I left Madrid for Seville in the final minutes of dawn, chasing the golden sunrise. Aboard a barely occupied Renfe train, I gazed out the window, spellbound by the landscape rolling, changing, coming to life before my eyes. It was early enough in my trip that I’d still been able to capture that experience in my journal. Looking back at it now, I’d say that was the exact moment I fell in love with Spain and its cities – each, I’d come to know, with its own distinct personality. Seville was one of those places I’d discovered while plotting my itinerary – a stop to bring me one step closer to Barcelona. My friends who’d been there told me it was so nice. Beautiful. Lovely. It didn’t take me long to add my own adjectives to the list. Vibrant. Enchanting. Golden. From its bright, cloudless skies to its colorful, intricately detailed architecture to the tinto de verano that burst with flavor on my tongue, Seville was golden. I rented a room in an Airbnb in Seville’s Triana …