Ross, riding high on his ‘boyfriend of the year’ success, quickly returned to normal by leaving the keys to our apartment in the door, overnight, in a city of 700,000 people!  How do you think that happened? – I said (knowing full-well, but presuming innocence until proven guilty).  I mean, it could have been Sally, or Andy, although extremely unlikely in both cases. Oh yes, that would have been me, he says nonchalantly. I am now the custodian of all keys.

Later that day, I venture out for the first time in 48 hours, feeling much better, but still as weak as a kitten.  We decide to eat, I have a mouthful, but just can’t do it.  Instead, we order wine, and we watch the antics of this crazy Spanish bar “El Patio” with rows of tiered seating at one end.  The bar below is like a amphitheater, with row upon row of gesticulating Spaniards eating and drinking in the stands above.  The bar itself is adorned with rows of hanging hams, and the counter is full of jars of olives and mounds of stacked bocadillos (crusty baguette sandwiches). The bar area is packed, 3 deep the whole way – and it’s only 1.30pm (early for Spanish lunch).  It’s a riot!

With Rossco clumsiness now at full throttle, he spills an entire glass across the table, most of it landing in my lap, on my scarf, and the rest on my (white) shirt.  Declaring that I looked like I’d been attacked by a vampire, I did the walk of shame home (nearly two kilometres) enduring the up-and-down looks from the glamourous Spanish women along the way.  Luckily, I was still in a half-coma from my recent bout of sickness, so I really didn’t care at that point.  You gotta love him!

Little known fact, the Lonely Planet, last year, listed Seville as “the top city in the world to visit in 2018”.  So I’m pleased to say, we got in early, arriving here on 3 January 2018.

We’ve been all over Seville, from the magnificent Plaza de España to the largely derelict 1992 Expo site, we’ve averaged nearly 20km a day, mostly walking.  We’ve explored the Jewish Quarter, we’ve had tapas, wine, beer and lunch at every conceivable kind of restaurant, bar, cafe and shop and spent hours wandering around the beautiful royal palace, the Reales Alcázares de Sevilla.  I really feel like we’ve given Sevilla a red-hot go!  I’ve loved every second.

On our last day, as is the way things always work out, we’ve found a few treasures. We had the most fantastic menú del día (menu of the day) in a busy little plaza for 10 euros – 3 courses, and a beverage, and a coffee.  It was great food, fantastic value, authentic non-tourist kind of place – we just loved it!  If we were going to be here in Sevilla tomorrow, we’d be straight back there!

We are forever trying to find a table in the sun (for those couple of hours over lunch, between about 2 and 4pm).  But the narrow streets, coupled with the 4 and 5 storey buildings, mean the sun’s rays are only fleetingly present in the narrow streets and plazas (although it must be a blessing in the summer when its 45 degrees every day!). The large Plaza San Francisco, which up until now has been full of gigantic Christmas spheres made of flashing, sparkling fairy lights (which, rather alarming, burst into a full animated light show with blaring Christmas music from time to time) has been replaced with tables and chairs….and sunshine, so much sunshine (even at 4pm, when the sun is low).

And finally, on the last day in Spain, I was able to pronounce orange juice!!!. In a city full of orange trees, it’s kind of important!  The word for orange is ‘naranja’ but in Spanish, the J is pronounced as a ‘k’ – and for some reason, I just haven’t been able to get my head around it.  But today I did.  Zumo de naranja (nahr-an-kah). yay!!

Clearly, it’s time to leave Spain and learn a whole new language. So Portugal, here we come.