“Why Sevilla? “ – my friend asked me.

“I do not know… something is calling me” –I said and laughed weirdly when I told her I paid 26 euros for a return ticket. It is the middle of the week and there are better things to do in Sevilla than to be shivering in London. I arrive in 20 degrees and it is already making me want to stay longer, but I only have 3 days here, so I squeeze in whatever I can pull off. I am not doing the famous monuments this time, but searching for the small gems from the times of Andalus.

I have visited this city many times, but I never get bored of its charm, youthful vibe and the colours…those colours of the dresses, scarves and earrings are just…. Sevilla, oh dear, you are swinging your hip unassumingly and I continue to love you for it! This is accompanied by the enthusiastic description of Alvaro, the taxi driver who tells me all I need to know about the festival they hold here yearly, the feria for flamenco- it was the party of the century! The police were kept busy 24 hours because nearly a million people decided they wanted to dance flamenco this year!

Sevilla has its own unique character and atmosphere unlike any other part of Andalucia and I every time I dig deeper into the culture and history, I find another twist to Ishbiliyyah. We paid visits here with our Spanish friends, our Sri Lankan friends, and my mother reminded me before I left at 3.30 this morning before I headed to the airport, that we took the horse cart to see the city in the June sun almost a decade ago. The truth is, Sevilla changes like a woman- each meeting brings out a new perspective on her.

But before I indulge in her beauty, I hunt for lunch, in particular for one of Sevilla’s specialities- pavia de bacalao. It is Sevilla’s answer to fish and chips (without the chips, of course ) and I am told there is no better place than El Rinconcillo, which is, lucky me, 2 minutes’ walk from my hotel. (No, I did not book the hotel because I knew about this place…). As I head for the tapas lunch I try to restrict my legs from going into stylish boutiques where colourful scarves are hanging invitingly. I will pop in on my way home, I promise myself, but for now, I saunter to the tapas place. The bar is like many others I have already seen here full of colourful tiles, hanging legs of pigs and laid back afternoon eaters. So I join them and savour every bite of the cod, it is delicious. Here, they count on a board and write your consumption with chalk in front of you. After the afternoon snack I pass the rows of antique bookstores and of course, pop into to pick two of the many books I could buy…my hand luggage is already full, and I just arrived.

I enjoy feasting on the vibrant colours of the buildings here, but that does not stop me from seeing remnants of mosques. There is a beautiful little church at Plaza Ponce de Leon called Santa Catalina; a friendly building from the outside and is one of the most unique churches in Sevilla combining Gothic, Mudejar and Baroque styles. Built on the original mosque from the 13th century, it was reconstructed in the 14th century after an earthquake. It carries its obvious features as a mosque gallantly and only a stone -throw away from the Fundacion de Mezquita Sevilla, which is open for daily prayers.

The other is a monastery, Santa Paula, and I cannot help but thinking how similar it is to a madrasa. I have not managed to find reliable sources of its history, some dates do not add up, so I take a mental note- it is my homework for tomorrow. But the place is a beautiful oasis of white walls and calm. Another white calm is the semicircular Plaza del Cabildo, where you see the Almohad wall and a university founded in 1254 by Alfonso X.

I wake up early after 8 hours of delicious sleep. The walks, the water, the quiet of the hotel helps, I am sure. I go for my morning walk at 7.30 and the city is almost empty. I pass the old church on my right, then continue towards La Campana, this famous establishment you must try. A cake shop, that is much more than that! It was built in 1885 by a local family specializing in traditional sweets and cakes. But I like this place because it is the vibe of Sevilla. My morning coffee starts with a sweet bread, bollo de leche (a brioche type of bread, sweet, small and light)- and I enjoy watching people popping in and out of the shop, like they come into a friend’s house. I spend a good hour reading my morning paper and gather that this is one of the things the Sevillanos are good at- start their day leisurely, an art I am learning. Believe me, it is an art and I notice how much the people talk here! It is rather intriguing as I catch conversations about blocked pipes, their dog, or the holiday plans. The casualness of it in the cafes and on the streets is what intrigues me, as we do not tend to stop on the streets to chat ( not where I live, anyway).

After waking over 15 kms daily, my hip is hurting today, so I decide to walk slowly. So it takes me some time to walk over the famous bridge of Triana, to the part of Sevilla many do not even consider to be part of Sevilla. Triana is a town on its own; a neighbourhood that was once so independent that once upon a time it was an issue when you crossed the bridge to the other side. I head to the market and pick up 350 gramos de cherries. Sweet and crunchy, I eat them in one go as I walk along Betis street, marvelling the river and the Torre del Oro on the other side. I call my mother and tell her how well I sleep here. Triana is your place if you are seeking to know about flamenco, as many of the famous ones were born and taught here.

The next stop is a house where Antonio Machado, the Spanish poet was born. The spot is Palacio de las Duenas, and I cannot help but think this house has a different history than the one they sell. This certainly does not feel like a house built in the 16th century. If it was, they used the Arab influences extensively, calling it Mudejar (which is true…partly). I spend a good half an hour here while resisting the temptation to believe that this was a house built by a noble family. The layout is too familiar, too close to the layout of houses I am familiar with in Cordoba and Granada- a typical andalusi garden, with four rectangular shaped gardens around the central fountain- the design that arrived from the Persian and Abbasid courts and became the signature design of most andalusi gardens.

Before I head for dinner under the second biggest original mosque in Sevilla now the Iglesia Salvador, I sit in the Casa de Libro reading a newish book by Antonio Manuel. He wrote one on origin of flamenco and this is a rough translation of its blurb: The “archeology” of flamenco is an exciting defence of the Andalusian, Moorish, gypsy and black roots of Flamenco. Written with an elegant alloy of rigor and beauty, Antonio Manuel demonstrates that at the origin of names is the spring of the deep that entire generations have drunk from, singing of pain and the sacred, in Andalusian and from memory. Much more than a book about Flamenco, it reveals the clandestine history of the peninsula that the people guarded in their songs, plays and dances. A Flamenco book that will pierce the heart and reason of whoever reads it.

The Plaza del Salvador is heaving with people by 7.30pm. I take one high table, struggle to feel comfortable, but the church towering in front of me diverts me from the discomfort. I sit under the umbrella as it starts drizzling, and I think about the destiny of this church. After the Romans and Visigoths fell, the Muslims from North Africa came in and built the mosque, Ibn Adabbas, on this very spot in 879AD and they city was called Ishbyllia. For three centuries this mosque was the focus of religious worship, with the Zoco, or market and trading area, in Plaza del Pan behind the church and in the narrow streets around, which still remain, although its names have been changed multiple times. Since 1914 it is called Plaza Jesús de la Pasión.

After my visit to Sevilla, I am convinced that the real journey to Andalucia is when you start putting small mosaic pieces of history together. Each corner offers a glimpse of a life Muslims created here and while I am fascinated, I am also keen to uncover the hidden parts we do not find in guidebooks.

You will certainly enjoy the Giralda, the Alcazar- both of which heaving with the presence of Muslims in their formation. What is there is truly magnificent, and we should all find our own connection with those places. For me, the journey is about excavating the invisible bits of history from underneath of conversations, a glimpse of a Moroccan worker, or a tile hidden under a plastered wall as I pass by. To me, this is history talking and an effort I am willing to make over and over again.