I leave sevilla late. I linger too long in concerstaion over rich coffee with new friends.
So i ride to the end of the day, and then decided to keep riding into the night. Its a fine thing to do, in the cool, and the quiet, relaxed, not sweating or squinting.
I make a wrong turn in the the pale light, and make a loop/ Looking back towards Sevilla I can see fireworks exploding over the city, and a few moments later, hear their full thud. Its 3am before i put my mattress on a bed of eucalyptus, and beneath a cloud of mosquitos.
The compfort and fun of Sevilla seems very far away. It was a great party, and Olivier my couch surfing host was the master of ceremonies. HIs birthday party was great, and I met a lot of “bueno gente” good people, who encouraged my poor spanish contributions to conversation. The pride parade the next day was fun too. I wheeled through the streets with beer in place of my water bottles. Truck load of Bears testing the suspension of the truck with their dancing. The concert lasted late into the night. While Olivier slept I would explore the narrow streets of Santa Cruz, that give way suddenly to small plazas and gardens.
I look forward to exploring them again with Caroline.
Bustling sunday market. The cathedral smells of horseshit, earthy and sweet. Pedestrian areas are covered with sails which cool and enclose you. At night these same streets are empty of people, but full of the scent of orange blossom. Plaza Hercules begins to fill with people, just as Londoners begin to stagger home.
I like Sevilla.
