South Spain: Sevilla

I confess - I love the cross!
You did this for me.
Christopher Columbus' perpetual cortege.

Bits of a frieze from the Alcazar Real at Sevilla.


I caught this fair maiden at play in the forbidden gardens.

How tourists ruin the perfect photo.

Anolecrab, or was it Montseratt?

Barcelona

Every 300 years a few people are lucky to see a celestial event like this. The heavenly spheres were aligned.

Why they put the cookie jars so high up I don't know, nor can I believe that no one in Vilanova has a ladder.
Nell and her beloved, illuminating the night with their post-wedding glow.
Park Guell, Gaudi's phantasmagoric splendorama.
Strutting through the Gothic quarter.
The rain in Spain falls mainly on the Kate.


2AM in the square, where we saw a man dressed up like a bull for his bachelor party, his friends as matadors.
Dinner in Born with the kids' friends and family. Many deliciousnesses with the tuna and the olive-tomato bread.
Mirella and I on a bikeshare bike. Riding so really hurt, so we didn't get that far.

Guilleme, one of our lovely hosts and a through-and-through yogi, adopts this his favorite crouch. Kate is amused.

Goodbye-ish, Quito

It just occurred to me that I don't have photos of the Spanish party, only videos. Downstairs from my apartment is this awesome shared space where leftist twenty-somethings congregate weekly to watch independent films, drink, make music and merry. Thinking that this was such a party, and, myself being leftist and open to all of these activities, I demanded they admit me. Only later did I find out it was a going-away party for a couple of Spaniards and that I wasn't quite welcome. So, instead of mixing, I stayed in the kitchen with Germania (above), Gabriella's birth mother and my adopted Ecuadorian mother. She fed me empanadas and stories, and all with love. The man-Spaniard, it turned out, was a professional musician and flamenco singer, and so to wrap up the party, he sang for all some tunes from his homeland, while women in the party took turns dancing flamenco. Germania and I were enraptured.
The following day, I went with my friend, Edison, Petra, and Gloria to some waterfalls 20 minutes outside Quito. The hobbit in me reveled in hiking barefoot across streams and through forests, as did the flu in me.

Farewell Germania, Rocio, Gabriella, Edison, Edison, Andy, Olufemi, Steve. Now my Ecuadorean adventures end, and begin my Barcelona adventures.

Cafe Mosaico and Flamenco

Brunch this morning with Lou and Steve, after I got taken for a ride by a taxi. I know I've reached a milestone in my Spanish speaking, since I let him have it, accusing him of singling out foreigners and how dare he and all that. Must've worked, since he didn't charge me. Above is the view from Cafe Mosaico, with a building burning in the background. We clocked the response time at 20 minutes, which would be horrific in any city, but even worse here.

Because all the houses have bars around every orifice. In other words, buildings here are zombie-proof. But they are also nearly escape-proof. EekGads!



Here's Lou laughing at something Steve (above) said. Steve said he once, while walking down the sidewalk in London, tried to avoid being noticed by a girl he had dallied with, by hiding behind a lampost. Yes, behind a lampost.

After brunch, I wandered the city in search of souvenirs, without success; however, I did succeed in nursing my flu to full strength. I am now enswined, and I can't rid myself of the fear that somewhere, maybe here in one of the tall dark church towers, Bavmorda is cursing us all.

Next, in which I crash a going-away party and get treated to live Flamenco and motherly affection.

Basilica in Old Town and a Strange Cat Sculpture

A cat frozen in fear for all time. Brilliant!



The windows shine their ancient stories on vacant pews. Maybe malls should have stained glass windows with the epics and heroes of capitalism...

Vertiginous. There was not a single person there at worship. What does this say about Quito? What does this say about God?
You walk across this rickety plankety bridge to get to the towers. On either side are the bones of people who have fallen.

Olufemi at leisure.
Kate and Steve, her own Englishman in Quito, beaming from the heights of Cafe Mosaico, which sits poised in the center of Quito, watching the city stretch from East to West.
From L-R, Rocio and Gabriela, our two incredibly sweet and hippie roomates, and Senorita Kati. Kate left on Tuesday, and my roomates the next day for a week-long zen meditation retreat. Here I am, drinking coffee and eating granola in Samsara. Such is life.
A nice girl I briefly met at an organic foodfest in Parque Carolina.

Edison, my spanish teacher and erstwhile photographer.