This post combines two different trips in Spain, a country I've been to about nine times. As of the trip two years ago, my husband and I have now been to every region of Spain - Extremadura was the only region we'd never visited and it turned out to be nearly 100% free of Americans. Only in Salamanca did we see a few (three) which is not surprising as the city has several university programs that have hosted American students for many years. Before the specific notes, the general books about Spain:
A Stranger in Spain by H. V. Morton (Dodd, Mead & Co., 1955). Like Morton's other travel titles, this one is a classic.
Culture Shock!: Spain: A Guide to Customs and Etiquette by Marie Louise Graff (Graphic Arts Center, 1997). Each Culture Shock! edition is eminently enlightening, and while each includes a lot of practical information for foreigners who are living in the country, even short-term visitors will find it indispensable.
Discovering Spain: An Uncommon Guide by Penelope Casas (Knopf, 2001). Though some of the recommendations for places to stay and eat are no longer valid, this is still an excellent resource to consult. Casas was better known for her many (also excellent) cookbooks (below) but this is jammed with perceptive overviews of each region and personal recommendations, many of which are still around.
Eternal Spain: The Spanish Rural Landscape, photographs by Robert Frerck, text by Alastair Reid (Abrams, 1991). This horizontal-shaped hardcover is my favorite in the category of coffee-table books. The shape is important, for photos of landscapes are always best appreciated in a wide format, and these images do not disappoint. The text by Reid (1926-2014), who lived in Andalucía for many years, makes the book that much more of a must-have volume.
Iberia: Spanish Travels and Reflections by James Michener (Random House, 1968). Still the classic, the equivalent of Luigi Barzini's The Italians to Italy. This was the very first book I read about Spain, and in many ways it's still my favorite. It was also the first book I read by Michener, and though I went on to read a good many of his other works, few of them were quite the achievement that Iberia was and remains. If you never got around to reading it because you thought Michener became trite and formulaic (true), put those feelings aside and pick it up. Try to read the hardcover edition.
Spain by Jan Morris (Prentice-Hall, 1988) is a reissued edition of The Presence of Spain (Harcourt Brace & World, 1964, with wonderful color and black-and-white photographs by Evelyn Hofer) - the only difference is an introductory note at the beginning of the later edition, which features color illustrations by Cecilia Eales. It's not as cohesive as many of Morris's other books, but it's still a most interesting and valuable volume, with a notebook's worth of perceptive observations.
Spain: A History in Art by Bradley Smith (Simon & Schuster, 1966). "Perhaps more than that of any other country, the art of Spain reflects the character of its people, as well as its history." And so this beautiful survey - a "visual-textual history of Spain" - begins, taking readers from the cave paintings of Altamira to the operas of Manuel de Fallas, the architecture of Antoni Gaudí, the films of Luis Buñuel, Salvador Dalí, Joaquín Sorolla, and Pablo Picasso. The color reproductions would be of finer quality if this book were published today, but that is a small quibble.
Spain: The Monocle Handbook. About five years ago or so I began using the guidebooks published by the British magazine and media company Monocle, and they are consistently excellent. This Spain edition is published jointly by Monocle and Thames & Hudson, and it's divided into three parts: 'Discover Spain' (where to stay, drinking & dining, design & retail, culture, architecture, and the great outdoors); 'Put Down Roots' (where to live, residences, architecture & design, furniture, build a network, and success stories); and 'The Address Book,' with recommendations for Madrid, Central Spain, Barcelona, Cataluña, Valencia, The East, Andalucía, The North, Balearic Islands, and the Canary Islands. With color photos throughout.
Spain: The Root and the Flower by John Crow (Harper & Row, 1963). Crow's dedication reads, "To the people of Spain whose culture has absorbed my entire professional life," and he explains that his primary intention has been to analyze the main currents in the ebb and flow of Spanish life, not detail long lists of royalty or wars or political changes. As this was published in 1963, it's also an important record of life in Spain under Franco (who died in 1975), and the final chapters - 'The Spanish Republic (1931-1939),' 'Communism and Fascism in Spain,' 'Valley of the Fallen,' and 'Spain Today' - are excellent reading on their own.
Spanish Hours by Simon Courtauld (Libri Mundi, 1996; revised edition 1998). This beautifully crafted memoir is a perfect mix of history, travelogue, and personal observation. Courtauld is well-traveled throughout Spain and has held various writing positions with various London newspapers (some chapters in the book first appeared as articles in The Spectator and The Sunday Telegraph). Neither Madrid nor Barcelona feature in this book, nor do the various costas. As Courtauld writes, "the characteristics of Spain and its people which I have tried to communicate are more enduring - as important decades, or centuries, ago as they are today. In Spain, as in any country, there are certain things that matter. This book is the result of an attempt to understand those hours, or moments, in Spanish life (the word horas covers both) which go to the heart of the country."
The Face of Spain by Gerald Brenan (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1956; Ecco Press, 1995). Brenan (1894-1987) was well traveled in Spain and lived in Andalucía for many years, and the noted travel writer V. S. Pritchett noted that "no writer knows Spain as well as Mr. Brenan does, and none has written about Spanish life, literature, and history so searchingly." This memoir is also a story within a story, as Brenan relates his efforts to find the burial site of Federico García Lorca, who was shot by forces loyal to Franco in August 1936.
The New Spaniards by John Hooper (Penguin, 2006). This is the second edition by Hooper, a foreign correspondent and journalist who was posted to Madrid to covert Spain's transition to democracy. He spent nine years living in Spain and is one of the country's most astute observers. Hooper notes in his Introduction that his book "is about change." Contemporary Spain has undergone so many changes that it is a new country. "In less that half a century, a predominantly rural, agricultural society has been transformed into a mainly urban and technological one. A dictatorship has become a democracy. One of the world's most centralized states has been made into one of the most decentralized. A society that was intensely sexually repressed has become a notably permissive one...Other countries have undergone several of these transformations. But I know of nowhere that has experienced them all - and in such a brief time-span." I particularly enjoyed the early chapters 'From Hunger to Prosperity' and 'From Dictatorship to Democracy' which provided a lot of background on the Franco years that was new to me; 'Changing Traditions: Flamenco and Bullfighting' is also enlightening; but the entire book is a great read.
The Spanish Temper by V. S. Pritchett (Knopf, 1955). "I write because, of all the foreign countries I have known, Spain is the one that has made the strongest impression on me. I went there first in the 1920s as a very young man and lived there for nearly two years; the effects of the experience were drastic and permanent. I might also say, without being guilty of rhetoric, that the sight of the landscape of Castile changed my life." Pritchett continued to visit Spain until the 1950s and this is an excellent read (he also wrote Marching Spain, which is included in The Pritchett Century, Modern Library, 1997).
On the subject of the Spanish Civil War, the following are all worthy: The Odyssey of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade: Americans in the Spanish Civil War by Peter Carroll (Stanford University Press, 1994); Spain Betrayed: The Soviet Union in the Spanish Civil War, edited by Ronald Radosh, Mary Habeck, and Grigory Sevostianov (Yale University Press, 2001); The Spanish Civil War by Gabriele Ranzato (Interlink, 1999); The Spanish Civil War by Hugh Thomas (Modern Library, 2001); The Spanish Labyrinth: An Account of the Social and Political Background of the Civil War by Gerald Brenan (Cambridge University Press, 1943, 1960); A Moment of War: A Memoir of the Spanish Civil War (New Press, 1991) and As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning (Atheneum, 1969), both by Laurie Lee; and A Literary Companion: Spain by Jimmy Burns (John Murray, 1994), for the chapter 'That Arid Square: The Civil War.' At the conclusion of an excerpt from A Moment of War, Burns comments that "Lee ended the Civil War in a cell, rejected by the very people he had come to fight alongside. His experience of the conflict is one in which heroes did not exist and where more often than not Spaniards and foreigners alike became corrupted and ideals were gradually lost."
Cookbooks are just as essential to travel as any other kind of book: as Alejandro Ruiz, in The Food of Oaxaca, notes, "Cooking is the ultimate expression of a culture." I recommend the following cookbooks which are not only filled with solid recipes but also prepare travelers for what they'll find on menus and at markets and often include personal recommendations from the authors: The Cuisines of Spain: Exploring Regional Home Cooking by Teresa Barrenechea (10 Speed Press, 2005), a comprehensive book by former restaurateur, press attaché to the Spanish delegation of the United Nations, and award-winning author of The Basque Table; The Food of Spain by Claudia Roden (HarperCollins, 2011); The New Spanish Table by Anya von Bremzen (Workman, 2005); and The Foods and Wines of Spain, Tapas: The Little Dishes of Spain, and Delicioso!: The Regional Cooking of Spain all by Penelope Casas, all published by Knopf. Additionally, there are some related culinary books that are quite good: A Late Dinner: Discovering the Food of Spain by Paul Richardson (Scribner, 2007) is equally of interest to readers who don't know much about Spanish food and to those who believe they know it well. Richardson, who left London for Spain in 1989, has written for many magazines, and he and his husband live on a 12-acre organic farm in Extremadura where they produce olive oil, wine, and charcuterie. Here he explores the relationship between the traditional and the breathtakingly modern in Spanish food. He writes that when he first lived in Spain, "there was little general awareness that anything else existed besides la cocina de siempre: the cooking we've always known. Bookshops, if they had a food section at all, would carry only a feeble selection, nothing like the large-format glossy cookbooks that fill the shelves today. Most Spanish newspapers had no restaurant critic, and chefs were rarely in the news." Today Spain still honors tradition while being modern, if not avant-garde. Where Richardson lives, the cooking of the region still has plenty of life left in it. "It makes me happy," he writes, "to think that there is a corner of old Europe that still cares about proper home cooking and regional dishes, and hasn't sold its soul for bottled sauces and just-add-water noodles." Richardson provides an excellent food glossary as well as a wonderful chapter called 'Entremeses,' which includes Dichos Culinarios (expressions relating to food) and descriptions of La Cocina Española (the Spanish Kitchen), Almuerzo (lunch), Merienda (somewhere between snack, picnic, and tea as in the English meal rather than the drink), Comilona (a get-together of family and friends on a Saturday or Sunday at lunchtime), Sobremesa ("over table" or the period after a meal is over to devote to conversation and coffee or digestivos), and Siesta, which Richardson notes is a custom that exists in all Mediterranean countries "though nowhere is it such an institution, such a pastime, or such an art form as in Spain." To the Heart of Spain: Food and Wine Adventures Beyond the Pyrenees by Ann and Larry Walker (Berkeley Hills Books, 1997) is another wonderful culinary companion. It's a travel journal - an excellent one, covering all the mainland regions of Spain - and a wine guide and a cookbook, with over 100 recipes. I particularly love what they write in the Madrid chapter: "Stick to the American-style hotels, the American-style restaurants, clutch your purse tightly at all times, avoid any place that doesn't accept American Express and count your change carefully. Doubtless, you will lower the odds of anything unpleasant happening to you. Likewise, of anything pleasant. Perhaps you should have stayed in Denver. In short, Madrid, like most great cities, is a state of mind. You cannot be in Madrid and act like you are in Chicago."
We drove from Porto (more about that in a Portugal post to come) and spent a few days in the region of Castilla-Leon in places we'd never been, Ciudad Rodrigo, Salamanca, and La Alberca. Ciudad Rodrigo is within seven thousand feet of walls that are 40 feet high, and it's named after its conqueror, Count Rodrigo González. The walls are really impressive, as is the castle, the pretty Palacio del Príncipe, and the Plaza Mayor lined with attractive, golden-stone buildings (below).
We stayed at the parador (we stayed exclusively at paradors throughout this trip, which was not by design though we are big fans of the paradores network, founded in 1928). There are 98 paradores all over Spain, and some are in very old buildings while others are quite contemporary. The buffet breakfast served at any of the paradores is practically overwhelming, with yogurts; fresh squeezed orange juice (and ice buckets of cava); bowls of fresh melons, kiwi, pineapple, pomegranate, persimmon, and grapes; sliced hams and cheeses; hot dishes to order; cereals; assorted sweet pastries; sliced smoked salmon; a toaster with assorted sliced breads; jars of jam, hummus, pureed tomatoes, and avocado cream; and always a bottle of olive oil on each table in the dining room.
A good shop in Ciudad Rodrigo with a range of culinary specialties is Dehesas del Azaba, a jamonería with other productos de la tierra, including cheese and wine (calle San Juan, 12). The proprietor recommended the restaurant Zascandil (calle Correo Viejo, 5) but it wasn't open when we were there.
On our first day we had a really great lunch at La Paloma (calle Paloma, 3). In the evening we stopped for drinks at Bar Sanatorio, the walls of which are covered with bullfighting posters and bullfighting ephemera. At around 7:30 we left to walk around and decide where we were going to have dinner, but it didn't take long to discover that every place was closed. It seemed a little odd that absolutely nothing was open (except the Bar Sanatorio). We walked back to La Paloma to see if maybe it was open but the lights were out there, too. A few minutes before 8:00, we saw a light on in the La Pulperia restaurant (very near La Paloma), and we heard some voices. At precisely 8:00 more lights went on and the door opened. We looked back at La Paloma and all the lights were on and people were filing into the restaurant. We have had a similar experience in Greece (except in that case, we were told to come back at a precise time and when we did, the entire restaurant was packed and there was no table for us) and I know this is not unique to Ciudad Rodrigo, but it would be helpful to know the secret password so to speak. We had a really good meal at La Pulperia, by the way, which is a simple place but we ate delicious navajas (razor clams), fried sepia, and peel-and-eat gambas (heads-on shrimp).
"Salamanca's Plaza Mayor," writes James Michener, "is the finest in Spain and one of the four best in the world. St. Mark's in Venice has a richer variety of architecture; the Zócolo in Mexico City is larger in expanse; and the barbaric Asian splendor of the Registan in Samarkand is without equal. But the Plaza Mayor is unique in that its spacious area is bordered on all four sides by what amounts to one continuous building, four stories high and graced with an unending arcade of great architectural beauty. It is the most harmonious plaza extant, with its repetitious balconies and windows providing just enough accent and its blending colors creating a vision of amber loveliness." I couldn't agree more, and it is absolutely the highlight - even more than its enormous cathedral - of the town. The cathedral is, however, very worthwhile, especially the self-guided tour, known as Ieronimus (climbing the cathedral towers). Ultimately it's a lot of steps to climb, but in the inside of the cathedral visitors are able to be at nearly eye level with the tops of the columns, and there is an outdoor terrace level with great views, and then more stairs to another level where there are six bells.
We had an outstanding lunch at Bambú: Tapas y Brasas (calle del Prior, 6), a Michelin Bib Gourmand restaurant.
The next day we drove to La Alberca, a mountain village with cobblestone streets and wood-beam houses with wooden balconies. On the drive there we passed fewer than ten cars, and the roads took us by fields of cows, sheep, and pigs, lots and lots of pigs. This is, after all, one of the areas where Jamón Ibérico is from. The entire village of La Alberca has been declared a national monument, and pigs here are just as notable as its architecture (see below).
Actually, I'm not positive I saw this pig and butterfly in La Alberca, but it was definitely in the area.
The drive further south en route to Guadalupe took us through Las Villuercas, La Jara, and Los Ibores, in the easternmost part of Extremadura. This is an area made up of a beautiful wide range of geographic contrasts, with mountains, forests with holm oaks (which the pigs are especially fond of), chestnuts, pines, and cork oak trees. The rivers here are filled with trout and other types of fish, and the area is popular with bird enthusiasts. We passed even fewer cars than on the drive to La Alberca.
Extremadura (meaning "extreme" or "farthest out") is the western region of Spain that borders Castilla and Andalucia and is separated in part from Portugal's Alentejo region by the Guadiana river. It was at the very edge of Spain, a frontier land, and parts of it weren't integrated into Spain until recent times. Not surprising then that it's one of Spain's least-visited places, yet it's equally surprising that, as Penelope Casas writes, that "almost without exception the legendary names of the conquest - Vasco Núñez de Balboa, Hernando de Soto, Hernán Cortés, and Francisco Pizarro, to mention just a few among hundreds of others - were from Extremadura. Countless New World towns and cities adopted the names of their Spanish counterparts, like Trujillo, Medellín, Guadalupe, Mérida, and Albuquerque. A trip through Extremadura provides the opportunity to follow what has been called the Route of the Conquistadores."
Guadalupe, with its Real Monasterío de Santa María de Guadalupe and its Parador de Guadalupe, was our destination for the next few days and it is definitely worth the journey (note that from no matter which direction, the mountain roads to Guadalupe are winding and narrow, so plan accordingly to avoid driving after dark; we arrived at dusk which was challenging enough). The Monastery is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the statue of the patron saint of Extremadura may be seen, on a tour, in the inner sanctum of the monastery. The patron saint is a black Madonna, one of the world's few, and I went down a lot of rabbit holes to try and understand this curious phenomenon (among the sources I read include one from America: The Jesuit Review by Andrew Chestnut, '10 Things to Know About the Virgin of Guadalupe'; Art UK; and Interfaith Mary. The basic outline of the story is that the monastery stands on the site where the Virgin Mary appeared to a shepherd. The monastery's foundation dates back to 1337, and in the 14th and 15th centuries the church and cloister were built in the Mudéjar style. The guided tour includes sculptures, ceramics, embroideries, and paintings (including two by Zurbarán, who was born in Extremadura, The Father Vizcaya' and 'Apotheosis of St. Jerome') that present the arts of Extremadura from the Middle Ages and following centuries. The tour ends in the Camarín de la Virgen (the chamber proper), in the upper story, with the black Madonna spectacularly revealed when the guide swings open a type of lazy Susan, and there she is, on a throne. It's so dazzling I half expected there to be fireworks, or maybe trumpets. The reveal felt a little kitschy, but all the other people on the tour seemed to be duly impressed and humbled. After a short while, the door is closed and the Madonna is once again hidden from view, until the next tour. According to UNESCO, the monastery is "an outstanding repository of four centuries of Spanish religious architecture. It symbolizes two significant events in world history that occurred in 1492: the Reconquista of the Iberian peninsula by the Catholic kings and Christopher Columbus's arrival in the Americas. Its famous statue of the virgin became a powerful symbol of the Christianization of much of the New World." The monastery has been in continual use since its construction, and it's been inhabited by the same order, the Order of Saint Jerome. Without doubt, the validity and relevance of the Virgin of Guadalupe is still very much alive, and every year on the 8th of September there is a huge festival celebrating the Virgin, and thousands of pilgrims and visitors come to Guadalupe.
This is a ceramic depiction of the black Madonna in the Parador.
The parador is in the former Colegio de Infantes o de Gramática, also in the Mudéjar style. It's in an ideal location, across the plaza from the monastery, and is quite large.
A patio at the parador; below, a nighttime view of the monastery from the parador and daytime views.
The town was built around the monastery, and apart from the vicinity of the monastery it's quaint and quiet.
We had drinks and snacks a few times at La Casa de las Morcillas (plaza Santa María de Guadalupe, 23), which also sells an array of local culinary items. We also frequented the nearby Meson Isabel and Meson Extremeno, also on the plaza. It's hard to spend more than about 8 euros for a glass of beer and a glass of wine.
Mérida, our last stop in Extremadura, was one of Rome's greatest outposts, and it was the central link of roads that radiated throughout Roman Spain - it was originally known as Emerita Augusta, Emerita because veterans of the Roman legion retired here, and Augusta in honor of the Roman emperor Augustus. At the time (25 BCE) Mérida was designed to be an impressive monument to Rome's grandeur, and its Teatro Romano, amphitheater, and Circo Romano were spectacular in size. In addition, the Romans also built an aqueduct (almost 2,500 feet long and 75 feet high), the Puente Romano (a bridge with sixty spans), and the Arco de Trajano, a triumphal arch 45 feet high. Walking around Mérida is a little similar to walking around Rome in that the monuments and ruins are suddenly, astonishingly, right in front of you as you turn a corner. The Museo Nacional de Arte Romano is very good and should not be missed, though not all of the signage is in English; however, there are some large laminated brochures in English (and other languages) that may be borrowed on the second floor. Among other non-Roman sites to see are the Alcazaba Árabe and the Museo de Arte Visigotico. The pleasant and lively Plaza de España is filled with cafes and bars, all good though no stand-outs, and all are moderately priced.
Our accommodation at the parador was enormous, with a bedroom, large bathroom, and another huge room that included a dining table with six chairs and at the other end a sitting area with a couch, coffee table, and two chairs. Doors opened to a small balcony.
Left, Parador de Mérida.
- Matt Goulding, Grape Olive Pig: Deep Travels Through Spain's Food Culture
Madrid for Pleasure: Seven Walks Through the City's History by Michael Jacobs (Pallas Athene, 2004). This is one edition in the excellent 'Pallas for Pleasure' guides, and it's really essential. At over 300 pages it's a little heavy to bring along, but the 51-page Introduction can (should) be read before departure and then readers can photocopy the walk(s) they want to do in Madrid (I've done four of them). As Jacobs (more about him below) had a prestigious background in art history, it's no surprise that this volume is profusely illustrated with color and black-and-white reproductions, photos, and illustrations. Every walk reveals wonderful details, and as one reviewer observed, Jacobs "has a gift for finding exotic corners in a familiar city and of resuscitating the forgotten with colorful intensity."
Madrid: The Monocle Travel Guide Series. This slender, hardcover guide is loaded with great essays on a variety of topics like 'Facing Franco: Putting History to Bed,' 'Ripe for a Refill: Vermouth's Revival,' and 'Alfresco Alliances: Outside Space', along with the great recommendations for places to stay, eat, and drink. Also included are detailed walks through five Madrid neighborhoods and sections on culture, design and architecture, and sport and fitness.
Fiction titles include Bad Habit by Alana S. Portero (HarperCollins, 2024), which portrays all sides, good and bad of Madrid. The narrator is an unnamed, working-class, trans-gender woman who lives in a Madrid suburb in the 1980s and '90s. She walks through several neighborhoods of the city and San Blas, in the suburbs, as she tries to find a place for herself. Portero emphasizes that Madrid can be a safe haven for those considered outcasts and outsiders. Additionally, The Frozen Heart (Phoenix, 2012), by Almudena Grandes, is a Madrilenian novel referred to as 'the Spanish Doctor Zhivago,' taking place during the Spanish Civil War. Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner (Coffee House Press, 2011) is a celebrated first novel by Lerner, a young American poet. Lerner's observations about Madrid are smart, funny, and appealing - he also witnessed the 2004 bombing of Atocha Station (read this very good piece about it by Lawrence Wright from The New Yorker).
Michael Jacobs, in Madrid for Pleasure, explains the saying 'de Madrid al cielo' (from Madrid to heaven or from Madrid to the skies), meaning Madrid is the gateway to the skies, "and from the skies a telescope to look back at Madrid." Another saying is 'Madrid es un pueblo sin fin' (Madrid is an endless town). Landlocked Madrid is home to the largest seafood market in the country and the second largest in the world (after Tokyo's Tsukiji), and Matt Goulding notes that "You could happily spend a lifetime eating your way around Spain without ever leaving the capital." We stayed in a rented apartment in the Embajadores neighborhood very near plaza Tirso de Molina, the nom de plume of Gabriel Téllez (1571? - 1648), who wrote the original version of 'Don Juan.'
The Prado (which opened to the public in November 1819, 'except on rainy days and when there is mud around') was as great as ever, and while my husband and daughter elected to take the English language tour, I opted to head straight for Velázquez having just finished reading Everything is Happening: Journey into a Painting by Michael Jacobs (Granta, 2016). This wonderful, insightful book is devoted to Velázquez's most famous masterpiece, 'Las Meninas' (The Ladies in Waiting), and Jacobs tried to sort through all the theories about this enigmatic painting before he passed away, in 2014. He died before he finished the task, but his good friend, journalist and art lover Ed Vulliamy, completed it for him. As Vulliamy notes in the foreword, this book was to be Jacobs's magnum opus, "an attempt to unlock the secrets of the painting he considered to be the greatest work by the artist he esteemed above all others." While Vulliamy, in his Coda, doesn't say it, he mentions that Estrella de Diego, a supporter of Michel Foucault's writings on 'Las Meninas,' wrote about the painting that "everything in the painting is slippery, every action is suspended; it is about to happen or has just happened" and I wonder if that observation gave Jacobs the title of his book. In a brochure about the painting that I bought years ago at the Prado, author Ana Martin Moreno related that "When Theophile Gautier stood before Las Meninas in 1882 and asked his famous question, "Where's the picture?," he was obviously alluding to its purely pictorial aspects, to the impeccable naturalism of an artist capable of deceiving the eye through the semblance of reality. However, one possible answer to his question might have been that the picture, when seen as a false reality behind which only a stretcher of wood and canvas exists, is actually within the picture. In that Court of wonders where a little girl of five was treated with the ritual accorded a goddess while her father was unable to pay the pastrycook's bill." A good related read is 'The Three-Hour Challenge: 180 Minutes with Las Meninas' by Scott Reyburn (The New York Times, September 2025). After my fill of Velázquez, I met Jeff and Alyssa who loved their tour and took me to see 'El Lavatorio' (Christ Washing the Disciples' Feet) by Tintoretto (image below). This large canvas was originally painted for the righthand wall of the apse in the Church of San Marcuola in Venice. It's meant to be viewed from the righthand side as it would have been seen in situ. For the lefthand wall of the apse, Tintoretto painted a companion piece showing the Last Supper (still in San Marcuola). The New Testament scene portrays the moment just before the Last Supper, when Jesus washed St. Peter's feet as an example of humility and service to others. But what's remarkable about the painting is that the perspective shifts as you stand in front of it and move from side to side - in other words, walk all the way to the left side of the painting and then move all the way to the right side. It's really incredible and hard to describe, but don't miss it when you're at the Prado!
A very brilliant idea is the Writing the Prado Fellowship, a program where writers are invited to live in an apartment overlooking the museum for stays of 3-6 weeks. They're not expected to write anything while in Madrid but they do have to look at the art, and hopefully be inspired (more details here). A few small hardcover books have been published (I think 6) by the writers who participated in the program, and they're all available in the museum's bookstore. I bought Refugio (Refuge) by Olga Tokarczuk, which I'm just now reading and very much enjoying.
Andalucía - specifically Cádiz and Sevilla - was our next destination, and it is the region where some of Spain's most iconic items originated: flamenco, gazpacho, and tapas. "For half the world," writes Jan Morris, "the image of Spain is the image of Andalusia." It is also the region that has historically been quite poor, and before Spain's civil war it was in a state of desperate poverty. To quote Jan Morris again, "To all too many of the Andalusians themselves, this is a homeland less than Arcadian. Andalusia is sol y sombra both - sun on one side of the street, shadow on the other: a mirror both of Spain's delight, and of her lingering poverty." Once again, before the notes, the books about Andalucía:
Andalucía by Michael Jacobs (Pallas Guides, 1998). This is the very best book on Andalucía by the incomparable Michael Jacobs and I consider it essential reading. Chapters cover such topics as flamenco, gypsies, the Golden Age, food and drink, poetry and war, the land and its people, etc., and there is an excellent gazetteer of the region as well as a separate A to Z practical information section plus a historical chronology; principal Islamic rulers of Spain; Christian rulers of Spain; a section on language, including bad language - "some of the more common words that never feature in guidebook glossaries, but that will frequently be heard by anyone lingering in a Spanish bar" and a food glossary. And it includes black-and-white illustrations and photos and a 16-page color insert. In his preface, Jacobs notes that the Seville Expo in 1992 made Andalucía more accessible with the creation of a high-speed train from Madrid, and tourist interest in the region has grown accordingly. "...for all this Andalucía can still be said to offer the traveller an extraordinary number of outstanding, little known sites and a stubbornly exotic, individualistic culture."
Convivencia: Jews, Muslims, and Christians in Medieval Spain, edited by Vivian Mann, Thomas Glick, and Jerrilynn Dodds (George Braziller / The Jewish Museum, New York, 1992). The word convivencia is loosely defined as "coexistence," but it carries "connotations of mutual interpenetration and creative influence, even as it also embraces the phenomena of mutual friction, rivalry, and suspicion." The museum exhibition and this illustrated hardcover explore the period known as Spain's Golden Age, from the Muslim Conquest in 711 to the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims in 1492. A related title is The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews, and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain by Maria Rosa Menocal (Little, Brown, 2002).
Driving Over Lemons: An Optimist in Andalucía by Chris Stewart (Pantheon, 1999). Stewart may have been offered a book contract because he was the first drummer for the rock band Genesis, but the truth is he's written an engaging account of his life with his wife and daughter on a farm in El Valero, a remote area in Andalucía (like the books here by Brenan and Jacobs, El Valero is in the Alpujarras). The title is from a comment by Georgina, a cigarette-smoking Englishwoman who "had carved out a niche for herself acting as an intermediary between the farmers who wanted to sell their cortijos in the hills and move to town, and the foreigners who wanted to buy them. It was a tough job but no one who saw her ironing out deals with the coarsest peasant or arguing water rights with the most stubborn bureaucrat could doubt she was the woman for it." Stewart was driving his car on a rural road and Georgina was his passenger, and when he backed up to go around a lemon, Georgina said, "Drive over lemons." There were, as he writes, a hell of a lot of lemons on the road. While I am never going to rough it quite like Stewart, I enjoyed reading about his house-restoring adventure and the local people he befriended.
Duende: A Journey into the Heart of Flamenco by Jason Webster (Broadway Books, 2002). This is Webster's personal tale of his journey pursuing flamenco and it's not always pretty as he becomes part of flamenco's underworld. But he ends up okay in Granada and he really, deeply understands this art form. One of the opening quotes by Goethe reads, "Duende...a mysterious power that everyone feels but that no philosopher has explained." The web page for Tablao Flamenco in Barcelona states that "defining what duende is feels like trying to catch the wind with your hands: you know it's there, you feel it, but you can neither possess nor touch it." Duende has its roots in Andalucían tradition, and "duende arises when an artist's passion reaches such heights that it seems to break the boundaries of the human. But it's not guaranteed: duende is capricious, that "magic" appears when you least expect it and only in moments of utmost surrender." Federico García Lorca describes duende as something that "rises from the soles of the feet" and needs a "living body" to manifest. For Lorca, duende is more than inspiration; it's a struggle between artists and their internal limits, and it's not found in technical perfection but in the ability to convey an emotional truth that cannot be faked. At the end of his book Webster provides a personal selection of twelve of his favorite flamenco recordings.
South From Granada: A Sojourn in Southern Spain by Gerald Brenan (Kodansha, 1998). This memoir recounts the years that Brenan lived in the village of Yegen, a poor village, "one of the poorest of the eighty or so that stud the Alpujarra...it is so remote that until the present road was built it took two days to reach it from Granada." Brenan lived here for some six or seven years between 1920 and 1934, so he has documented a time and a place that don't exist in quite the same way. He covers Yegen's folkore, festivals, traditions, courtship and marriage customs, etc., in exceptional detail. The book is equally an anthropological and archaeological study of this corner of Andalucía. The final chapter is a postscript: more than 20 years after he left Yegen, he returned with his wife to see what happened to the village in his absence and in particular how it had fared during the Civil War, and this postscript is quite interesting. This is a special and valuable book, and if some chapters are too detailed to hold some readers' attention, reading only a few will still prove to be illuminating.
The Factory of Light: Tales from My Andalucían Village by Michael Jacobs (John Murray, 2003). I have enthused about Jacobs above so I will refrain from additional praise, except to say this book is excellent and heartwarming, and truly, everyone going to Andalucía should read it. He opens with a chapter explaining the unusual circumstances which led him to the village of Frailes, within the province of Jaén, an autonomous part of Andalucía, in 1997. Early on he learns of the saying, 'Andalucía intoxicates like alcohol or opium,' penned by Sevillian poet Luis Cernuda, with his new friends, who prove to be among the most loyal (and quirky) friends anyone ever had. Jacobs gets involved in a brilliant, wacky, wonderful plan to reopen the village cinema, and as Jacobs writes, "Out of this simple idea came repercussions greater than I would ever have imagined." Near the end of the book, Jacobs meets Esperta, a spiritual-Christian-faith-healer who most people in Frailes thought was mad. She prophesied the destruction of whole communities, countries left in ruins, a vast international conflagration in which 'the West will be in mortal combat with the East' and 'giant skyscrapers will fall into the dust.' It was the beginning of September in 2001.
We'd planned on taking the train from Madrid to Cádiz. A few days before our departure from New York however, we were notified by RENFE that trains were not running due to three train crashes, one of which killed a conductor, prompting the employees to strike. So we had to quickly pivot, and decided to rent a car over taking a bus or flying. Simultaneously, we were a little nervous about winter storm Leonardo, which had pummeled Andalucia and Portugal, and there was severe flooding throughout and some people died. The folks at the Cádiz apartment rental company Alquiler Vacacional assured us that there was no flooding in Cádiz itself, so we set out on the 7 1/2 hour drive, with 'Man of La Mancha' and 'Carmen' as our soundtrack. Once we were in Andalucia we passed a lot of flooded fields and swollen streams, but the sun was out and we crossed the Puenta de la Pepa bridge into Cádiz and found our rental apartment, which was great (3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, nice sitting area and kitchen). The location was also very convenient, on calle San Jose, and the Alquiler Vacacional office was just a few doors down. (As an aside, the Alquiler staff was particularly helpful both before our arrival and while we were there.) If we hadn't decided to rent a place, I would have considered staying at Hotel Casa Cánovas, Áurea Casa Palacio Sagasta, or the Parador de Cádiz, where we did have drinks one evening; it's the best place to stay for ocean views.
-Matt Goulding, Grape Olive Pig: Deep Travels Through Spain's Food Culture
While we had been to Andalucía previously, we never made it to Cádiz, the oldest, continuously inhabited place in Europe. It's known as "the first city in western Europe" as the Phoenicians (who called it Gadir) were in Cádiz around the 9th century BCE. Cádiz is also where Spain's constitution was created in 1812, and it's known as the "sunniest spot in Spain" with about 3,100 hours of sunshine a year. Unfortunately for us, Leonardo hung around, and it rained Every. Single. Day. the entire week we were there. The sun peeked through for a total of approximately 4 hours in seven days. However, it didn't stop us from doing all the indoor things to do and these are noteworthy.
The two most significant sites in the old town are San Felipe Neri oratory and, next door, the Museo de las Cortes de Cádiz, also known by the longer name of Museo Iconográfico e Histórico de las Cortes y Sitio de Cádiz. Neri was the seat of the Cortes of Cádiz, the national assembly that drafted the first Spanish Constitution in 1812, known as La Pepa - some background on this is that there is an expression, ‘¡Viva La Pepa!’ (Long live La Pepa!), which dates from 19 March, 1812, also the day of San José, and in Spain, men who are called José are nicknamed Pepe. The Constitution was popularly know as La Pepa, a fundamental milestone in the history of liberalism and civil rights in Spain, which placed power in the hands of the Spanish people. There is a good audio tour of the interior of Neri, which has a canvas of 'La Inmaculada Concepción de los Venerables' by Sevillian painter Bartolomé Esteban Murillo. The church exterior features numerous plaques dedicated to the deputies of Cádiz, many of which were placed here in 1912 to commemorate the centenary of Spain's first Constitution.
Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1678)
The museum is dedicated to the history of Cádiz during the 18th century and first quarter of the 19th century. It's divided into three main sections: 'Cádiz at the Beginning of the 19th century: The City That Hosted the Spanish Cortes'; 'The Historical Context: The War of Independence'; and 'Cádiz, Seat of National Sovereignty: The Constitution of 1812.' It's all very well done, and the two major highlights are the 'Enactment of the Constitution of 1812' painting by Salvador Viniegra (1912) ...
... and the Maqueta de Cádiz, a three-dimensional scale model of the city which shows the city area within the walls at the end of the 18th century.
The model was commissioned by King Carlos III and was part of an ambitious bas-relief project that sought to create a set of models of strongholds of the Kingdom as a defensive strategy similar to one created by Louis XIV in France. The model, the work of military engineer Alfonso Ximénez, was the first and only one that was made. The model is made up of 350 removable parts grouped into 305 blocks at a scale of 1:250. When it was completed, the model was transported to Madrid. At dawn, on 6 May, 1779, a convoy left Cádiz and 17 days later it arrived at the Court. The museum also has a number of great canvases depicting views of Cádiz at various times in its history, as well as the city's coat of arms, which depicts the city's founder Hercules separating the lions that symbolize the Hercules columns: the European one (Calpe) and the African one (Abyla, flanking the Straight of Gibraltar).
We also visited the 19th century Casa Palacio de Moreno de Mora (the tours are only in Spanish and are only offered on Wednesday at 10:00; an advance reservation is required by email: casapalaciodemora@gmail.com) and the Museo del Carnival, dedicated to the Carnival of Cádiz, one of Spain's largest and most famous dating from the 18th century (unfortunately all the signage is in Spanish but the chronological collection, with historical photos, posters, costumes, and audiovisual displays featuring iconic performances, is comprehensive and fun; the gift shop has a selection of Carnival recordings, posters, cards, and great T-shirts.
Carnival lights on calle AnchaWe also went inside the Catedral de Cádiz (but we did not climb up the clock tower), and we went to the Hospital de Mujeres, a leading example of mid-18th century Andalusian Baroque architecture. The building is laid out around two courtyards divided by an elegant staircase, and it was originally established to serve women in need but went on to play a vital role during key elements in the city's history, including epidemics, wars, and natural disasters. At the heart of the building is the chapel of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, with 'St. Francis's Vision of the Flaming Torch' by El Greco. The other indoor highlights we visited include the Oratorio de la Santa Cueva, composed of two chapels, one subterranean and the other a high chapel built above it with three lunettes painted by Goya: 'The Feeding of the Five Thousand,' 'The Royal Banquet,' and 'The Last Supper,' which I think is outstanding; and the Museo de Cadiz, which has an excellent archaeology section that presents the evolution and history of Cádiz.
The Alameda Apodaca is a cobblestone seafront promenade that runs along the part of the sea wall on the northern side of the city overlooking the bay and town of El Puerto de Santa Maria. The pretty Jardines de Alameda Apodaca are next to the promenade with fountains, tiled walkways, palm trees, jacaranda, and a huge ficus tree.
See the slivers of sunlight?La Caleta is the only beach in the old town, and it's in between the castles of San Sebastián and Santa Catalina. The Castillo de San Sebastián dates from 1706 and is on a small island connected to the mainland by a long, stone walkway called Paseo Fernando Quinones, which ensures the castle is accessible at high tide. Star-shaped Santa Catalina castle is the oldest military structure in Cádiz, finished in 1621.
Cádiz has a lot of impressive balconies on both residential and public buildings, and here's a good piece about them, "The Artistic Legacy of a Seafaring City."
As the port of Cádiz became one of the escape routes for Jews who crossed Spain clandestinely during World War II, it's fitting that near the port there is a monument dedicated to Moshe Yanai, who in 1944 was thirteen years old and was among Jews who were deported (Yanai eventually became an Israeli writer and translator).
We enjoyed excellent bites and drinks at a variety of different places: Taberna Casa Manteca, El Faro (twice; there is both a restaurant and a bar), Freiduría Marisquería Las Flores (freiduría is a place specializing in fried foods; Teresa Barrenechea says that "deep-frying reigns supreme" in Andalucía), La Marquesa de la Huevas (three times, great place for coffee and breakfast), Casa Lazo (twice; the first time the three of us sat at the bar in an arrangement I've never seen before: small tabletops extend out from the edge of the bar so that you sit across from your companions, as opposed to side-by-side); Taberna El Tio de la Tiza; La Isleta de la Viña; Restaurante Almanaque Casa de Comidas (small, Michelin-recommended place in an historic building across from plaza de España park, where there is a monument to the 1812 constitution; Juan Carlos Borrell is the chef); Taberna la Sorpresa; Habana Cafe Cádiz (for drinks); La Tertulia Cafeteria; Verde Pistacchio (an Italian gelato vintage van); and Código de Barra ("bar code"). This was my favorite meal, at the first restaurant in Cádiz to earn a Michelin star. The cool contemporary space mixes stone with blond wood and brick and there is a Zen-like atmosphere. We were served two complimentary, amazing starters: the first was a small bowl that had just a few drops of olive oil few drops in it with what looked like a green olive. We ate the whole "olive" but it wasn't an olive at all, it shattered into pieces inside our mouths. The remaining delicious olive oil was mopped up with delicious bread. The next was a small, two-bite piece of what looked like a small tree branch with dabs of duck liver, etc. I had a yogurt gazpacho that was INCREDIBLE as well as cod on a bed of brandade de morue.
Among the few noteworthy shops are Aires de Cadiz (calle San Francisco, 15) with a good selection of culinary items, some in smaller sizes (good for a carry-on bag) and some nicely packaged for gifts. Among the offerings are a Mermelada de Vermut, which I can attest is really good mixed in with plain yogurt; Casa Lamar (calle Beato Diego de Cádiz, 1), a concept store founded by two Gaditanos (Cádiz locals). The shop celebrates local artisans and a few others from elsewhere in Spain, and everything - paintings, scarves, clothes, accessories, jewelry, ceramics, etc. - is well curated; and Cuchillera Casa Serafin (calle Compañía, 3), the place for an extensive selection of quality knives and scissors still crafted by hand and one of the oldest shops in Cádiz (from 1845).
I love that this playground structure mimics the Gran Teatro Falla, built in 1905 in honor of Manuel de Falla (1876-1946), who was born in Cádiz. Falla was the most distinguished Spanish composer of the early 20th century, and he was also a pianist. A Kennedy Center biographical description of Falla states that "He used folk songs and put them in simple settings to reflect the use of native Spanish music in his compositions especially by using Andalusian flamenco melodic rhythms and the Cante Hondo melodies."
We'd planned on making a day trip to nearby Sanlúcar de Barrameda, a little over an hour by bus from Cádiz, and I picked up a useful fold-out brochure from the Cádiz tourist office called Rutas par Sanlúcar, in Spanish and English, with four good walking routes around the town. (When we got back I discovered that the Sanlúcar tourism site offers others online.) On one of the days when the sun was sort-of out, we set out for the town, which is located next to the mouth of the Guadalquivir River where it empties into the Atlantic and was the departure point for Ferdinand Magellan in 1519. It also has an architectural heritage dating from the Middle Ages, during which time the noble Guzmanes family built several notable buildings. After the discovery of the New World, Sanlúcar became a commercial port of reference and numerous palaces, convents, and defensive buildings were constructed.
Sanlúcar is also known for the tortillita de camarones, defined by Matt Goulding as "a lacy amoeba of tiny shrimp and olive-oil-crisped batter served in bars and freidurías around the region, but nowhere better than Casa Balbino." So of course we had the tortillita at Balbino, which was delicious, as were the papas aliña (aliña means "dressed," in this case potatoes are tossed with tuna, olive oil, sherry vinegar, onions, and sometimes hard-boiled eggs), a common menu item in Andalucía. On our route around the attractive town, we walked by the Mirador de la Memoria, where there is this memorial below.
The text on the left side reads, "Each of these names represents the soul of someone who fought for justice, freedom, and the Republic - lives stolen by fascism during the 1936 coup d'etat. The people of Sanlúcar de Barrameda pay tribute to these individuals, worthy representatives of the values that make us human. Your memory triumphs over enforced silence. Truth, justice, and reparation!
We didn't make it to Jerez de la Frontera, but I mention it because it's been named Spain's Capital of Gastronomy for 2026. Jerez is best known for its sherry (and is the word for sherry) - as Penelope Casas notes, "There is no way to dissociate the city of Jerez de la Frontera, named Xera by the Phoenicians, from sherry; its importance hits you wherever you turn." The old quarter of Jerez is a national moment and it five churches in different styles and a Moorish Alcázar fortress. A series of talks, tastings, and tours are scheduled, and in November there is the annual International Sherry Week celebration. Jerez is also full of restaurants, including Arima (under the direction of Alejandro Bázan, who was at the helm of the Guggenheim restaurant in Bilbao); La Gloria Taberna (a tapas place founded by three friends with Michelin stars); and LÙ Cocina y Alma (2 Michelin stars) and Bina Bar (Michelin-recommended, referring to a restaurant serving food at a high level but that hasn't yet been awarded a star or a Bib Gourmand designation), both owned by Juanlu Fernández, Jerez's most famous chef.
Cádiz is a place where life is lived outdoors much of the time. It's unfortunate that we couldn't have that experience, but it's charming and we welcome the chance to return in better weather.
- Maria Pages, flamenco artist and choreographer
Happily, our days in Seville were warm and sunny, as they had been on previous visits. We traveled with Domingo, owner of Taxi Cadiz, a solid, reliable service I recommend, and good to know about for day trips or transfers to other towns in the region. The drive is a little over an hour, and the apartment we rented was superb, without doubt the best place we have ever rented (we do not have a good track record with rented places, but still, this apartment is special), and Daniel is an exceptional host. The photos below are of the sitting room; additionally, there are 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, and a rooftop terrace accessible by a spiral staircase.
The location is ridiculously perfect and is across the calle San Gregorio pedestrian way from Las Lapas desde 1968 (good for breakfast) and El Rincon del Alcázar (good for drinks). We were fortunate to be given a tour of the boutique hotel Corral del Rey (calle Corral del Rey, 12, Casco Antiguo), an extremely appealing, 17-room inn. It exudes an air of calm throughout, and is stylish, casual, and warm. Each guestroom is different, with unique furnishings that seem to be very thoughtfully considered; there is also a rooftop plunge pool. Corral del Rey is part of the A Luz collection (which also includes the Hacienda de San Rafael, about halfway between Seville and Jerez de la Frontera) and it is bookmarked for my return visit. Hotel Alfonso XIII (owned by Marriott) is the historic and iconic hotel in Seville, and is worth visiting its public rooms on the main floor as they're beautiful and architecturally of note. There is also an outpost of the shop Felix Cartelismo in the hotel, with vintage posters of Seville's ferias and corridas (the main shop, at plaza del Cabildo, 7, stocks a more extensive selection and also has less expensive reproductions and postcards).
Friends Yvonne and Richard from the UK met us in Seville with their son George, and we all decided we would go to the cathedral (we had all been previously with the exception of our daughter). What we didn't know before we arrived is that the annual Zurich Seville Marathon was scheduled during our three days in the city, and as a tourist office representative told us, "there are 17,000 people here for the marathon and they all want to visit the cathedral." I don't know how crowded it would have been otherwise, but our visit was wholly unenjoyable. The only tickets available were those sold by the tourist office, and they were more expensive than those sold directly by the cathedral. The visit was by guided tour only and with headsets as there were about 20 people in the group. Our guide's command of English was lacking and it was very difficult to comprehend her commentary. We had a lunch reservation that afternoon and we had to leave the tour early so we missed La Giralda and really wasted our money. The issue is that there are simply far too many people admitted to the cathedral. It was packed like sardines in some corners and hard to walk around or focus on anything. My husband and I felt grateful that on our first visit to Seville, we sat on the floor and read our various guidebooks, notes, and chapters in James Michener's Iberia and Jan Morris's Spain and no one bothered us and we weren't in anyone's way. We walked all over every inch of the cathedral and up to La Giralda for about three hours, and it was a wonderful experience. I recommend getting tickets in advance of a trip on the cathedral website and select either the first tour in the morning (10:45) or one in the late afternoon (perhaps around 4:30 as last access to the cathedral and La Giralda is 6:00 and the entire complex closes at 6:40). Weekdays are a little better than weekends.
Convent sweets have a long history in Spain, as they do in a few other places (notably Portugal and Sicily) and most have their roots in Andalucía. The sweets date back to the Arabs, who brought their egg, almond, sugar, and honey-based candies and desserts with them to Spain. Penelope Casas notes that "the religious fervor brought on by the Reconquest led to a proliferation of convents; newly wealthy noblemen pledged their daughters to the celibate life and made generous gifts to their favored religious orders...But in the nineteenth century, convents fell on hard times, and to help support themselves the nuns began to sell the sweets for which they already had such fine reputations. The recipes were kept in utmost secrecy, never written down and often known only to the mother superior. Sherry wine producers, who traditionally used egg whites to clarify their wines, frequently donated leftover yolks to the convents. Thus, so many of these sweets, in particular the candies called yemas and the Tocino de Cielo, are based on egg yolks." Yemas (made only of egg yolks, sugar, and water) are the specialty at Seville's Convento de San Leandro, and obtaining them is rather exotic. The drill when we first went years ago was that you walk around to the courtyard where toward the back there is a dark wood turnstile (torno) with a silver chain next to it. You pull on the chain and you hear a voice (from a nun) asking what you want, and you say how many yemas you want, the nun tells you the price, you put the money in the turnstile and it circles inward and then a short while later the turnstile opens back up in front of you with the yemas. Nowadays there is a price list displayed which may be simpler but is far less interesting. Yemas are a bit of an acquired taste, but that's beside the point. It's said that the recipe dates from the 16th century and is hidden within Scheherazade's A Thousand and One Nights. At the Real Monasterio de Madre de Dios I bought a box of Roscos de Anis which I opened when I got home and wished I'd bought two. At the Convento de Santa Paula, whose motto is Ora et Labora (pray and work), I (wisely) bought two jars of excellent sour orange marmalade, made from oranges grown on the property. In 'Unlocking Your Own Private Seville' by Sophie Roberts (from the former Departures magazine), she writes, "A singular past clings to the Seville of today, a place you couldn't bottle, repeat, or find anywhere else - no more than you could re-create the taste of the marmalade sold at the Convento de Santa Paula by a smiling wimpled nun." Here is a link to a route of Seville's convent sweets.
Two new sites for all of us on this visit were Palacio de las Dueñas and Casa de Pilatos. Las Dueñas was built in the 15th century and takes its name from the defunct Convent of Santa Maria de las Dueñas. The palace was originally owned by the noble Sevillian Pineda family, who sold it to Lady Catalina de Ribera, wife of Adelantado Pedro Enríquez, to ransom Sir Juan de Pineda, taken captive by the Moors at the Battle of La Ajarquía in Málaga. The existing structure oday is on the site of the Gothic-Mudejar resident palace of the Pineda family. By 1612, the palace's owner, Antonia Enríquez de Ribera, married the 6th Duke of Alba (Fernando Álvarez de Toledo) and it's been in the Alba family since that time. There is evidence that the 13th Duchess of Alba (immortalized in a canvas by Goya) lived here, and Spain's great poet, Antonio Machado (1875-1939), was born in the palace and was enchanted by the light of its courtyards and gardens; he wrote of it, "the interior architecture of the house where I was born, its courtyards and its rooftops, has etched itself deeply on my soul" and "My childhood is a memory of a patio in Seville and a bright orchard where the lemon tree grows." It's jam-packed with beauty and I couldn't stop taking photos...
The palace was declared a Historic-Artistic Monument in 1931, and it's one of the finest examples of aristocratic architecture in Seville. Among distinguished visitors who have visited Las Dueñas are Eugenie de Montijo (wife of Napoleon III and related to the Alba family) and Jacqueline Kennedy (in 1967). Cayetana, Duchess of Alba (who died here in 2014), was the owner who left the most significant mark on the palace. There are reminders everywhere of her passion for Seville and Andalucian culture (the Gypsy Room, Poster/Bullfighting Room, Olive Oil Courtyard, etc.) and the walls are decorated with unique works of art including archaeological artefacts, tapestries, paintings, etc. Currently, the palace is the private residence of the 19th Duke of Alba, Carlos Fitz-James Stuart.
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