revisionist history in socialist spain...

this summer i heard a talk on revisionist history and today at the ruinas romanas, Italica, i saw an interesting bit in action. the guide, born and raised sevillano, regaled us on the wonderful culture that was ancient rome. such a tolerant, caring culture (he pointed out) that while there was a universal religion, the imperial cult, all other religions were allowed and encouraged. open thinking and tolerance made way for every other faith (he gushed). even the universal religion--the imperial cult again--was similar, well, to honoring the state. requirements related to this religion were (here he brought it home to the unsuspecting americans) just like saying the pledge of allegiance. no difference. so where does nero fit in? you might as well ask. i have no idea. perhaps those of the Way were merely political rebels, in this lavish view of rome. he also noted (as we surveyed the remains of a public bath) the marvellous attention the romans paid to hygiene, as well as personal fitness. go figure.

edificios...

Sevilla is home to the largest cathedral...floorspace in square meters, that is (at least the paper from Guinness in the cathedral said so). it is indeed large and impressive...although no Notre Dame. however, for any would-be adventurers, the nearby Reales Alcazares, residences for the royal family (should they ever decide to visit) is more impressive. the vast gardens, hidden away from the busy city by thick stone walls towering high above the sandy paths is a place of cool retreat. plus, it is gratis (free) with the student id card.
i enjoyed an illegal side trip in the garden; being the adventurous type i found a semi-hidden gate that was open into a basement passage that, unfortunately, lead nowhere but provided a few moments of excitement as i explored. it was also a nice escape into the cool from the hot sun.

ah, Sevilla

the city of Hemingway´s dreams. a million bars. narrow, confusing streets with careening cars too large for the passage. home to flamenco and bull-fighting. hot sun, late nights, cafes with people at every hour of the day (no one seems to work too hard, and everyone has time to sit around and drink).
there seems to be marble everywhere. the tabaco factory, now home to the university is completely coated in marble, inside and out, implying expensive taste yet beside the costly stone is crumbling decor and bathrooms missing toilet seats (becoming squatty potties).
in Spain, the common expression is ¨vale¨ which seems to fill for anything, including ¨are you ready¨ ¨good job¨ ¨hi¨ and other expressions that i have yet to learn. (more on this later)
starting last night at a common time of 22.30 (yes, that is late) andalucians gave a stunning flamenco performance complete with the haunting middle eastern sephardic guitar and singer. flamenco is an intense dance that radiates from the core or heart of the dancer. watching the hombre and mujer dance, their torsos never move, but their feet move so quickly you can hardly see them. twirling and spinning and tapping to the rhythm, not necessarily of the music (it seems to follow them rather than lead) but rather to the heartbeat within.
on another note, i am working on a phrase to describe my religion in this post-Christian nation. just as in a closed country, the word ¨Christian¨ is taboo, here it is meaningless in many ways. i dislike being related to the dead tradition that means nothing transforming. so any suggestions would be welcome. so far i am leaning towards either ¨follower of the Way¨ (discípula de la Via) or ¨believer¨ (una creyente).

beginnings...

it is hot in sevilla. the bricks from the yellow-hued sand reflect the sun´s rays, creating a convection oven as the sun bakes me from above. every hour the bells from the many churches...three close by within three blocks of my hotel...ring out the hours. intricately carved masoleums to a dead religion, the cathedrals are breathtaking in their architecture and chilling in their faith.
after a very long flight and finding no bag waiting at the end of it, i joined the other members of my program for a cocktail dinner, reminded very quickly that we were in spain as the drinks they served were not grape juice.
spent the entire day drinking information from a firehose, seeing the little streets with barely enough room for a car, let along the multitude of people and cars trying to pass through. on a visit to the plaza de toros i was struck with how much pain the toros endure for the mere entertainment value to the spectators. guess the dude ranch rubbed off on me more than i imagined.
looking to the big challenges next week: finding a place to stay, getting a checking account, getting my police certificate and just getting around. it´s a big adventure, but the pieces are growing...along with the Peace that is needed.