Seville is a city that grabs you by the collar, pulls you into a smoky bar, and pours you a glass of sherry before you even know what hit you. It’s old, it’s beautiful, and it’s unapologetically itself. The air is thick with the scent of orange blossoms and sizzling pork fat, and the streets hum with the sounds of flamenco—raw, aching, and alive.

This is Andalusia at its most intoxicating. The Alcázar feels like a fever dream of Moorish kings, while the Seville Cathedral, with its towering Giralda, reminds you that this was once the beating heart of a global empire. But Seville isn’t just about its past—it’s about long, raucous nights hopping from one packed tapas bar to the next, elbowing your way in for a plate of jamón ibérico, grilled gambas, or salmorejo so smooth it’ll ruin you for regular tomato soup forever.

And if you time it right, you’ll witness Seville at its most electrifying—during Semana Santa, where hooded processions march solemnly through candlelit streets, or the Feria de Abril, a week-long explosion of music, dance, and revelry fueled by rebujito and reckless joy.

Seville doesn’t try to impress you. It doesn’t need to. It just is. And if you surrender to it, even for a few days, it’ll get under your skin in a way few places can.