Paris Parfait

More azulejos from Sevilla

Walls in the foyer of the Museo de Bellas Artes in Sevilla are tiled with 15th-century azulejos. The early 19th-century azulejo (pictured below) found at a local flea market is a copy of the 15th-century tile pictured (above, center).

The azulejos pictured (above and below) are reproductions of designs from the 15th-18th centuries. They are produced by the master tilemaker Antonio Campos, at his workshop in Triana. His work is available at Ceramica Santa Ana, also in Triana.

The paisley-patterned tablecloth in the background of these photos was purchased in Sevilla during a 2004 visit.

Pleasure and treasure

A 14th-century treasure chest at the Museo de Bellas Artes, Seville, Spain

You know that wonderful feeling when you meet a kindred spirit and feel an immediate connection? One of my first joys upon returning to Paris from Seville was meeting the talented artist and fascinating woman Laura of Laurelines. Laura and I had been admiring each other's weblogs and exchanging e-mails the past few months, but had never met in person.

On Friday, Laura and her delightful husband David came to our apartment for dinner. And my husband David and I were thrilled to share a relaxed, comfortable atmosphere with our new friends. Laura and David complement each other beautifully, each blessed with their own version of warmth, charm, humour and clever intellect. We felt as though we'd known them for ages and enjoyed a terrific evening together. And we look forward to more happy occasions in their treasured company.

"What is essential..."

When walking near Notre Dame this morning, I saw this romantic white organza gown pinned to an easel in a gallery window.

Glancing at the One Deep Breath prompt "the unseen," the first reference that came to mind was Antoine de Saint Exupery's classic children's book Le Petit Prince. In it, the hero - "the little prince" - describes his love for a particular rose: "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."

Inspired by the little prince, a haiku written on the Paris metro:

Love invisible
intangible and unseen,
but its power strong

Fractured fairy tale

Three generations of a Sevillian family are taking a Sunday stroll. I was struck by the adorable little boy in his orange sunsuit, with matching socks and shoes.

For Sunday Scribblings, a fractured fairy tale rather like The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse - but what if you're a little of both?

Once upon a time in a small town lived a little girl with her family. Like many such ordinary places, the town was indoctrinated with "small town syndrome." Pretty much everyone in the town thought small, in order to blend in and remain there.

One resident described being "innoculated at birth" to withstand the limitations of small town life, rather than embracing multiple possibilities and prospects in the big city. Other people traveled to big towns and appreciated the opportunities, but preferred to live in their little towns, where things were predictable and reasonably safe. They didn't like the uncertainty, the excitement, the whirlwind pace of city life.

The little girl had big dreams, but was not encouraged to pursue them. The high school guidance counselor's career advice was that girls who chose to work (rather than stay at home as a wife and mother) could be a secretary; a nurse (being a doctor wasn't suggested) or a teacher. Oh, and maybe a shopgirl in a clothing store.

No other career path was advised, as that would mean going beyond the city limits. And someone had to stay in the small town, even when stores closed and a factory downsized, making it less viable economically. Some people chose to drive to jobs in another small town 16 miles away or 47 miles away, just so they could remain in the cherished small town.

The young girl wasn't convinced; she knew from all the books she'd stayed up late reading and from movies and television shows that there was a big world out there. While it had been pleasant enough growing up in the small town, she wanted to explore new territory. So she followed her big dreams to the big city, where she lived a big life. But some people didn't seem happy about her chosen path.

When she'd return to the small town to visit, hardly anyone would ask about her life. They'd talk in intimate detail about people she didn't know, living in the small town - even in the millenium, girls getting pregnant and married at 17, so-and-so having an affair, another getting laid off from his job - but they expressed no curiosity about her. If she talked about things going on in her life, they'd look at her as though she were boasting or bragging, then change the subject back to something or someone closer to home.

Sometimes she felt offended by their behaviour, which seemed rude, thoughtless and self-centered. She wasn't trying to compare her life to theirs - after all the differences were greater than chalk and cheese. She didn't think her life was necessarily better than theirs; just different. Differences were what made the world go round.

While the small town dwellers were amassing material things, such as a second car, a boat, a lakehouse, she was collecting experiences. And she was curious about their lives; why didn't they want to know about hers? Were they worried that something about her life might seem interesting and they'd be encouraged to learn something new?

Many small town residents didn't read newspapers or venture too far outside the state or region where they lived. They had their comfort zone and were determined to remain within its boundaries. The girl wondered why they seemed afraid of getting drawn into a bigger life. Were they worried that trying new things might prove contagious? Why didn't they want to know more about the world? Weren't they interested in traveling and seeing places they'd read about or seen in the movies? Why were they content to accept the status quo, without questioning that they might deserve something better?

When she'd go back to the big city, she'd ask other people living big dreams what it was like when they went home to visit. They reported similar experiences - nobody wanted to know about their lives in the big city; they were interested only in talking about themselves and people within their immediate environs.

After a while, the girl and her friends living in big cities found themselves glossing over their experiences for friends and family in the small towns. The city dwellers rarely talked about their own lives, instead politely asking about people and events within the small towns. Gradually the city dwellers returned to the small towns less and less, preferring to expend their energies in living their dreams, rather than diminishing them to suit someone else's narrow boundaries.

Once in a while a small town resident would visit the girl in the big city. Typically it would be a case of "a nice place to visit; but I wouldn't want to live there." Occasionally a city dweller would attempt to please others by living in a small town. And for a time, one of the small town residents would try living in the big city. Rarely did these experiments last: after all, one can't change human nature.

Aesop's Fables: The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

"A Town Mouse and a Country Mouse were acquaintances, and the Country Mouse one day invited his friend to come and see him at his home in the fields. The Town Mouse came, and they sat down to a dinner of barleycorns and roots, the latter of which had a distinctly earthy flavour. The fare was not much to the taste of the guest, and presently he broke out with "My poor dear friend, you live here no better than the ants. Now, you should just see how I fare! My larder is a regular horn of plenty. You must come and stay with me, and I promise you you shall live on the fat of the land."

"So when he returned to town he took the Country Mouse with him, and showed him into a larder containing flour and oatmeal and figs and honey and dates. The Country Mouse had never seen anything like it, and sat down to enjoy the luxuries his friend provided: but before they had well begun, the door of the larder opened and some one came in. The two Mice scampered off and hid themselves in a narrow and exceedingly uncomfortable hole. Presently, when all was quiet, they ventured out again; but some one else came in, and off they scuttled again. This was too much for the visitor. "Good-bye," said he, "I'm off. You live in the lap of luxury, I can see, but you are surrounded by dangers; whereas at home I can enjoy my simple dinner of roots and corn in peace."

Balconies and iron grillwork

One of the things I like most about Sevilla is the unique iron grillwork fronting so many balconies and buildings.

The iron grillwork on this balcony on Calle Placentines has a gothic look.

Even the glassed-in balconies feature painted iron grillwork in this building facing Plaza de San Francisco.

This stucco residential and commercial building is enhanced by arched windows and doorways, as well as beautiful tiled frontispieces.

While its whitewashed stucco design is simple, this is one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in Sevilla: a private apartment in the former Jewish quarter. It is located in a passageway alongside the Alcazar Palace.

Move over, Amelie!

What is it about garden gnomes and adventure? Another traveling gnome has come to France! Last I heard this intrepid traveler from Dizgraceland was visiting Jane Poe. Suddenly he turned up on my doorstep! I'm just back from a month in Seville and really don't have time or energy to escort him around Paris. So perhaps after a quick peek at the Louvre and the Pyramid, he can visit you. If you'd like to play tour guide, sign up here.

Fall bouquet

Back home in Paris, with much to report. Check back later for posts about special dinner guests, the story of the bullfight in Sevilla, complete with photos and several other pieces I didn't have time to post from Spain.

The Moors' azulejo legacy

These 15th and 16th-century mosaics of azuelejos line the entranceway, patios and courtyards at Museo de Bellas Artes in Sevilla. Tiles of more recent origin decorate many buildings in Sevilla and towns of Andalucia.

Techniques for making the glazed ceramic tiles were introduced to the region by the Moors. The word azuelo originates from the Arabic az-azulayj or "little stone." In Seville, the craft of producing azulejos thrived in the many potteries of Triana. A process refined in 16th-century Italy meant tiles could be painted in new designs and colours.

Religious images in tiles stem from the museum's convent origins.

Decorative tiles appear even in the floors of the museum's courtyards, patios and corridors. For 1920s tiles at the Plaza de Espana, go here.

Museo de Bellas Artes

This photograph of the Museo de Bellas Artes was taken from the Plaza del Museo across the street. The plaza is centered by a statue (partially seen at left) honouring the Sevilla-born artist Bartolome Esteban Murillo. The museum was formerly the Convento de la Merced Calzada, built in 1612 by Juan de Oviedo. Today the restored structure boasts a superb collection of Spanish art and sculpture, including work by Murillo, Juan de Valdes Leal, Francisco de Zurbaran and Valeriano Becquer.

The Patio del Algibe in the Museo de Bellas Artes is centered by a well, from which water may be drawn even today.

This patio at Sevilla's Museo de Bellas Artes features landscaped topiary, a fountain and walls adorned by artifacts from the original convent.

This corridor alongside a patio is accented by an iron bell from the former convent. Scaffolding is up for ongoing restoration work.

Trees and flowers are featured in the tiled Patio de los Bojes. The photo below shows detail of tiles covering the top of the columned portico.

These 15th-century tiles in the museum's courtyard will be restored as part of an ongoing project conserving the museum's azuelos-lined patios and corridors. Photos of the museum's incredible azulejos will appear in the next post.

Tiled walls along a corridor facing a patio date from the 15th-century.

Glorieta de Becquer

The ivory Glorieta de Becquer statue honouring Sevillian poet Gustavo Aldolfo Becquer was sculpted in 1911 by Lorenzo Valera. Located in the Parque Maria Luisa, it depicts the phases of love.

¿Qué es poesía? dices mientras clavas
en mi pupila tu pupila azul.
¿Qué es poesía? ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?
Poesía... eres tú.

What is poetry? you say while piercing
into my pupil your blue pupil.
What is poetry? And you ask me?
Poetry... is you.

- from Gustavo Becquer's book Rimas y Leyenas

Becquer, born in 1836 in Sevilla, died in 1870 in Madrid of pneumonia and liver complications. His real name was Gustavo Adolfo Dominguez Bastida. Like his brother, the painter Valeriano Becquer, he adopted the second last name of his Flemish father. The brothers were orphaned at an early age.

After Becquer's death, his friends published his works. A short story writer, as well as a poet, today Becquer is considered the founder of Spanish lyricism. His most famous work Rimas y Leyenas (Rhymes & Legends) is part of the Spanish school curriculum.

Plaza de Espana

The Plaza de Espana was designed by Aníbal González and built in 1929 when Seville hosted the Spanish-American Exhibition. The building near the Parque Maria Luisa originally showcased Spain's industry and technology exhibits.

The Plaza is a huge semi-circle with buildings accessible over the moat by beautiful bridges. In the centre is a large fountain. Due to Spain's recent drought, the moat is currently dry.

The Plaza was used in the second episode of Star Wars Attack of the Clones when the young Anakn and Pademeyou walk over the tiled bridge (pictured above) and along the corridors of the plaza's buildings. The plaza was also used as the "Cairo Great Britain Army Headquarters" for the David Lean film Lawrence of Arabia.

Today the Plaza de Espana houses Andalucian government offices, as well as an impressive Museo Militar (Military Museum) for the Region Militar Sud.

Regional maps at Plaza de Espana

At the Plaza de Espana, regional maps of Spain appear on floor tiles bordering the buildings, along with historical scenes typical of each region handpainted on wall tiles.

Eternal mystery

"Llanto sobre Cristo muerto," Pedro Millan, 1490, Museo de Bellas Artes, Sevilla

For the One Deep Breath prompt "mystery," haiku linked together as one poem:

They wept when He died
this great man of mystery
who offered such hope

No explanation
for His miracles performed
faith is the answer

The best example:
rising from the dead to give
reason to believe

His suffering so
that others might live; now more
miracles needed*

*This madness of war:
dark time for humanity
as we pray for peace

The view from here

The Sunday Scribblings prompt is "good." So here's my account of a "good" weekend:

When my husband came to Sevilla last weekend, the midnight photo of La Giralda above was the romantic view from our second-floor room at Hotel Los Seises on Calle Segovias. The beautiful hotel in the Barrio Santa Cruz was once part of a 16th-century palace.

Except for two interruptions to work on my Spanish homework, the weekend was magical! We visited La Giralda (for the second time), which despite the ongoing construction and restoration is magnificient. We had tostadas, coffee and tea at a bodega near La Giralda, a typical Sevillian lunch at a terrific restaurant with Art Nouveau architecture near the Universidad and dinner outdoors beneath the orange trees at Dona Alvira in Santa Cruz.

We marveled at the stunning art of Murillo and Leal in the Museo de Bellas Artes and the unique beauty of the Plaza de Espana, now housing Andalucian government offices, as well as the Museo Militar. The latter boasts incredible examples not only of swords and weapons, but of carriages, furniture, a complete train car, blacksmith's shop, printer's studio, hospital and pharmacy and other military memorabilia.

Amidst the blossoming palm trees and tiled seats in Parque Maria Luisa, we saw the Glorieta de Becquer, an ivory statue featuring allegorical figures depicting the phases of love. It was sculpted in 1911 by Lorenzo Valera to honour Sevillian poet Gustavo Aldolfo Becquer (1836-70). We strolled the palm-tree and fountain-filled Jardins de Murillo, walked across the Isabelle II iron bridge to Triana, then walked back alongside the Rio de Gualdaquavir to the Moorish Toro del Oro, built to defend Sevilla.

At the Sunday morning flea market at Plaza el Cabildo we bought 19th-century postcards featuring photographs from Granada and Madrid, a 19th-century book about the Spanish artist Goya and an exquisite hand-tooled leather prayer book - for just 10 and 15 euros, respectively! We also bought sweets from the adjacent convent for my husband's office staff. The weekend was great fun, but exhausting! We walked for miles and miles, savouring each other's company and the beauty all around us.

This 17th-century furniture grouping was outside our room at Hotel Los Seises.

A heraldic inscription from the palace has been restored to its former glory in a hotel corridor.

The hotel's restaurant is built artfully around the palace's original foundations.

More of the palace's original foundations are on display in the hotel's restaurant.

A Saturday evening view of La Giralda from the poolside restaurant on the hotel's third floor. We watched the kestrels swooping about looking for insects - lots of those in Sevilla, especially mosquitoes!

Jardines de Murillo

A monument to Cristopher Columbus soars above the palm trees in the Jardines de Murillo. It features a bronze replica of the Santa Maria, the ship on which Columbus sailed to the New World in 1492.

The gardens at the southern end of Barrio de Santa Cruz were previously orchards and vegetable plots on the grounds of the Real Alcazar Palace. In 1911 the land was donated to the City of Sevilla and named after Sevilla's most famous paiter, Bartolome Esteban Murillo (1617-82), whose residence was nearby on Calle Santa Teresa.

Along a promenade - Paseo de Catalina de Ribera - in the Jardines de Murillo is a tribute to the founder of the Hospital de las Cinco Llagas, now home to the Parlamento de Andalucia.

Doorways and courtyards

The Iglesia de Montserrat in Sevilla

An ornate door of a Sevilla church

This leather door studded with religious symbols is the entrance to a church near the Plaza de la Toros in the Al Arenal district.

At this convent off the Plaza el Cabildo, sweets made by nuns - Dulces de Convento - are sold from a small room facing the Plaza.

The convent's plant-filled courtyard is glimpsed through the entryway to Plaza el Cabildo, Sevilla.

Churches in Sevilla

Dozens and dozens of beautiful churches are scattered around Sevilla. I've taken many photos, but can't remember the names of all the churches! Here's the first batch of church photos:

A church on San Pablo Avenue in Sevilla

An exit door at La Giralda Cathedral, Sevilla

"Es Irak, estupido"

"El conflicto iraqui se situa como principal preocupacion de los estadounidenses en los comicios" (The Iraqi conflict is the main preoccupation of the Americans in the election.)

The Spanish newspaper El Pais headline is a play on words of the James Carville-coined motto of the Clinton presidential campaign in 1992: "It's the economy, stupid." The article by Jose Calvo in Washington discusses major election issues, primarily Iraq and immigration. Calvo quotes a CNN poll saying 64 percent of Americans oppose the Iraq war. The article also quotes a magazine interview with the author of "Tempting Faith," suggesting that a former adviser to George Bush says while the Republicans publicly are supportive of right-wing religious groups, in private they consider them "ridiculous."

Bull in a china shop

Balconies across the street from my hotel in Sevilla feature a woven palm frond and potted plants.

The Poetry Thursday prompt is to write about a topic we avoid. I don´t like relating unflattering things about my fellow countrymen. But often I see travelers behaving as though they are in their home countries, without regard or respect for local culture. On such occasions, I have been known to pretend I don´t speak English, cringing at the thoughtless behaviour of fellow English-speakers.

The overweight middle-aged American
in his tight shorts and hat and Rolex watch
shouts out in the small mercado
that sells exquisite hand-painted fans.

"It closes in 15 minutes so we need to go!
Anyway this is ´el junko;´
I thought you said we were going to a good store!"
His cultured wife frowns in embarrassment and dismay.

The proprietor pretends she doesn´t hear "el ruidoso,"*
managing a small tight smile while turning her attention
to tidying the impressive display of fans
that flamenco dancers fling;

romantic fans behind which senoritas flirt
and senoras keep the heat at bay
breathtaking fans which evoke sighs and dreams -
but not for the bull in a china shop.

*the noisy one

Murillo´s magic

The One Deep Breath prompt is simple pleasures. Twice last week I had the privilege to visit the Museo de Bellas Artes in Sevilla. I wandered around taking notes, soaking up the beauty and sitting in the open courtyards, admiring the tiled walls and floors, as well as the sculpture and fountains.

Among the museo´s treasures are many paintings from the Sevilla-born Bartolomeo Esteban Murillo (1617-1682). Among them is the La virgen de la Sevilleta or Virgen con el nino, painted on a napkin between 1665-68. Most of Murillo´s paintings are huge wall-size masterpieces depicting the annunciation or other religious events.

These five haiku were inspired by the simple pleasure of seeing Murillo´s genius:

Bellas artes museo
footsteps echo in quiet
beauty calms senses

His brush dipped in dreams
blending faith and angel´s wings
painting history

Unforgettable
quality of light and space
cascading angels

These sacred stories
provided inspiration
underlying faith

Inside this painting
God´s majesty and man´s awe
and wonder are found

Weekend break

Another night view of La Giralda Cathedral. My husband is arriving today for a romantic weekend in Sevilla. Posts will resume on Monday, with an account of my exciting - but rather distressing - evening at the bullfight at Plaza de la Toros. Enjoy your weekend!

Changing circumstances

Art and plant-filled courtyards such as this one are common in Sevilla´s large mansions. The bronze sculpture (center) is an ode to the male form.

The Poetry Thursday prompt is to write a poem about "breaking news." Since I´ve spent much of my life as a journalist covering the news, I decided to give this prompt a Spanish twist.

Newspapers report that Spanish men
are undergoing a crisis of confidence
An enversion masculina
of Bridget Jones´s* struggle with single life.

The best-selling libros are ¡He Perdido el Divorcio!
y El Mundo de los sin Pareja
y Cocina Para Estudiantes, Solteros, Separados, Divorciados
y El Hombre Multi-Orgasmico y Amor en La Web.

In a Catholic country unaccustomed to divorce,
men are bewildered by these new circumstances
that threaten their machismo.
Must they admit need for another?

Can they learn to manage la cocina y la lavanderia**
without help from a woman - other than their madre?
It´s a neuvo mundo for these traditionalists
who usually live with their familia until marriage.

Can these men cope on their own?
Can their egos survive without constant strokes
from esposa or madre?
Spanish women are betting they can´t last for long.

And so they wait - to become the next amor, the next mujer***
of these strong handsome men with fragile self-esteem.

*30-something heroine of British novel by Helen Fielding
**kitchen and laundry
***wife

A Spanish tradition

This poster advertises the bullfight Thursday night at Plaza de la Toros de la Maestranza in Sevilla´s El Arenal district. It is the last corrida or bullfight of the 2006 season, with tickets going for as much as 112 euros or as little as 6.50 euros. I have a balcony seat, as I´m curious to see a bullfight. After years of watching bullfights on television and in movies, it should be a fascinating experience. As Spain celebrates Cristobal Colon´s (as the Spanish call Christopher Columbus) birthday Thursday, special activities are planned.

Real Maestranza de Caballeria

Behind this leather door is the library of the Real Maestranza de Caballeria at the Plaza de la Toros in Sevilla, featuring an extensive collection of books about Spanish history, horses and bullfighting.

This building is the headquarters for the Real Maestranza de Caballeria in Sevilla. Click photos to enlarge.

Various offices and private apartments are part of the complex at the Plaza de la Torros, Sevilla. The complex was built between 1761 and 1881 around the 18th-century bullring.

One of the many entrances to the Plaza de la Toros de la Maestranza bullring in Sevilla. The bullring accommodates up to 12,500 people.

A doorway to a private apartment overlooking a portico in the Plaza.

Part of the Plaza de la Toros complex, viewed through an interior street.

Flickers of light

Rain People Gathering by Land Eagle, Taos Pueblo, acrylic and sand on board, photo courtesy of Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico

This haiku was written for One Deep Breath´s prompt " the countryside."

Until I was 11 or 12 years old, my family lived out in the country. My brothers and I spent many a summer evening swatting mosquitoes and chasing fireflies. Sometimes we caught the fireflies or "lightning bugs" in Mason jars and used an ice pick to poke holes in the lids. We´d carry the jars to our rooms, hoping those little flickers of light would guide us to dreamland.

Chicadas lead song
lightning bugs join the chorus
tiny flames of light

Triana´s charms

This stucco house with tile-framed windows and doors is typical of architecture in Triana, the working-class barrio named after the Roman emperor Trajan. Triana is a short walk from Sevilla, across the Puente de Isabel II iron bridge. The structure was designed in 1845 by Gustavo Steinacher and Fernando Bernadet.

This Coca-Cola barrel for collecting trash was at the farmers´market in Triana. Coca-Cola signs are everywhere in Sevilla and Triana - Coke even sponsors the muslin awnings that drape artfully over some narrow streets, such as Calle Sierpes. Everywhere I go, I see Spaniards drinking Coke or to a lesser degree, Pepsi. As in the United States, most restaurants sell either one or the other - never both.

Vendors sell fruits and vegetables at the Triana Farmers´Market in a building bordering the Rio Gualdaquavir. Once Sevilla´s "gypsy quarter," Triana is renowned for its tradition of bullfighters, sailors and flamenco artists.

A fishmonger fills orders Saturday morning at the Farmers´Market. Besides its popular Farmers´ Market, Triana boasts several famous potteries, selling azuelos and ceramics. The town is also home to Calle Rodrigo de Triana, a street named after the Andalucian sailor who first glimpsed the new world on his voyage with Christopher Columbus in 1492. Columbus´s birthday Thursday is a national holiday in Spain.

This stall sells endless varieties of chorizo iberico, hams, salamis and cheeses at the Triana Farmers´ Market. Notice the hand-tiled signs above the mercados.

La Giralda by night

Architectural details of La Giralda Cathedral, Sevilla at dusk

The master craftsman

The beautiful tiled sign outside the workshop of Antonio Campos

In a storeroom at Ceramica Santa Ana in Triana, these scales were once used to weigh and cut tiles.

This early 19th-century carved Spanish table is weighed down with stacks of old azulejos in a back storeroom at Ceramica Santa Ana.

For Sunday Scribblings, a tale of an unexpected meeting with Seville´s most lauded tilemaker:

On Friday I read two separate pieces about the famous master tilemaker Antonio Campos - one in a book, the other in a Madrid-based magazine. On Saturday morning, I was walking around Triana, the area across the Guadalquiver River renowned for its azulejos (tiles) and retablos. I walked in and out of several places, asking if they had any antique tiles for sale.

I wandered down a side street, away from the shops and noticed the beautiful sign (pictured above), on the side of a building. A door was open, so I walked into a dimly-lit workroom. Behind a large table a bearded man with curly hair was standing, naked from the waist up, his hands and arms immersed in clay.

"Senor Campos?" I asked. "Si," he nodded. For a moment I was struck dumb. Here was the man I´d been reading about the night before, standing before me, literally, in the flesh! "Me llamo Tara. Soy periodista de Francia," I stammered. (My name is Tara. I am a journalist, from France). He nodded and looked at me expectantly. As my Spanish was limited, I motioned that I wanted to look around his workshop and he nodded and continued working - no doubt thinking, ´who is this mad woman and why is she bothering me?´

While looking around his dusty and crowded workshop - which seemed to be a converted garage, filled with hundreds of moulds and stacks of tiles - I was trying to remember the Spanish words to ask where his azulejos or tiles were sold. But all I could think of was "se vende?" He rattled off a series of sentences, ending with the word ´mercado,´ which I recognized as "store." Then he looked at me expectantly, waiting to see if I would go away. At that moment, a man walked in, obviously an employee. So I mumbled, "gracias," and hurriedly left.

I felt embarrassed and a little stung by his behaviour, which seemed rude. Then again, if a stranger walked into my ´office,´ interrupting my work, I might be annoyed too. So I walked back to the largest and most elaborate mercado. As luck would have it, Ceramica Santa Ana, was Sr. Campos´s store! In continuous operation since 1870, it is revered throughout Spain for its exquisite replicas of 16th-century tiles.

When I asked the friendly manager if he had any antique tiles, he said no, but I could look in a back storeroom at stacks of "old ones." Thankfully I was wearing jeans, as I got to climb around the very dusty showroom (where I surreptitiously took some photos) and blow dust and straw off some beautiful old tiles.

As I was waiting to pay for my purchases, a local woman asked me for help in identifying the origin of a particular tile. "No lo se," (I don´t know) I said, but she kept talking to me in Spanish! I just smiled and nodded - the universal response when you have no idea what someone is saying.

I was just happy that after my chance encounter with the master, I took home some of his work!

Disturbing trend in Spain

Young people across the south coast of Spain are ordering cocaine via a "tele-coca" or "tele-cocaine" line. This disturbing new trend is particularly a problem in Cadiz, Spain´s oldest city. Just like ordering a pizza, drug users can phone, order the drug and have it delivered for as little as 15 euros.

Francisco Mena, the head of the anti-drug groups Alternativas and Nexos told El Pais that the growing popularity of the dial-a-drug program is due to its ease. "Users have found it easier to obtain the drug at any given moment they want it. All they have to do is pool some money together, call a number and place the order. In a short time, someone will show up with the delivery."

Police first detected the tele-coca traffic in Algeciras and nearby towns including Tarifa, where the population multiplies five-fold during summer months. It reportedly begain in the area just outside Gibraltar, where police have successfully dismantled street dealers´operations.

Increased violence at fairs and other places where young people gather - and where drugs and alcohol can prove a turbulent mix - has been blamed on the rise of cocaine use. In Algeciras, police have seen a surprising parallel effect: a rash of stolen rearview mirrors from parked vehicles. Young people are ripping them off cars so they can snort lines of cocaine.

Mena said it was initially thought the problem was limited to Algeciras, until phone calls started coming in from Chiciana, Conil, Jimena de la Frontera, La Linea and San Roque.

Youths who have used the tele-distribution system explain that they pool their money, then one person places an order by phone. A runner on a motorcycle goes to the drug point and picks up cocaine. He ensures the amount is small, so if he gets stopped by police he won´t be charged with drug trafficking. The runner picks up the money, then tells the buyers where he stashed the drug, usually under a rock.

One Civil Guard inspector told El Pais this method is "much safer than the user going to a drug point and it is much more difficult for police to control." "To investigate this, you have to tap the phone lines and stake out the areas," he continued. "You have to follow someone on a motorcycle carrying a very small amount of drugs. You need to assign a lot of agents just for a menial arrest."

In September in Jimena de la Frontera, police arrested a man who ran drugs for clients in their ´30s and ´40s. Authorities determined that the runner made up to 60 deliveries in one day to clients primarily on the Costa del Sol.

Compounding the problem are falling prices for cocaine. The price for a tenth of a gram is about 15 euros. "What kid doesn´t have 15 euros on the weekend?" Mena asked.

El Caballo

El Caballo, the venerable Sevilla emporium that sells saddles, riding gear and leather goods has been in operation since 1892. Frances Mayes mentions it in her book A Year in the World, although it was closed during her visit. El Caballo is located on Avenida Antonio Diaz, near the Plaza de La Toros.

Note the iron horseshoe design on the third-floor level of El Caballo matches the one above the main entrance. Click photo to enlarge.

Hand-tooled leather saddles, boots and riding gear are displayed in one of El Caballo´s windows.

Street musicians

Like most cities, Seville has its share of street musicians. These musicians were among those entertaining passersby on the Calle de Sierpes, one of Sevilla´s main shopping streets. The group called Capricio performs at bodas, fiestas, banquets, weddings and other special occasions.

Casa de Los Pinelos

Original 16th-century flour wheels are an integral part of this stone building, a former bakery in the Santa Cruz district of Sevilla.

An interior courtyard is glimpsed through the doorway of the 16th-century Casa de Los Pinelos in Santa Cruz. Located on the Calle Abades, the mansion is the home of The Royal Academy of Seville or The Academy of Fine Arts of Santa Isabel de Hungria and The Academy of Letters & Medicine. The large mansion once belonged to the Genoese family of Pinelo. Tradition indicates San Jan de Ribera, the Bishop of Valencia was born here.

Flores en Sevilla

Plant-filled patios are common along the Callejon del Agua, an alley running alongside the walls of Seville´s Alcazar Palace. The American diplomat Washington Irving once stayed in this particular casa. Irving wrote Tales of the Alhambra in 1832, about his time in Granada. I shot this photo Tuesday evening when the gardener had the gate open. He said it was fine to take a photo. But the owner of the casa walked into the patio and frowned when she saw me.

Mas restos del pasado

Siguen apareciendo restos humanos en las obras de la avenida de la Constitucion. Los nuevos cuerpos que limpiaban ayer los arquelogos (uno de ellos en la imagen) han sido hallados a la altura de la calle Alemanes, mas proximos a la catedral que los encontrados recientemente en la Plaza Nueva, donde salieron a la luz restos de la Necropolis Islamica de epoca prealmohade (siglos XI y XII).

I had help writing this in Spanish - only five days of classes, after all, although it seems like we covered about five months´worth of work.

Archeologists remove the skeletal remains of two bodies, bone by bone. The remains were found Monday beneath the Avenida de la Constitucion. The street fronting La Giralda (pictured at left, above) is being excavated to build a light rail network. Archeologists will conduct tests on the bones (some are lying on the white cloth at right) in an effort to determine their age. Other remains are expected to be uncovered beneath the Plaza Nueva, also undergoing renovation to accommodate the light rail line. Click photos to enlarge.

Antiques and religious art

A window of an antiques shop in Plaza de San Francisco, Seville, specialising in religious art and icons from the 17th-20th century. Incredibly beautiful examples of museum-quality pieces can be found in local antiguedades, but prices are too high for me!

Exhibit explores life in Seville

Seville´s town hall is currently hosting an exhibition Sevilla: Past, Present and Future. This six-foot flower-covered cross is typical of those carried during the Feria de Abril festivities in Easter week. The copper and brass cooking pots on iron stands and copper ladles on the wall, as well as gilt mirrors are still used today in many local households.

This miniature model is based on a typical family casa or casita in the 19th and early-20th centuries. Many such houses remain throughout Spain.

Gathering honeycomb straight from the beehive is still a popular practice.

In the 18th and early 19th-centuries, a simple altar draped with cloth was typical of country churches throughout Spain. In the background, furniture from the period is displayed.

In this photo a 19th-century prayer chair is shown, along with a carpet of flowers. Flowers are woven together to produce such carpets every year for the Easter Feria. The carpet on exhibit is made of fake flowers, although only real flowers are used during Feria festivities.

Books and skeletons

Workmen building the light rail network in Sevilla had to stop digging Monday, as they uncovered two human skeletons from Roman times in the ground directly beneath this window. The pictures I took of the bones - marked with black-and-yellow numbers like a crime scene and awaiting removal - need the lighting edited, so I will post them upon my return to Paris.

The discovery of human remains is not rare in Sevilla. Recently, more than 400 skeletons of children were found beneath a construction site. They died of "the pest," according to a Spanish acquaintance. He meant the plague.

I think the One Deep Breath writing prompt is books. I have been unable to access sites on blogspot since Monday, when I glanced at the prompt. In any event, I´ve written haiku related to books and skeletons:

Skeletal remains
of two who lived long ago
a mystery to solve

Books inform my mind
touch my heart and feed my soul
no life without books

Mystery and intrigue
await within the pages
of a new novel

Books fill my life with
ideas and inspiration
too many to count

In any language
books are the true foundation
of knowledge; power

Spanish language books
vex and perplex the students
surely light will dawn

First day of school

This door on Avenida Antonia Diaz is covered with leather, with a silver hand knocker and accents.

Nobody warned me that not a single word of English would be uttered in my Spanish class. Even the directions and explanations are in Spanish. The first few minutes I was thinking, "What have I gotten myself into?" It´s harder than I expected it to be.

I´m a visual learner: I need to see the words and write them to remember them. But in this class, no such luck. No book is used and the instructor writes the words, only after explaining everything in Spanish, making us pronounce the words - even if we don´t know what they mean - and tossing a football back and forth to each other, while using the words in a sentence.

Only then are we finally allowed to see how the words are spelled. I hate that football tossing bit; it´s distracting. I had lunch with three other students, who expressed similar concerns. All of us expected instructions to be in English, at least in the first day. But no doubt we´ll adapt.

My classmates include a Belgian student, a French wine merchant (who´s just back from ten years in London), an American lawyer, a German student and a Welsh televison producer. I´m the oldest and the only married one! But they all seem interesting and if we make it through the first week with our instructor, we should be fine.

On the plus side, Monday morning the shower in my room had hot water for the first time in four days. And the piped-in music system has finally stopped shutting on and off! Progress!

Joaquin Cortes and the bullring

While waiting for Friday´s performance to begin, I took this photo of the stage and the Entrance Principal to the right (behind the black screen). Yes, we were sitting in the middle of the bullring: Plaza de Toros de Sevilla! It was a cool, windy evening and sand from the bullring occasionally swirled around, mingling with smoke piped from the stage during Joaquin Cortes´s powerful performance of Mi Soledad. His grandmother, well over the age of 90, was walking on her own, as she was escorted through the Entrance Principal.

I arrived at the bullring at 9:20 for a 10 p.m. performance, expecting the procedure would be similar to attending a performance in Paris: standing in line outdoors, having bags searched, before finally being allowed into the theatre. Instead, I was whisked in and escorted to my seat - no waiting in line.

While taking photographs of the bullring and stage, two "teens" seated behind me started saying "Hello, Thank you very much!". They were very entertaining in their attempts to speak English - which was still superior to my Spanish. When they asked if I would take their photo, I was delighted. Manuela (right) is only 12, while his friend Diandrina is 13. While trying to find a pen to write their names, I stopped an elegantly-suited man walking past. Turns out he was the manager of the bullring and sat down and chatted with me.

Two Spanish women who appeared to be mother and daughter were seated on my left. The 30-something "daughter" was elegantly dressed in black trousers, a simple silk top, discreet jewelry and stylish flats. The "mother," 60+, was too tanned, wearing a fake-cheetah mini skirt, a low-cut lyrca top, four-inch heels, flashy jewelry, lots of makeup and her short hair coloured in at least four shades of blonde and red. She never once acknowledged my presence. But at one point during Joaquin Cortes´s performance, he descended from the stage and the woman jumped up and ran after him, trying to get his photo. She returned to her seat, swooning like a star-struck teenager.

The seat to my immediate right was empty. A woman seated at the end of the row overhead me speaking English and asked if she could move to that seat, if the ticket-holder didn´t show. Turns out she was from Tucson and lived in Washington, D.C. She was in town with some friends for the Biennale: two weeks of flamenco performances at various venues. She was also taking flamenco lessons while here. It was fun comparing notes with a fellow American.

I got some photos of Cortes´s performance, but need to wait until I´m in Paris and try to edit the lighting, before posting. And what a performance it was! Without a doubt, Joaquin Cortes is the most confident performer I´ve ever seen. His talent is immense and he knows it. His magical dancing was accompanied by an astonishing ensemble of musicians, including an accordion player, two guitarists, two bongo players and several magnificent singers. The evening was magical. At one point, Cortes talked to the audience about the importance of continuing the tradition of flamenco in Seville and in Andalucia (at least I think that´s what he said). And at the end of his spectacular performance, he was carried on the shoulders of the cheering crowd out into the street!

Flamenco´s influence is everywhere in Seville - in the style of dress, the form of music and the vibrant nightlife. Late Sunday night, someone in the building next door to the hotel started practicing the footwork of flamenco, sans music. At the same time, outside my window, someone else was strumming the guitar. No one ever tells anyone to be quiet in this lively city, no matter what the hour! I´m beginning to think that´s part of Seville´s charm.

Sunday in Sevilla

On Sunday I stumbled upon a flea market while walking through the Plaza del Cabildo (pictured), a cool and shady plaza centered by a fountain. Typically the plaza is empty, except for an antique shop and a couple of other stores.

The Mercado Tradicional del Coleccionismo featured mostly stamps, coins, antique postcards and minerals. I bought six beautiful old postcards from Granada and Sevilla and admired a decorative tin box full of old war medals. But the seller told me the tin box, worth no more than ten euros was 40 euros - and that didn´t include the medals! Of course I didn´t bite.

As for the medals, it seems sad that these personal mementoes weren´t wanted by family members of those men who had earned the acknowledgement. Perhaps they were for the wrong war (is there ever a right war??!!).

I saw an old bottle that featured the glass head of a bull and photo of a matador and the word "champagne." It was such a curiosity, I asked the price. But the seller wanted 40 euros, which was too much. The most unexpected thing I saw at the flea market was a black-and-white photo of Orson Welles standing outdoors smoking a cigar, while being interviewed by Spanish television.

I noticed a gallery featuring posters and old tin signs behind the market sellers´ tables. It was closed, but a sign indicated another store was around the corner. So I wrote down information about the poster that interested me, went to the Felix Cartelismo store and waited as the owner helped two women from Montreal. As there was some trouble with their credit card, the women said they´d go to a cash machine and return to pick up their purchases. As soon as they´d left, I asked the manager about the poster. "Come with me," he said, grabbing his keys. And he shut down the gates fronting his shop and took me to the closed gallery.

I really liked the sleek 1930s poster (pictured below) for Hispano-Olivetti typewriters, "la rapidisima." But the seller wanted 1,600 euros, which was over-the-top! And it would take another 1,000 euros to frame it properly, due to its size and the need for optical glass. So I asked if I could photograph it. He said, "Of course and take your time looking around the gallery." Meanwhile, two of his buddies came in and they were laughing and talking, while the women from Quebec were no doubt standing in front of his shop wondering what happened! When I left, he and his buddies were chatting, in no hurry to resume business. It was Sunday, after all!