Sevilla to Dos Hermanas

in another urban ring, and that Sevilla would be hard to find. But actually it was pretty easy getting into town. We had to ride over a huge bridge, and we only had to be on the freeway for a few kilometers. Then we saw our exit. We pulled off and discovered that all the roads were closed. Buses were stopping outside of road blocks to left off passengers, who were dressed up in fluffy, layered dresses and black suits. There were horses everywhere. It turned out we had arrived during Feria de Abril, the biggest festival of the year. Everyone dresses up and rides horses and ferris wheels and dances the flamenco til they drop.

It was great luck to arrive in Sevilla on such a holiday, but it was also bad luck. Most hotels were booked and the ones that did have room were charging double their normal room rates. After several hours of searching, Eric and I ended up in windowless, bathroomless room for the equivalent of US$40 a night. The bathroom was a little grungy, but it was right next door so it wasn't that bad.

That night we decided to follow all the flamenco dancers to wherever their party was. They walked for miles in their high heels along the main boulevards of the city, to a huge fairground that had ferris wheels, other rides and ... 800 "casetas" or tents, that were set up as hospitality bars. The bummer was, just about every caseta was sponsored by its company for its workers and their families, and no one else could get in. Guards stood at every door. What a bummer to be surrounded by 800 bars and not be able to get a drink.

But that didn't really matter. We were wowed by all the flamenco dancers, and we went on the ferris wheel. Then we headed back to Sevilla, to an excellent tapas bar. The tapas bars in Sevilla are great. You walk in, you're served almost immediately, and the bartender keeps track of your tab by writing it in chalk on the bar next to where you sit. Whenever you pay off your balance, he wipes your tab away with a rag.

The next day we mainly lazed around. We walked around town, gazed at great monuments from the outside (we overdosed on monuments back in Madrid and El Escorrial), and met a guy named Berndt. Berndt is bicycling around Europe with a huge trailer that carries his very large German Shepherd. His trailer is equipped with fold out tables for meals and coffee. He is moving very slowly, and living on money that he begs for outside of discount supermarkets, where he buys all his food.

Berndt has no illusions about what he is doing--he's just wandering, and he admits it. He figures he won't do it forever, but for the time being (he's one year into his travels) it suits him fine. I admire a guy who works so hard (on the bike) and eats cheaply. Eric and I gave him a few hundred pesetas for his cause.

After some more excellent tapas, and a little more lazing around town the following morning (Friday April 23), Eric and I decided we couldn't afford to stay. After a great lunch in Sevilla, we headed south towards the mountains of Andalucia.

But we didn't make it. Just 18km out of Sevilla, we came across Dos Hermanos and its campground. We were both groggy, and having left Sevilla so late, we knew we wouldn't make it to the next campground. So rather than race all day, we ducked into the Dos Hermanos campground. As soon as we set up our tent we dove in and had a great siesta.

It turns out Dos Hermanas is famous for its olives, which are exported to other cities in Spain and also outside of Spain. We learned this from the bartender at Las Copas (the glasses, as in wine glasses) bar, Jose Manuel. Jose Manuel and his two brothers and sisters run the place, which is almost directly across the street from the campground, and a little to the left. When we walked in, we were a little intimidated by the nice dining patio, but one of Jose Manuel's brothers told us they had ensaladilla (a great potato salad mixed with olives, eggs, and a few gallons of mayonnaise--it's the best fuel for cycling) so we sat down.

We were there for hours. We ate ensaladilla, Spanish tortillas (egg omelettes with potatoes) and pimientos asados, which Jose Manuel says take about 5 hours to prepare. You start with maybe 30 red peppers, which you roast slowly in an iron skillet (if we understood him), turning them carefully. After a few hours, you take the peppers off the fire, and let them sweat out their juice, which you mix with olive oil. Then you mix the juice and olive oil with a little black vinegar and let them marinade for a long time. They taste excellent.

Jose Manuel taught us the various Spanish words for drinking vessels (copa is a glass with a stem, vaso is a glass with no stem, and I can't remember the word for wine tasting glass), and how Dos Hermanas got its name (it was founded by two sisters, but he couldn't say when). I told him about the time my friend Perrin went to Spain and tried to order seafood soup (sopa de mariscos), but misspoke and ordered homosexual soup (sopa de maricones). Jose Manuel told us about another easy mistake: asking for a cojon (literally, a man's ball) instead of a cojin (a pillow, or cushion).

That night, we learned how Spanish folks like to camp. They show up at midnight, when all us tourists are asleep, turn on their headlights for light, loudly put up their tent, talk up a storm, and then, eventually, go to sleep. A group of four or five guys did this about five feet away from us that night at Dos Hermanas. I asked them several times in Spanish to quiet down and they eventually did.

Next: Mountains of Andalucia

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