Sunday, June 7, 2020

Not Quite Irish Enough

The Andalucian city of Seville is an attractive harmony of Mudéjar architecture, a mix of Moorish, Arabian, and Gothic styles. There are historic landmarks, of course, and the occasional ultra-modern construction (common in Europe now), but the entire inner city is lovely. 



The Metropol Parasol (locally called Las Setas) was a 10-minute walk from my front door. 

The day before I arrived in Seville in October 2018 the temperature hit 38 degrees Celcius. The day after I left in June 2019 it hit 38 again. That's 100-plus degrees Fahrenheit. Seville is the hottest city in Europe. Most of the year, that's a plus. If I'd been able to stay in Spain, I planned to move to Malaga or Valencia in order to add the Mediterranean to my stock photography coverage. I did not leave Spain because of the climate. Healthcare insurance was my undoing. Without healthcare insurance, I could not qualify for a residency visa. 

I'm gonna stop right here. I would need 30 more pages to try to explain all the dos and don't, the step by step, the endless reasons why I could not settle in Spain. And it's possible that I am wrong about some of it. Was it a crushing disappointment? Would I rather be living in Spain than in the UK? Not really. I'm not a sunshine beachgoer, and I don't speak much Spanish. (I speak more Spanish than Merseyside Scouse, however.) I like both Spain and the UK. And I could, of course, go to a beach here in Liverpool, but that would mean dipping my toes into the frosty Irish Sea. 



I took this picture in February.

As things began to look hopeless in Seville, I packed and flew to Ireland, hoping that I could settle there. Unfortunately, I could not make that happen either, even though I hold Irish citizenship.  

Most of Ireland is far too expensive now. I took the train from Dublin to Sligo, the home of my ancestors. Sligo is a pleasant little sleepy city on the west coast just below the Ulster border. Although W. B. Yates was not born in Sligo, he grew up there and is considered their native son.




The Yates Memorial in Sligo.

A local real estate office took my information and told me they would call if something came up. The message that I read on the broker's face told me nothing was going to come up. I liked it in Sligo, but after a week, I rode the bus to Galway, a much larger, hipper, happening locale. 

In Galway, waving my Irish passport around proved both fruitless and frustrating. Navigating the bureaucracy in Galway was hopeless. I suspected that there were two problems: my age and a general, unstated policy that Ireland would like to slow down immigration. A friendly rental agency and my hotel manager told me that, and they both suggested Liverpool. With an Irish passport in Liverpool, I am both part of the Special Relationship and still able to come and go from EU nations as I please. So here I am. 



I understand the shopping baskets on the bikes. The hats are a Celtic mystery.

If the pandemic lockdown is still in place next week, and I'm sure it will be, I guess I will talk some more about Liverpool.

Stay safe.


2 comments:

  1. Love the Metropole Parasol building in Seville.

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  2. We were planning a trip to Seville, which I was really looking forward. Unfortunately, a bereavement in the family were to be staying with meant a postponement. Then, their situation changed and they had to sell up and return to England. Looking at your Seville photos, helps make up for the disappointment though, Edo.
    Enjoying your blogs - keep them coming.

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