If any of you know my husband you understand that once he gets an idea in his head, it's not going anywhere until he's either explored all options or thought it out to the end. It was like that with the oranges in Seville. One of the first things I noticed when we arrived late Friday night was all of the orange trees. As I said before, they line almost every street in the city. One of the first things Chris said upon arrival was that you should never eat them because the trees are continually sprayed with pesticides and they're most likely out of season too so they'd be sour. I distinctly remember him saying that because my reply was something like:
"I'm so glad you read that before we came because now we don't have to have the endless debate of 'should I eat one? I'm going to eat one. No, they might be bad, do you think I should?' and we can move on with our lives." And so the issue was dropped and we did move on with our lives. Or so I thought.
The next morning came.
We found ourselves in the Real Alcazar (pictures still to come tomorrow) and lo and behold it held the most beautiful gardens, even before the Spring flowers had sprung, it was enchanting. And the orange trees, everywhere! Chris had this look in his eye and I knew what was coming.
"Maybe they don't spray these with pesticides like the city ones. I should try one, right?"
You win this time, orange. You win.