All photos are by the author unless otherwise noted.
I’ve had the good fortune to have led six tour groups to Spain, three to the north (including Santiago de Campostela, Santander, Bilbao, San Sebastián, & Barcelona), and three groups to the south from Madrid (with day trips to all the nearby sites like Avila, Segovia, Toledo, the Escorial) south to Cordoba, Sevilla, Granada, and the Costa del Sol. I explored all those places before taking groups there, so I have pretty much seen all the major tour sites multiple times. Tours can only visit the major venues since there is no time to include all the minor palaces, churches, gardens, and such. This time I thought, why not go back to see some of what I missed previously. I waited until after Easter week when prices are down and crowds are smaller.
Aeromexico has added a number of non-stop flights from Mexico City to major cities in Europe. Business class to Madrid costs significantly less than flying from JFK, though the flight is four hours longer since Mexico is that much further west. Even in premium class with a lay-flat bed and two meals, 12 hours seem interminable. Once in Madrid, I didn’t encounter the long lines for passport control reported for some airports like Lisbon & London. I got euros from the ATM in the baggage area, with a poor rate of exchange plus an 8-dollar fee. On my trip to Europe last year, the euro/dollar exchange was almost equal, but the dollar has now fallen to 85 cents. I didn’t pre-book a car knowing taxis would be plentiful and price-controlled. I took three or four taxis daily with an average cost of ten euros each, 12.50 US dollars on my Visa statement.
With pleasant memories of the Gran Via area of Madrid, I looked for a hotel in that vicinity, walking distance from the Plaza Mayor. The Hyatt Centric Gran Via was a good choice. The personnel in reception, concierge, and wait staff were all delightfully personable and helpful.
The Prado Museum is certainly one of the top museums in the world. I’ve gotten exhausted and saturated there four or five times. Practically across the street is the delightful and more manageable Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza. Both are on the must-see list in Madrid, but I chose to pass them up this time for visits to lesser-known sites.
My first destination was the Palacio Liria which was not open to the public until 2019. Built near the end of the 18th century, it went through additions, a fire, and ownership changes. Much of it was destroyed by bombing during the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s and rebuilt by the 17th Duke of Alba and his daughter, the famous Cayetana, and it is still occupied by their heirs. I confess I had never heard of the House of Alba nor its dukes & duchesses. But after my visits to the Liria Palace and to Cayetana’s preferred Palacio de las Dueñas in Seville, I was intrigued by the history. I wish I had known beforehand that Netflix has a documentary, Cayetana, on the fascinating life of the duchess, including the stories of both palaces.
Having toured the Prado so many times, I was surprised when my web search revealed a botanical garden adjacent to the museum. The Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid covers about 20 acres on the Paseo del Prado. The royal garden was founded in 1755 at a different location and moved adjacent to the museum in 1774. One of the reasons I enjoy traveling in the spring is that flowers are more abundant. Unfortunately, there were not many blooms in mid-April and tulips and peonies were long gone. The modest glass greenhouses hold tropical plants and cacti less impressive than most collections I’ve seen.
On another day, I concentrated on the area around the Royal Palace, skipping the palace itself that I had toured with guides on previous visits. I entered the royal cathedral only briefly since it isn’t impressive. Popularly known as the Almudena Cathedral, the seat of the archbishopric, it was begun in 1883 but not finished and consecrated until 1993.
Sharing the enormous plaza adjacent to the royal palace is a museum I had missed previously because it didn’t open until 2020. The Royal Collections Gallery (Galería de las Colecciones Reales), houses art works and historical pieces collected over the centuries by members of the royal family. Thankfully, one accesses its three levels by ramps rather than staircases, with elevators as well. The photos below provide a sample of its collection.
My most memorable shopping site 25 years ago was El Corte Inglés, the largest chain of department stores in Europe. There are many branches in Madrid and Seville. I remember buying a few items in the men’s department at high but accessible prices years ago. Now entire sections are given over to brands like Boss and Tommy Hilfiger. Polo shirts cost around 130 euros. The popular food courts in the basements are now gourmet supermarkets.
Dining in Madrid
Of course, a sophisticated capital like Madrid has hundreds or thousands of restaurants in every category and ethnicity. I chose restaurants I could walk to from the hotel or from whatever site I was visiting. Virtually every web list of where to dine in Madrid included the Mercado San Miguel. The covered market features about thirty stands of gourmet tapas as well as booths offering wine and beer. It’s centrally located near the Plaza Real. I went about 1:30 during the lunch rush and found the site overwhelmed with diners. Few of the stands offered seats and seating areas were saturated. Tapas like my favorite cured Manchego cheese, Iberian ham, or gambas al ajillo (garlic shrimp) offered small portions for about eight euros. I chose a tiny crab tart, a plate of small meatballs, and a draft beer for a total of 23 euros. I could have eaten a full lunch in a nearby bar without having to stand during my meal. But, one feature of the market is highly recommended when touring: clean bathrooms.
Many of the highly regarded restaurants near the Plaza Real were sold out online, something I learned to ignore later. I was able to reserve the Posada de la Villa. Located just two blocks below the Plaza Mayor (Calle de la Cava Baja 9). It opens early in the evening so I didn’t have to wait until 8:00 or 8:30 when most others open. It features a spacious dining area on the second floor and a varied menu of Spanish and international dishes. I ordered a chuletón de ternera, a large thick veal chop, “al punto,” equivalent to medium rare. The side of fries was excessively large.
With celebrated Restaurant Botín not taking reservations online until June, and savoring a lechón (roast suckling pig) for which Spain is deservedly famous, I asked the hotel concierge for a recommendation. She praised Los Galayos, located in the Plaza Mayor since 1894. I chose to dine al fresco where I could people-watch in the crowded plaza. The lechón was perfect with a crispy skin and juicy interior. I returned another night when I wanted a nice steak, ordered the cut the waitress recommended, and was disappointed by a tough cut with too much grizzle.
My last night in Madrid, I decided to gamble and walked to Casa Botín before its 8 pm opening. Founded in 1725, it claims to be the oldest restaurant in the world, although other places have made similar claims. Some people had arrived even earlier and about fifteen lined up ahead of me. Some had reservations and were led to a table upon opening. I told the captain I had just come in by train from Seville and hoped for a table for one. He checked his chart for a minute, then turned me over to a waiter who led me to a table in a charming old dining room. Friends who reserved during the winter complained they were given a table in the cellar. I asked the maître about the inability to book online for my week and he said they only pre-booked a portion of the tables in order to accommodate the many travelers like me who crowded outside each night.
Not surprisingly, the tables are close together, but that turned out to be a delight since my neighbors were chatty. One couple came from Cincinnati, he a Hobart grad whose father had taught at Syracuse. On the other side, a family from Montreal who could not have been nicer. I expected a pricey menu but was pleased to find the lechón roasted in a wood-fired oven, cost just 32 euros. I ordered the special: gazpacho, lechón, a half bottle of Marquez de Cáceres wine, water, bread, and dessert for 59 euros. Everything delicious. Botín is not a tourist trap and deserves its popularity.
Walking four blocks from the Hyatt Gran Via, I found the Calle de la Montera that leads directly to the Puerta del Sol, a fifteen-minute walk. It’s just another five-minute walk to the Plaza Mayor. The ancient street is lined with outdoor restaurants and shops and one can read posted menus for a variety of food, mostly Spanish. No need to make reservations early in the evening. I didn’t look for any of several Michelin-starred establishments, but I ate very well.
I spent April 19-23 in Madrid before going to Seville for five days, returning to Madrid the final two days to be closer to the airport for my return flight the 26th.
Seville
On a Saturday morning, traffic was light and I got to the Antocha rail station in about 12 minutes, forty minutes before my train to Seville. It took longer to find where I would have to be for boarding. Once boarding was announced, a long line formed immediately. I bought a first class ticket and was able to skip the line. I overpack because I refuse to do laundry in the hotel bidet or pay 15 euros to launder one pair of briefs. Someone saw me struggling to lift the bag up the steps and kindly grabbed it and pulled it up. My ticket included breakfast which I didn’t need or want and I just took water for the two-hour forty-minute bullet train, arriving at the Santa Justa station in central Seville about 1:00 pm. A fairly long line waited to board the multiple taxis but it moved fast since many passengers were in groups of three or four. The cab ride to the Hotel Don Paco took just 15 minutes, and my room was ready at 1:40, ahead of the 3:00 pm check-in time.
As a poor graduate student doing research for my dissertation, I stayed in some shabby hotels whose only amenity was wall-to-wall floors. Having saved and invested well, I now seek space and comfort. Often, instead of booking a premium hotel, I choose a premium room in a less opulent hotel. There are only four premium rooms with balconies in the Hotel Don Paco, all on the 6th floor, also the pool floor. From my balcony I could see the Giralda tower next to the cathedral, about a 20-minute walk. I didn’t realize the hotel is popular with tour groups so, at times, the pool area and breakfast room were crowded
The first day, I just took an orientation walk near the hotel. Streets were crowded with revelers in the colors of two soccer teams scheduled for a major match that evening. All the nearby cafes were buzzing with diners who were drinking so heavily I imagined the stadium would be quite rowdy later. I was lucky to find a table in a noisy bar for a light lunch.
After a much-needed siesta, I joined the weekend crowd around the hotel pool. The bar was busy providing beer and fancy cocktails. Most of the deck chairs were occupied but few people were in the water. No wonder: the warm sun did not offset the chilly nights and the water was so cold my gender identifiers almost disappeared. My aerobic workout, with an unaccustomed audience, lasted 50 minutes, until shivering sent me scrambling for one of the few deck chairs available for sunning.
The reception desk serves also as concierge, and I asked Tamara for a fine-dining restaurant within walking distance. She recommended Restaurant Becerrita, just a seven-minute walk away, and no reservation needed for early arrivals. Locals dine around 9 or 10 pm. Only one other table was occupied at 8:30. I was delighted to find fois gras on the menu for only 9.50 euros, 30 to 40 dollars in the US if you can find it. Spanish restaurants do a wonderful job on fish baked in salt, and my corbina was superb. Back at the hotel, I got ice at the bar for a nightcap on the balcony, but a cool breeze made it uncomfortably chilly. The balcony was too hot during the day under a blazing sun, so I never got to enjoy it.
The next day, a Sunday, I went early to the dining room for a fairly large and economical buffet. Later I set out walking toward the cathedral square, taking a wrong street that led me serendipitously to the spectacular Setas de Sevilla (Mushrooms of Seville), promoted as the largest wood structure in the world. The project, begun in 2006, celebrated its delayed opening in 2011. It holds a public market and restaurants on the ground floor, an archaeological museum below, performance spaces above, and a rooftop-terrace for walks with stunning views of the city. A free concert was underway on my arrival, no seats available, and a large crowd standing. The hand-held microphones didn’t register pleasantly with my hearing aids, so I didn’t stand there for very long.
Visiting the Setas delayed my arrival at the Cathedral square. I wandered numerous narrow streets with lovely shops offering Andalucian artesanias, mostly intricate ceramics, and local clothing, especially flamenco dresses which women wear to the April feria. Of course,many shops also offered tacky key chains and refrigerator magnets, while others displayed pricey Andalucian tiles, each one selling for 20 to 30 euros.
Arriving at the main square, I found it crawling with tourists, many of whom formed long lines outside the Cathedral, the Giralda Tower, and the Alcázar, all of which are best booked online a day or more beforehand. Even those with tickets in hand have to wait some time in the hot sun. I didn’t find any other popular sites with lines for tickets. Saving the area for another day, I wandered back toward the hotel on charming lanes, stopping for two slices of pizza in an arcade near the Mushrooms. That evening I walked the area near the hotel reading restaurant menus, chose a small café, and dined on rubbery calamari friti but delicious tempura vegetables.
On Monday, April 20, I expected the dining room to be less busy, but a tour bus full of Brits had arrived the day before. My complaint about hotel breakfasts where I stayed is they don’t offer the generous pots of coffee or frequent waitstaff coffee service one often finds elsewhere. You have to go to a machine, sometimes with others waiting, and press a button for your choice of several types of coffee and wait while it dribbles into your cup, usually not very hot.
One of the places not open to the public on my previous visits to Seville is the Palacio de las Dueñas, the favored residence of Cayetana who spent more time there than in her Liria Palace in Madrid. Built in the late 15th century, it passed through multiple owners until acquired by the House of Alba. The scores of marble columns, beautiful fountains, and lovely flower beds make for a restful visit when one tires of the heavily furnished rooms. Dozens of photos of Cayetana provide insight into the different stages of her life. The luxuriously appointed rooms illustrate the lifestyle of the wealthy aristocracy.
Leaving the palace on foot, I wandered labyrinthian streets, window shopped, got lost, but eventually found my way back to the hotel for a siesta. Later I endured another bracing fifty minutes in the pool. I needed twenty minutes in a sunny deck chair to warm up.
A web post recommended the tapas restaurant El Rinconcillo, one of the oldest bars in the city, and only a five-minute walk from the hotel, so I ventured there for supper. All tables were reserved but I was offered a space to stand at the bar, a long-standing tradition in Spain but not one for someone who longed for a restful seat with a more cheerful atmosphere than in this dark bar. So, another short walk back to Becerrito where I was welcomed back to a nice table. This time I skipped an appetizer and the optional bread bowl and ordered chuletitas de cordero lechal; eight very small flavorful lamb chops, with fries and red wine, followed by a cheese plate of Manchego curado. Aged sheep’s cheese from La Mancha is one of my favorite Spanish delicacies, very pricey at home in Mexico.
The next morning, online tickets for the alcázar were sold out so I took a chance on the long ticket line adjacent to the Cathedral. It moved dreadfully slowly and then word spread that the first tickets available were for 5:30 that afternoon. I asked a staff member what an elderly man should do when online tickets are sold out. She wrote out a coupon for me to skip the long line by arriving by 9:00 am the next day, half an hour before the ticket window opens.
Without other plans for the day, I took a cab to the Museo de Bellas Artes, the Fine Arts Museum. The collection conisists mostly of portraits of people unknown to me by artists similarly unfamiliar except an El Greco portrait of his son. I was surprised to find sculptures of 3 of 26 martyrs crucified in Nagasaki during Spanish Franciscan and Jesuit efforts to proselitize in Japan in the early 1600s.
This interested me because it is the theme of the Franciscan murals in the cathedral of Cuernavaca that I explained to 80 Elderhostel groups (now Road Scholar). Over all, this was one of the least interesting fine arts museums I’ve visited in dozens of cities.
Next, I took a cab to the Casa de Pilatas recommended in all the online “what to do” posts. Built originally starting in 1483 in Mudéjar style, it was rebuilt and added to in the 1530s keeping the Mudéjar rooms unchanged. It was later named Pilatas for Pontius Pilate after a family member’s pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Today it is the residence of the Dukes of Medinaceli whose rooms are not open to the public. The ancient rooms are decorated with 150 varieties of azulejos, colorful ceramic tiles that remained a tradition in Spain long after the Moors were conquered. The courtyard and adjacent patios and gardens are regarded as among the most typical of Sevillian Mudéjar architecture. Moorish homes and public buildings featured a courtyard surrounded by graceful columns like palm trees representing a desert oasis, hence the ubiquitous fountain in the center. The architecture and azulejos remained in Spain for centuries and, to my mind, are the most beautiful parts of the Moorish heritage. The seven-century Moorish occupation of Spain also left about four thousand words of Arabic origin in the Spanish language, most words beginning with “al” like alhambra, alcalde, álcohol, álgebra and the popular expression to wish for something, Ojalá, requesting help from Allah.
I asked David, the dutiful hotel receptionist, for his recommendation for fine dining that night. He reserved a table for me at the strangely-named restaurant LaLola de Javi Abascal in the Hotel Hot Spot. The round-trip taxi costing over 30 euros made the dinner pricey beyond the expensive menu and an unmemorable meal. Of David’s numerous helpful assists, this was not one of them.
I set off early the next morning and arrived at the Alcázar by 8:50 am. A long line had already formed, some of whom had coupons for early entrances like I got the previous day. While promised a 9:30 entrance, those were sold out (only 30 per half-hour!?) but I was happy with a 10 am ticket. Even the line for those with tickets moved slowly, but I was pleased we were allowed in at 9:45, limiting my waiting ordeal to just an hour.
REAL ALCÁZAR DE SEVILLA
The Real Alcázar de Sevilla is, to my mind, the main reason to visit the city, and my most pleasant memory from previous visits. Today, it is one of the palaces of the Spanish monarchs, but its past dates to the Moorish occupation of Spain from 711 until the fall of Granada in 1492. It was built as a fortress/palace by the Islamic occupants of Seville in 913 to 914. Seville was one of the main cities to fall to the Castilian led Reconquista in 1248, and later Spanish monarchs added rooms and décor not leaving much of the Mudejar architecture. The Gothic-style rooms and hallways are less attractive to me. The gardens cover many acres and one can avoid the crowds there. Once in, you can spend as much time as you wish, and no one pressures you to leave like they do at the more spectacular but more overrun Alhambra in Granada.
Leaving this unforgettable monument, the square that shares the cathedral was mobbed with tourists with long lines to get into the church and the Torre Giralda. I had been in the cathedral on three previous visits, and skipped it this time due to the need for advance booking and lines to get in. But it is a must-visit for first-timers in the city. It was a Moorish mosque from 1172 to 1218. The Spanish didn’t change the architecture until a total reconstruction began in 1402 and continued for a century. The Giralda Tower was the minaret for the mosque and became the bell tower for the cathedral. One can see the 343-foot tower from most parts of the city.
For the rest of the day, I explored more of the maze of streets around the plaza and hopped on a tram just to see where it went. It passed the Archive of the Indies so I stopped there after the tram returned from the modern city. There is no entry fee and only a handful of people were ahead of me in the security line. Alas, the drawings and letters of interest to the public are on the upper story with a long stairway and no banister. Even for an avid historian like me, the displays are of little interest: drawings of historic places in the American colonies, correspondence from viceroys and other officials, a letter signed by Columbus. I spent less than half an hour there and took a taxi back to the hotel.
Not anxious to try out distant restaurants, I walked back to Becerrito for a third time, surprised to find it closed for vacation during the April feria. Nearby was a small café with outdoor tables and a modest menu of tapas and main dishes. The seafood salad was quite good, the garlic prawns tiny and overcooked. I finished my beer with a plate of Manchego curado and returned to the hotel for an early bed time. I’m a bit disappointed that I didn’t try some of the prestigious restaurants, but none were near my hotel and round-trip taxis made expensive restaurants somewhat extravagant.
I had taken two groups on the Guadalquivir River cruise and preferred to spend time exploring new venues on this trip. I debated attending the Feria de Sevilla, the week-long annual fair, but the hotel staff and two waiters told me I’d be disappointed. Thousands of visitors daily, mostly at night, mostly in clubs or small groups, wander among the food and beverage tents. Women in flamenco dresses dance, and I could watch standing up or join the drinkers. I hope I didn’t err in skipping the event.
On Thursday morning, April 23, the desk phoned for a taxi for me after breakfast and I was at the Santa Justa train station in ten minutes. After a short wait, the arrival of the train from Madrid was announced and I joined the long line for check-in. I didn’t have priority boarding on economy class. After about twenty minutes, I got to the ticket checker who told me I was in the wrong line; my ticket was for a different carrier to Madrid and I had to go to the back of a second line. Frustrated and stressed, I was no sooner aboard my car than the train departed. The arrivals at Antocha in Madrid have to take four floors of escalators to reach the exit for taxis which are parked over 100 meters away making for a sweaty walk with my luggage.
The staff at reception and concierge at the Hyatt Centric greeted me like a returning prodigal. The rate was considerably higher this time because I booked just before departure for Seville and only more expensive rooms facing Gran Via were available. Perhaps because of my complaint about a cold buffet and little service my first morning, I was pleased to be upgraded to a balcony room with breakfast included along with a coupon for a drink in the lobby bar. The room was ready on arrival at 1:30 and I was in a hurry for a quick lunch, making a rare visit to a busy Burger King across the street. A whopper cost a steep 8 euros but it filled my need. I decided to do some shopping in the nearby-crowded clothing stores. I found Paul & Bull and Primark stores offering inexpensive imported low-quality merchandise and wasn’t tempted to buy a thing. Back across the street, I took my siesta and worked on notes and photo editing. That evening I walked to Casa Botín without a reservation for a delightful dinner described earlier.
My last day in Madrd I chose to visit the Museo de Arqueología not included on previous visits. Located away from the museum district, the cab still got me there in ten minutes. I love Greek and Roman antiquities and the museum had a large collection of both. I most enjoyed the artifacts from the long Roman occupation of Spain. Several pieces were especially impressive, complete mosaic floors and wall decorations which rivaled those I loved at the Getty Roman Villa in Los Angeles. The Egyptian collection and pieces from Mideastern cultures were less interesting to me.
Back to the hotel at lunch time, I bought a take-out sandwich at the nearby Corte Inglés food basement and ate it watching an acrobatic performance similar to Brazilian condomblé. It was quite impressive for buskers passing the hat. Then, in the men’s department at El Corte Inglés, I splurged on my only purchase of the trip, a polo shirt in a color I had never before added to my closet. After a restful afternoon, I walked back to the Plaza Real for dinner at Los Galayos where I had enjoyed a superb lechón previously but was sorely disappointed with a tough, grizzly steak.
April 25 was a Saturday so the cab to the airport took only 20 minutes. The cab driver said it could take an hour on busy weekday mornings. Business class check-in was speedy but passport control slower due to a long line. As usual, excellent service on Aeromexico breaks down into anarchy when it’s time to board. The long wait before take-off made the 12-hour ten-minute flight even longer. You don’t want to know about the chaos in the arrivals area in Terminal 2, undergoing renovations in preparation for world-cup arrivals. My reliable driver was waiting and he plodded through traffic to get me to home-sweet-home by 6:00 pm (1:00 am in Spain). Air travel sometimes takes away some of the enjoyment of one’s adventure.
I’m delighted to know that, for me, Spain has not lost its luster. Madrid is more vibrant than ever, truly one of the world’s most splendid capitals, and Seville remains resplendent. The photos will long remind me that this was a magical adventure worthy of sharing.
