And so, to Seville ... via a dodgy night's drinking on the Costa del Sol (if I ever see an electronic dartboard again, it'll be too soon). The city itself is a fantastic place: beautiful architecture, gorgeous ceramic work over everything, and loads of shade and green spaces (necessary when the mercury soars into the thirties - and this was just May for crying out loud!). Three things really stood out, building-wise: the Cathedral (absolutely monstrous - world's fourth largest), the Alcazar (not as grand as Granada's, but still very impressive) and the Plaza d'España (amazing tile work representing every imaginable region of Spain). The nights were a lot of fun too: after finally catching the tail-end of the Eurovision Song Contest (cheesy!), Corry (one of our intrepid guides - think a Latino, goateed version of Jon Favreau) took us over the River Quadalquivir to catch some flamenco action. This was the real deal too - none of your tourist queso malarkey, just a bunch of locals sitting around, strumming and drumming and clapping and singing. Wonderful. Plus the obligatory mums and dads popping up to strut their stuff, the hollering duets and castanet solos, the crazy old polka-dotted grandmother for comedic relief, and the final lights-dimmed songs to Mother Mary. Just another ba(l/r)my night in Andalucia ...
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