Seville, Day 2 (or 3, or whatever). This morning I set off in search of a convent. Don’t get excited, folks – my love life isn’t THAT bad and I won’t be wearing a habit anytime soon. Hopefully. But I digress…. Today I was looking for nuns who sell the fabled Convent Sweets – homemade goodies that they sell – sometimes through a blind window because they aren’t supposed to interact with you – to help fill their coffers. Convent sweets are kind of a mysterious thing in Spain – not all do it and the ones that do don’t post any kind of schedule, so finding some involved a considerable amount of luck and, at least in my case, the intervention of one local.
I had struck out at my first two convents. At the third I saw a nun talking to a gentleman on a bicycle, so I asked in very bad Spanish (because trust me, the word “convent” isn’t in my conversational Spanish) where I could buy some convent sweets. The nun looked at me like I had just spoken gibberish to her, which I probably had, but the guy gleaned what I was after and took me with him on his morning route through the city. Pablo spoke a bit of English – he’d had a teacher from Kentucky once he said – and he explained to me that even Sevillans don’t really know how the whole “convent sweets” thing works. They just know when they find some that they are delicious – baked with God’s love. Just kidding – I added that last part. On our third convent (yeah, there are a few of them here – apparently it’s a thing), we found a young nun behind a barred window just preparing to close. Pablo walked me through a menu and told me his favorites, which I bought from the peculiar little bake sale. I believed him because he bought some too. Haha.
Along the way I found another palace, not as large as the Real Alcazar but just as beautiful and not nearly as crowded. It was built by the same group, and all I can say is these people really loved detail.
I am deep in the heart of the old Jewish Quarter now having a bite and a drink, and the food is even cheaper here than my part of the city. That pic of baguettes and sangria wasn’t even $7 total. Last night my meal was just as cheap, but it was kind of scary because I didn’t know what I was eating and I didn’t like it that much.
My relationship with the google maps lady continues to decline. She’s been good here so I ventured a good ten or so blocks from my apartment looking for dinner late last night. Then, when it’s time to walk back, she acts all dumb like she doesn’t know who where we are. This city is a maze of crooked streets – even people with a good sense of direction have no hope without a map. Trust me when I say I would have never made it back without her as a street guide, and she knows it. So she gave me the silent treatment for ten frantic minutes while I stood in one spot and waited. I think she is punishing me for the way I talked to her when we were looking for the surfers. Then today she took me down a bunch of streets with no sidewalks – just buildings and cars and me flat against the wall praying. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me.
