A Pause in Seville

            I'm feeling a little guilty about leaving my main character in the lurch.

            He's been stuck near a plaza in Seville for three or four weeks. He's approaching a house: "Gonzalo hesitantly approached the house from the narrow street, admiring its facade." It belongs to a former school mate of his and the well-off merchant she's married.

            The street, I've decided, is Borceguinería (now called Mateos Gago, after a fierce 19th century   priest and professor at University of Seville who was--it sounds like--fanatically opposed to Darwin's theories... but that's another story).

            The street was named Borceguinería until 1893, though precisely why is a mystery. Since the name goes back to the middle ages, perhaps it refers to a street of sandal-makers? That's how the Royal Spanish Academy dictionary defines the word borceguinería: a workshop where sandals are made or a neighborhood where sandals are sold. At least, I think a borcegui is a sandal; one source says "shoelaces," but the same Royal Academy dictionary describes it as footwear reaching to the ankle, open in the front that's adjusted with cords or laces. Which sounds to me like a sandal, right?

Entrance to Royal Palace

            The street's proximity to the cathedral and the royal palace make it a likely location for successful merchants of the time, I would think. It wouldn't have been as  fancy as one of the broad avenues where the nobility had their palaces. In fact, for centuries it was so narrow and twisty that there were complaints about it. Then in the 1920s, when Seville was preparing for the extravagant Iberoamerican Exposition that was to take place in 1929,  major work was done on the street to turn it into a more user-friendly thoroughfare--though today it's one-way and hardly suitable for drag racing.

Cathedral wall, by plaza

            Despite its age-old twists, it did end on a plaza beside the cathedral where new money at the turn of the 15th century might well have met with folks who had names, the hidalgos, the children of somebody (as opposed to nobody).

            This is how my story goes, and why it's the never-ending novel. My characters roll along, moving through their lives according to their wishes (mostly), and then the main character gets stuck.

            Or do I? Niggling questions crop up, like: what's the name of the street? Where exactly is this house? While digging into possibilities of street and location, in the background are questions about what the characters have to do to accomplish the actions they're considering. Gonzalo hesitates on the street because he's not sure what will happen when he enters the house. That's because I'm not sure how the young adults about to confront each other will react.

            I do know that shortly, my character is pretty well decided he'll head out to the newly discovered lands, on an expedition leaving in February 1502 (he's stuck at the edge of the plaza in January of that same year). The story bridge between the plaza and the voyage is a reunion of childhood companions, some of whom may, or may not, go with him on the expedition headed by Nicolás de Ovando--who was a real and not very appealing person.

Cathedral: Orange Tree Plaza

            Stories have their own logic. I'm not entirely sure why Gonzalo is hesitating before going into the house; it may be that this whole sequence should be torn up and thrown away. The characters are being a little coy with me. Maybe they want a summer vacation? They've been doing their jobs pretty steadily since January, despite a number of short interruptions surrounding changed location as I've moved about.

            Or maybe, they just don't want to leave Seville.

            I can sympathize with that.