He Who Has Not Seen Seville, Has Not Seen a Miracle (2/2)

Solidarity

The fear of confinement erased both nationality and background. Nigeria, Egypt, Switzerland, Sweden, Germany, France... People who had been distant for no reason began to open up, and in an instant, became the closest of friends. In a disconnected world, I felt it anew: Humans are terribly social animals who cannot stand alone.

Encounter with Naked Civilization

Then, someone tossed out a sentence.

“It’s too unfair to come all this way and not see the Plaza de España.”

That one sentence lit the fuse.

“It must be closed.”

“Let’s climb the wall.”

We decided to become accomplices.

Excluding two who were too scared, (True. They were right. Perhaps the COVID situation had made us lose our minds.) four fearless souls stepped into the dawn streets. The fear of being caught by soldiers mixed with the thrill of coveting the forbidden. Stepping on each other’s shoulders and pulling each other’s hands, we climbed over the firmly locked iron gate.*

And the scene we faced—a nightscape where time seemed to stand still.

It was breathtaking.

The massive semi-circular square, always bustling with thousands of crowds, was perfectly empty. Like a movie set where humanity had evaporated. Filling the space where the scent of people had vanished was a cold silence representing the times, and the scent of orange and lime blossoms screaming as if this had nothing to do with them.

Fortunately, the lights were still on. It looked like a goddess sleeping naked, having shed the voluminous clothing of crowds.

We became the owners of that empty square, walking and walking. An intimate conversation with the architect who had just finished building this plaza. Things only visible where people have vanished—the patterns of tiles, the curves of columns, and the texture of bricks, which had been buried under the noise of tourists. A sudden encounter with naked civilization, seemingly saying, “This is how I was designed.”

In the absence of noise, I faced the pure structural beauty intended by the architect—that miraculous beauty itself.

In the unreal landscape, only the sound of our breaths and footsteps echoed. In that dizzying silence, and the inherent perfection of the plaza made clearer by it, I felt it.

‘This place... is dead.’

I am seeing the emptiest beauty in the world right now. I realize that no matter how beautiful, this is a ‘Plaza.’

And I think. That vast empty space designed by the architect was not meant to remain empty, but to be filled with the warmth of people.

I feel that the essence of a plaza lies not in its own beauty, but in the noise of the people who fill it.

Escape, and to the UK

The dreamlike deviation was brief; reality tightened its grip fast. Word came that flights were being cut off. Seville was beautiful, but we couldn’t stay trapped indefinitely. Thinking that isolation indistinguishable from home is not travel.

Then, a piece of news caught my eye. British Prime Minister Boris Johnson was attempting a ‘herd immunity’ strategy. That seemingly reckless statement, “I’ll catch it first”, looked like the only exit to me.

“The UK’s sky will be the last to close. We have to go there.”

Some Korean friends agreed with my judgment, and we packed as if fleeing. And so, my first trip to Spain came to a muddled end.

Epilogue: The True Miracle Lies in People

All scheduled itineraries were canceled, and tourist sites were closed. I went to see “Seville,” but I could not see Seville. If graded, it was a zero-point trip—a complete failure.

“He who has not seen Seville, has not seen a miracle.”

Back in Korea, I think of the latte handed through the back door of the closed café and the owner’s smile. I think of the friends on the rooftop who embraced each other amidst fear. What we realize only after losing it— That the taste of travel we sought so desperately comes from something flowing between people.

I saw the miracle of Seville’s naked face in the empty square and streets, an experience not easily had. But instinctively, I realize. The ‘Miracle of Seville’ that people shouted about was not this. It was the people gathered there, the heat itself.

I will go back to Seville. To see the completed plaza, designed by an architect and finished by people—to see that miracle.

(End of ‘He Who Has Not Seen Seville, Has Not Seen a Miracle’)

• I know. It was wrong. Please view it as a childish deviation from my younger days.

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