I arrived in Seville at night and managed to snag one of the few free parking spots in the city, right next to a small plaza.
But directly across from my sleeping spot (the van) was an open-air party, the bass shaking the air.
Sleeping? Impossible. So, freshly arrived, I decide to join the party instead.
At the entrance, two security guards check my ID and wave me through without a second thought.
Everyone is celebrating, the night air is warm, and let’s just say… some people are very lightly dressed.
After a while, someone knocks the hat off my head.
A group of guys in their mid-thirties are having the time of their lives pranking each other, and I get caught up in it too.
One of them asks me for a light – I pretend to hand it to him, snatch the cigarette out of his mouth, and take a drag myself. Ice officially broken.
Turns out, I stumbled into a private pre-wedding party.
I spend a long time talking with a guy from Zaragoza about Elliott Smith.
Around 4 a.m., I finally crawl into my van to sleep – the music still blasting until 6 a.m.
When I wake up, I discover that someone has puked all over the back window of my van. Beautiful.
Still, I set out to explore the city.
Seville is stunning.
Today, the city hosts the big Barcelona vs. Real Madrid match – and the streets are already buzzing by noon.
I play a set at Plaza de España.
It’s hot. Really hot. And honestly, I’m just not feeling it today.
Tourists swarm around, filming and taking pictures, but at the end of the set, only eight euros land in my guitar case.
Feeling a little defeated, I walk back to my van.
Another party is starting nearby.
I realize I can’t handle another night like this – so I hit the road again, heading toward Cádiz.
