KYQ4: Seville

Seville - streets decorated with orange trees and infused with their blossom

I am of that generation that put Spain off-limits and until this trip, I had never been to mainland Spain unless Catalonia is included. My father had spent 5 years in the Eighth Army fighting fascism and regarded Spain as unfinished business with Franco still operating as a dictator until 1975. As a result, we never went to Spain during the 1960s, nor indeed to any other country because we could not afford to, but if we could Spain would have been bottom of the list. It is curious how these memories were brought back when we arranged at the last minute to spend 8 days in Andalucia. When I went to Catalonia about 9 years ago, I felt justified by Orwell's 'Homage to Catalonia' and positive memories of the 1992 Olympic Games in Barcelona.

Arriving at Malaga without a map was a mistake that I seldom make and the car hire people did not provide one either. We decided to take the coastal road along the Costa del Sol before heading through the mountains to Seville. Despite all the tour brochures that I had studiously avoided over the years, I had not anticipated the 'Touropolis' that unfurled as we shuffled our way into Torremolinos and made for the nearest bookshop. I needed a map and it was an excuse to spend half an hour in this mecca of the package holiday. Breakfasts were in full swing, the sun was glistening on the lotioned foreheads of the Brit pack but the streets were clean and tidy and the sea was empty of bathers - it was still March.

Back on the road, I travelled through Benalmadena, Fuengirola and several other resorts before carefully circumnavigating Marbella. I had no intentions of engaging with the Russian mafia, East End gangsters, Saudi Arabian millionaires or the drug cartels importing from Morocco. Malaga looked like 'Florida on the Med' and, according to the guidebook, was built on corruption, property speculation and right-wing politics. We headed into the hills and quickly climbed to 1000 metres in the Serrania de Ronda and then descended through the dazzling countryside to Ronda itself.

Ronda is a town built and protected by a steep river gorge. It looks out over the lavishly coloured landscapes that regale the traveller at this time of the year. We had a perfect lunch in a plaza near the town hall, with fresh orange juice, olives and gazpacho soup and coffee. At the end of the meal, the astute waitress informed us that the police would be booking parked cars in five minutes and bid us on our way- the first of many hospitable acts during our stay.

The drive to Seville was over roads that progressively became straighter, wider and more densely trafficked as we neared Seville. Negotiating our way to the city centre and the Barrio of Santa Cruz, the pedestrianised zone, was a game of snakes and ladders until we eventually dumped the car in an underground car park for three days and walked the last few hundred metres to our apartment. The train would have been more appropriate transport from the airport to Seville but we would have missed the once-in-a-lifetime chance to pass through Torremolinos and the chance to bypass Marbella.

Within half an hour of arriving in Seville, we had found a local bar and beer and tapas were taken in a sun-kissed plaza. They revived our spirits and made the excursion along the Costa seem a distant nightmare. We meandered around the pedestrianised streets enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the independent shops showing their goods in resplendent displays. The centre was free of the standardised chain stores that have made shopping in Britain such a 'to be avoided pastime'. We enjoyed the choir of happy noise emerging from Plaza del Salvador where thousands of young Spaniards meet and talk and drink and behave. Seville was a place to relax and enjoy the hospitality and atmosphere of a real city.

The next day was glorious and it reached 28°C. Following a long walk around the superb public realm, admiring the quiet trams, the quality of the pavements, open spaces, street furniture and open-air entertainment, we visited the cathedral and had a leisurely lunch in the sort of cafe that is still a rarity in Britain. We visited the bull ring, which hosted a wonderful collection of paintings including Goya line drawings of bullfighting. The city had clearly benefited from Felipe Gonzales's time as Prime Minister with fast trains, an Expo world fair and some humdinger bridges. We walked along the esplanades alongside the Rio Guadalquivir and enjoyed the easy pace of life that infected the city.

In the evening after early drinks, it was off to see Flamenco dance, guitar and song in the museum and then we had a late meal as most Spaniards do. The following day saw us visit the Alcazar Palace with its breathtaking gardens and patios, we took a siesta, sunbathed on the apartment roof and just allowed ourselves to float in the current of life that makes Seville tick. Unlike the Costas, Seville has been nurtured as a modern city, respecting its history but exploiting quality urban design and providing a totally people-friendly environment. I would happily return to this city but not in the searing heat of summer.