Seville (Spain)
30 August - 01 September 2019
My first small taste of Seville was beamed to me through an old wooden boxed behemoth of a TV during the 1982 World Cup. The week prior I'd had my seventh birthday and I recall that the cake that my mother had made was a proper football field, everything at the time was World Cup inspired. But on this morning, what was the 9th of July, 1982, in Australia, in a city on the other side of the globe, there was a football match of epic proportions taking place. Of course I was at home watching. It was a World Cup semi-final match that h as come to be known was one of the greatest of all time. The Nacht von Sevilla or the Nuit de Sevilla brought both exaltation and extreme despair, depending on whether the colour of shirt you were wearing was either white or black.
That morning my father was at work but I remember him calling a few times to get the score updates.
Dad - 'What's the score now Henry?'
Me - '2-1'
Dad- 'For the blues or the whites'
Me - 'The whites'
Back then, in my household, we were out and out supporters of West Germany. Not that I completely understood what that meant but I did not that once the blue team went up 3-1 and part of the stadium was in hysteria, that the white team weren't exactly achieving what they had set out to do.
A 3-1 lead with 18 minutes of extra-time to play. Where in the realms of footballing fantasy does anybody does anyone conjure up the framework and execution whereby the team leading at that point in time goes onto lose. It would be akin to standing on the podium at a medal presentation ceremony and having a random interloper snatch your property from the space between the hands of the presenter and your neck. You'd have a better chance of defeating a guillotine than losing a World Cup semi-final from this position.
God Bless the French though, they crafted a defeat of such majesty and torment, such pitiful glory.
Post penalty shoot-out my dad called in to get the result. He simply did not believe what his 7 year old son was telling him. It's like all the knowledge that I had of football at that age was completely dismissed as the result that I was broadcasting and what he had expected from 20 minutes earlier could not be reconciled.
Unknowingly, that had been my introduction to Seville, and World Cup football
Like most places that I've ever had any sort of attachment to, I'd somehow been emotionally invested with a location long before my first visit and real experience. Whilst the wait for Sevilla had been long and had taken many twists and turns prior to now, she had made it worth the wait.
Each Spanish city that I have encountered has had its own feel. Certainly there are some similarities between Madrid & Barcelona & San Sebastian & Seville, but there are certainly many difference. Sevilla was something unexpected.
Medieval lanes leading to quite corners and open plazas, baroque churches, Gothic cathedrals, its beating sun and pulsating flamenco driving its tortured soul. Slowly but ever so surely the beauty in this city envelopes you and leaves an indelible print. The juxtaposition of Moorish and Gothic architectural influences overlaid by the vibrant, energetic lifestyle of the Spanish themselves, just makes this yet another highlight in a country that feels like a perpetual highlight reel.
Plaza de Espana takes pride of place in any Google search where the subject is Sevilla. A glorious piece of architecture, laid out on a huge half circle, its buildings made accessible by four ornate bridges that guide you over a large moat. Punctuated by a number of alcoves that are fabulously tiled with representations of the regions of Spain, this space is incredibly stunning and lends itself easily to taking photos. The beating sun of the early morning even complemented the surrounds and underpinned what you expected to get from an Andalusian experience.
A city with its own identity, one that moves subtly, passionately and soulfully in every aspect. You sense it within the bars of an evening, from the venues where the sounds of flamenco drift with purpose onto the streets and simply in the life that pervades this marvellous city.
It's true, of course I'm a sucker for anything Spanish, but certainly there is a reason for that. They have identified the importance of beauty, passion, life and laughter. This is distilled and uniquely represented in the architecture, artistry and way of life. Sometimes your way just finds alignment to a way that exists on the other side of the world. It may be in Argentina, it may be in Brazil or it may in Spain...or it just may be in Sevilla.
