Sevillianos V The Tourists

Monday morning, 10am or thereabouts and the city is awake and the heat of the day is creeping in. The bars along the backstreets are full with the ten o clock coffee drinkers, which is everyone it seems having their break, coffee in one hand and their tostada with jamon or tomato paste in the other and a cigarette jammed between the spare fingers for whatever it takes to kick off your day again. I´m on the way to the fruit shop for the fruit ...well what else and daily observe this occurrence. It´s a ritual for the Sevillianos and  up on the main streets, the obedient lines of tourists follow the umbrella, cap, shoe, stick or whatever is being held aloft by the guide and gaze skyward in awe, pointing and snapping in unison at the ancient buildings and anything vaguely interesting they can point their minute digital lenses at. Mostly Americans, Japanese or Germans with a smattering of Brits, those that probably don´t find much solace in the coastal ghettos of karaoke bars.

Sevilla attracts a different kind of tourist. Let me try and explain and not offend anyones sensibilities again (I got a lot of flack over the bullfighting story). Firstly there are the Americans.. package tours, off the big bus, whisked around the various monuments, given a potted history lesson, taken to the relative safety and familiarity of McDonalds and Starbucks for feeding and then back on the bus... whole show takes about an hour, hardly time to grasp they are actually in a foreign country. The Japanese, an enigma on the tourist trail. They stick with the umbrella/flag carrier gripped with fear that they might get lost or left behind and as  99% of Spaniards don´t speak or are afraid to speak English, this would spell disaster. Now the difference here is that they only see the city through the lenses of their tiny digital cameras which seem to be permanently glued to their heads. The difference here is that they do actually stop at the local bars and restaurants, don´t actually eat or drink, smile constantly and take photos of what´s put in front of them and retrieve some spring rolls or left over sushi from their back packs once they escape the confines of the taverna. As for the rest, wandering aimlessly through the city, eyes down on maps gripped intensely in sweaty hands as they negotiate the narrow cobbled streets trying to find their way into the cathedral or the Alcazar, giving up and finding themselves instead in the smokey taverna recently vacated by the Japanese and eyes move from maps to the ´local´menu accompanied with roughly translated English bearing no resemblance to what will end up on your plate. But lets face it, your paying 2 Euros for tapas, so there´s room for experimentation. Some will try and some will head for the bright airy menu of McDonalds... where would we be.

Then, there are the Spaniards, the local Sevillianos. If the word around Europe and the rest of the world is one of doom and gloom or as a friend, who warned me not to leave Australia because the roof was falling in on Europe said, I have yet to see evidence here in Andalucia. In three months I´ve discovered the Spanish to be generally an optimistic lot. Exceptionally friendly, helpful to a fault and no complaining about the woes of the world. They are very social and indeed meet their friends and colleagues for morning coffee or tapas before siesta time on a daily basis. Friendship is very important especially the social aspect of the tavernas and cafes. They get very crowded, loud and jovial, have their coffees etc and back to work.
The heat has decended and seems to be getting hotter every day. Between 1 and 4 the streets are almost deserted, apart from the tourist busses constantly churning out the various tourist groups who race for the shady parts of the street. We have many months ahead of summer... ole!

One final thing... our stuff finally arrived from the ship, delivered almost damage free, but the best thing is we have our stuff around us again ...another ole!