Tue–Wed, Lisbon. Arrival, then the Alfama tuk-tuk at golden hour; a private Belém run with guide Sam — Belém Tower, photos at Jerónimos, the giant compass-rose mosaic, and the original Pastéis de Belém (unanimous winner). Dinner at the Time Out Market, with Pepin's running gag — Vasco da Gama sailed to India for spices and the food still came back bland — going strong all night.
Thu, June 4 — Lisbon → Tavira → Seville. A whitewashed coffee stop in Tavira and its "Roman" bridge, the drive across the Guadiana into Andalusia, and check-in at the Silken Al-Andalus Palace. Then the big one: the Corrida del Corpus Christi at the Real Maestranza — back after a 16-year absence, sold out, with Morante de la Puebla, Juan Ortega and Pablo Aguado on the bill. Marco and Pepin took it in at the most storied bullring in Spain. A night Seville had waited a long time for.
Breakfast at the hotel, then the one included activity: a guided Seville city tour (~3 hours, easy walking) through the Barrio de Santa Cruz, past La Giralda, and into the Cathedral (the Gothic interior visit is included). After that, the whole afternoon is at leisure — siesta, pool, a wander, or a long Andalusian lunch. No fixed evening plan, so pace the heat and enjoy a slow one after yesterday's marathon.
Begun in 1401 on the footprint of the old Almohad mosque, Seville Cathedral (Santa María de la Sede) is the largest Gothic cathedral on the planet and the third-largest church of any kind. The legend is that the canons who commissioned it said: "Let us build a church so great that those who see it finished will think we were mad." Mission accomplished — it took over a century. Inside sits the tomb of Christopher Columbus, his coffin held aloft by four giant heralds representing the kingdoms of Castile, León, Aragón and Navarre.
The cathedral's famous tower started life as the minaret of the great Almohad mosque, finished around 1198. When the Christians took Seville in 1248 they kept the tower and, centuries later, simply crowned it with a Renaissance belfry — so the bottom two-thirds is 12th-century Moorish brickwork and the top is 16th-century Christian. You don't climb stairs to the top; you walk up 35 gentle ramps, built wide enough that the muezzin (and later, guards on horseback) could ride up.
The tangle of lanes beside the cathedral is Santa Cruz, Seville's former judería (Jewish quarter) until the expulsions and pogroms of the late Middle Ages. The streets were deliberately kept narrow and twisting — partly medieval defense, mostly to throw shade and funnel the breeze in a city that routinely tops 40°C in summer. Whitewashed walls, flower-filled patios, hidden plazas, the odd orange tree: this is the Seville of the postcards.
Update: PM Pedro Sánchez has now formally launched the groundwork for a 2027 national budget, effectively conceding there will be no 2026 budget — meaning Spain rolls over its 2023 accounts for a third straight year. The opposition PP dismissed the move as "publicidad" (advertising), noting he's made similar promises before without the votes to pass them, and Junts again publicly told him to call elections rather than lean on Catalan support. A reminder that the government you're a guest of is governing without a budget majority.
Two days after Wednesday's big general strike against the government's labour-reform package, life is back to normal — Metro and trains running, the PM off at an EU–Western Balkans summit. But the unions and the opposition aren't standing down: far-right leader André Ventura vowed the labour law "will be defeated where it has to be — in Parliament," and the CGTP has hinted at more action. The reform fight just moves from the streets to the chamber.
The region you're in is wrapping its Corpus Christi week (Seville's own procession filled the center on Wednesday), and there's a cheerful local data point: unemployment fell again in Andalusia as the tourism-and-services season ramps up. Expect the city busy, festive and hot — peak Seville. A new low-cost retailer is even reopening the old Plaza de Armas station nearby this weekend.
Should Spain shield people who occupy homes they can't pay for from being evicted?
Why it's live right now: Spain's "okupa" (squatting) question is back on the boil. An express-eviction law that promised to clear illegal occupations in about 15 days has been in force since 2025, but housing groups and owners argue this spring over whether it actually works — while the government's anti-eviction decree keeps shielding vulnerable occupants (those earning under roughly €1,800 a month, or €2,200 with a child) from being thrown out. Andalusia, where you're standing, is one of the loudest fronts.
Occupation is "intolerable" — but it's also a minority problem, and the real crisis is housing, not squatting. That's the line from Justice and Presidency Minister Félix Bolaños, who defends the decree's shield for genuinely vulnerable families: a single mother behind on rent or a household earning under €1,800 shouldn't be put on the street with nowhere to go in the middle of a housing emergency. Supporters note the protections are means-tested and temporary, and that the express-eviction law already exists for true break-ins. Punishing poverty, they argue, doesn't build a single new home.
Property rights have to mean something. Andalusian president Juanma Moreno (PP), whose party just swept the region, demands "strict laws" against squatting and rent-default, arguing the decree effectively rewards occupation and dumps the cost on ordinary owners — often small landlords with one or two flats, not faceless funds. Owners' associations say months of legal limbo and unpayable mortgages are the real injustice, and that the express law is toothless in practice. Even the Basque PNV insisted small owners be carved out before backing the measure — a sign the criticism isn't only on the right.
Where it might land: no one's proposing to legalize squatting, and no one's scrapping tenant protection — the fight is over where the line sits between a vulnerable family and a freeloader, and who pays while the courts decide.
Havana — your talking point for a Spanish kid your age: "¿Es justo proteger a quien ocupa una casa que no puede pagar?" Everyone here has an opinion on the okupas.
United States
Puerto Rico