Sunshine, Towers, and… Croquettes? My Whirlwind Trip to Seville
Last week I traded my everyday routine for something far spicier—Seville, the sun-drenched jewel of southern Spain, where history whispers from every corner and the weather seems permanently set to “delightful.”
I checked into the Seville Tower Hotel, which turned out to be as gorgeous as its name suggests—sleek, modern, and tall enough to make you feel like you’re surveying your new kingdom.
But Seville has a way of pulling you outside.
The weather was perfect, the kind that makes you want to stroll everywhere and every street felt like a movie set: orange trees framing old stone buildings, hidden plazas popping up when you take a wrong turn, and more history than you could read in a week.
And then… the food. Usually enjoy Spanish food and I’m all for trying local cuisine. I consider myself fairly adventurous. But Seville introduced me to a culinary plot twist I didn’t see coming: croquettes.
Croquettes in bars, croquettes in cafés, croquettes in fancy restaurants—croquettes coming at me like they were part of some deep-fried conspiracy.
By the end, I started feeling like Seville itself was watching me, whispering, “Have another croquette… you know you want to.”
I did not.
Food aside, Seville is charming and vibrant, and filled with enough beauty and history to distract you from even the most aggressively fried menu.
