The Barber of Seville

The beach was lovely, but my feet were itching so it was time to move on... to Seville!

Curiously enough, there is a destinct lack of barbers in Seville. Surely if ever there was a marketing ploy ready for the taking, this is it. In fact, it's a miracle that there aren't fifty self proclaimed Barber's of Seville. I can see it now: "Yes, I Carlos am the true Barber of Sevilla. No! Juan, de son of a pig, iz NOT the real Barber! It iz me! Don Carlos!" *Insert outrageous flaminco dancing here* It's really a shame. I'd pay to see that.

In all seriousness, Seville is a lovely city. My map of the city has all these old beautiful buildings highlighted to help you navigate around the city. But that's actually quite useless as virtually ALL the buildings are old and beautiful. Huge goregous wooden doors, forgotten fountains, crumbling cobblestones, hundreds of horse drawn carriages (they'll stomp ya if you're not looking!), the biggest gothic cathedral I've seen yet, and an air filled with the smell of jasmine and orange blossoms. It's easy to fall in love with the place. I find myself a bit overwhelmed actually. Too much time in a lazy beach town left me a little unprepared for full on city life. "Traffic? What traffic? They HAVE traffic?"

Can't actually stay long here either. Too pricey, which is really too bad because I like it here. So tomorrow it's off to Granada. Cannot wait! Have heard far too many good things for this place to missed.