Sevilla - nice to Sevilla, to Sevilla nice

I bought my ticket at Malaga station and boarded the train for Sevilla. As I sat down I began to look forward to the journey ahead. That was until a young lady sat down opposite and proceeded to munch and gnaw her way through various items of food that made me feel a little uncomfortable. It sounded disgusting.

My response was to raise a Spanish newspaper to my face and do my best to ignore the grazing that was occurring over the table.

When in England I like to read Spanish newspapers, if only to show off my ability to understand the language. However, this can prove to be a mistake on Spanish soil as it can give the impression that you are a fluent native. My immediate response is always a "Si, si, claro" as this tends to fend off most on-comers, leaving them with the belief that you understand exactly what they said. Trouble is, occasionally they have asked you whether you can be the Matador for this evening's bull-fight and you have respondend, "Yes, yes, of course".

Anyway, I arrived in Sevilla and decided to walk into town in search of a place to stay. I find this (walking) beats the bus, unless it is raining, in three important ways: Firstly, you save yourself a much needed euro or two for tapas and beer. Secondly, you get to see a lot of the town. Finally, you can also explore more hostals.

As I walked towards the centre of town I was instantly enchanted by its twisty, turny streets and immediate warmth that the old buildings emitted. Spain has many cities where there is an old town separated from the rest of the city that gives you a feeling that you are on an island, and I like it.

Once in the centre of town I marvelled at the cathedral and found myself a hostal. Of course the process of finding somewhere to stay was not as clear-cut as this. I had the usual enquiries: walking into one hostal, finding out it was 100 euros a night and saying to the receptionist "Ok. Thanks. I might be back soon" when there is more chance of me becoming fluent in Spanish than me returning at that price. Then entering a hostal asking how much and the price came tumbling down with every indecisive word I muttered hoping that it might eventually be free.

Just to let you know this is the basic template of any hostal bargaining situation that can occur in many parts of the world, including Spain:

Me: "Hola" (always start with a Spanish word in the forlorn hope you might get the locals' price but then that goes out of the window as the conversation reaches a more complex level and the receptionist instantly realises you are an ignorant tourist)

Hotel: "Hello, sir"

Me: "How much is it for a room or a dorm bed for one person?"

Hotel: "Well, we have a special room which is 50 euros per person"

Me: "Do you have a room that is not special?"

Hotel: "Yes."

Me: "And how much is that?"

Hotel: "50 euros"

Me: "Err... Ok... Thanks... I might..."

Hotel: "Ha ha ha. Hold on. I was just joking. A little joke. Sorry. 40 euros is the price."

Me: "Err..."

Hotel: "It has a tv, shower and many things. Very good price"

Me: "Err..."

Hotel: "Ok. I make a special price for you. 25 Euros."

This indeed is a good price but when I found the Hostal Nuevo Suizo for 11 euros it was no contest.

Anyway, there are many wonderful things about Sevilla that are immediately apparent but it does fall a little short when it comes to food. It is not easy to find good tapas or paella. In fact, putting it another way, it is easy to find bad tapas and paella.

There is one exception to that, Taberna Coloniales Catedral, and I would implore anyone to go there as it is fantastic.

It was head and shoulders above anywhere else in town and this was perfectly illustrated by the fact it was packed to the rafters while all the other restaurants were empty. There was a 30 minute wait for a table but it would prove to be well worth it.

As I waited, I noticed they had a funny system set up to decide who would be next to acquire a table. It seemed about as complicated as a World Cup draw but somehow it worked.

There was a list of names on this whiteboard and occasionally a name from it would be shouted out. Then it would be crossed off once the person/s had accepted the invitation. A few minutes later the next one on the list would be called when a table became available.

It seemed to make sense until I noticed there was no particular order to it and that some would immediately be propelled to the front of the queue for no apparent reason.

Then I made up my own mind as to how it worked, if you had an amusing name then you were a sure-fire bet to get a table quickly, hence Mr P.Nesshead came quickly. Then there was a guy called Jesus, he didn't wait long either, I guess he might get cross if he wasn't dealt with rapidly.

I also tried Churros while I was in Sevilla. Churros are similar to doughnuts and a bit of a Spanish must-try delicacy, best eaten with hot chocolate.

Nevertheless, you have to be careful when you eat them. I approached one eatery at around 2pm and asked for them having seen the word 'Churros' emblazoned in the restaurant window. At this point a local nudged me and said: "You're too late." To which I replied: "But I saw some people eating them yesterday at around tea-time, as it was getting dark." I said this quite confidently and thought there was no possible way that my newly acquainted friend could get out of that one. "Ah", she replied. "You are can eat them then, as well."

So, basically, I was too late for Churros, and too early for them. Strange but funny. I waited until 5pm and had some then. I later discovered 'Churros Time' was breakfast or late afternoon. So don't you dare try to order them at any other time.

The best thing I could say about Sevilla was it became the town on my trip that I kept promising to leave but kept saying "Oh, just one more day."

However, eventually I did leave, but in the certainty that I would be back again one day.