Viva Espana!

As the whole world knows by now, Spain won the World Cup! My intrepid housemates and I decided to support Holland. Wearing orange in a Spanish city on final game day is tempting fate, but our commitment to the Orange was unflappable!

Soccer fans convened in restaurants and bars all over Sevilla to watch the long awaited match. So, we took to the streets wearing all manner of orange and Dutch flags. Most Spaniards were satisfied with innocent teasing. The more avaricious fans ordered us to stay out of their bars, brandishing vuvuzelas like shotguns. Eep!

All of our favorite game watching haunts were full to capacity and turning people away. Those lucky enough to secure seats inside had come a couple of hours beforehand. We tardy refugees ended up in the middle of the action in the city center, right by the Cathedral. Thousands of people clustered in the street jostling and craning for views of the few flatscreen televisions hung outside of the bars. With all eyes on the World Cup, the spirit was electric, even if we orange were very much in the minority. Everyone was drunk with sports mania, alcohol or both.

Throughout the game the crowd erupted in spontaneous chants. The favorite by far was "Yo soy espanol!!!", to which we would reply "yo soy hollandaise!!!!". Like I said, we were tempting fate.

With two incredibly talented teams, the first two quarters progressed with no goals.

La Fiebre de Futbol

With Spain set to take on the Netherlands this Sunday for the World Cup title, football madness has reached fever pitch here in Sevilla. This past Thursday Daphne, Lisa and I watched the game in our favorite sports watching spot, Flagerty's. The place was overflowing with fans of Equipo Espania dressed in all forms of regalia- flag capes, body paint and bull horns. As soon as Spain registered its victory over Germany people took to the streets in droves. Teenagers clustered in plazas snapping photos and chanting "Espania!" until the wee hours of the morning. Drivers honked their car horns while waving flags out passers by. It was a parade of athletic nationalism.


The fervor has subsided a bit since yesterday, but it is sure to return one hundred fold on Sunday. I am excited but a little afraid to see what Seveillans will do if Equipo Espano wins.

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin' on the River

Yesterday I enjoyed a leisurely cruise on Sevilla's Rio Guadalquivir. We departed from the Torro de Ore, a moorish tower formerly used to store gold. From here we traveled a short distance in each direction. A recording described famous sites as we passed them, but I was more interested in the quotidian activities of the Sevillans in and around the river.
As we lazily glided up the river, I spotted a group of kayakers that reminded me of a whale pod. On the river banks, Sevillans draped themselves listlessly across blankets and rocks, wilting in the Sevillan heat. Kids jumped off the banks and into the cool river below. A few children even flashed their behinds at us passerbys. Apparently mooning transcends geopolitical divides.

La Isla Magica!

On Sunday my housemates and I fled the infernal Sevillan summer heat to La Isla Magica, an amusement park in Sevilla http://www.islamagica.es/. It was so hot that I felt like a camel in the Sahara all afternoon. Needless to say, we went on all of the water rides. Mike got the most soaked of us all. We also sampled the roller coasters, which were fun, but caused my face to be frozen somewhere between terror and exhilaration. Somehow, Mike managed to look completely calm on every candid ride photo, even the rides with surprises. Amazing!

On the way out of the park I caught a glimpse of a nightly water fountain show. It reminded me very much of the water show in front of the Bellagio in Las Vegas. I remembered watching undulating water sprays in Las Vegas a couple of years ago (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cP0K6H2QK7A), idly wondering where I might be in the future. Seeing the same watery arcs here in Sevilla, I was filled with serenity, content in the knowledge that I had achieved this very Sevillan adventure, and all other blessings in my life, by living the life that I dreamed of and by taking chances. To combine the wisdom of Eleanor Roosevelt and Robert Frost, I did the thing which I did not think I could do, and that has made all the difference.

Fin de Semana...Muy Tipico

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Here at La Casa Cucaracha we kicked off the weekend with a barbecue on our roof. It was a true family effort- Isabel and Joanna made divine pasta salads, Mike and Shiro brought beverages and I found contributed snacks and fruit galore. But the best part by far was our 7 Euro grill. At that price, I was not convinced that the grill would stand upright, let alone cook meat. But, much to my delight, the grill was a better cook than George Forman. Some friends from the language school came over for a refreshingly breezy Seveillan evening under the stars- a perfect start to the weekend.

Saturday has been a leisurely day of World Cup spectatorship. First up, I met Daphne and Lisa at our old World Cup watching haunt, Flaherty's Irish Pub, to watch Germany take on Argentina. Germany scored an absolutely gorgeous goal a couple of minutes into the first half which set the tone for the rest of the game. As far as I can tell, Argentina plays very physically aggressively (dare I say a little too rough?), so i was pleased to see Germany win with great technique and sportsmanship. That said, Argentina is quite skilled, and really gave Germany a run for its money. It was an exciting game! On a side note, does anyone else wonder what happens when the players fall down? I understand that some of the tumbles are harmless, but on other occasions the camera pulls away from a player crumpled up on the ground and nothing further is said of his fate. Is there a black hole of downed soccer players (and my unmatched socks)?

After the game, Lisa accompanied me on a trip to H&M to buy a bathing suit. I am now proud owner of a swimsuit with a comical quantity of sequins. My mother will be very proud. No really she will. She likes the glitz.

In the evening we housemates convened in the living room to watch Spain vs. Paraguay. This match was decidedly less exciting, probably because I spent most of it deeply engrossed in my laptop:) Tonight we hope to dance the night away in typical Seveillan style. I have already had 2 coffees in preparation.

And tomorrow, we are off to the Isla Magica amusement park. Muy tipico por la vida Sevilla!

Regular Irregularity

In the Spanish language, there are so many irregular verbs that the regular ones seem strange. Life as a foreign language student in Sevilla is the same: it is a parallel universe in which the irregular is the norm. With students arriving and departing every week, our social spheres are constantly in flux. And with this ever-changing cast of characters, one week in Seville is profoundly different from the next.

I have already had so many wonderful, if overwhelming, adventures to process after only 2.5 weeks in Sevilla. So, today's field trip to Seville's Cathedral offered a welcome opportunity to gain perspective, both literally and figuratively.

The Cathedral is a massive monument (the third largest Catholic church in the world after the Hagia Sophia and St. Peter's Basilica) that dominates the historic center of Sevilla. The Cathedral is composed of a vast grey stone Gothic structure. As with so much of Sevillan culture, the Cathedral is built upon the foundations of a preexisting moorish monument, a mosque. In fact, the church's bell tower, La Giralda, is a re-purposed minaret. The bottom two thirds of this tower date back to the moors.

Most companiles (bell towers) in Europe consist of claustrophobic passages crammed with vertigo-inducing stairs and too many tourists. La Giralda, however, is a refreshing change from the norm. Rather than stairs there are 35 gentle ramps, which back in moorish times allowed the prayer callers to reach the top of the tower on horseback. The climb is easy, despite the oppressive July heat. Windows along the journey to the top help orient you and track your ascent. The view from the top of the tower is a treat. From here the city of Sevilla extends in all four directions. Buildings are clustered all around La Giralda, some with roofs adorned by electric blue swimming pools (all the more tempting on a sweltering day like today!), others with sunbathers and satellite dishes. And, off in the distance beyond the urban tangle of whitewashed apartments and church domes, there is the dusty orange earth of the olive farms.

The rest of the Cathedral consists of the Patio of Oranges (also dating back to the mosque). I felt like a pancake on a griddle standing in this Patio under the blazing sun, and I left as quickly as possible. In general, Seville's prediction for orange trees in general is a bit of a mystery. All of the guidebooks say that the oranges are absolutely awful tasting, so it's not clear why these rancid fruits have been cultivated for so long.

The Cathedral itself has a gargantuan interior. The soaring space suggests the incredible wealth of Seville from the Reconquista through the eighteenth century. You cannot help but feel a bit small as you stare up at the stained glass windows high above. The Cathedral is a consummate declaration of power and opulence, quite different from the cluttered baroque churches used by Sevillans daily.

Tomorrow my housemates and I host a barbecue, on Saturday we go for a night time paseo and Sunday we go to the water park.

Here in Sevilla, regular irregularity leads to adventure. As a store window on the Calle Tuetan says "el tiempo es ahora." Seize the spontoneity, seize the day!

Hot as a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

I have heard that Seville is as hot as the Sahara in July, and I believe it. The last two days have been boiling. Yesterday Lisa, Daphne and I intended to visit a museum. Instead, halfway there and almost completely molten, we gave up and went to an Irish pub to watch World Cup soccer. By the time we reached Flagerty's we looked a lot like the fellow in the photo on the left- partially disentegrated and besotted with sweat. Nevertheless, in our travels I discovered a pet shop selling chipmunks. Chipmunks as pets?!

Café Porque Aquí

Saturday was one of those days where one glimpses the extraordinary in the mundane. It began with a trip to the tapas bar around the corner from home. Sidling up to the counter I requested my usual "cafe con leche para llevar" (coffee with milk to go). I had things to do- verbs to conjugate, vocabulary to memorize and laundry to ignore. The jovial bartender, Santiago, however, would have none of this. His coffee was to be savored at the bar. Santiago had control of the precious espresso machine, and therefore all of the bargaining power. I conceded and received my cafe in the typical glass. I soon realized that Santiago was right: the bar turned out to be prime real estate for participating in the local social scene. The bar is patronized by all types of locals- patricians, middle aged duenas, and women with infants to name a few. All engage in fast paced, jovial banter with Santiago and his mother, who are also the restaurant's owners. Santiago introduced me to a distinguished looking octogenarian in a dapper fedora, who turned out to be a bit of a flirt. Santiago looked on mischievously as the distinguished gentleman asked if I had plans for that evening.

Later, on the way to a flamenco bar with friends we spotted no fewer than a dozen brides. They materialize in alarming number during Saturday evening sunsets. Some newlyweds go for a triumphant ride around the Old City. One such couple passed by in a classic horse drawn carriage with white horses. The bride was resplendent in lace and satin. The groom was equally elegantly attired in sky blue tuxedo with coattails, accessorized with a top hat and, the piece de resistance, a pimp cane.

Italica

Continuing on the Roman theme, on Thursday I visited the ruins of Italica, a mere 9 kilometers oustide of Sevilla. Highlights included well-preserved mosaics in aristocrats' homes and an amphitheater. Large enough to seat 20,000, the amphitheater drew crowds from neighboring cities. In addition, I learned about a new section of the theater, the vomitorium. The name is self explanatory. This section definitely was not included in the tour of Rome's Coliseum. Despite playing a gladiator from ancient Spain in the blockbuster "Gladiator", Russell Crowe was not at the amphitheater when I visited. Hrmph. :)

More on the archaeology of Italica: http://www.livius.org/io-iz/italica/italica2.html

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the...

...Alhambra. Granadans have a Moorish masterpiece, and a sense of humor. The photo of the t-shirt (a sentiment after my own heart:)) was taken at a souvenir stand just outside the Alhambra's grounds. The other two photographs is from a fountain in the Plaza Bib Rambla. These uncouth eye-level grotesques spit water at passers-by, while a somber Neptune surveys the Plaza from up above. With a pigeon on his head. p.s. David tells me that the t-shirt is by a company based in Pamplona called Kukuxumusu. They sell all sorts of fun cartoon designs: http://www.kukuxumusu.com/shop/.

La Alhambra: un Sueño Hecho Realidad

his weekend I I made an art historical pilgrimage of sorts to the Alhambra in Granada. I dreamed of visiting this magnificent place ever since learning about it in Professor Bonde's class, Muslims, Jews and Christians in Medieval Iberia, way back in 2000. It was everything I imagined and more!

The Alhambra is in fact a complex composed of several buildings, including a Moorish fortress, a Moorish palace and the Palace of Charles V. As with many surviving Moorish Andalusian sites, the Palace of Charles is in part a monument to Christian triumph over the Moors.

The Royal Complex is by far my favorite section of the Alhambra. Here, nearly every surface coruscates with inscriptions and abstract patterns. Walls, archways and ceilings are meticulously carved. Our tour guide indicated that the artisans toiled on the Alhambra's decorations for more than 200 years. I am not surprised. The result is astonishing. One encounters room after room of adornment, a marvelous optical buffet impressing upon the viewer the immense wealth of the Complex's inhabitants.

In addition to decorative motifs, the Alhambra features impressive aquatic engineering. Fountains abound in the Alhambra, as does evidence of comprehensive plumbing. I noticed a couple of gutters gurgling even on the oppressively hot day on which I visited. Water sprouts playfully from orderly fountains concealed in garden pools. The Alhambra's creators clearly maintained their reverence for water despite their mastery of it.

I am so grateful to have gotten to see the Alhambra. It's an UNESCO World Heritage Site, and for good reason. There is so much to this place, and I encourage anyone interested to read more about it. The wikipedia entry is a good place to start: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra.

Ah, la vida Andaluza....

Tapas Exquisitas!

One more tasty morsel before my weekend sojourn to Granada: today I relished a late lunch at the tapas bar around the corner. I have adopted it as my unofficial cucina (kitchen). Today's fare included polo a la moruna (Moorish chicken) and queso granatido con mermelada aceituna (cheese with olive spread). Both were divine:)

Ole!

On Wednesday I attended a flamenco performance in the Casa de la Memoria in el Barrio Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz is Sevilla's historic Jewish quarter (Juderia). As with other old Jewish neighborhoods I have visited in Europe (such as Josefov in Prague), the area is both beautiful and tragic. Beauty lies in the grace of the structures and the art that have been preserved over centuries; sadness lingers in the realization that these neighborhoods are not living, breathing communities but museums. (In the case of Josefov, the neighborhood was rather morbidly and expressly intended to be a museum of an extinct race.) There are still people and businesses in the Barrio Santa Cruz of course, but now, so many generations after expulsion of the Jewish people and reclamation of the physical space and culture by the majority society, you have to listen closely to hear even the whispers of the Jewish community that once was.

Contemporary Santa Cruz is primarily a touristic neighborhood, replete with small hotels, tapas bars, restaurants and photo-snapping tourists. I arrived at the Casa de la Memoria a few minutes early and decided to stroll through the neighborhood. Along the way I encountered a church with doors carved intricately in the Moorish style. These decorative doors were reinforced by the ubiquitous metal-stud-reinforced wooden gates of all Sevillan churches. Making doors battering ram proof was all the rage before surveillance cameras entered the market. Thank goodness the old ways are obscure and Baroque. No need to fix them. Ba-dum-cha.

Back at the Casa de la Memoria, the flamenco performance was stirring! The space was a rather beautiful patio in the center of an 18th century townhouse. The show began after sunset, and as a result the photos are dark and don't quite capture the wonderfully romantic lighting. I imagined the lady of the house wrapped in an oversized embroidered shawl, watching from her second story balcony as the action unfolded on the patio below. The performers included a guitarist, a singer and a dancer. The show started with a quietly intricate Spanish guitar song. Soon, the guitar was joined by the plaintive but unwaveringly masculine voice of the singer. Finally, the dancer emerged. The synergy between guitar, singer and dancer was palpable. When the guitarist indulged in complex riffs, the singer and dancer murmured encouragement or clapped in rhythm. The dancer would then erupt in movement, an eddy of pain, love, flirtation and fury with moods punctuated by percussive feet and stoked by the musicians' calls of encouragement. Curiously, the dancer did both traditionally male and female styles of dance (and changed her costumes accordingly). La Zambra (the dancer) had superhumanly fast feet and an intensely emotive mien http://lazambra.es/.

The performance only strengthened my resolve to take flamenco classes here in Sevilla!

A Room of One's Own

Victoria Woolf famously opined that every aspiring female writer needs a room of her own. Here in Sevilla, I am fortunate enough to have just such a haven. I live on the third floor of a grand townhouse. From my aerie I can hear the rumblings of Sevillan street life and the chatter of my housemates, all while savoring the afternoon breeze and avoiding the blazing sun.

Música de Sevilla

Every place has its own particular symphony of sounds. Here in Seville time is punctuated by bells- on the street by the grave gong of church bells, and at the language school by the politely insistent trill of school bells. The latter invariably triggers memories of the "Saved by the Bell" theme song. Then there is the ubiquitous street musician. Today's sidewalk cafe lunch came with a gratis serenade consisting of a delightfully jazzy rearrangement of "Somewhere over the Rainbow." In the evening my housemate Shiro plays Nirvana, Green Day and Extreme (including my favorite 1992-93 bar/bat mitzvah season chestnut, "More than Words"). He also takes requests. Mike, another housemate, plays the piano. With my acapella experience, an impromptu concert is inevitable. Who knows, we might even become a Spanish student version of the Von Trapp family. Music aside, there is the conversational concert of our multilingual, multinational household. We are French, German, Dutch, Swiss, Japanese and American, united by our study of Spanish and enjoyment of red wine. Esta la vida Andaluza!