A Year in the World by Frances Mayes Read Free Book Online

the rigors of learning Spanish. I would love to be able to join in the scene here, even to the limited extent a foreigner might. The tapas ritual is above all about conviviality. Friends meet, share a bite, shift to other friends, then head to another crowded bar where other friends wait. A similar rite,
ombra
, the shadow rounds, takes place in Venice. In early evening neighbors gather at small bars with counters opening to the street for half glasses of wine and saucers of food, then move on, often in groups. The name may have come from the time when gondoliers stood in the shadow of San Marco for a drink. No one really knows, and no one knows the source of tapas either. The word probably comes from
tapar
, “to cover.” A plate or a slice of ham resting on top of the wineglass made it easy to carry or, according to some sources, kept the flies out. The name may have come from an official order to eighteenth-century innkeepers to “cover” the stomachs of carriage drivers when they stopped for refreshments. Driving under the influence caused too many tipped carriages. Whatever the source of the name, the custom charms us. Still, I long to ask someone,
How do you do it? All these tastes and then dinner?
    Tonight we are determined to go on from tapas to dinner at eleven. We might have walked ten miles today, but we walk again in the interlude because Sevilla at night becomes
muy simpatica
—the streetlights among the orange trees, the glimpsed courtyards with splashing fountains, the forty horse-drawn carriages—so gallant, unlike the usual tourist conveyances drawn by sad nags—the massive volumes of the cathedral, and the Giralda towering over all. “Isn’t it easy to imagine the muezzin’s call to prayer falling from the tower over all of us?”
    “The guidebook says he rode a donkey up to the top five times a day. The stairs switch back so he wouldn’t have to climb.”
    After several turns, we find ourselves in the same plaza, and there’s the stranded English woman, talking to three tourists. We see the man reach for his wallet. What a scam, and she was so specific (Tunisia, two oranges), so unlikely. She looks like a librarian or teacher on holiday. As she turns from the threesome, she catches sight of us but does not register any recognition. Even after one hour of walking, we should have recognized the two oranges part. Orange trees are everywhere! Reach up and grab one.
    La Giralda has become our beacon. At 319 feet high, it’s visible from most of Sevilla. A pure minaret, except for the Christian top, La Giralda perfectly encapsulates the harmonious blending of the styles of successive conquerors. When built by the Moorish Almohad rulers in the twelfth century, the minaret was crowned with four golden balls topped by a crescent moon. The spangle of the sun on these spheres was clear to anyone approaching the city. The Torre del Oro on the river once was covered in gold-glazed tiles, also sending a glittering message to boats sailing upstream from Cádiz. Drawings of the minaret from that era show a more delicate structure of graceful proportions. The Christians broadened the entire top third of the tower to incorporate a bell tower—the Christian call to prayer. A figure of Fides, Faith, who defies his name and turns whichever way the wind blows, ornaments the top. Though the earlier structure may be finer, the current one pleases the eye, too. The remodelers retained, in the lower two-thirds, the original decorations, and the horseshoe and multifoil arches on the facade. The horseshoe arch, which seems so quintessentially Moorish, actually came from the Visigoths and inspired the Arabs, becoming, with many variations, their signature arch. You see this kind of marriage of cultures all over the city. The Romans brought Greek principles, the Visigoths took over Roman designs, the Arabs absorbed elements from the Romans and Visigoths, as well as the Greeks, and the Christians venerated the Arab