Serendipity in Seville

Hugh & Colleen Gantzer

We fell in love with Spain. It’s a warm, welcoming, civilised South-European country that, so often, reminded us of home: even though we couldn’t speak their lilting language. Since we can’t give you the whole travel banquet that is Espana, we’ve chosen one place as a delectable introduction: Seville. In the heart of Seville is cathedral. The impressively massive place of worship was once a mosque and is still referred to as the mezquita. For centuries, Spain was an Islamic nation, ruled by the Arabs. The language and culture of Spain still proudly retains many nuances of that period, before it was reclaimed by its Christian inhabitants. Christopher Columbus, who pioneered the conquest of Spain’s South American domains, is buried here and the resplendent gold work in the cathedral is also a result of that adventure. So, too is the prevailing Hispanic influence in South America and the USA. We walked across to the royal fortress of the Reales Alcazares and its gardens.  Here, amid pavilions, fountains and flowers, we saw a crest depicting a pillar with a spiral wound around it and the motto “Plus Ultra’. 

Another fallout of Columbus’ quest for India was that the early inhabitants of America were called Red Indians till it became politically correct to refer to them as ‘Native Americans’! We found another Indian connection in Seville. There is a research centre, here, devoted to that very Spanish dance, the flamenco. While dedicated students tapped their heels and clapped their hands, under an instructor, we spoke to director of the institute to learn that though the flamenco has been embraced by the gypsies of Spain, it is not essentially a gypsy dance form. In spite of what he said, it is fairly well established that the gypsies are descendants of a race of migrants from northern India. The flamenco guitar is called a bejani and the dress of both the men and women dancers seem to have been evolved from those of Jat and Rajasthani nomadic tribes.

We drove out of Seville, for the day, to Jerez de la Frontera. This was, reputedly, the old frontier between the Christian and Islamic territories.

In the famed sherry winery of Sandeman, storks sat on their untidy nests atop chimneys, and swallows tucked their clay nurseries under the eaves. We walked through cool cellars where black oak casks sat contemplatively converting their grape juice into the famed sherries of this region. These are, essentially, wines but the process of fermentation differs from those of other traditional wines and is unique to this area. In our childhood, no formal dinner was complete without sherry glasses on the polished dining table and crystal decanters glowing with Sandeman sherry. We always thought that the iconic silhouette of the figure with the black cape and the broad-brimmed hat was the mythical sand man who made children’s eyes blink with sleep! The cloaked figure is a brand image, of amazing ‘stickiness’, commissioned by a Scotsman who was a marketing genius. George Sandeman made his sherry winery, and its emblem, a household word all across the erstwhile Empire. 

We walked through a gate in the perimeter wall of Sandeman to the highly acclaimed Real Escuela de Arte Ecustre: the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art. And then for two hours, we sat enthralled while horses and their riders performed the intricate, stately and dignified maneuvers that have been developed over the countless generations when men and their horses have moved as one, coordinated, creature in palaces and farms, tournaments and battlefields. And all this was done to stirring Spanish music that captured the essence of the courteous Spanish character.  It was an unforgettable encounter with a past that is still very much alive and revered today.