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You can’t – she said – go to Sevilla and not try the ‘tostadas’ somewhere like Restaurante Sevilla.
So there I sat inside what looked from the outside like the Iberian version of Jay’s Cafe Diner. Waiting for the experience. And it was as good as they say. Caffe solo, Jamón Ibérico and fresh orange juice. Breaking my fast among real people going about real lives. And paying only a cursory glance at the interloper sat at what was probably someone’s regular table.
Sevilla se mueve con energia… limpia. It says so on the side of just about every public bus in this amazing city and it’s true. Even the street art is incredible;
So too is the calibre of participant at the workshop that gives me reason to be here:
So basically here I am on the edge of things. The end of a personal odyssey. But probably not much the worse for it all. And there are still oranges on the trees.