Have you ever noticed that each country, each city within that country, and each neighborhood within that city, seem to have a life of their own? We all relate to some areas over others. Some may prefer LA over New York, Seattle over Dallas or Miami over Atlanta. Almost as if each city has its own personality and we make friends with some more than others. During a recent journey through Spain, I met Seville, Cordoba, Madrid, and Barcelona. While Madrid and Barcelona were beautiful and filled with incredible museums, architecture and culture, it was the south of Spain that absolutely won my heart.

To paint you a picture, it’s my first trip to this amazingly diverse country, and my curiosity is chomping at the bit as I land in the small airport of Seville, Spain. As I gather my luggage and meet my driver, I can’t wait to check in at my hotel, the Alfonso XIII, drop my belongings, and put on my walking shoes. Having no set plans until the next morning, there I was, by myself, in a new land, ready to see all I possibly could. Starting my stroll through the mostly pedestrian streets, I found myself feeling immediately at home and warmly welcomed. The streets were lined with orange trees as far as the eye could see. Even in November, they were vibrant and fragrant. After finding a small tapas spot and enjoying a beverage and small cheese plate, my steps almost instinctively led me to the river near the city center.

Surrounded by History
As I stood at the stone bridge connecting each end of the city, I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that I was standing over the river where Christopher Columbus once embarked. The powerful realization of the amount of progression, innovation, and transformation that we as a people had accomplished since that time, was unlike anything I had ever experienced. As the day turned to night, I sat in the quaint park just outside my hotel, and watched as the city came to life. Commuters returning from work, college students congregating outside the University, all deciding what their evening would have in store. After enjoying a drink at the outdoor bar at Alfonso XIII, Ena, I finally turned in.

Alcazar and Cathedral of Seville
The next morning, during a private tour of the Alcazar of Seville, my guide explained to me the unique history within those walls. At one time, Christian rulers lived peacefully with their Muslim and Jewish citizens who also lived with a sense of acceptance. The mix of Islamic architecture and Christian adornment within the palace was such a unique representation of a time when one’s differences were celebrated and made into something beautiful. As we left the Alcazar, with the native parrots chirping about, we made our way to the Cathedral of Seville where my expectations were absolutely exceeded. With over 30 chapels inside the same walls, I was amazed at the sheer size of the structure, which is the 3rd largest church in the world. I was even able to walk up the bell tower of the Cathedral, known as the Giralda, constructed in 1184, to feast on some of the most amazing views of the city.
As I parted with my guide and made my way to the rail station, I couldn’t believe all I had seen in such a short time.

Cordoba
Next on my journey was the even smaller town of Cordoba. This is where my ideology of travel would truly come to fruition. Having arrived in the late afternoon, I knew I was losing daylight quickly. Once I dropped my luggage at the incredible Hospes Palacio del Bailio, and took a walk through the ancient Roman ruins that fill the basement of the hotel directly underneath the glass floor of the dining room, I was off.
The charm of this town couldn’t possibly be explained with justice. The narrow, winding brick streets, buildings bright with age, children walking home from school, their mother’s accompanying them. I walked through the quiet town, my inquisitive nature reeling, stopping at all the rarities that caught my eye. An old white washed water wheel on the bank of the river, the palm trees that now accompanied the familiar orange embellished branches, an elderly man in his entry way playing cards with the door invitingly open. About this time, I heard a peaceful and nostalgic sound. Following the notes, I found a woman, no older than myself, playing the cello underneath the arches near the bridge. A tune I had heard many times before, the comforting melody of Hallelujah. I’m nearly certain that moment was meant for me to be right in that spot, exactly at that time.

Communication Adventure
As the sun started to descend, I set the hotel address in my GPS with the thought of finding a nice dinner on my way back to my room. Shortly after, my phone’s dreadful red battery line disappeared. Now being forced to dig out my paper map from my bag (this is not a ‘just call a taxi’ city, they’re nowhere to be found) a small restaurant in the row full of storefronts, caught my attention. With only 4 round diner seats fixed in front of the small counter, I had my pick of the lot. The senior gentleman behind the counter greeted me in Spanish, which I shamefully know minute amounts of, so I spoke one of the only phrases in my Spanish arsenal, “Cerveza por favor” (beer please). While he served me up a small sandwich with a side of potato sticks (the kind my grandpa used to eat from a can) we quickly realized neither of us had any idea what the other was saying. As I somehow interpreted his hand motions, realizing he was asking me where I was from, I put my hand to my own chest and said, “America”. His eyes widened and his pitch rose. His first reaction was to make the motorcycle hand bar gesture and say, “Route six six.” “Yes!” I exclaimed, excited that we had successfully completed a transfer of thought. He then got out a piece of paper and pen and drew a rough map outline of the United States asking me to draw where this was. And with that revelation, we had found a way to correspond. He played songs on his phone, most notably A Horse With No Name as he awkwardly followed along to the lyrics on the screen in English. I realized later the song, certainly not by accident, is by the band America.

Grateful Traveler
As I sat at that counter, eating the offering from my new friend, and singing with him the seemingly universal “La la la la la la” parts of the tune, I realized this is exactly why I do what I do. This is what I had been searching for. This is what travel awards us. In just two days, I had stood before the tomb of one of the greatest explorers in known history, walked on the same bricks that Ferdinand and Isabella paced as they debated the worthiness of funding a search for a new world, smelled the aroma of chestnuts literally roasting on an open fire in street stalls, and had a genuinely humbling human connection with a sweet soul from another land. At that moment, in a word…grateful.