I imagined that southern Spain would throng with sunshine and crowds. As my train blurred through fog-cloaked olive groves with snow packed on the ground, I had to readjust.
I wandered, almost alone, through one of Seville’s best known monuments, the Real Alcázar, bound in a hat, coat and gloves. It felt as though winter had chased the world away and the palace, designed for so many, felt empty with so few.
Finally, a woman stepped into view, a tiny amber glow visible as she lit a candle, the whisper of a prayer on her breath.Then she stepped back, her arms by her sides…and posed for the camera.
Here again, reality challenged my illusions but showed me a different kind of beauty.
We never really travel alone.
