How "a short lie down" becomes a siesta
It is no longer over 30 degrees, but very slightly below. Our tent is in the shade, but the degradation is still a problem. This heat is already extreme. If only the pool were already open. But the pool doesn't open until 11 o'clock and we want to be gone by then in the direction of Seville.
Seville is to be our home for the next 2 days. It is said to be the hottest city in Europe. Since we are now heat-tested, we take on this challenge.
Halfway through the 160 kilometres I can't go on. The heat is really getting to me and I don't want to go on, I become stubborn. We stop at an old rest stop and drink our espresso, freshly squeezed orange juice and almost a litre of water. And the best thing is, there's air conditioning. I don't want to go back to Seville. I'll stay here in this air-conditioned rest stop and spend the remaining 2 weeks of my holiday here. Cooled. With espresso.
Okay, Gerd is not convinced by my new plan and asks me for a hostel in Seville.
A little more in control of my senses, I choose a hostel that has a pool on the roof terrace. So, let's go. It's another 60 kilometres. I can take it. We find our hostel in the middle of the city centre and check in for two nights. Suitcases taken care of and then up to the roof. A swim in the pool. It is not suitable for long laps, but wonderful for cooling off in the beautiful sun. We stay up there for an hour and the pool brings our body temperature down again and we are somewhat refreshed.
Now it's off to the city, we realise once again that 5 pm is far too early to be in the city. Firstly, it is far too hot, secondly, hardly any shops are open and thirdly, not at all. We stroll through the city and find a cute tapas bar with air conditioning and an absolutely brilliant playlist. We order a few tapas and listen to the music. On the side, I write the diary here and Gerd reads through the internet.
But now we really have to rest, back to the hostel and off to bed. Actually, we just wanted to take a little siesta, but it turns into a deep sleep until half past eight.
We slowly get into our Spanish rhythm and go into town a little after half past eight. Our hostel is in the middle of the old town, so it's not far. We walk through the alleys, watch the tapas eaters and watch a group of flamenco dancers singing and dancing on a square with a fountain. From now on, we call the square Steppi Square. I'm beginning to get the feeling that everything has to go slowly here. We sit, listen and watch the wonderful dancer. One dance after the next and all this as a street artist.
