travel note

Travel note: Seville — 19 to 22 March 2026

Simon Morgan-Wilson

• 10 min read

With Kristin. A long weekend, a lot packed in.

Why Seville

My interest in Spain goes back to an A-level in early modern history in the early 1990s, where I first encountered Isabella and Ferdinand, who reigned in the latter part of the 15th century — the Catholic Monarchs who completed the Reconquista, driving the Moors from the Iberian peninsula. It sparked a fascination with Spain that has never really left me, and particularly with cities like Seville where you can see the layers of both cultures pressed up against each other in the stonework.

The cathedral is the most vivid example of that, standing on the site of a 12th-century Almohad mosque, which Ferdinand III (another Ferdinand, so many Fernandos) converted to Christian use when he took the city in 1248. Rather than erase what was there, the builders kept the mosque's ablution courtyard — now the Patio de los Naranjos, still fragrant with orange trees at this time of year, like the whole city — and its minaret, which became La Giralda, the bell tower that still dominates the Seville skyline. When the decision was taken in 1401 to build an entirely new Gothic cathedral on the same footprint, they kept those Islamic elements intact. It's a building that carries the layers of both cultures visibly and deliberately. The Reconquista written in stone.

Getting there

Manchester Airport the night before — an Ibis Budget, fine for what it is. RyanAir (don't judge) at 9:15am, landing in Seville at 12:10pm local time. The hotel — the Adriano Hotel Boutique — was around €550 for three nights: friendly staff, great location just round the corner from the cathedral and close to the river. A good base.

Taxi from the airport into the city centre: around €28, cobbled streets for the last stretch to the hotel. The driver was fine. (The Sunday morning driver back to the airport had considerably more gusto — but we made the flight.)

Tip: book your cathedral and Alcázar tickets at least two weeks in advance. Individual tickets were sold out by the time we looked — a guided tour was the only way into the cathedral. As it turned out, an excellent decision.

What we did

We don't tend to do group tours, but the cathedral forced our hand. Our guide Susanna was excellent — equal parts information and wry humour. On the two-year notice required to get married at the cathedral: "A lot can happen in two years. You find many people end up married to someone they weren't planning to marry when they booked." The scale inside is almost incomprehensible. Plan for well over two hours. Next time: up La Giralda tower.

La Giralda, the cathedral bell tower, shot from street level looking straight up. The intricate geometric Moorish brickwork of the original 12th-century minaret rises above, topped by the 16th-century Renaissance belfry and the Giraldillo weathervane at the very top. To the right, the cathedral's Gothic pinnacles and a section of scaffolding. 104 metres of history, straight up. Not that I went that far up.

On Friday we also visited the Setas: the vast mushroom-shaped wooden structure in the old town that houses the ruins below and a market and walkway above. Peculiar, striking, and somehow entirely Seville.

A magnificent tree, a typical tree you bump into in Seville, photographed close up from ground level. The trunk splits into multiple thick, smooth-barked limbs that fan outward and upward, filling the frame with branches. What makes it extraordinary is the root system — vast, gnarled roots spreading across the bare earth in every direction, rising and dipping like something from a fairy tale, each one as thick as a forearm. The canopy is dense with dark green leaves. Behind it, an iron railing and what looks like a grand building beyond. A tree that has clearly been there a very long time and intends to stay.

Lachlan, our Australian guide on the Friday evening tapas tour, introduced us to the north side of the city in a way we wouldn't have found on our own. Sometimes necessity makes the choice for you, and it makes the right choice.

We saw the Alameda de Hércules at night — the long tree-lined promenade in the north of the city, anchored at one end by its Roman columns, featuring Hercules and the emperor Caesar. Worth seeing in daylight too; we didn't quite manage it.

Museo de Bellas Artes: A large circular dome fresco sits at the centre, radiating outward like a wheel — painted panels between gilded ribs depicting figures, saints or allegories, in the Baroque manner. At the very centre, a coat of arms. The surrounding walls of the dome are equally dense with painted decoration: more figures, ornate gold and white plasterwork, geometric patterning, and friezes running the full circumference. The arches below are encrusted with intricate carved and gilded detail — foliage, heraldic motifs, scrollwork — every surface covered, nothing left plain. The overall effect is overwhelming in the best possible way.

Saturday took in the Museo de Bellas Artes — one of Spain's finest art museums, in a gorgeous former convent. Grand, full of fine religious art, including some epics by Murillo, and some epic Zurbarán, and with a roof in one of the buildings that stops you in your tracks. On the way back to the city centre we visited the Antiquaries — Roman ruins and mosaics discovered beneath the city, sitting pretty much in the basement of the Setas.

The Plaza de España, Seville. A vast semicircular palace of warm brick and ornate stonework curves away into the distance, its arcaded facade stretching the full width of the frame. In the foreground, the beautifully patterned tiled floor of the plaza, geometric in terracotta and cream. To the left, a balustraded canal with a small decorative bridge, one of four that cross it around the square. Ornate cast iron lamp posts line the walkway. A handful of visitors cross the open space, dwarfed by the scale of the building behind them. Above it all, a dramatic dark grey sky, heavy with cloud — which only makes the warm ochre of the architecture glow warmer. Astounding is the right word for it.

A stroll across the city to the Plaza de España, which is simply astounding. It's a vast open space — hard to convey the scale until you're standing in it — built around a sweeping semicircle of palace buildings, with a tiled alcove bench for each province of Spain running the entire length. Every alcove has its own painted ceramic map and scenes from the province's history. I found my beloved Bilbao — marked as Vizcaya, its province. One of those places that stops you in your tracks.

Late Saturday afternoon was a trip to the flamenco at La Casa del Flamenco. I've been once before, in Madrid, but this was a level above. There's something about flamenco — the intensity, the physicality, the raw emotion of it — that is just so, so horny. Like opera did ballet. Wonderful stuff.

I've always been fascinated by Catholicism — the ritual, the fervour, the sheer commitment of it. Being in Seville the week before Holy Week felt like arriving just as the city was winding itself up. You could feel it at the football — the noise, the passion — and in the streets in the days that followed. When we came out of the flamenco on Saturday evening and walked straight into a procession, it felt like a gift. Brief, unexpected, right outside the door. Seville is a city that doesn't need much prompting to remind you it's alive. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.

The football

Betis's usual home — the Estadio Benito Villamarín — is currently being redeveloped, so they've moved to La Cartuja for the 2025/26 season, which is how we ended up there for the Europa League. La Cartuja sits on the Isla de La Cartuja, a large island between the Guadalquivir and the Canal de Alfonso XIII, and it was the site of Expo '92 — the Universal Exhibition held in 1992 marking 500 years since Columbus reaching the Americas. I hadn't really clocked this before the trip.

The Puente del Alamillo — Santiago Calatrava's iconic Expo 92 bridge — photographed from the Guadalquivir riverbank on a bright morning. The single white pylon leans dramatically backward, its thirteen pairs of cables fanning out to support the deck in Calatrava's signature asymmetric design. The river is calm and glassy, with a small boat cutting across the water in the foreground. Green trees line the far bank. The sky is a deep, clean blue with a sweep of cloud to the right. Everything is crisp and white and warm. The kind of thing you stumble across on a morning run and stop dead for.

Five new bridges were built over the Guadalquivir to serve the Expo: the Alamillo, Barqueta, Cartuja, Cristo de la Expiración, and Delicias. We got to see some of the remaining pavilions and structures on the long walk back to the hotel after the game — an hour on foot, which generated fewer steps than you'd hope but was worth it. The most striking of the bridges is the Alamillo, designed by Santiago Calatrava — the architect behind the City of Arts and Sciences in Valencia and the Oculus in New York — its single inclined steel tower counterbalancing a 200-metre span with thirteen pairs of cables. There's a lot more on the Wikipedia page for Expo '92.

The match itself — Betis v Panathinaikos, Europa League last 16 second leg — was a proper adventure. The atmosphere was extraordinary, the noise immense. Betis were fantastic to watch. An hour's walk back through the island in the dark, past Expo pavilions and bridges, capped it off perfectly.

A night match at a packed stadium, shot from the stands. In the centre of the frame, a Real Betis fan — Ripo — stands with his back to the camera, arms raised, holding a green and white scarf aloft. He's wearing the green and white hooped Betis shirt. The stadium is full, floodlit, and buzzing. The pitch glows bright green below. Around him, other fans are on their feet, phones out, arms up.

A postscript: on Sunday evening, safely home, I watched my beloved Athletic Club beat Betis 2-1. A little strange after cheering Betis on Thursday night in their European adventure. But Bilbao for lyf, innit.

Running

Two of my four runs for the week were in Seville, both along the Guadalquivir — wide paths, graffiti, fishermen, people in various forms of canoe. There are few better ways to get to know a city than running along its river.

Friday's was 5km, heading south along the river before turning inland into the city itself.

The Torre del Oro — the Gold Tower — shot from street level, looking up. A sturdy, crenellated cylindrical medieval tower in pale stone, with a smaller octagonal section above and a domed lantern at the very top. It sits right on the Guadalquivir riverfront, flanked by palm trees against a dramatic cloudy sky, the light overcast and moody. The cobbled plaza around it is quiet. A 13th-century Almohad watchtower that once helped control access to the river — and now one of the most recognisable landmarks in the city.

Saturday's 8km took in more of the riverfront: the Torre del Oro, the Torre Sevilla just over the water, the Alamillo bridge, a glimpse of the monastery across the river, and the graffiti that lines the whole stretch. The climate at this time of year is perfect — warm, dry, the orange blossom everywhere.

Eating and drinking

Friday lunch at Casa Morales: espinacas con garbanzos, pig knuckle, vermut, and the usual small pour of beer. Perfecto.

Friday evening: the tapas tour, north side of the city, led by Lachlan. Several stops, several cañas, several things eaten that we'd have walked past on our own.

Saturday breakfast at La Canasta, near the cathedral: cured ham on bread, a cortado, and a smoothie. Simple and exactly right.

Two cañas of Cruzcampo on the bar at Bodeguita El Acerao, frothy heads still settling. Between them, a small dish of what look like spiced or fried chickpeas — the kind of thing that just appears, uninvited and very welcome. A wooden Cruzcampo crate sits in the background alongside empty wine glasses. A perfect Saturday afternoon.

Saturday afternoon back at Bodeguita El Acerao — one of the tapas tour stops worth a return. Cruzcampo, a caña each: poured for about three seconds, swilled for two, then slapped down on the corner with its frothy head. Wonderful.

Saturday evening: tasting menu with paired wines at Azahar. The perfect way to sample a few tastes at the end of the trip. We walked through yet another parade to get there. All those processions. Enough to sway one back to the ways of Catholicism.

To do next time

  • Visit the Alcázar — book at least two weeks in advance
  • Up La Giralda tower at the cathedral — and up the Torre del Oro
  • Explore the Expo '92 island properly in daylight — the pavilions and bridges deserve more than a night-time walk after a football match
  • See Betis at the Estadio Benito Villamarín when the redevelopment is done
  • Go back for Holy Week itself
  • The Alameda de Hércules in daylight
  • Walking along the top of the Setas.
  • More of the north side of the city
  • The Macarena church, Santa Maria Magdalena, and the Convento de Santa Inés (for the pastries)
  • El Rinconcillo for food
  • Museo del Baile Flamenco and the Museum of Folk Art and Costume
  • Plaza de la Maestranza — and the Museo Taurino inside it
  • More of Triana
  • Return to Bodeguita El Acerao — obviously
  • And honestly, just the vibes. I loved it there.