In 2016, I took a trip to the Southwest Iberian Peninsula. I had never been to Portugal. I’ve long been a fan of its cuisine, obviously it has a rich history, and maybe I could practice my Spanish in nearby Spain. I guess my reluctance had always been how isolated it is from the rest of Europe. I like seeing a variety of cultures on my trips abroad and love interacting with people from all over the world. In any case, when TAP Airlines opened up a promotional direct route from New York’s JFK Airport to Lisbon I decided the time had come for that oversight to be corrected.
There was another incentive too. My sister and her new husband were in Catalunya on the Northeast part of the peninsula at the same time. So while I was urban exploring in Lisbon they were taking all that Barcelona had to offer. While I kayaked and sunbathed au naturel in the stunning Algarve they were partying it up in hedonistic Ibiza. We decided that it would be awesome to join forces somewhere in Spain. Beautiful Sevilla was easily accessible to both of us so our vacations joined there, followed by our departures in Madrid. It was a perfect plan. For the most part it was. I had my independent trekker time, the newlyweds had their honeymoonish time. When we got together we got along very well, enjoyed each other and together explored some beautiful cultural sights and ate and drank amazing food. While the plan was perfect, what was not was the weather.
It was mid-summer. Portugal was hot, constantly in the 90’s, but it was also dry and breezy. I honestly did not feel it, I was even shockingly dry. Maybe this sweatball should live there! I did find it strange and a little disconcerting that when Portuguese people would hear I was on my way to Sevilla they would cringe and ask if I was crazy. I thought it was perhaps a historic cultural bias. The legacy of European history and relations is complicated to say the least. But they all would specifically tell me how bad the heat was. As I said Portugal was hot so I figured I could handle it. The same hot Saharan winds from nearby Africa affected both places. What I neglected to consider was Portugal’s coastal location. The Atlantic Ocean really does moderate its climate. After sunning it up in lovely Lisbon and the Algarve I took a very modern and comfortable coach bus to Sevilla, a 4 hour journey. Once we crossed into Spain the landscape looked much drier, and heat could be seen emanating from the ground. Uh-oh. The next three days in Sevilla was largely about coping with the intense heat. The 90’s of Portugal were a cold distant memory. We were confronted with temperatures close to 120! Yes it was a dry heat with no humidity, but you know what else is like that?.. A convection oven! The mornings were relatively cool, but once it started really heating up in late morning, the mercury went up fast. Thankfully our Airbnb had an air-conditioner. It was in the living room, only fans in the bedrooms. Privacy was not a luxury our hot bodies could afford so we slept with bedroom doors wide open to let the cool air in, and promised to shield our eyes while passing open bedroom doors. We each also had one night to sleep on the living room couch. Mercifully, there were misters all over Sevilla and many awnings shielding us from the blazing sun. When we saw a bright open square we always sighed with fear and made as direct a beeline across it as quickly as possible. We were getting attacked by heat on all sides: the sun, the hot desert wind, and the cooking stones we walked on.
My poor sister was the first to fall. She developed a nasty case of prickly heat. Thankfully the local pharmacy had a magic potion which helped her out. I love European pharmacies. In my many travels I have found they have strong remedies for all sorts of ailments that work quickly but cannot be found Stateside. It is so frustrating, but conspiracy theories are not for this blog. After accepting the heat and appreciating how dry I was despite my propensity for perspiration, I succumbed to what can only be described as the beginning of a slow death or heat exhaustion. I became very tired, irritable and just could not get cool no matter what I did. I felt my life force being baked away ever so slowly. At least a slow-roasted pig is already dead, which seemed much more humane right then. My brother-in-law soon felt my fate as well. No matter the stunning surroundings all we wanted were cold drinks, shade, a mister, and a refuge.
Thankfully, Sevillanos are prepared for the heat and salvation was never far away. The magnificent Cathedral, one of the largest in Christendom, did what Gothic edifices do, stay dark, airy and relatively cool (If it was even 85 in there it was glorious). As the Alcazar and Cathedral were both designed by the Moors, who were of the desert, their architectural expertise allowed them to thrive in such an intense thermal experience. But it was in the many cool cafes (cool having 2 meanings here) that really boosted our morale. There was a local radler beer, Cruzcampo, that literally saved our lives. Radlers are like shandies, beer blended with juice that are very refreshing and definitely thirst-quenchers. Alcohol eased pain while the juice rehydrated us. Rioja Fria was also a popular choice. It was like a sangria that also lowered body temperature. Then, once we were hydrated, it was time to eat their wonderful selection of tasty tapas to refuel our overheated engines.
At one such refuge we sat at a table outside under a canopy. The café itself was stifling indoors so everyone appeared to be sitting in tables under this canopy and actually feeling a somewhat refreshing breeze. It was definitely time for some radlers. While we were sitting there I thought for a moment that the heat had gotten to me once again because what I was seeing heading towards us had to be a hallucination. I just kept staring and shaking my head. Eventually my companions asked what I was glaring at. They shifted their heads as I described a couple approaching. He was dressed in a full black suit, buttoned up to his neck. She was in a women’s suit with black stockings. This shocking vision in that heat could not be real! Moreover, they didn’t even seem to be sweating! Most surprising was that they decided to sit at one of the few tables outside the canopy in the full sun! We started laughing, either out of shock, or fear since these were obviously demons from Hell in stylish disguises. Once our beverages and plates of paella and patatas bravas arrived we just enjoyed our meals and thought about where we wanted to head next. “No Freaking way!” (paraphrased) I gasped. My startled companions looked up at me and I implored them to casually look at our possibly demonic neighbors. Mr. Buttoned-up Black Suit and Ms. Black Stockings were… were… drinking HOT coffee!.. in the blazing sun… in 118 degrees… and NOT sweating! If not demons they were obviously robots. No other rational explanation could be had. Speaking of rational I became quite irrationally upset at them. Jealousy perhaps that they could look so cool and attractive while we looked like exhausted hot messes before garbage day.
Still, despite the heat we did enjoy the stunning city, the lovely gardens, and the hot (2 meanings again) nightlife. A lady twice my age tried teaching me flamenco at a bar where people just started playing instruments. She then wanted me to go home with her back to her palace apartment. I never heard of a sugar granny before. Still sense prevailed and I stayed at the bar with my sister. We spent one scorching afternoon in an air-conditioned theatre watching a passionate flamenco performance while drinking a rioja fria. I visited the weeping Virgin of Macarena, although I suspect those weren’t tears but sweat drops (God forgive me). The majestic Plaza Espana, featured in the Star Wars prequels, brought out the inner geeks in us. I had fun practicing Spanish, which surprisingly turned out to be closer to our Espanol than Spain’s Castillian, and therefore easier for me. Many Spanish Conquistadors originated in Sevilla, so it makes sense that their way of speaking spread to the New World. Eventually we made our way to Madrid, another very hot city, but ten degrees cooler, which made a difference.
Experiencing dry moderate heat and then dry ungodly heat, I have a new appreciation for humidity. In dry heat your body shuts down slowly so you just go about your business like everything is fine, until you’re almost dead. When it is hot and humid you feel awful fast and therefore do nothing and seek refuge immediately. Now that I live in sultry Baltimore I have experienced 104 degrees with humidity this summer. It brought back memories of Sevilla as it was the most uncomfortable that I have been since then. It was then that I decided I prefer dry heat, but like in Lisbon, not Sevilla!
Madrid