Seville, An Okay Car but an All Right City

Seville, Granada, Cordoba, Pinto, Eldorado, El Camino, not sure when it happened but at some point in Spain’s history, they started naming their cities after American cars and trucks.

Today we are visiting Seville, one of Cadillac’s most prestigious models and Spain’s 4^th largest city.  The inhabitants of Seville are known as Sevillinos which I think sounds much cooler than Sevillians and way cooler then Sevillites.






Like many of the cities and towns of southern Spain, Seville has been around for a few centuries.  First the Romans, then the Muslims rolled in around the middle of the 8^th Century, to be kicked out by the Christians in the 13^th Century. It wasn’t till the 15^th Century when Seville came into its own when the city  was given the monopoly for trade coming from the New World. It was a very lucrative monopoly. It was also here that Ferdinand Magellan set out, to circumnavigate the world.  His ship made it but sadly Magellan did not. See the September 17,2009 blog for more details of Magellan’s and us circumnavigating the world 

 

Plaza del Espagna, built in 1928 for the Iberian American Exposition was our first stop.  Pleasant little place but just a time killer I think while we waited for the cathedral to open.





 

Seville Cathedral the world’s largest Gothic church and the world’s 3^rd largest church.  










Construction began early in the 15^th Century and was finished just over 100 years later. The massive dome has collapsed on three occasions with latest one in the 19^th Century. 

Not a comforting notion as we wandered around this beautiful place.  

The massive church giralda (bell tower) stands 343 feet high. The tower actually began life as a minaret for a mosque that stood on the site in the 12^th Century. The mosque was repurposed as a church which was then fatally damaged during an earthquake in the 14^th.  This led to its demolition except for the minaret. The minaret was extended to include a bell tower and incorporated into the construction of the cathedral.  There are a still several mosques, that are now churches existing in Spain.  

 

Cristobel Colon (Cristoforo Colombo, Christopher Columbus) is buried here or so it is claimed. Some claim buried in the Dominican Republic.    The capital of the Dominican Republic, Santo Domigo claims Columbus’ remains are buried there in a special crypt called “The Lighthouse” because it is shaped like a lighthouse.

Comparing DNA from his brother Diego who is also buried in Seville supposedly confirms that the remains in the cathedral are Columbus’.  The remains in Santo Domingo may be some of Columbus’, as he died in The New World was moved a number of times before final internment in the cathedral in Seville. They may have left a bit of him there as it was his wish to be buried in the New World. They are now trying to ascertain where he was born. It was thought he was Genoan as claimed by the Italians while the Spanish are claiming he was Catalan. They are now comparing his DNA to men from Catalan and Genoa. Verdicts not in so I will keep you posted.


 

The Archivo General de Indias contain almost the complete collection of old documents and maps detailing the history of the Spanish Empire in the Americas, everything, from a collection of maps created by the Conquistadores to the journals of Christopher Columbus’ voyages to the New World. Sadly, we could not enter without reservations. 
 

Toro del Oro was the designated the meeting place to catch our bus back to Fuengirola. The tower is one of a number of buildings that still remains from the Moslem conquests. It gets its name from the golden glow of the building when it is hit by the setting sun. It is a dodecagonal military tower built by one of the Moroccan Berber Muslim caliphates that ruled extensive areas of the Iberian Peninsula till the 14^th Century.  

The tower was used to anchor one end of a huge chain that could be pulled into place across the river to prevent ships from entering the harbour. It is now a tiny naval museum and of course had all the requisite cannons necessary to play with, while we waited for the bus.  

Help, Help Me Ronda

I never pass up a chance to use a train. I have come to embrace train travel and use trains whenever the chance arises. I have heard it said that flying has become more like boarding a Greyhound bus with the only difference being is that there is little chance of a “hand frisk” when trying to board a bus. Although a nice “hand frisk” every once in a while, kind of makes me feel special. 

 

But I don’t get me started on flying, stuff for another blog.

 

 

I bring it up as RENFE (Spanish train system) had just started a regular train service to the mountain town of Ronda to carry the thousands of tourist who visit each year.

 

 

  

 

 

The area around Ronda has been occupied for over 2,000 years, but the town itself, was developed by the Romans in the 3^rd Century as a fortified village to protect and control the surrounding area.  

 

 

 

 

The village sits on three separate ridges and are joined by three really cool old bridges.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

Ronda is also home to the oldest bull ring in Spain and the birthplace of the Romero family, renowned as the fathers of modern bull fighting. Bull fighting was first practiced by mounted soldiers who faced the charging bulls to prepare them for the art of war. In the 18^th Century Francisco Romero led the movement to face the bulls on foot. He invented the killing sword and cape.

 

 

 

His grandson Pedro is considered the best fighter (Hah!) of all time, killing over 5.600 bulls in his career. If you lined up all those bulls, nose to nose, they would keep a MacDonald’s in Quarter Pounders for a year. Ronda is a breeding ground for superior bull killers, whoops, inside voice, bull fighters.

  

 

 

Sangria has become our drink des jour since we landed in Spain. First it was our evening drink, then our go to drink for supper and before we knew what happened, it became our lunch drink. We need to deal with this before it starts getting poured on our Cheerios. It is an addictive little liquid and best of all, cheap.

 

 

 

Finally got to the bottom of things in Ronda which involved a long drop down a wet and slippery set of stairs that had been cut into the rock. People of the village used the stairs everyday to access water and carry it back up to the village. Now only crazy tourists risk their lives making the trip. The village was a beautiful place but I struggle to make sense of why they located it where they did. Those crazy Romans!

Mijas Pueblo (That’s Pronounced Me haws Puhweh blow)

 

 

Mijas is located just 7 kilometres up a mountain road overlooking Fuengirola. It was so nice, we visited it twice.  With local buses running every 30 minutes, it was easy to visit and is popular with tourists and locals alike.  It is a small place with around 8,000 inhabitants.

 

 

 

The area has been inhabited for around 2000 years and was a mining centre for the ancient Greeks and Phoenicians. The town now mines tourists who are attracted to the cute narrow winding streets, local craft shops and the numerous quaint restaurants with killer views of Fuengirola, the Costa de Sol and the Mediterranean.  With its great public transit it is also a bedroom community for Fuengirola.

 

 

It is a pristine example of the Andalucian “Pueblo Blanco” (white villages).  All the houses have red roof tiles and are white washed. The white wash is a fairly modern convention, as investigation of previous layers shows that different pigments were mixed with the white wash. Red and yellow ochre’s were found. 

 

 

 

 

 

 There are a myriad of educated guesses as to why the switch to a consistent white colour was made but it was a popular decision as there are over a dozen “Pueblo Blanco” villages in the province of Andalusia. I would suggest the idea first came from some husband who was tired of painting the damn house every time his wife decided saw some fancy new colour on the neighbour’s house.  

 

 

Donkeys are another option for public transit in Mijas. They have been a fixture there since the early sixties. Workers would ride their donkeys to and from work and were constantly being stopped by tourists wishing to take their picture. The workers wised up and started to ask for money and soon realized they could make more money catering to tourists then from their day jobs. From donkeys grew horse carriage rides and then those annoying rental scooters.

 

 

Mijas is best seen at a slow walk so skip the scooters. Mijas is built on a hill so up and down and sideways are the only directions available.  The streets are narrow and some of the streets look suspiciously like stairs. Not a wheelchair friendly place.  Keep and eye out for Donkey pooh.

 

 

 

 

Some locals still insist on having a car which really distracts from the beauty of the village.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a lovely 17^th Century shrine in the centre of the village dedicated to the towns’ patron Saint, La Virgin de la Pena.  The shrine gift shop was awesome and bigger than the shrine itself.  I got myself an “I Heart Virgins” t-shirt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bull fighting is still a popular sport (BAH!) in Spain and even a place as small as Mijas Pueblo has a bull ring. We do not plan to attend and don’t get me started on my opinion of bull fighting. Let’s just say that the last bull fight I witnessed, I was cheering for the bull. Calling it a sport would be like calling hockey a religion. Okay, bad example.

Over 15,000,000,000 Served

 

Fuengirola will be our home for the next three weeks. We will use it as a base to visit as much of Southern Spain as we feel like seeing. It has great rail and bus connections, making it easy to visit Malaga, Seville, Granada, Rhonda and Cordoba and still sleep in the same bed every night.  

 

 

 

The area has been occupied for well over 2000 years.   The remains of a Phoenician settlement (1550 BC-300 BC) were found on the grounds of a 10^th Century Moorish castle that overlooks Fuengirola.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once the highest point in Fuengirola,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

it is now dwarfed by the many high rise apartments that extend along almost 7 kilometres of beautiful Mediterranean beaches. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now home to 75,000 inhabitants of which 25% are from Great Britain Ireland and Northern European countries, all drawn here by the moderate climate and lower cost of living.

 

 

Fuengirola sits at the bottom of the Costa del Sol. The Costa del Sol is a tourist playground that extends 70 kilometres north, all the way up to Malaga, attracting over 15,000,000,000 visitors every year.  Make that 15,000,000,003.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our apartment is about 100 metres off the beach and there are over 30 restaurants within a one block radius.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything from a couple of British styled pubs to a Punjabi restaurant so close that on occasion, we returned home to an apartment smelling of curry. Why there are even a few Spanish restaurants serving paella and parillada.  We are not in any danger of starving.

 

 

 

The city centre is small for a city of this size but only a 25 minute train ride from Malaga and several high end resorts with huge shopping malls to keep the tourists busy when they are not enjoying the beaches and restaurants. 

 

 

 

 

 

The town has filled their plazas and roundabouts with some pretty unique art. So much, I lost count of the statues and fountains that we have passed in our travels around town.  

Casa"BLANK"a

Not sure if it was the heat or the onset of ennui from being on the road for 7 days but sadly, we found Casablanca a bit wanting. After Fez, Quarzazate and Marrakech, Casablanca was definitely less shiny and new, it seemed older and a little more industrial. Perhaps it was our lack of time. Arriving in the late morning, we only had the balance of the day to explore all the things that Casablanca had to offer.   

 

 

The cab ride from the train station to our hotel set the tone. The station was old and not the grand stations that we had grown accustomed.  It was on the edge of town in an area that obviously had not been visited by the King in a few years.  The streets were crowded and under construction. The cab driver was nice but you could sense his frustration as we spent as much time stopped as we did going.  Time is money for these guys.  The taxi’s air conditioning did not work and we were cooking by the time we were a block from the station so we joined him in his frustration. 

 

 

The hotel was nice and we were able to occupy our room right away. We dumped our luggage, enjoyed the air conditioning and the view for a few minutes then headed back out to see as much of Casablanca as the day and our stamina would allow.

 

 

  

 

 

The medina was not on our hit list. We had experienced Fez and Marrakech; two of the best so did not feel the need spend most of our limited time lost in another medina. Our first stop was the Mosque of Hassan II, a highly recommended visit by our cab driver.  

 

 

 

The Mosque of Hassan II can accommodate 25,000 worshippers and is second in size only to the mosque in Mecca. With the assistance of over 35,000 craftsmen, the mosque was completed in 1993. The minaret stands over 200 metres (656 feet) and is called the lighthouse of Islam as the tower and a large portion of the mosque is built over the water.  No time to stop, so we just did a walk by.

 

 

Our next destinations were the Place des Nations Unie where we would connect to Boulevard Mohammed V, a beautiful palm line route that should provide shade for the walk too Place Mohammed V and the Parc de la Ligue Arabe.  

 

Our route took us along the edge of the medina and through some decidedly poor neighbourhoods. The smell of urine and excrement left by humans kept us on our toes and moving fast. Public washrooms were non-existent so the street became one. Keeping an eye on where we stepped, we made our way to Boulevard de Mohammed V in good time.  It was a beautiful palm lined boulevard but sadly palms do not provide much shade so we did not spend much time enjoying the view.

 

The Place des Nations Unie was very different from the one in Marrakech. Here the Place was surrounded by some very cool art deco buildings, mostly hotels; the Place was deserted in the full heat of the day. Only similarly stupid tourists were out and about. 

 

 

 

Moving quickly down Boulevard Mohammed V, we headed to Place Mohammed V and the Parc de la Ligue Arabe.  We somehow missed the Place Mohammed V. I am sure we walked by it but somehow were not drawn to it. If it didn’t have any shady spots, we tended to avoid large open spaces.

 

 

 

 

 

The Parc de la Ligue Arabe .....

 

 

has seen some better days. We found it poorly maintained and little used by anyone except for, according to what I read, hookers, exhibitionist and fighting dogs.  At one time there was a huge amusement park but it had been shut down for some time and was in a very dilapidated and dirty condition.  It might have been quite a place in its time.

 

 

 

Running out of shady spots we headed back to the hotel and the blessed air conditioning. Tomorrow we catch a flight to Malaga and then a quick train to Fuengirola. If all went well we would meet up with Nonie’s sister.

 

 

 

 

 

We probably did not give Casablanca enough of our time, to truly appreciate it, so don’t pass it up if you get the chance.  See you all in Spain.