A year ago today I was in Seville at the end of a fantastic trip with my eldest son. These are some of the notes I put down on the hoof in my pocket notebook.
(video at the end of this post)

 23rd November 2023
The smell of jasmine draped over an old sandstone wall near the cathedral, cascading into a narrow street. The beautiful garlands with the giant fig tree, palms and white sandy paths. Parrots raucously flitting between the trees as the sun sets. And again, the smell of flowers. In the marble-top bar where we scribble in pocket notebooks, there’s a waft of sandalwood, smoke. And everywhere the glorious aroma of fried fish and garlic.
 
Lunch on arrival was a neighbourhood bar sat outside on the street. Fried cod and ham roll for me. Prawn roll for Ollie. And croquettes of bull’s tail and Patatas Bravas and two beers. The princely sum of €22.

 24th November 2024
Coffee in a little glass up on the apartment rooftop terrace. Beautiful in the sun, but a light breeze brings the temperature down a notch. Sitting here now, writing in my travel journal, looking across the rooftops, traffic sounds below, has serious backpacking vibes. Ollie’s always like a great travel partner, ‘up for kicks’, Ollie said having just finished On the Road.
 
Parakeets flitted in, squawked overhead.
 
Headed out for dinner about 9.30 and ended up in Bar Belmonte near the Cathedral.
Ollie drank vino tinto and I stayed on the beer. We had tapas of fried cuttlefish, pork tenderloin, aubergine tortilla and a big plate of tomatoes, filled us up only €25. Delicious.
 
The street near the apartment was full of bars, overflowing with locals of all ages, stood around tables on the street in animated conversation. Interiors bright and quite basic. Everyone was out drinking, smoking, picking at tapas, big clouds of folk mixed ages from students to old men and women all mixed in together. And they were all still there when we strolled back past at about 11:30 p.m. Back at the apartment we uncorked the complimentary bottle of red wine and watched two episodes of Emily in Paris on Netflix.
 
‘You look like you’re about to write a mid-century takedown of Trotsky’, Ollie said when he saw the red pocket handkerchief in the lapel of my navy blue cotton jacket.
 
Plaza San Ramon lovely neighbourhood bar with families scattered around the tables.
 
We visited The House of Alba (Palace de Las Duenas), still the home of the Dukes of Alba. Avenues of oranges, olive trees draped in bougainvillea, the gardens so peaceful beside the trickling fountains, cooing pigeons, lemon trees, wood smoke, sun pitching in. I want to assimilate this garden as a state of mind, a place I can always visit.
Jacaranda, Ficus, Hibiscus, Geranium, Angel’s Trumpet, Pear tree, Chinese Plum tree, Flame tree, Judas Tree, Plumbago, Honeyberry, Lantana, Cypress, Bay Laurel. The dusky, dusty, smoky aroma of the tapestry drawing room of the central courtyard. Powerful scent of flowers, honeysuckle, in a small courtyard off the poster room. Wandering these courtyards pigeons and parakeets tower palm trees trickling water. Scribbling in notebooks under the courtyard portico.
 
5 p.m. stopping for a drink on a small plaza where locals talk animatedly. Brunch was rich tortilla covered in whiskey, garlic sauce that filled us up. That was at 1.30.
 
So far today, we’ve stayed out of the tourist zones. The beer has been cracking so far. I think it’s Cruz Campo.
 
Psychogeography in Seville around the closed Isle of Magic theme park techno blasting from the water park. Then Lionel Richie pink sunset over the river, cracked concrete and closed liminal cycle way orange trees looking down and a cat tries to lead Ollie astray.
 
Early evening drink at Veneranda the café on the edge of Hercules Square in the throng of the mad buzzing crowds, kids running around, playing on the nearby swings, big groups having fun and drinks and frivolity of a happy city, kids playing, adults of all ages, having a drink and a chat. What a place.
 
As we walked from drinks on the plaza to find dinner we debated the madness and feasibility of a day trip to Tangier.

25th November
This sun up here on the roof terrace is rejuvenating me, filling me up for the darkest days of winter ahead.
 
I might plunge into that freezing cold pool.
 
‘A world of painted garlands’, St Peter’s Chapel, Los Hospitales de la Venerables, amazing frescoed dome actually trompe-l’œil. Stunning shock as you step through the heavy wooden door from the tiled courtyard. The skull and bones of saints in a glass frame atop a marble altar. Saint Cosmo, in bits.
 
Late lunch beneath the cathedral bells at Casa Fuenes – pig cheek stew with PX sherry. Amazing. Served on a bed of mash and such an understated like place. The only one with a free table in this packed tourist street. It’s like an Italian passeggiata, with everyone dressed up and out on the streets, the sound of excitement and chatter. And right near the cathedral tower.
 
We walked out of the bar to see what all the fuss was about down at the cathedral and walked straight into the extraordinary procession of San Fernando and the Virgin of Maude. Incredible scene with priests in white robes and staffs. A military band, the Virgin on a throne surrounded by garlands of white flowers and the domed chair illuminated held aloft as it passed through the throng up to those ancient, enormous sandstone walls of the Palace of Alcazar.
 
And they waved incense burners which spewed up clouds of fragrant smoke, and the city came out in their finest clothes. What a wonderful surprise. And compensated for not getting into the palace earlier, we strolled back up narrow streets, now familiar walk cans of Cruz Campo beer and mangoes and pomegranate apple pastries for breakfast and juice and back at the apartment.
 
Watched two episodes of Emily in Paris, eating crisps and drinking beer. Now just after 10 p.m. to rouse ourselves to go out for some tapas at a local bar. I’m loving writing in this little notebook I’ve been carrying around in my blue cotton jacket pocket. I might transition back to pocket notebooks.
 
10:55 p.m. Classic Cobo Tapas – Iberian ham, patatas bravas, marinated dogfish.

26th of November
Classic last day sat on a bench with our bags at 11:45 a.m. killing time before going to Real Alcazar. It was too cold to sit on the roof terrace this morning. I was tired anyway and feeling a little rough. Had hangover and a cold.
 
Afternoon, relaxing on a tiled bench in a side courtyard in Real Alcazar, still a Spanish royal residence. We’re only at the start of our explorations, but this place is vast. The tiles are beautiful in their colour, design and simplicity. Interesting the way the Islamic art and architecture was still influential hundreds of years after their rule ended. Interesting the way they combined geometric patterns and straight lines, triangles, angles with circles, curves, floral designs all into one item, like a fountain with a tiled pool, beautiful and serene.
 
It’s warm in the garden now, when the sun pitches in to the English garden onto the paved area around a tiled and arched pagoda type structure, pigeons cooed, peacocks strut. It’s ridiculously serene.
 
Departure gate at the airport. 8:52 p.m. Flight departs at 9.40 After the palace we had coffee and cake in a bar or outside as it shut down for the day.
 
Then we went on the hunt up the main street in the gloaming for gifts. I bought myself a beautiful, small painted tin of smoked paprika in the airport.

Our final stroll for the airport bus took us down a wide boulevard reminiscent of Paris, then along the river with elegant buildings on either bank and lined with open air bars filled with drinkers. Another dimension to the city that we merely passed through on the way out. What an amazing trip. One that changes you in a small way. I loved carrying this notebook in a pocket, scribbling as we go. A trip that both long and short at the same time. Another reminder of the restorative of quality of travel and how it connects me to an important part of myself.