Goodness knows what non-Catholics, let alone atheists, must make of it all when visiting Seville. You can’t move in the capital of southern Spain’s quixotic Andalusia region without encountering the striking blend of Catholic suffering and jubilation that Seville seems determined to wear on its sleeve. I couldn’t help noticing it during a month-long stay at a hostel on the thoroughfare of Calle Reyes Católicos in the heart of the city, after my knees and back began telling me it was time to take a break from my extended Camino de Santiago pilgrimage that had hurtled past the 2,000km mark.