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).