Sevilla, Friday, March 14, 2025
We got a late start, awakened at 5 AM by yelling in the street and then falling back to sleep. After another great breakfast buffet, we set out to meet Paul and Sue at Sevilla’s cathedral.
We stopped on the way, though, to have a look at another church, El Salvador. Upon entering you are confronted with a soaring but shallow space dominated by altars gleaming with gold. The high altar gives some idea of the baroque glories (excesses?) of the church.
I’m normally allergic to ecclesiastical baroque–an allergy nurtured by too many German gothic churches that have been whitewashed and drowned in gold–but this was an impressive space. And the carvings, described as Sevilla Realism, were interesting if not quite moving. This one, for example, gives a new layer of meaning to the idea of the crown of thorns.
Seville’s cathedral isn’t far from El Salvador, but it is a world apart in terms of style. The largest gothic church in the world, it trails only St. Peter’s in Rome and St. Paul’s in London as Europe’s third largest church. Like the Mezquita in Cordoba, it has a complex history. A large Visigothic cathedral stood on the site until 1172, when the Almohads demolished it and built a mosque that was to be the greatest in all of Islam. When Ferdinand III reconquered the city in 1248, the mosque was given over for Christian worship. Some elements of the mosque remain, notably a huge patio filled with orange trees and, in particular, its bell tower, the Giralda, which was originally the minaret of the mosque. The Giralda has become the symbol of Sevilla; it is visible from miles around.
Something this large doesn’t just spring up overnight! Work began in 1401, but the cathedral wasn’t consecrated until 1507. Worship has been interrupted twice, though, by the collapse of the lantern above the crossing: one already in 1511 and then again in 1888. It does make for a rather edgy visit.
The interior is perhaps more impressive than beautiful. The nave rises 118 feet at the crossing, yet it has, because of the massive girth of the piers, less of the feeling of soaring lightness than a French cathedral such as Chartres. This is one of the aisles.
The cathedral does have a number of magnificent features. One of them is the enormous carved retable at the main altar. It stands nearly 70 feet high and 60 feet across. It contains 45 niches–and over 100 figures–depicting scenes from the life of Christ and the Virgin. It is the work of the Dutch artist Pieter Dancart, who designed it in 1482 and worked on it until his death in 1487. A series of master craftsmen subsequently worked according to Dancart’s design; the central section was completed in 1526, but side wings only sometime between 1540 and 1590.
Equally impressive is the vast choir with beautiful carved choir stalls, 117 in all.
The many chapels and sacristies are home to some marvelous works of art, with Zurbarans and Murillos dominating. Murillo’s late “Vision of St. Anthony” has an interesting history.
In 1874 thieves cut out St. Anthony himself and tried to sell the resulting “painting” to a gallery in New York City. The galleries purchased it and gave it to the Spanish Cosul who immediately returned it to Seville. If one looks closely, the repair is visible.
One last detail: some of the remains of Christopher Columbus are buried here. He was a regular Humpty Dumpty: some remains are probably in Santo Domingo, others perhaps in Havana. Only the remains in Sevilla have been submitted to DNA analysis. The cathedral got around to a proper monument only in 1891, but it is an impressive one: a catafalque with four more than life-size heralds representing the four Spanish kingdoms (Castile, Léon, Aragon, Navarre) bear his coffin.
We took a quick break for coffee and churros before heading down the broad and very pleasant Avenida de la Constitution toward the large square called Puerta de Jerez. Along the way we saw this guy:
That isn’t a stop-action shot; he was stationary!
Bordering the Puerta is the luxury hotel Alfonso XIII built for the Iberico-American Exposition of 1929. We popped in to ogle the interior, gleaming with green and gold tiles.
Just as we wanted to pop out, though, the hardest rain we had experienced so far came pelting down. One of the porters kindly called us a cab and we hightailed it back to the dry safety of our hotel.
After a short siesta, we had an afternoon that was full of interest. Our hotel was in the Santa Catarina district of the Old Town, and we took a walking tour north through that district and into the San Julian and Feria districts. We made our way through a labyrinth of narrow, twisting streets, always alert for cars (if you don’t squeeze against a wall you’re liable to lost a toe or two). Very near our hotel is the Iglesia de Santa Catalina with a fine Mudejar tower. Walking north, we came to the Palacio de las Dueñas, the ancestral home of the Dukes of Alba. It looked very interesting, but was just closing, so we resolved to return the next day.
What wonderful neighborhoods these are: teeming with bars and restaurants, with a lovely square round every corner. It was now early evening, and every seat was taken, while crowders of drinkers spilled out onto the streets. This is the church of San Juan de la Palma with its square.
And this is the plaza of Santa Isabel.
The streets are lined with lovely apartment buildings with characteristic wrought iron balconies and even more characteristic white and goldenrod color schemes.
Our final goal was the Convent of Santa Paula, one of the very rare convents that can be visited. Here, too, we came too late, but we will return and report.
We had passed by a very inviting plaza in front of the church of San Marcos, and, though every table was taken, a kind young waiter set up an extra table for us in front of the church.
Sevilla is inexpensive any way you cut it, but here, away from the tourist centers, it is astonishingly cheap. Three glasses of Manzanilla sherry and a glass of white wine came to….8 Euros!
Dinner was at an elegant restaurant housed in one of the mansions built for the 1929 exposition. Sobretablas has, like Señor Congress, one “sun” from the main Spanish restaurant guide, Repsol. But it couldn’t have been more different. Instead of the wild inventiveness and abundant warmth we had experienced the night before, the food was very good if a bit predictable and the service dignified. Highlights were a rabbit appetizer, squid main, and a delicious deconstruction of a flan. Paul and I both had suckling pig. We drank very well, as we discovered a new grape, Mencia. The wines we’ve tried so far have shown Mencia to be a more casual, spicier, but very fragrant Pinot Noir. This wine was from Galicia in the far northwest.
