Seville, Spain

There was an incident at the airport, and after an hour of running-arounds and phone-calls (my English is so fluent when I'm pissed!), I was just glad to be on the plane. Even in a middle seat. (If memory serves, I even picked a seat -- a window seat.) 
Many hours and one transfer later, I arrived in Seville. Autumn weather, cute little hotel, and the taxi driver gave me an orange. My luck started to pick up.

I had been to Seville 5 years ago. It was late May, and all I remembered was the heat. I vaguely remembered a labyrinth of narrow alleys and some adorable Murillo paintings in the museum, but pretty much everything else had been wiped out by a sudden attack of an untimely heat.
Ah... being in Seville in a pleasantly chilly weather. That made all the difference in the world. I will say this up front. I loved, LOVED, every minute and every inch of it.

...even though I got lost 2 minutes after stepping outside the hotel. But hey, that's an Andalucian welcome session for you.