seville on a shoestring: where tapas taste like regret and the wifi won’t save you
starts here in the middle of the day, 36c squelching the pavement. i just checked and it's like stepping into a sauna town with a cactus vibe. hope you like melting into your shorts. i ordered a cup of frangipani iced coffee from a vendor who had a tattoo of a screaming tortoise. turns out that's the local symbol for "do not trust."
walked into a market square, got lost in alleys named after 16th-century monks who probably never existed. a guy in a faded "vintage" band t-shirt sold me a bottle of dirty water for euros that made me hallucinate pigeons. i told my friend, a retired english teacher named luis who sells used lighters from his rucksack, that i was writing a blog post. he nodded and said, "just don't feed the pigeons with your{sanitized version of queasy thoughts}".
someone told me that the best nightlife here is in a bar called el ocaso, where the walls are covered in map tiles from a century ago and the bartender will teach you to pour sangria by moonlight. i went there with a borrowed taser (yes, a taser. overpacking is a budget student's superpower) and asked for advice. he slammed my shoulder and said, "if you're gonna trip on the siesta rhythm, at least do it in a place that won't get your arse sued." his voice dropped to a whisper: "heard that place once collapsed during a squat. just a lapse in history, they say."
weather-wise, it's relentless. i wore socks with holes because they deflated weeks ago, and now they're just my left leg's buffet. neighbors in the distance are probably taking siestas in front of air conditioners that cost more than my monthly salary. if you get bored, lisbon is a short drive away. they’ll let you stay in their abandoned convent for free if you promise to take their cat off your hands.
the reviews? unreliable. i heard that the cathedral gift shop sells enchanted wine glasses. someone claimed they make you see your childhood memories. another person warned that the tram between neighborhoods runs on "whatever fuel they stole from the tax office yesterday." tried the tram. it smelled like peanut butter and regret. paid €2.25. it was worth it.
pharmacokinetic disaster at a tapas crawl. bought aorders of fried calamari from a stall that claimed to use "local ingredients." tasted like someone microwaved seal meat and regret. a local chef who looked like he’d survived a car crash told me, "is that what they call culo? i’m 70% sure that’s illegal." don’t worry, i asked about the salad. it came with a side of existential dread. paid €18. it was worth it because the next day i skipped breakfast and ate a handful of olives for emotional equilibrium.
images:
links to remember:
- el ocaso bar for the humidity-induced soul-searching
- local markets if you want to buy a cat that’s clearly a reincarnated mayor
- seville tram route map
next morning, somebody tried to chase me with a drone. said it was for a "content creator scam." bought a t-shirt that says "i survived seville’s wifi" for €3. wore it until the battery on my phone died. still don’t know if i’m on the right side of history or just gambling with condensation.
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