Visiting Seville: The Honest Version
It's easy to get Seville wrong. I learned that the hard way on my first morning, when I rushed to the Plaza de España at 8 a.m. only to find it swarming with tour groups and shuttered cafes. The city doesn't run on tourist hours—it runs on siesta, and I was about to learn that the hard way. Instead of fighting the crowds, I decided to follow the locals to a hidden gem near the Triana neighborhood. La Casa del Abuelo, a tiny tapas bar on Calle de la Catedral, serves the best fried cheese croquetas I've ever had for just 2.50 euros. The owner, a woman named María, greeted me with a warm "Buenos días" and pointed to a small chalkboard menu. I ordered the croquetas with a glass of fino sherry, which cost 3.20 euros, and sat at a cramped wooden table that smelled of garlic and fried dough. The croquetas were crispy on the outside, creamy inside, and the sherry cut through the richness perfectly. It was the kind of meal you don't find in guidebooks—just a local spo...