When MAXINE JONESvisited the Andalusian city, she let her teenage son brush up his Spanish by doing all the talking. The result was a mix of tapas, flamenco and stunning views – with a dash of torture thrown in
I’M LIVING ON borrowed time as far as holidays with my teenage sons go. Two have already given up on me, but Tiernan, who is nearly 15, agreed to spend some of his half-term break with his mom in Seville. He was keen to try out his Spanish, so I said he could do all the talking and set our agenda.
We had booked two nights at a four-star hotel, Casa Romana, in the old town – or casco antiguo, as Tiernan informed me. To balance the budget we would spend our first and last nights at cheap pensions. “Should we book online?” I asked. “No. Let’s wing it,” he said.
He proved a savvy companion, getting to the front of the Ryanair queue and even nabbing us a whole row each on a busy flight, using seats vacated by the crew. We flew to Malaga, where he got us on the right bus for Seville, two and a half hours away.
He was amused to see sections of his textbook come to life: buying a ticket, asking directions, ordering food. Friendly Spaniards met him halfway, and his confidence grew in bounds.
I relaxed and stood back, only slightly concerned when he suggested structuring our days by turning to random pages in his phrasebook and asking whatever appeared on them.
The bus dropped us in Seville’s compact historic centre. Tiernan spotted a tram station, negotiated the ticket machine and decided we’d get off at Archivo de Indias, two stops away, because he liked the name. We stepped out at the doors of Catedral de Santa María de la Sede, or Cathedral of Saint Mary of the See. A Mass was in progress, with a children’s choir and orchestra. Tiernan got us in by saying we were attending the Mass. Other tourists were cordoned off until it finished. The expanse of the cathedral, which is the world’s third-largest church, overwhelmed us, especially when we gazed up at a delicate gold altarpiece – the biggest in Christendom – that reached to the roof.
We’d bought a map, or mapa – even I might have guessed at that – with tourist information on the back. Tiernan was keen to find Patio de los Naranjos, an orange grove, at the side of the cathedral, where Muslims used to wash before their prayers when a mosque stood on the site. Facing the grove was a side street where he spotted a sign for a hostal. That was our perfectly located home that night – a comfortable room with a single and a double bed, a TV and a heater for €35. It rained for most of our stay, so we needed that heater. Seville has one of the most impressive sun records in Europe, but those solar rays eluded us last month.
We dined that night on tapas, as Tiernan could not get enough of them. With him leading the way again, we stumbled on a prize-winning tapas bar. A mini hamburger, with pepper sauce, and pork cheeks in wine were his favourites.
The top of the Giralda, once the mosque’s minaret, gave us wonderful views over the city the next morning. Ramps rather than steps make the climb relatively easy. The Royal Alcazar, a Moorish-style palace still used by the king and queen of Spain, and its paradisal gardens filled another couple of hours. We were almost the only visitors, which made up for the gloomy weather. Following Tiernan into the palace’s maze was a mistake, however, as the rain-soaked bushes drenched me – and I had a harder time getting out than he did.
Crossing Plaza Nueva, with its tented market stalls, and walking down the narrow, pedestrianised Calle Sierpes, with its fill of smart shops, brought us out at Plaza del Duque de la Victoria, where three-course meals with beer and wine or fruit juice cost €8. Our boutique hotel was on Calle de Trajano, leading off the square.
We were perfectly placed to explore the city’s sights. We visited a new flamenco museum, which has nightly shows and, beforehand, a 20-minute dance lesson. Tiernan wouldn’t join in the class, but I enjoyed it so much that I went back again the next night while Tiernan did what I’d forbidden him to do so far, and went to McDonald’s.
By the end of the third day we felt we’d become familiar with Seville, so we studied a map of Andalusia to see where we could stop on the way back to the airport. Tiernan had vetoed a night in Malaga before flying home, unimpressed with what he’d seen. I didn’t think we’d given it a chance, but I accepted his suggestion of Ronda, halfway between the two cities, set in mountains and surrounded by nature reserves.
Higher up, the weather was colder, wetter and blustery, but this didn’t put Tiernan off hanging over the 100m-deep gorge that divides the old town. We also found ourselves in a torture museum. It was actually called Museo Lara and had antique dolls and old typewriters on the main floor. A sign down to the cellar said “Inquisition and Witchcraft”. Instruments of torture with graphic details of how they were applied kept Tiernan captivated while I looked away, thinking that there should have been a parental-advice warning. I’m still thinking about the head press that squeezed victims’ brains out of their ears.
The bullring, one of the oldest and most beautiful in Spain, haunt of Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles, went down well with both of us. Bullfights are rare here now; a museum bears witness to its heyday. We watched graceful horses being put through their paces at the adjacent riding school.
I was worried that we needed to catch the early bus from Ronda the next morning, but I let Tiernan persuade me we’d be okay on a later one. At Malaga my nerve broke, and I insisted we take a taxi rather than wait for the airport bus. Our flight turned out to be delayed. Once again Tiernan’s way was justified and my wisdom unappreciated. I didn’t mind, for as we passed the bus-station cafe Tiernan had said: “Look, Mom, that’s where I asked for my first thing in Spanish. I can’t believe how much I’ve learned in four days.”
Where to stay, eat and go in Seville
Where to stay
Casa Romana.Calle de Trajano 15, Seville, 00-34- 954-915170, hotelcasaromana. com . Light, spacious four-star hotel that is a good base for visiting the city's landmarks. Wi-Fi is cheap, at €6 a stay. Breakfast is dear, at €17, but you'll find two cafes across the street. From about €150 for a double room.
Hostal Santa Maria.Calle Hernando Colón 19, Seville, 00-34-954-228505. Budget hotel with large en-suite rooms. Spotlessly clean and incredibly comfortable beds. Fifty metres from the cathedral. Doubles from €35.
Hotel Morales. Calle Sevilla 51, Ronda, 00-34-952-871538, hotelmorales.es. Pleasant, friendly no-frills hotel. Near the bus station in the new part of Ronda, a stroll from the bullring, bridge and historic quarter. Doubles from €45.
Where to eat
Bar Europa.Siete Revueltas 35, Seville. 00-34-954-221354, bareuropa.info. Prize-winning tapas bar in an atmospheric part of the old town.
Bar de la Victoria.Plaza del Duque de la Victoria 12, Seville, 00-34-954-220049. Tiny, cheap place with uniformed waiters who treat you like royalty.
Hermanos Macias. Calle de Pedro Romero 3, Ronda, 00-34-952-874238. Hearty, regional food at mid-range prices.
Where to go
Museo del Baile Flamenco.Calle de Manuel Rojas Marcos 3, Seville, 00-34-954-340311, flamencomuseum.com. Nightly performances and a chance to try it out for yourself, so you really appreciate the dancers.
Museo Lara.Armiñan, Ronda, 00-34-952-871263, museolara.org. Includes a grisly exhibition on torture.
Go there
Aer Lingus (aerlingus.com) flies to Malaga, a coach ride from Seville, from Dublin, Cork and Belfast. Ryanair (ryanair.com) flies to Malaga from Dublin, Cork and Shannon. Ryanair also flies to Seville from Dublin between April and October.