rediscovered in 1956.

This was the operating theatre for women, and no they didn't transport them up the stairs. They came from the ward that was in another part of the hospital. The museum provides a social history of medicine and surgical practices before the use of anesthetics. So most of the surgeries performed here were amputations (which they could do in under a minute) and fixing compound fractures. Surgery was only done as a last resort, because this was also before antiseptic surgery was invented. Surgeons would more often wash their hands after a surgery and not necessarily beforehand. Among the many artifacts were amputation kits and other operating tools, herbs, preserved body parts. We've come a long way and I'm grateful. I would have been kicking and screaming like the man in this print.

The museum offered a "Halloween Hospital Horrors Pumpkin Pathology Trail" for children (and adults). They had six pumpkins around the attic room, each "suffering" from a different disease, and you had to study the pumpkin, read the clues, and figure out which disease belonged to which pumpkin, and which herb was used as a remedy.

I walked over to Borough Market and made a few purchases, including an olive wood pasta server and some bread and fruit. It is such a wonderful place. I've been many times on previous visits, but I've yet to try any of the many prepared dishes of which there are a large variety. Maybe Gord and I will come back some weekend and plan to eat there.

After a short stop at home, Gord and I went to the Old Truman Brewery in Brick Lane for the Epicurean, London's Artisanal Drink and Fine Food Festival. We walked past all kinds of wonderful looking Indian restaurants, but our tickets to this event included tastings so we thought that would be dinner. Inside we discovered that most of the tastings were of the liquid type. The food was few and far between, a chocolate maker here, a Portuguese custard there, and only small samples. In Room 3 we did find three food vendors, but their food was not included in the ticket price. We bought some kottu roti, Sri Lankan street food, from one of them before tasting the wine. We talked to a lot of people and enjoyed sampling their wines. A lot of countries were represented, from the usual suspects, Italy, France, and Spain, to Australia and Argentina, and even the Finger Lakes of New York and two wineries from India. And I can't forget the UK bubbly. We had fairly extended conversations with some of them. I can't speak for Gord, but I enjoyed it. Would I recommend it to anyone? Probably not.

We walked some more of busy Brick Lane, passing this mosque.

We'll come back for dinner some night at one of these eateries.

Read: William Makepeace Thackeray's "Going to See a Man Hanged" (1840), from London Stories

Today, I explored the neighborhood on the other side of Regent's Canal today. There were nice parts and not so nice parts, and a few parks with lots of happy children playing. I ended up in Islington, on the High Street and on the Camden Passage. Then I walked down to the Angel tube station, cut across Pentonville Road, stopping at a charity shop (thrift shop) where I purchased two books, one of which doesn't even fit my parameters as one I can read here, because the author is from Brooklyn. The other is Pakistan born but lives in London, so that passes the criteria. I wasn't supposed to buy any books while I was here and that is all I have purchased in London (a total of four, to date). In Italy it was scarves and 2 Indian tablecloths for our outdoor table--I hope they fit.

I walked past the student residence hall on my way home.

For dinner Gord suggested that we try the Rotunda, which we can see from our balcony (across the Battlebridge Basin), on the ground floor of the Guardian building. Throughout the warm weather it has always been full of people enjoying the terrace overlooking the canal. Our landlords had said it can be very good but is inconsistent. We have said we should try it. Tonight was the night.

We found the entrance and discovered the building is actually called Kings Place (the Guardian newspaper just happens to have their offices there). What a place! In addition to the restaurant and a cafe, there are two world-class concert halls, two art galleries, and seven levels of office space, including the offices of the London Sinfonietta. We had no idea all of this was right here. The concert halls are on the lowest level, which means they are below the level of the canal. And they have quite a great selection of performances, including classical, jazz, folk, contemporary, and the spoken word. The London Guitar Festival is taking place now (Oct. 26-29) and classical guitarist David Russell is performing tomorrow. Unfortunately, we have other plans.

The dinner itself got mixed reviews. There was a problem at the beginning and I was pretty certain we wouldn't be returning in the future, but the manager handled it very professionally and I think, as a result, we might give it another go.

After dinner we walked down two levels below the ground floor to look at the artwork on the walls. It was an exhibition by an Indian (Gujarati) artist who has lived in London since 1978. Shanti Panchal: Ragas of the Dawn was very interesting. He says his influences are Indian miniature painting, Buddhist and Jain frescoes, as well as Mark Rothko and Francis Bacon. I could see the first two, although his paintings are anything but miniature, but I had difficulty seeing Rothko and Bacon's influences. He paints with watercolors, saturating handmade paper with deep reds, pinks, ochres. They really grew on me the more I looked at them, and I continued to think about them back at the flat. But there's no chance I will go back and buy one. They ranged in price from £1,250 to £45,000.

The Parting Boys

Mirror 1

The Child Bride

The Dialogue

Read: Thomas De Quincey's "Ann of Oxford Street" (1822) from London Stories

I went to visit one of my favorite museums in London, the Wallace Collection. Comprising 5,500 works collected by one family over five generations in the 18th and 19th centuries, the collection has something for everyone (unless, of course, you only like 20th century art). You name an artist, they have something by that artist, and often many somethings. Titian, Rubens, Hals, Rembrandt, Delacroix, Gainsborough, Reynolds, Van Dyck, Canaletto, Fragonard, Boucher, Velazquez, Murillo, and that is just a fraction. Their collection of French art is particularly strong, as is their Dutch art, their miniatures, and Medieval and Renaissance art. And if painting is not your thing, they have furniture (mostly 18th century French), porcelain (especially Sevres), sculpture, snuff boxes, and 4 of their 25 galleries are devoted to their large collection of arms and armour.

The entire collection was bequeathed to the nation in 1897 and opened to the public in 1900. These works can only be seen here, as the bequest stipulated that no object can leave the collection, even as a loan to another museum. That must also mean that nothing can be sold either.

I have a couple of favorites. Frans Hals' The Laughing Cavalier and Fragonard's The Swing are the two that immediately come to mind.

They have redone the galleries in the nine years since I last visited, and they have moved things around. It seems that the rooms are now organized more by country, So all of the British artists are in one or two rooms, French in other rooms, Dutch in others. I get that. It makes sense. But The Swing was in a different room than before (I had trouble even finding it) and it is now displayed in the Oval Drawing Room with other French paintings. I don't like its placement next to two much larger paintings that seem to dwarf it. It looked so much smaller than I remembered. In the photo below it is the second painting on the right.

This time I tried to notice and appreciate things I would typically avoid. Like this French armchair and this other piece. I can't say I like them any better, however.

And, what a surprise, they have a Rembrandt self-portrait (plus five other Rembrandts).

Here is a peak at some of the other pieces in the collection.

The Great Gallery

I first came to the Wallace Collection 20 years ago with my then young daughters. I remember being impressed by their children's activity guide, one of the few museums at that time that had anything to engage children. I asked them if they still had one. Of course they do, but it's now a downloadable app for your phone and it's an interactive game where you collect virtual objects, crack puzzles, and solve a mystery. Part of me is sad about this. I like technology, probably too much, but I wonder what effect this is having. Will children know how to do anything without their gadgets? Okay, now I sound like an old person. I should just be glad that they are bringing their children to the museum. And I'm sure if we had had that app 20 years ago we would have downloaded it too.


Today's readings (from London Stories): James Lackington's "Love Among the Methodists" (1792) and Samuel Whyte's "A Visit to Charlotte Cibber" (1795)

Our flight back to London from Seville on Thursday afternoon was unusual in that it felt like we were on a school bus. We were surrounded by a large group of friends or family, all adults who were very happy to be traveling together, and they chattered away at each other the entire flight, sometimes kneeling on their seat to talk to the people in the seats behind them. Nobody could hear the announcements, I couldn't hear myself think, and reading was out of the question. Fortunately it was only a two-and-a-half hour flight, plus their noise drowned out the crying baby.

The passport control officer at Stansted was as nice as the two at Luton when we arrived in August. This time Gord's fingerprints were able to be read by the scanner, perhaps because he hadn't been on his computer for two weeks--can fingerprints grow back in? I doubt it.

When we were walking from King's Cross Station to our flat, three guys ran across a fairly busy street (York Way) next to us. One of them was very drunk and fell in the street in front of a taxi. He then just lay there on his back with outstretched arms and didn't move for about 30 seconds. The taxi driver couldn't get past him and just quietly waited, no honking or anything. The guy finally moved and started blabbering something. His friends had disappeared but somebody went over to him and helped him up. I don't think he was hurt, he probably didn't even feel a thing, in his condition.

Then, a half block from home we saw a very large fox run across the street and then stop. We stared at each other for 30 seconds or so, and then we carried on. After dropping off our bags, we walked to Bibigo, a Korean restaurant that Gord had discovered while I was in Italy. It is about a mile from our flat, a perfect distance after a meal. And it was very good. We also walked past a pub I had read about for its large selection of offerings on tap, The Craft Beer Co. We stopped in to check it out and had a nice little chat with one of its customers, a guy who seemed very passionate about the place. I suspect Meg and Korey will like it when they visit in a month.

It was good to be home. Friday and Saturday was spent doing laundry, working on the blog, and giving my knees a chance to recuperate from the cobblestones. Saturday night we had dinner plans with Brea and Marty. We were meeting up at The Bunch of Grapes pub in Knightsbridge before our reservations at the Hawksmoor Knightsbridge. Gord and I were early and stopped at Harrod's for a quick look around the food halls and then down to their wine shop. They are pretty spectacular, after all, and we hadn't gone in yet this trip. We met Brea at the pub, and Marty joined us at the restaurant. The food was delicious and abundant, as was the wine. The wait staff were very gracious about a mistake with one of the orders. We had a great time, as always. I meant to take a photo to prove that I really do have a niece in London, but I forgot. Next time.

Sunday morning we walked over to Dishoom for breakfast before buying groceries at Waitrose. We had a half hour wait to get in, which meant we just missed their breakfast hours. So we had lunch instead. No problem. And they handed out bottomless glasses of hot chai while we waited in line outside.

I worked on the blog some more when we got back and made a Sunday dinner. Monday I finally was able to finish the second and final blog post on our Spain trip. I went out in the afternoon to do some errands, including mailing our absentee ballots!!

Today, Tuesday, I was planning to head out and do something, but I was a little under the weather, a cold or allergies I guess, so I stayed in. I vacuumed, purchased some tickets online, read, etc. That seemed to do the trick because I felt better by evening. Gord suggested going to Chinatown for dinner. We found a small little place with a line out the door, Bai Wei. We only had to wait about five minutes and we later learned why. When we placed our order we were told that we couldn't place a second order (in other words, don't order too little because they were not going to let us add to our order later). So if you wanted more than one drink or if you might want dessert, you had to tell them now. And they don't let you linger after your meal either. We saw them tell one table that it was time to leave because people were waiting to sit there. Funny. Anyway, the food was good and their Cultural Revolution murals were interesting.

We walked around Leicester Square and Covent Garden for a while before heading home.

Watching: Broadchurch Season 2

Reading: London Stories, edited by Jerry White, four centuries of factual accounts and fiction, set in London. So far I have read Thomas Dekker's "London, Lying Sicke of the Plague" from 1603, John Evelyn's "The Great Fire of London" from 1666, and Daniel Defoe's "A Ragged Boyhood" from 1722.

Spain, Part II

Granada, Seville, Cordoba (October 14-20)

The train from Madrid took us to Antequera where everyone heading to Granada had to transfer to a bus that took us the rest of the way. Evidently they are doing some renovations or repairs to the tracks. Our hotel was on the Plaza Nueva and our room had a small balcony overlooking it.

We had an early (for Spain) but very nice dinner at Carmela Restaurante, recommended by the hotel. We then walked up to the Alhambra for our pre-booked night visit to the Nasrid Palaces. It was a beautiful night with a full moon. This spectacular Moorish palace, built mostly in the 14th century, contained room after room of decorated tiles, carved wooden ceilings, filigree windows, and serene courtyards with fountains and pools. To see it at night was magical.

The walk to and from the Alhambra was along a beautiful walkway as well.

Early Saturday morning (7:45) we were at the meeting point for our tour of the rest of the Alhambra--the Alcazaba fort, the gardens, the Generalife (the summer palace and gardens), not to mention the cats.

We  had lunch at the Parador on their terrace overlooking the gardens (recommended by my friend Helen). We were served fairly quickly, and the food was good, but then we were ignored. We know that you have to ask for the bill, but that wasn't the problem initially. Nobody cleared our places, which is highly unusual, nor did anyone come over to ask if we wanted dessert, also unusual. Maybe they were short-staffed. At any rate, wasps were congregating around us and our empty plates, so I actually had to get up and move the plates to an adjacent table. Still we could not get anyone's attention. That solved the wasp problem, but the cigarette smoke was starting to get to us, too. (The weather has been beautiful for eating outdoors, but the downside is that that is naturally where the smokers prefer to sit too.) Oh we are spoiled in the US! Other diners were having similar problems with getting anyone's attention. Our waiter seemed to have left or gone to wait tables inside. Gord eventually had to get up and walk over to the bar area in order to pay.

On our walk back to the hotel, we stopped in several of the leather goods shops. Gord purchased a leather bag/briefcase at one of them. Later in the afternoon we took the C1 bus up to the Albayzin, the old Moorish quarter. This hilltop neighborhood has great views of the Alhambra. We walked through the Plaza San Nicolas that was crowded with people enjoying the view and the music from some guitar players. The atmosphere was very chill, perhaps as a result of the pot being smoked. We enjoyed the view from there for a bit and then found a bar with an equally good view.

We walked around some more, enjoyed still another view from the courtyard of the Great Mosque, and stayed until almost sunset before taking the bus back down to the center of town.

Dinner was at Bodegas Castaneda, a very busy tapas bar, that was recommended by the hotel. We ate standing at the bar (very typical) but ordered a bottle of 1995 Rioja Reserva (very atypical). As a result, we felt a little out of place, but it was worth it. After this we walked along the Darro River to enjoy our last night in Granada.

Sunday morning, after breakfast in the basement of our hotel, we checked out and headed to the train station. To get to Seville we had to take the bus to Antequera, then the train to Seville. We passed lots of olive trees and when we arrived in Seville the taxi to our hotel smelled of olives. Then in our hotel room we opened the doors to one of our three little balconies and I smelled olives again. We are in Andalucia, after all, the largest olive growing area on earth. I think I'm going to like Seville.

We're staying in the Hotel Amadeus and, you guessed it, it has a music theme. Everywhere you go.

This is the view from our room.

This is the view from the rooftop terrace of our hotel.

We bought tickets to see Flamenco that night and then found a place that could give us snacks until dinner, since we had missed the regular lunch time. This was in a little square near our hotel, which is in the former Jewish quarter.

We then walked around quite a bit, and ended up in the Murillo Gardens.

Back near our hotel, we noticed that people were gathering near a church on the square and figured that this must be the procession that the hotel clerk had mentioned to us (our taxi driver had a difficult time getting us into that part of town from the train station because some of the streets were closed to traffic, so we had asked her about it). We decided to walk over and investigate and we were so glad we did. A large group of musicians had gathered and were casually waiting in the street by the church.

Then eventually the doors of the church opened, and, as a big float bearing a statue of the Virgin slowly came out, the church bells started ringing, two women were throwing flower petals down from up in the church tower, and then the concert/brass band began playing. When they got the float through the doorway, a ladder was put up and a man climbed up it to adjust her halo that had been folded down to get through the threshold. Then a choir in front of the band started singing. The float had to be rotated 90 degrees to be properly aligned on the street. The band played again while the float and accompanying participants moved slowly down the street.  This was about 6:30.

Before our 8:30 Flamenco performance we went up to our room where I went online to see if I could find out anything about the procession. I found out that on the third Sunday of October the Virgen de Valme is taken on a romeria (pilgrimage) from her parish church, Santa Maria la Blanca, to her ermita (shrine), the Chapel of Our Lady of Valme, in the Bellavista neighborhood in the south of Seville, 4.4 miles away. It is supposedly one of the most popular pilgrimages in Andalucia.

The Flamenco performance was really good, great guitar player, passionate singer, and two dancers (male and female). The dancers first danced together and then separately, with guitar solos between dances. No photos were allowed until the very end. The venue was small and all seats were good, but we happened to be in the front row.

Afterward we had tapas at Vineria San Telmo, a nice little place recommended by our hotel. While walking home at about 11:30, we heard drums and, sure enough, the procession was returning to the church. This time we had views from the front of the procession instead of behind.

I had read that these floats can weigh up to three tons and it takes 30 to 50 men to carry them. There are two shifts of bearers who rotate every 20 minutes and they wear special head pieces to protect their heads and necks. It was all very cool. The link to the video is here. I love that you can see the feet of the front row of bearers at the beginning.

Monday morning we took a two-hour walking tour with Concepcion Delgado.

Her tour was so good that we opted to take her cathedral tour at one and then signed up for her Alcazar tour the next day. We had a quick history lesson in a matter of hours, learning about Ferdinand III, called the Saint, in the 13th century (NOT to be confused with Ferdinand and Isabel, known as the Catholic Monarchs, from the 15th century), the Alfonsos, Pedro I, Charles V, and more. I couldn't pass a test on this if my life depended on it, but Concepcion was very entertaining and I left knowing more than when I arrived. We also learned about the orange trees we see everywhere, that their fruit is too bitter to eat, but their blossoms in the spring produce a more beautiful scent than regular orange trees.

The cathedral in Seville is the third-largest church in Europe (after St. Peter's in the Vatican and St. Paul's in London), and the largest Gothic church anywhere.

Tomb of Christopher Columbus (containing at least some of his bones)

The Giralda Bell Tower of the cathedral was formerly a Moorish minaret. The muezzin would have to climb the tower five times a day for the call to prayer and, because of this, it was built with a circular ramp to the top instead of stairs. (It was actually wide and tall enough that one could ride a horse up it.) The absence of stairs made it much easier for us to get to the top to see the view. Unfortunately, after several photos, my camera phone indicated it was full, so I spent 20 minutes or more deleting files so that I could take some more photos (with a very patient Gord waiting beside me).

Back at our room later, I tried to remedy the situation by uploading some photos to Shutterfly and deleting them from my phone. This took way too long, but I at least freed up some space.

We walked across the Guadalquivir River to Triana for dinner, but it was pretty quiet (I later read that Tuesday through Saturday during the day is the busiest time). We ended up behind the Church of Santa Ana at Bar Bistec.

On Tuesday we went out for coffee and then toured the Church del Salvador. Seville sure does have a lot of churches. Concepcion had told us that they love their over-the-top churches, the more ornate the better. Indeed, every church we've been in has been ornate to the extreme. This was just one church with many side chapels, each as elaborate as the next.

And this was their float, because every church has one.

We had our first gelato of the trip and then we walked up and down the shopping streets Sierpes and Tetuan. I made my first purchase, a pair of slippers. At one o'clock we met up with Concepcion for our tour of the Royal Alcazar (emphasis on the second syllable, not the first; so, no, it doesn't sound like Alcatraz). It was originally a 10th century palace, but it had a major rebuild in the 14th century under Pedro I in the Mudejar style that uses a lot of Islamic elements.

For lunch we had paella at a place opposite the cathedral. Dinner was at Cafe Bar Catalina near Murillo Gardens.

On Wednesday. we caught the 9:20 train to Cordoba, also on the Guadalquivir River. The smell of olives was strong here as well. And here is why. Before we left the station we ascertained that we would be able to change our return tickets if need be. We wrote down the various late-afternoon departure times in case we took that option.

We toured the very impressive and massive Mezquita, a former mosque (8th century) with a 16th century church built in the middle of it. The audio tour was a bit confusing. We were given a map and told to use the numbers on it instead of the numbers inside. (It left me wondering why they didn't just change the numbers inside to coincide with the audio guide.) It truly was an amazing place, well worth the visit. Again, my photos don't do it justice.

The Mihrab

We then walked around the Jewish Quarter before having lunch at Bodega Mezquita. After that we walked across the Roman Bridge to the Museum of Al-Andalus Life, which had great views from the top.

We also walked to the 14th century synagogue, one of only three medieval synagogues still standing in Spain.

We headed to the train station to catch an earlier train. It ended up being a slower train so we were issued a refund of 20 Euros, a nice surprise.

Once back in Seville we went inside the Church of Santa Maria la Blanca, the church where the Sunday procession originated. We wanted to see where the statue lived. It was as ornate as every other church, but with elaborate plaster decorations, unlike the other churches. It also had a number of Murillo paintings.

The float, all wrapped up until next time

We had a nice dinner at La Bulla on the other side of the cathedral. It was refreshing not to have tapas, plus they had an unusual menu.

Thursday morning we walked over to a building opposite the cathedral to buy communion wafers from the cloistered nuns. The nuns are hidden behind a wooden turnstile/Lazy Susan. I wasn't sure what to do, and I didn't know what the wafers were called in Spanish. I watched two different men talk to the turnstile, then the turnstile would spin around to reveal their purchase and then they would remove their purchase, put their money in, and turn it again. But their purchases came in plastic bags and I couldn't see what they bought, just that they bought a lot. Then a woman came in with her son to buy the wafers so, when she was done, she helped me.

We then walked back to the hotel to get our bags and take a taxi to the airport. Good-bye Seville. We saw a lot of your city, although we didn't make it to the Basilica de la Macarena to see the Weeping Virgin statue. Good-bye Spain. We hope to see more of you some day.