“Bueno, Castilla-La Mancha isn’t exactly known for its long, winding highways,” Inmaculada said, dragging her fingertip across the screen of her mobile phone six consecutive times as the car pointed towards Valencia. It had been nearly 100 kilometers since I’d had to even move the steering wheel for anything other than overtaking.
Literally called the scorch or the stain in Spanish, La Mancha may not be famous for its roads, but it is renowned for two things: Don Quixote and Manchego cheese. Resting comfortably on top of Andalucía and cradled between Madrid and Valencia, its size and its small towns have intimidated me. Everything seemed a bit archaic, a bit sleepy and, mostly, a bit unreachable without a car and an extra-long weekend.
Stretching out on either side of the highway as I drove Inmaculada and Jaime to Valencia was land. Sand. Barely a glimpse of a small town. Like any other Spanish student, we were made to read Quixote in high school and made a point of paying homage to a fictional knight bound by the ideals of chivalry and true love. But the landscapes I’d read about in Cervantes’s greatest novel were nothing but flat and brown. A literal scorch of earth, true to the region’s name.
Three days later, I left the coast, shoes and jacket blackened from Las Fallas, and tilted back towards the heart of Castilla-La Mancha. The great hidalgo‘s “giants” were only a few hours away. I took my old, tired car, an allusion to the old, tired steer, Rocinante, with me.
The drive should have been easy enough: the Autovía de Este until it met the Autovía del Sur and a few minutes’ drive west to Consuegra, where eight or ten windmills stand guard on a jagged crest of mountain, crowned by a medieval castle.
“Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and all of them, so with their stolen booty we can begin to enrich ourselves. This is nobel, righteous warfare, for it is wonderfully useful to God to have such an evil race wiped from the face of the earth.”
“What giants?” Asked Sancho Panza.
“The ones you can see over there,” answered his master, “with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long.”
“Now look, your grace,” said Sancho, “what you see over there aren’t giants, but windmills, and what seems to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone.”
“Obviously,” replied Don Quijote, “you don’t know much about adventures.”
Per Trevor’s suggestion, I wanted to stop first in Alcázar de San Juan, home to a number of beautifully restored windmills that wouldn’t be run over with tourists. Spit out from the Contreras Reservoir that naturally separates La Mancha from the Comunitat Valenciana, the radio frequency suddenly switched to a CD, and soon the Eagles (could there be a more perfect band for a road trip?) were running through my stereo.
I calculated I had enough gas and my bladder could make it the 200 kilometers to San Juan. It was an easy jaunt on the A-3 until Tomelloso, where I’d hop onto the CM-42.
Maybe it was the Eagles or the long, flat, endless journey down the motorway, but I turned onto the wrong highway at Atalaya del Cañavate. As someone who uses landmarks to mark the way, the names of towns, echoing old battlegrounds and ruined castles, began to seem foreign. Stopping in Alamarcha, my phone confirmed what I’d suspected for several dozen kilometers: I’d gotten myself lost.
But the giants were calling, and I wasn’t too far off the path. Monty-nante roared back to life, I turned up the music and rolled down the windows. We set off, a girl and her horsepower, to slay giants. Or, take some pictures of windmills before lunch. The allusions end there for a bit, lo prometo.
Like our Quixotic hero, I blinked hard to make sure I was seeing what lay ahead. As soon as I’d gotten on the CM-420, the long, straight highways became curls around hills, between cherry and almond groves and without a soul or engine in sight. The brown patches of earth were immediately lush and covered in alfalfa, dewey from the previous day’s rain, and full of low, stout grapevines. I pulled over and turned off my GPS, happy to sit in near silence as Monty’s tires shifted effortlessly around curves. After all, this was as adventurous as my Holy Week travels would be.
“When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”
I began climbing a hill at what I believed to be halfway to San Juan. Just below the cusp, I saw the stationary arm of a giant – a set of windmills protect the town of Mota del Cuervo. We nudged our way towards them, standing in a solitary row of six or eight.
The tourism office was closed and my car was the only one parked in the ample gravel lot. I had the giants to myself, and I practically squealed. Lately I’ve been feeling jaded as I travel in Spain, as if nothing else can ever impress me the way that laying eyes on the Alhambra or the Taj Mahal did; but feeling the wind whip by my ears as I looked across the scorched Manchego plain reminded me that, yes, there is still plenty of Spain to discover.
But I had to press on, to not let perception or kilometers or a low phone battery squash my dream of seeing Consuegra when I was this close. I drove right past San Juan and its beautiful windmills atop an olive tree grove crawling up the hillside. As soon as I’d crossed the A-4 highway some 40 kilometers later, the giants at Consuegra began to come into view, huddled around a castle.
The town itself was dusty and sleepy, as I’d expected. Streets had no names, rendering my GPS useless. Monty chugged slowly up the steep, barely-meter wide streets as old women swept street porches and clung to their door frames. Images of the old hidalgo became commonplace – bars named Chispa and La Panza de Sancho, souvenir shops touting wooden swords and images of windmills and an old warrior atop a barebones steed.
Rounding the final curve, a man waved his arms up and down, pleading me to stop and flagging me into a full parking lot. “It’s International Poetry Day,” he said, “and the molinos are closed to car traffic.” Closing my eyes and throwing the car into reverse, I consulted the day’s plan. After getting lost twice and being pulled over by a Guardia Civil, I had to make a decision: resign myself to hiking 500 meters up to the windmills as the clouds closed in ahead, or drive back down towards Andalucía for a winery tour in Valdepeñas.
I chose to buy a bottle of wine in the DO and call it a day. I had dreams and bucket list items to chase.
The windmills were barely visible, save a few solitary blades reaching over the rock face. After an entire morning searching for them, it was like they had stopped spinning, as if the proverbial wind had been blown out of my sails. And coupled with a bus full of tourists, they just didn’t have the wonder that the molinos and my moment of silence at Mota del Cuervo had.
Even the clouds overhead looked menacing and about to burst.
I hiked to the farthest point from the castle, to windmills bearing less common names and without selfie-stick toting tourists resting on the stoops. These windmills were decidedly less picturesque but somehow more authentic.
Maybe it was a pipe dream to think I’d have the windmills all to myself for an hour of reflection. Maybe I thought they’d be bigger, like the giants I’d read about in high school. But like all things in the chronicle of the hidalgo, not everything is always as it seems. Feeling a bit dejected and pressed for time, I climbed back into Monty-nante, a true warrior after 1000 kilometers over four days, and took the autovía south.
“Take my advice and live for a long, long time. Because the maddest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself die.”
It’s been over a decade since I’ve studied abroad, and half a lifetime since we read an abridged version of Don Quixote junior year of high school. And it’s been just over four centuries since Miguel de Cervantes penned the closing chapter to a masterpiece that endures time and place.
In high school, I remember thinking Don Quixote was a fool, a haggard old man with pájaros en la cabeza who should have listened to his trusted Sancho Panza. Feeling very much like a pícara myself at this moment, I had a car ride to reflect on things and my somewhat failed mission to fulfill a teenage dream.
After a few weeks that could very well change the Spain game, I couldn’t help thinking that the old man had a few things to remind me: about perspective, about the clarity in insanity and that failure is also a means to a happier ending.
Have you ever seen the windmills at Consuegra?
If there is one thing that sleepy Júzcar, a small pueblo blanco at the end of a curving mountain highway near Ronda, can claim, it’s that Smurfs live among them. In this teeny village known for its mytocology and hiking trails, you might notice something that distinguishes it from the other so-called white villages in the region – the whole town is painted bright blue!
This hamlet perched high in the Valle del Genal has gained international fame thanks to Madrid-based publicity agency Bungalow25 (with whom I’m working on the Caser Expat ‘Typical Non-Spanish” project), Sony Pictures and more than 1000 gallons of paint.
Before the premiere of the Smurfs in 2011, Júzcar was a quick pit stop in the Serranía de Ronda, literally drawfed by other, more picturesque towns in the valley. Taking those words to heart, the town was doused in a layer of blue paint to boost tourism to an otherwise blip on a map. Cue allusions to ‘Pitufolandia’ and worldwide media fame.
While there’s not much to do in town – we were in, out and fed in an hour – the simple novelty is not lost. In fact, we were there on Día de Andalucía, along with half of the province! Bars were full, kids darting from cerulean shop to shop decked out in their own white smurf hats and parking was a nightmare, proving that a little bit of imagination can do wonders for tourism. That said, the town has yet to capitalize on it to its fullest extent!
If you go: Júzcar is best reached by car, but you can take local buses from Ronda, which is 25 kilometers to the northeast. Parking is free.
I visited Júzcar as part of my Typical Non Spanish project with Caser Expat Insurance and my promise to myself to do 52 new things in 2016! Anything I can’t miss – be it sites, experiences or food – around Andalucía?
Free is not a word synonymous with Seville. But cheap is.
While the city won’t burn a hole in your pocket with its reasonable prices for accommodation, food and entertainment (not to mention low cost of living), Seville still has a load of free or low-cost activities while visiting the metropolis where flamenco echoes through alleyways and bullfighters are carried out of the rings on the shoulders of revelers.
Get lost in the city’s old quarters
It’s believed that Seville has the largest old city center in Europe, and its Roman, Visigoth and Moorish roots mean that everything in the district is cramped, chaotic and easy to get turned around in. Your map will do you no good, so it’s better to just toss it in your bag and wander.
Catch a free flamenco show
Even before UNESCO declared flamenco – a gypsy art said to have taken on its modern form in Seville – an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, flamenco has been infused into the lives of sevillanos and its visitors. Peñas flamencas, small bars dedicated to artists of years past, often put on free or discounted shows in small, dark locales, the guitar wailing as a darkhaired gypsy taps and claps her way across the stage.
La Carbonería – Seville’s landmark flamenco joint makes it into every guidebook for good reason: shows are free and nightly at 10:30 or 11:00 p.m. Still, the popularity of La Carbonería and its location in the heart of downtown means that the place is packed, the drinks are expensive and the dancers just subpar (C/Levies, 18).
T de Triana – This bar cum flamenco haven features free shows on Tuesday and Thursday nights around 10:30 p.m. It’s location on Calle Betis makes it ideal for the start to a night on one of the city’s bestknown nightlife spots (C/Betis, 20).
La Anselma – Even though I’m no fan of the boisterous former cantaora whose famous flamenco house brings people to my barrio, her shows are free. Just be aware that she’ll hound you for a drink until you’ve had an entire bottle of wine…yourself…by the time the second dancer goes on (C/Pagés del Coro, 49).
Not that I speak from experience.
Visit museums on their free days
Seville’s historical sites have been climbing in prices as the city fields more tourists. Stop by the tourism office in Plaza Virgen de los Reyes for a free guide to the reduced price or free days for both the big-ticket sites and offbeat museums. Your money should be going to tapas anyway.
|Torre del Oro||Monday all day|
|Alcázar Palace and Gardens||Monday afternoon|
|Contemporary Art Museum||Tuesday to Friday afternoons; all day Saturday|
|Castillo San Jorge||Free daily|
|Cathedral and Giralda||Sunday afternoon|
|Archivo de Indias||Free daily with appointment|
|Casa de Pilatos||Free Wednesday afternoon with EU ID card|
|Fine At Museum||Free daily|
EU citizens have their entrance to Itálica, a Roman settlement outside the city, free every day.
And if you’re a student under 26 with a valid ID card or carnet joven, you can cash in on discounted rates or free entrance at the Alcázar, Cathedral, Archaeological Museum and Arts and Customs Museum.
This is an especially good tactic if you visit in the summer – free A/C!
Lounge in one of the city’s expansive parks
From María Luisa to Alamillo to the banks of the Guadalquivir, Seville’s parks are a defense against the hot summers and a cheap way to relax. Bring a picnic lunch for a cheap dining option, or come prepared for an afternoon siesta.
Bonus points if you bring a litrona of beer for a botellón!
Shop at a local’s market
Nowhere in Seville can you witness the way its people live than in its local markets. Old ladies jab you with their elbows to get through the fruit stand while your jaw drops with the weird cuts of animals, the array of fish and the mounds of spices sold at each. Most markets are open Monday – Saturday from 8a.m. until 2p.m. Likewise, there is a fine arts fair just in front of the Fine Arts Museum every Sunday morning, weather permitting.
Wander the Exposition fairgrounds
Seville, for two brief periods in its long history, had the world’s attention when it hosted the Iberoamerican Festival in 1929 and again in 1992. Large portions of the city were dedicated to these projects.
In 1929, Seville became home to the Iberoamerican Fair, and event that brought together Latin-and South American countries in order to strengthen ties, most of which were Spanish colonies. Sitting at the southern end of the historic quarter, each country designed its own pabellón, or exhibition hall, crowned by the Plaza de España. All sites are free to view, though some aren’t open to the public or are used as government buildings.
On the opposite side of the city in the Isla de la Cartuja, Spain again hosted an exposition to welcome the 21 st century with over 100 countries in attendance. Preparations for the siteincluded building several new bridges to span the Guadalquivir River and a monorail, and the site is reputed to be from where Columbus left for his journey to America. While it remains largely abandoned, the expansive area is worth a visit, and you can visit the stunning Pabellón de Marruecos.
Visit San Fernando Cemetery
While the idea of visiting a cemetery is a bit disconcerting to everyone but me, visiting Seville’s city cemetery is worth the hike for its beauty and peaceful respite from a bustling city. Inaugurated in 1852, the city’s most illustrious names have been lain to rest here, including bullfighters like Paquirri and flamenco singers, war heroes and criminals. The cemetery is open during daylight hours and on holidays, so it’s common to see burials and mourning loved ones, so silence and no photography is enforced. Take bus 10 from Ponce de León until you see the cemetery (1,40€/trip).
Discover the city’s Roman roots
Seville is a city that has been conquered, reconquered and conquered again, creating a matrix of architectural and artistic legacy. Perhaps the Roman roots of the city are best preserved, as city decrees outlaws the destruction of ruins or artifacts. Such objects can be seen in the archaeological museum of María Luisa Park, but you can discover some of them on your own.
The corner of Calle Mármoles and Calle Abades houses columns of a temple; in Plaza de la Pescadería, believed to be at the crux of the old Roman streets, giant marble blocks preserve the ruins of a fish monger’s; and in Plaza de la Encarnación, visit gorgeous mosaics and old city walls that lie underneath the square (1,50€ for non-EU citizens). There are also ruins of a Roman aqueduct just outside the city center on Luis Montoto.
Get holy at church
Seville is home to the most renowned Holy Week celebrations in Spain, a somber week that transforms the last days of Jesus Christ into lifesized floats that cramp the city center. While it’s free to watch, you can visit the floats the other 51 weeks of the year and relish in the city’s devotion at most churches and chapels.
Only the Cathedral, Santa Ana and San Salvador cost money, so even just popping in for the relief from the hot sun is worthwhile. Don’t miss the venerable Macarena, or the teeny chapels under the Postigo Arch or the end of the Puente de Triana.
Enjoy views of the city center from Triana
On the opposite side of the city center sits Triana, the gypsy barrio seeped in lore and full of great bars and eateries. Watching the lights of the city go on from the Triana bridge or along Calle Betis affords tremendous views of the city (and you can catch flamenco here!). Check out my guide to spending an afternoon on my side of the río.
Watch a Novillada
If you’re brave enought to see a bullfight, Seville’s Maestranza ring is a superb place to do so. While this famed plaza de toros hosts some of the big names in bullfighting, the late May and early June novilladas bring in young bullfighters looking to make a name for themselves. Seats in the sun are typically under 15€. Schedule available on the ring’s official website.
Browse the El Jueves market for Spanish kitsch
Believed to be one of the longest-running flea markets in Spain, Calle Feria in the Macarena district hosts a large mercadillo each Thursday morning. Vendors hock everything from recuerdos from the ’92 Expo to bullfighting suits. Haggling is OK, but browsing is the way to go.
…¡y a comer!
Like Granada, Seville’s tapas scene is a must-do when visiting, and visiting the free sites means you’ll work up an appetite. Budget hunters tend to chow down at Taberna Los Coloniales (C/Cristo de Brugos, 19) for big plates at a low cost. Bodega Las Columnas (C/ de Rodrigo Caro, 1) is another cheap option with plenty of charm, just out of the shadow of the Giralda. With beer at 1,10€ and tapas as low as 2,20€, you can still fill up without a huge bill.
You’ll also find budget options around the Alameda, squeezed in between fancier fusion restaurants. If you’re going to spend your money anywhere, be it on food and drink!
Do you have other ideas for cheap or free things to do in Seville?
Spain has its fair share of Mediterranean passion, spice and beauty — not to mention some of the most gorgeous sunsets, natural parks and villages on the planet. I should know: I met and fell in love with a Spaniard on the dimly lit streets of Seville, elbow-to-elbow as he ordered me new foods or we zigzagged the country in his car.
My love story has a heart-stopping backdrop between cervecerías and sidrerías, hidden coves and waterfalls, bustling cities and blips of towns. Can you tell we’re close to Valentine’s and our six-month wedding anniversary?
Booking a romantic trip away is all about finding the destination that’s right for you and your pareja, and one of the best things about Spain is that it offers so much more than a destination for couples, from globe-trotting city slickers to couples seeking a bit of solace. Here are four of my favorite rinconces of Spain for a romantic trip:
Seville: For the passionate couple
It’s often said that Andalucía encapsulates the Spanish spirit more than any other region of the country, and nowhere is that more evident than in Seville. With its stunning Moorish architecture and wild flamenco rhythms, Seville is steeped in romance and passion. The proof is in the (blood) pudding: the Novio and I met and fell in love in Triana.
Start your trip by wandering hand-in-hand through Parque de Maria Luisa and the Moorish Alcázar, full of corners and oppulent gardens to sneak in a besito. For the best food, you can practically trip into one of the city’s many tapas restaurants, huddling together to share plates of pescaito frito and rabo de toro. And of course, no trip to this city would be complete without a flamenco experience at a local peña or a massage at the Arabic baths.
Menorca: For the tree-hugging couple
For the ultimate relaxing beach getaway, you can’t do better than Menorca. Quieter than neighboring Mallorca and protected as a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, Menorca is a chilled-out destination that combines natural beauty, art and culture and fine cuisine.
For a taste of the old world, stroll through the narrow cobbled lanes of the Old Ciutadella, before heading to the harbor for sea views and a bite to eat at fish restaurant Jàgaro (a favourite with the British Royal Family). Finish up in one of the island’s seaside taverns, sipping the island’s renowned Xoriguer gin and admiring the ocean views at sunset.
Even better, rent a car and drive to the secluded calas, or coves, scattered around the coast. Menorca is one of Spain’s top destinations for walking holidays and outdoor sports, making it perfect for outdoors lovers.
Barcelona: For the cultural couple
There’s no place like Barcelona when it comes to romance and culture. You can cuddle up by the fountain in Montjuïc, or take a stroll by the Maremagnum. End the evening taking a seat on Badalona beach and watching the waves lap against the sand. If this sounds like your kind of destination, you can check it out with loveholidays.
Barcelona is also a place for the avant garde between world class museums, posh dining concepts and a myriad of cool day trips. While perhaps not the most romantic city in Spain, it’s literally got something for everyone (well, maybe not me).
Mojácar: For the couple who wants no company
You might not have heard of Mojácar, but you’ll certainly recognize its distinctive skyline of jumbled white-fronted houses from the pages of a travel magazine. The town comprises two areas: the old town, dating back to Moorish times and arranged over a hilltop two kilometers inland from the coast, and the beach, a modern resort that stretches seven kilometers along the coast.
The combination of the two makes Mojacar the ideal destination for a romantic break, offering the opportunity for secluded walks through the old town’s winding streets, sunbathing on the golden beaches and sightseeing.
Extremadura: for off-the-beaten-path couples
Thanks to a lack of tourism, Extremadura is a part of Spain that not many tourists get to. Think wide open plains, historic cities and long, hearty lunches in the shade of a stone cathedral.
My picks would be Trujillo, home to a stone city center where the New World’s riches often ended up, or Cáceres, a UNESCO World Heritage city bursting with secluded plazas, churches and small taverns. It may be one of Spain’s most authentic areas!
But don’t think you’ll need to do anything extra special: Much like we Americans have ‘Hallmark Holidays,’ Spaniards refer to Valentine’s Day as el día del Corte Inglés. Everything is fair game – baked goods, flowers, gushy love notes and expensive dinners!
What are Spain’s most romantic holidays, in your opinion?
Most people leave Triana off of their Seville itinerary – there isn’t much by way of museums or grandiose churches, and it’s across the Guadalquivir from the city’s major draws. But what the historic neighborhood lacks in monuments, it more than makes up for in feeling.
Triana is a barrio that’s equal parts sevillano, capillita and gitano.
While most opt to stay in the city center, Triana is only a stone’s throw from the Giralda and Plaza de España, commanding the western bank of the river that slices the city in two. And you can feel it – Triana seems like a world away, despite being connected by bus and subway to every part of Seville.
Consder an aparthotel like the comfortable and spacious ones offered by Pierre&Vacances Sevilla, right in the heart of Triana on Pagés del Coro, on your next Seville holiday. You’ll wake up to the sound of church bells from the adjacent San Jacinto church and be able to pop down to El Pulido for a tostada as long as your forearm.
Historically speaking, Triana was a poor, working class neighborhood of fisherman, bullfighters and gypsies and one of the seats of the Holy Inquisition, headquartered at the Castillo San Jorge on the riverbank. Today, it’s a neighborhood known for its fiercely trianero residents, flamenco culture and tile production, and is home to several well-known bars and eateries.
I may be biased, but it’s my favorite part of the city, and one whose streets I walk every day as a resident of the 41010. Many days, there’s no need to even cross the Puente Isabel II into town.
If you have a free afternoon, don’t miss Triana’s charm, which I’ve loaded into an interactive map in Bobbypin:
12pm – Start off with food
Start by crossing the Puente Isabel II over the Guadalquivir river, the official entrance into the República Independiente de Triana. The bridge was the city’s first, replacing a pontoon bridge in 1854 and built by an Eiffel disciple.
It’s easily my favorite monument and the nearly official symbol of the neighborhood. At the western end, you’ll find the minuscule Capilla de Carmen, which was built by famous sevillano architect Aníbal González (you’d recognize him from the Plaza de España) in the early 20th Century.
Your first stop in 41010 should be the newly renovated Mercado de Triana. Still very much a local’s market, fruit and vegetable vendors, fish mongers, butchers and specialty producers hock their wares just steps from the river. The market was built atop the ruins of the Castillo de San Jorge, visible in the adjacent museum and even in the walls of the mercado (C/San Jorge, 6).
If you can’t stick around all night, there’s a small flamenco theatre flanking the western edge of the market with shows at noon on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.
1pm – Work up an appetite
Triana has the privilege being where the sun chooses to sleep nightly, as the famous song goes, and it lingers over the district all afternoon long. Retreat back to the Puente Isabel II and to the yellow bar that sits opposite the Carmen chapel. Trianeros know that the food at El Faro de Triana isn’t anything special, but the views from the terrace or even the steps leading down to Calle Betis get the most sun midday. Order a cervecita and take it outside if it’s a nice day (Plaza del Altozano, 1C).
Continue walking down Calle Betis, the Roman name for the river, away from the bridge and towards the Torre del Oro. The thoroughfare is packed with bars and restaurants, though you should steer clear of them for now and walk on the other side of the road so as to avoid hawkers while drinking in the view across the river to the bullring, opera house and the Torre del Oro itself.
2pm – Tapear your way through Triana’s tapas bars
2pm is still a little early for me, but bars seem to fill up at this time of the afternoon, no matter what day. At the southern end of the street, stop at La Primera del Puente, a nondescript tapas bar lined with tiles and grilling fish over a hot skillet, and order just one thing: patatas bravas and a glass of Cruzcampo. In eight years, I’ve tried countless dishes of fried potatoes with a spicy red sauce, and La Primera has some of the best (even if their barman makes fun of my accent constantly (C/ Betis, 66).
Backtrack to Calle Troya and head away from the river, then take the first right onto Calle Pureza. I photographed a couple’s first look photos on this street because of its colorful houses and ornate doorways, and it’s home to both Triana’s first church, Santa Ana, as well as several watering holes (C/ Vázquez de Leca, s/n).
If Santa Ana is open, it’s worth a quick peek – commissioned in 1266 (yep, 750 years ago!), Santa Ana is known for its mudéjar hallmarks and Baroque facelift after the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, whose aftershocks were felt in Sevilla.
Just in front of the north facing door is Bar Santa Ana, a typical tavern featuring local dishes, like espinacas con garbanzos, bull tail and small grilled sandwiches. This is the bar I bring visitors to when I want to tell them about Holy Week, as paraphernalia of weeping Virgins and Bloody Christs adorn the walls. This is the sort of bar where locals have been locals since the 50s and where waiters still write your bill in chalk on the bar (C/ Pureza, 82).
You can pop into the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de la Esperanza de Triana just down the road, a stark white chapel that stands out amid salmon, cornflower and albero shaded homes and palaces (C/ Pureza, 53).
A little bit further up the road in La Anigua Abacería, a cozy, dimly lit cold cuts bar whose menu is long and has quite a few surprises. There are plenty of good vegetarian options here, too, and gobs of wines to try (C/ Pureza, 12).
Once you’ve had your fill, the serpentine calles and callejones of this part of Triana are good for walking off the calories – as well as staving off the siesta.
5pm – Explore Triana’s ceramic production
Around the corner of Calle Callao is Cerámica Santa Ana and the Centro Cerámica de Triana. The neighborhood has a long tradition of ceramics production and boasts several small shops that still make azulejos in the ancient way, though the clay no longer comes from the riverbanks. Hand-painted ceramic bowls, pitchers and magnets are my go-to souvenirs and even made them a prominent part of my wedding decoration, and Plaza de España’s elaborate tile depictions of Spain’s 50 provinces were made in factories here (C/ San Jorge, 31).
If you’re not looking for souvenirs, poke around the Centro Cerámica de Triana‘s small museum, one of the city’s newest. Though the kilns are no longer operable, they can be found in the museum, which also explains traditional techniques in English and Spanish. Plan around three-quarters of an hour (C/ Antillano Campos, 14).
6pm – Grab merienda and an afternoon drink
Head back to Calle Pureza and straight to Manu Jara Dulcería, a pastry shop owned by a French chef of the same name (and did I mention his Michellin stars?). While his brand of desserts, MasQuePostres, aren’t made on-site, they’re fresh, delectable and the shop itself a treat (C/ Pureza, 5).
Sevillanos usually take their sweet afternoon snack, called a merienda, with a coffee or tea, then follow it up with an adult beverage. Around the corner, back on Calle Betis, sits La Tertulia, a watering hole that plays off of the famous political and social discussion groups of the turn of the century. Avoid heading inside for anything more than ordering if you can – the bar smells like dirty pipes and mold – and grab a seat along the bench with your mojito. You’ll be rewarded with the same views you had before lunch, just this time as night falls and the Triana bridge lights up (C/ Betis, 13).
9:00pm – Dinnertime again!
Triana is known as one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city, and as night falls, bars and restaurants again fill with patrons. If you’re not hungry just yet, have a beer at Cervecería La Grande back on San Jacinto (C/ San Jacinto, 39).
Back when the Novio and I started dating, we’d have a routine called the ruta trianera, in which we’d have a few beers at La Grande before popping around to different bars in the area for dinner. Begin at Bar Casa Diego on Alferería (5). Don’t expect an English menu here; order a heaping media ración of pollo frito, friend chicken, and one of croquetas de puerros, or leek croquettes. Local lore states that Diego’s wife grew so tired of making béchamel and rolling croquetas for hungry clientele that she up and quit in the middle of a shift!
Yes, they’re that good.
Walk around the corner on Antillano Campos to Las Golondrinas I, a Triana institution and at the top of my list. The micro kitchen produces just a few dishes, and tapas are only available at the crowded bar. Ask Pepe for a glass of house wine and a tapa of punta de solomillo, a piping hot pork loin sandwiches, and champiñones, sautéed mushrooms crowned with mint sauce (C/ Antillano Campos, 26).
If you’re still hungry, Paco España has big plates of food to split, most notably their open-faced sandwiches, called panes (C/ Alfarería, 18).
11pm – Take in a flamenco show
Though I’m not a huge fan of the boisterous woman whose name and large presence give Casa Anselma her name, the flamenco bar is hugely popular with locals and tourists. Passing down Pagés del Coro, you’d never expect to find a bar behind the aluminum gates at the corner of Antillano Campos (49), but between 11 and midnight, Anselma opens her bar to patrons for impromptu flamenco shows.
Just be sure to count your change – though there’s no cover charge, drinks are twice as pricey here.
Bonus: looking for different food and drink options?
There is no shortage of good restaurants in this part of town, from bars that resemble a closet to restaurants that have garnered top foodie prizes.
Pura Tasca – One of Triana’s first gastrobars was built into what was once a butane tank distributor. The decoration evokes a storage space, but the rotating menu and top-notch wine list are always on (C/ Numancia, 5).
Bar Juan Carlos – Cheese and craft beer, and little else, the small bar is usually packed in the evenings. You can order samplers, cheese skewers and fondue, and there’s a beer of the month selection on offer (C/ Febo, 6).
La Fábula – People spoke so often of La Fábula that even the Novio, a creature of habit, wanted to try it. Spanish favorites with a twist are the hallmark of the pub, which bills itself as a gastrobar and has a few local craft beers on offer (Ronda de Triana, 31).
Casa Ruperto – known to locals as Los Pajaritos for its signature dish, this typical cervecería roasts quails on a spit. They’re also famous for their snails in tomato sauce (cabrillas) (Avda. Santa Cecilia, 2).
Jaylu – I’ve never eaten at this renowned seafood restaurant, but it’s purportedly one of the city’s best (López de Gomara, 19).
La Masacre – DO NOT eat at La Masacre, a Mexican join right on Calle Betis. I was beyond disappointed with the (cold) tamales I ate, though the cocktail and beer menu is loaded, and there’s live music on the weekends (C/ Betis, 29).
Sala El Cachorro – Started as a playhouse, the eclectic space soon morphed into a cafetería and bar. Grab a slice of carrot cake and a coffee and sit in the outdoor patio, full of plants and sculptures (C/ Procurador, 19).
As always, be sure to check opening times and dates. You can reach Triana by metro (M: Plaza de Cuba and Parque de los Príncipes) or bus (5, 6, 40, 43, C1, C2), or simply walk from the city center.
Have you ever spent time in Triana? What are your favorite places to eat, drink and visit?