How Much is the Doggie in the Window?

When I returned to Sevilla, and Antonio gathered me from the airport, he said my suitcase reminded him of Lola Flores, a famous Flamenco dancer from Sevilla. She used to travel around with these huge trunks with all of her dresses. I argued that I was traveling for two months and I was not carrying a ton (it’s only a large duffle), plus I did not own a Flamenco dress.

I think Antonio is psychic.

On day 3 of being back in Sevilla, Eline and Miguel and I were planning to see the Basilica and meet up with the boys at Saber’s Morrocan shop. Eline had errands to run for Feria. I needed shoes for Thursday’s Semana Santa festivities. We agreed to meet for a coffee at 11:30 to regroup and head to the church.

Eline was delayed at the dress shop, and I had finished my errands, so instead of an 11:30 coffee break I met her and Miguel at the shop. Oh, how the stars were aligning!

In the window of the shop is simply the most amazing dress I have ever seen. It was black lace and super-elegant. It was love at first sight, and I had to at least try it on.

With Miguel acting as translator, I asked to try it on. Sure enough with a few minor adjustments it would fit perfectly. Add a flower behind the ear, and ta-da… LOLITTA FLORES!

It was truly perfect. I had never had the experience of seeing something in a window and knowing I was meant to have it. But this was truly my dress. If I was ever meant to wear a long, gorgeous gown in 2009… this was truly it. And if I was to buy and wear such dress, guess who is coming back to Sevilla for Feria?

A Day in the Life

When I woke up the next day, I went for a long run to drain some of the alcohol from my system. How the Spanish drink the way they do is BEYOND me.

After a run along the river, I showered quickly and went in search of a “wi-fi” spot. (pronounced wee-fee) I simply had to get online. I had several things I owed the office, bills that had to be paid, photos to upload, blogs to write, etc. etc. Eline and Miguel were down for the count, and would call me later. I spent about 5 hours working on things and could have easily done more. Which got me thinking – probably a little too far down a path I shouldn’t wander as the prospect is simply delicious!

My little day dream is something like this…

What if, I took a year, moved to Sevilla to learn Spanish and focus on my writing. Nacho can hook me up with an apartment which is about 1/3 of what I pay in NYC, and 4 times the size. The cost of living is extremely low. I don’t need a car, and can get a bike like I always wanted. If I did this, my days would be almost like today, except I wouldn't have to sleep on someone's couch! I would get up and have a long run, followed by several hours of work with Spanish class mixed in, and then dinner and maybe meeting up with friends.

It had only been two days, but I simply love Sevilla. I love the way I feel when I am there. The people are lovely. The city truly beautiful and vibrant. Its relaxed and easy. And for me personal, I am just a bundle of thoughts and positive vibes every waking moment. When I am there I feel like I am just radiating sunshine. My smile is huge, my outlook lite, my laugh constant… I just love it.

Obviously, more thought needs to be put into this. But each thought has possibilities. As I travel around I am sure more thoughts will generate about life after my wanderings in southern Europe. And just like my job in advertising, its all about throwing all ideas on a wall and see which have staying power.

Meet Antonio

Antonio is another of Miguel's friends and a genuine nice guy. He picked up at the airport when I returned from Tenerife like a true gentleman. The gang seems to want him to be my Spanish boyfriend, but it doesn't seem to be a huge drive on either of our parts to do so. He is the resident Semana Santa guru, and the only person I have met here who seems to have a real job...in human resources of all things!

Meet Nacho

Nacho is Miguel's friend in Sevilla, and everyday we meet up with him for drinks or so that he can be our tour guide. He is like the mayor amongst his friends -- coordinating plans, on the phone, etc. Nacho continuously is up to something which usually involves sound effects – whistling, singing, or any kind of noise. He is a cross between Tom Cruise and Elvis, and is always sporting aviators and slicked back hair (at least until it dries). He is funny. Although, this is only my impression by what I gather from his animated expressions vs. his words. Our conversations are limited as he knows as many words in English as I do in Spanish, so 9.5 times out of 10, there is a translator.

Meet Miguel

Miguel is Eline's boyfriend, and probably the nicest and most genuine person I have had the pleasure of meeting in Spain. Tolerant is definitely a word to describe Miguel, as on several occasions since first coming to Sevilla, I have taken up residence in his house, adopted his Sevillian friends, and stolen countless hours with Eline. Thank you, Miguel!

He is also very funny, very observant and very sweet. He is always taking care of us girls, and doing sweet things for Eline. I couldn't ask for someone more dear for my friend!

Meet Eline

I had forgotten to introduce the new faces that popped up in my life when I got to Sevilla. My connection to this place, was Eline. A friend of a friend that I had worked with at Disney, Daphne, who is from Holland.

Two years ago I met Eline when she and Daphne visited New York. Eline was in the middle of divorcing her husband of 10 years and our interaction was not at length. My boyfriend at the time was not high on her list of most admirable people, nor on Daphne's, so their time with us with minimal. Such said boyfriend, was convinced they were lesbians and I am sure that these intuitive females picked up on said vibe.

Anyway, when I sent out a note saying I was headed to Europe Daphne passed the note to Eline, and I get an email that said, "Hello from Spain!". Being in advertising, I immediately thought some e-marketer knows way too much about my life and it took me a week to read it. Dear Paige, you should be so doubtful! Eline was inviting me to spend a few days with her in the town of Rota, where she and Miguel live.

When I first set out to Barcelona I thought I would try and meet up with her...Little did I know that I would meet one of the dearest people of my life. Seriously, instant BFFs...just add Spain!

Eline moved to Spain for her beau Miguel after meeting online in quite a random way. Its funny how life works out.

Eline and I bonded over similar stories of relationships gone bad, our love of Gossip Girl and Rioja, and a general passion for finding happiness in life.

Sevillian Silliness Rides Again!

Meeting up with Eline and Miguel was like meeting up with two new friends. In the time that I had been a way – a mere 5 days – they were both sporting new haircuts, looking fresh and sunny. They were both in summery clothes, as well, making them seem like the hip, Sevillian couple. (which they are, except they live in Rota)

We drop my bags in Mercedes (Miguel’s sister) apartment, and we are off to meet Nacho and company. We start off as a group of 5, then become 7, then 10, then 12… and the group grows and grows. My Spanish is still awful, so any real conversation I have must be done in English, and fortunately Nacho’s cousin, Paula, speaks terrific English.

Antonio – my ride from the airport – joins us on his motorbike as we are leaving the first bar. As he dismounted he says to me, “ I am ready to play!” Yay! A guy that speaks my language.

We head to a second bar for more drinks, and Eline and I are wondering at what point we are going to eat. With my flight earlier, I had not really eaten all day and I was absolutely starving. Multiple drinks were not really going to make things better. At this point we have quite a crowd and are drinking tinto de verano, “summer wine”, and cerveza in the streets of Triana.

When I went in to get more drinks, an elderly man heard me order and was easily able to discern my nationality, at which point he claps me on the back and yells “OBAMA!!!” and holds his hands up in victory. Everyone loves our new guy.

At 11 something, we make a move to dinner. But we have multiplied to such quantity that I know we are not getting into a restaurant, not that I had eaten a meal sitting down in Sevilla. But the thought was lovely. We go into this “pescadado fritta:” (fried fish) place and the boys do the ordering. While waiting, more friends show up – Danny, Saber, and a new couple.

We get tons of food to go, plus cerveza and head to the river where we have a decent view of the Semana Santa processions coming across the bridge.

Now, if I did not know better the scene coming across the bridge looks like a KKK rally. Seriously. About 1000 people are marching across in KKK hoods, and behind them is a group of men carrying an ornate float with a Madonna, candles and flowers. The streets are packed with people to see the procession. Its quite a spectacle – especially for someone from the South, or America in general.

I quickly sought out the resident Semana Santa guru (Antonio) to find out what exactly was going on. From my knowledge of such costumes and processions, somebody was fixing to ‘get it’…and, honestly, not to be selfish, but that is not exactly why I had delayed my flight to Venice.

Antonio gave me a brief synopsis, and ensured me that the only people who ‘get it’ during this week are those who drink too much. The costumes are so that people are anonymous. The floats represent the virgin Mary or other scene related to Easter. Each procession is for a different church in Sevilla, and during the week every church will have a procession, with the biggest churches having their processions on Thursday. The procession begins at a church, goes to the Basicilica, and will stop at another church where the nuns will sing to it. Then it returns to the church.

Once I had my explanation, I could get onto other important matters – eating! I was still famished. We had fried shrimp, calamari, white fish and adobo. The last was my favorite, and I think I ate the entire kilo myself!

As I looked around and saw this mish-mashed group gathered by the river, all eating out of paper bags and drinking from 40s of beer, I had flashbacks from high school summers at Lake Allatoona. There are so many similarities about my younger years and the way I feel here – the fried food, the accents, the happy smiling people, the easy life… and I choose to live up North for what reason?

It was such an enchanted evening with the Torre de Oro gleaming across the river, the processions on the Triana Bridge, the laughter of the group and the honest eyes I was surrounded with. I was simply relaxed and happy, with a huge smile that just couldn’t go away. The way this place makes me feel you could write songs about… all happy ones!

When the Virgin was coming across the bridge, we abandoned our riverside picnic to watch. It was quite emotional seeing how impassioned Sevillians become at these processions.

From here we headed to another bar, and then later, another. The last place being a Flamenco place. So not only do we watch the dancing, but with a few brief instructions and demonstrations of hand positions, I am dancing Flamenco! (clap-clap) Definitely no Lola Flores, but I am having too much to care. Eline is quite good – at least with the poses. The two of us are quite a pair, I must say.

We wander home at 4AM… on a MONDAY! Miguel comes in after us, but she and I are already up to no good. Having a Spanish side-kick is simply the best. (clap, clap!)

A Warm Southern Welcome

When I landed in Seville from Tenerife, I could not wait to get off the plane. The cute, elderly lady I sat next to was not the best smelling and I was ready to take in the citrus smelling streets of this southern town.

As I deboarded, it hit me that I really was clueless about my ride from the airport to Triana (Seville’s Brooklyn). When I left a night of silliness, Eline and Miguel’s friend Antonio said he would pick me up. And although it was a night of drunken and disorderly conduct (just kidding!) he was still set to pick me up, or at least according to a message I had from Eline while I was away. I was a little concerned about the logistics of this plan, as Antonio drives a motorcycle. And despite my desperate attempts to limit my luggage, I was still maxing capacity of every flight I took.

I did not have a phone number for Antonio. And for some reason I wasn’t anxious as I often can be when faced with uncertainty. I knew something would happen and I would find my friends – either via Antonio or a taxi. I got my bags at baggage claim and walked through security and ta-da, Antonio is waiting. See, no need to worry!

After the past five days with “Flower Power” (my new nickname for Jose) Antonio was a godsend. A guy who is on time, dressed to impress, and just nice, with a terrific smile to boot!

Its funny, but as we walked to the car, I could not remember the last time a guy (or anyone other than my family) had picked me up at the airport – and was on time and allowed me to leave anxiety on the plane. Jose had been late and was frazzled and disorganized as usual. Prior to this, most travel for me ended in NYC and I would find my own way home in a taxi. This was a welcome treat. So many things I love about Spain!

When we walked to the car, Antonio commented that the Canaries did not seem to take away my smile. I think its being back in Seville that has added an extra dimple to my grin and a spring in my step. I just love this little place. I love the people. And I was really looking forward to more fun times ahead. Something told me I would not have to wait long.

Of Men & Manners

I grew up in Georgia, and my manners are as Southern as my roots. When meeting a friend’s parents, I will always call them Mr. or Mrs. until they tell me otherwise. Sir and Ma’am are used frequently. Please and thank you are a must, as is being on time. 'Thank you notes' are written frequently and posted. And you always say excuse or pardon me. Manners are the one thing that any good Southerner doesn't leave home without.

Having good manners of your own is one thing, but having them means one critical thing: you will always recognize those who don’t.

When it comes to dating, men definitely have their work cut out for them. It may be unfair, but honestly if a woman is a lady she is definitely worth the added effort.

Since being in Spain, the manners of men has been intriguing to say the least. Comical is probably a better way to express it. And while most of my “dates” have been with Jose (I did see him in 3 different cities) I can’t help but wonder if any of this is acceptable in this country. My guess is ‘no’, but it does still pose an interesting question.

Here is what I have witnessed, mostly from Jose:

--Shouting across the restaurant when “pane” was not served with the first course, and then giving the server a lecture about bread being served with everything in Spain.

--Ordering for someone else without asking their preference. (I guess Jose had a bad hint from the universe!) Sometimes this can be nice for the surprise factor. But you don’t order a 112lb woman a 32 oz steak without discussing it first…especially for lunch!

--Walking around to every table in a fine-dining establishment asking for a cigarette.

--Causing a ruckus over the price of “the world’s finest Serrano”…and the quantity that came with such a price. (if it’s the world’s finest, did you really think it would be cheap and you would have a surplus?)

--Dousing a salad with olive oil without asking preference, especially after someone says they want to eat ‘lite’.

--Meditating in the middle of a meal.

--Performing reiki on oneself in the middle of a meal.

--Dropping a knife on oneself, and then yelling at a server as if it were his fault and demanding he buy him a new pair of pants.

--Drinking all the wine and then asking if I would like to buy more.

--Accepting the check, looking at it, and then passing it to me saying “this one is on you my dear” (granted it was the least expensive of our many meals, but still…)

Tomorrow I have been told I have a date with “Motorcycle Man” in Sevilla. Hopefully those Southerners can make up for this Canary!

Bambinos

Being in Spain, you can’t help but be around the Spanish youngsters. The parents bring them out at night like they are the latest style. It seems no one understands the concept of baby-sitter here. And that’s fine… if I am not at your restaurant, bar or club, or God forbid, a plane.

I think its awesome to give children exposure to adult environments. That said, I don’t feel children should dominate adult environments in any way. The Spanish think differently...very differently.

When I sit down to a 10PM dinner. Chances are the place is flooded with kids. The same true for a bar, and while it has not happened in a club (yet!), I do see it happening.

On the plane from Tenerife today the kids were OUT OF CONTROL. Yelling, screaming, running up and down the aisles… and the parents did NOTHING. At one point I woke up from my nap wondering where the hell I was. There were about 10 kids (no joke) screaming out at their fancy. Parents had NO CONTROL and were not looking to find any. When we landed, they just let their kids run up and down the aisles creating quite a ruckus, keeping all the single people from exiting. Dearie me.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to be fluent in Spanish to understand this frustration. Kids – unfortunately – scream in the same language. Except in Spain they are taught to scream louder. And doubly unfortunate, they were sitting in the seat behind me... and in front.