I went to Seville, Spain for an industrial trade conference on diesel generators I sold and serviced. The factory sponsored the event, paying for all expenses except travel to the venue.  At conclusion of the conference, I detoured to Brest France, to their corporate headquarters, for a factory tour.
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5, April
Sevilla, Spain

Travel tips for Sevilla;
Sleep is overrated. The wines are understated. The food leaves you elated.

Walk everywhere, you miss too much in a taxi or bus.

We started off with a breakfast buffet that was supposed to be 'continental'. Not one of those croissant and a banana type continentals, this was CONTINENTAL! There were foods from every continent, a bar for each one. The American food was full of the usual pancakes, bacon, eggs, dry cereal with milk, and sliced fruits. I passed on that and went for the local tastes. The Spanish buffet was an assortment of tapas including these little potato-quiche-garlic thingys that can't be missed.

I'm going on a diet as soon as I get home.

After eating, we had a general assembly of all of the attendees, with speeches by the Company executives and the President of our biggest competitor,. Hmmm… I smell a merger announcement comming. This lasted four hours and included a review of all the financials from last year, the projections for next, and touched on the events upcoming this week.

We broke for lunch, a buffet of Spanish cold cuts, little fish finger foods. I loaded my plate with cold cuts, then...what's that over there on the other wall...Oh! PAELLA!... the buffet was for all the Americans, English, and Irish...those not afraid of flavor were indulging in the steaming compilation of mussels, prawns, scallops, and large grain rice emanating the sweet aroma of saffron! All this was complimented by a sampling of local Andalusian red wines and marinated olives.

I'm going on a diet as soon as I get home.

Then they, tortured us by splitting us into groups based on geographic territories, and subjecting us to a four hour workshop, hosted by a mono-tonic, Frenchman whose English was so bad, I understood him better when he repeated each sentence in French. They tell me his Spanish was just as bad. It was like listening to the recording at the white curb at the airport.

In the afternoon, we had about forty five minutes to ourselves before loading us on busses and taking us about two miles away to a restaurant on the bank of the Rio Grande, for dinner. During the cocktail hour, a monsoonal rain blew in and we all had to run inside for cover. I would have loved to dine outside with the view of the Torre de Oro. This sit-down dinner was again an overabundance of Spanish tapas, exotic cold cuts, followed by a Salmon and marinated red pepper dish with relishy chopped salad. We tasted more Andalusian wines, sherries, and ports. Desert was a chocolate and light cream tart served with an Amontillado.

I'm going on a diet as soon as I get home.

We took a walk back to the Melia where the evening salutation was held in the hotel's cantina, (called a Corona) with more local red wine. This went on till the wee hours, and I had to leave earlier than the rest and pour myself into bed. If I stop drinking today, I might be detoxified by some time next week.

Until tomorrow...


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