George the pilgrim reporting..
09.05.2015 - 11.05.2015 93 °F
We arrived in Seville Spain which is about a 3 hour bus ride from Faro, Portugal. We came here to petition the regional governor to create a statue for "St. Lois", Andrea's mom and my mother-in-law.
We both felt Lois should be made a Saint because of the miraculous work she did raising Andrea, and for the blessed Mother Theresa way she deals with me.
On our way to the regional Governor's office, we stopped for gelato and then fell asleep in the beautiful Maria Luisa parque. After we awoke, we strolled through rose gardens, passed gorgeous fountains and walked beneath rows of the famous purple trees of this region.
Since we are "pilgrims" of St. Lois, it is our mission to walk the streets of Seville in search of good, sumptuous goodies to eat and drink.
Seville was hot the few days we were there and we suffered mightily under the cool shade of the Spanish trees sipping sangria. Finally, we agreed that petitioning the regional Governor was beneath the honor of St. Lois and instead decided to eat more delicious food and drink delicious wine while wandering the streets praising the name of St. Lois to the masses who do no know her...yet.
So here is to St. Lois and all the other mothers out there who have to put up with an awful lot everyday.
Speaking of putting up with an awful lot, we saw our first Flamenco performance at the 'Casa de la Guitarra' located in the old Jewish quarter of Seville.
We didn't know much about Flamenco and this was a wonderful way to learn about it while surrounded by rows of guitars that are famous for one reason or another. I, George, will now write about my first impression of the excellent flamenco dance we witnessed. All I could see was a recreation of a single Spanish day performed by 3 people: an expert guitar player, a male singer and a female dancer. In my mind, it was as if the
two male performers were calling out to the sun to rise and, on cue, she does. She storms on to the stage and performs a dance that says, "I am here now! Let the day begin!" As the performance progresses, I sense an entire days worth of pain, struggle, joy, love and heartbreak encompassed through the movements of the dancer, the expressions on her face and the elegance in her body language. The men (and us) watch enthralled egging her on with shouts, song and music. Her passionate dance ebbs and falls like waves on the ocean and becomes more passionate as the end of the day nears until she is seemingly setting on the horizon, slowly disappearing into the night. She leaves but the men
continue to wail as if lamenting her departure and fretting about death. Then she returns in a different dress, rejoicing and signing as if involved in some celestial party. Once the performance ended, I thought to myself that I would "not view each new day the same way ever again." Indeed, I felt the entire world was presented to me via Flamenco.
Anyway, this is how I saw this performance. Andrea probably saw it differently as did everybody else. I found it highly moving and universally poignant in its poetry and music.
Afterwards we stroll through the claustrophobic alleyways and past the crush of people/tourists hanging out along one plaza or another. I begin to realize that I don't think I would enjoy living in a large city like this with people seemingly breathing down your neck at every turn. The huge urban parks are a wonderful escape but who would let you live in the park?
So it's on to Granada and then Valencia!