Aracena and Sevilla, June 20

 Left apartamento at 6:15 but outsmarted myself because it was not yet light enough to distinguish the path from what I thought was the path, so I headed through a gate that clearly one was not supposed to pass through (its being covered with a heavy shmatah and locked were good  indications), and, after some minutes, found myself in the middle of a horse farm.  “This cannot be right,” I thought, and it was not. A horse farm is bound to be fenced and gated so that the horses don’t “excape,” so what to do?  I espied a gate that had a-j u s t-wide-enough space between two of the rails for me to squeeze through, but, though closer, I was still not on the route. Moving in the direction indicated by the magenta line on the GPS, I now espied a dry stone wall.  “I bet I am supposed to be on the other side of that wall,” I thought (again).  But wall was a little too high to scale, so I took some stones from the top to make a footstool. Yup! Up and over!  I was on the way to Alájar where the dueño of the posada had agreed to act as taxista and drive me to Sevilla.

En route to Alájar, among the pigs and the sheep and the barking dogs, olive trees and chestnut, were some cork trees recently harvested:

Approaching Alájar:  

The walk was only three and a half hours, but it was a satisfying finale to this whole, grand expedition.  

The old city of Sevilla is dominated by the cathedral.  This is just a corner of it. 

To see more, go here: https://www.google.com/search?q=cathedral+of+seville+height&sxsrf=ALiCzsaFJL7OH3uw8m7FDIrKMjRvR0wuIg:1655752692576&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjxnc6437z4AhWCR_EDHbDuCOcQ_AUoAXoECAIQAw&biw=1307&bih=723&dpr=2.2

My plan was to go to the Museum of Fine Arts, but, it being Monday, all the museums were closed, so I hunted and gathered and walked around.  This is one lively city!

Tons of shops!  One sold flamenco dresses for dolls:

And shoes for wanna-be flamenco dancers:

There were bins of spices and teas:

The smells were divine!
 

Upon returning to the hotel, I began the brutal process of tossing supplies to make more room in the suitcase.  This is because my backpack, which would normally share the load, broke—it is usable but it digs into my back something fierce, so for the train ride to Madrid and the flight home, it will contain only the necessities.  Of course, what constitutes "a necessity" becomes the next challenge.