Ah, Sevilla. Gorgeous place, but I don't understand a word of Spanish. Luckily for me, Sherry is there to translate somewhat, but we managed to get ourselves into a few situations that were rather, um, dodgy.

    We went to a bullfight our first night. The most expensive seats are in the shade, and when I entered the ring and felt the sun, I understood why. Sevilla is not humid, but he heat is blistering. I kept dousing myself with bottled water. Waste of money, I suppose, but it was necessary. Sat next a Ukrainian couple from New Jersey. They had the same digital camera as I USED to have. Sniff. Sherry sat next to a German woman who was strangely addicted to bullfights and explained everything to her!

    Loved the majesty and tradition of the whole event. The pure, proclamatory notes emitted by the trumpets were enough to transport me back into every movie or stereotype I've formed over the years about bullfights and Spain. Felt tears start to flow once the man on the horse lanced the bull. Felt so sorry for both the bull and the horse. Sherry laughed at me and asked if I was sure I wanted to be a doctor. "Healing, not HURTING, Sher," I replied defensively.

    After the bullfight, we went to Flaherty's, an Irish pub near the cathedral (center of town). Bartender found us amusing, don't really know why. Sherry and I were looking to be social but we couldn't see anyone worth being social with. Finally we started talking with this Irishman named Barri and a guy from San Fran named Nathan. Thought for sure they were gay, but who knows. Nathan turned out to be a Thich Nhat Hanh fan, one of my favorite Tibetan Buddhist monks (thanks to Mike Pirri!), and he was going to the monk's meditation retreat in France in a few days! Kind of interesting, but overall Nathan was on the yawn side. Sorry, but it had to be said.

    Barri told us he would take us to the Santa Cruz area of Sevilla to drink some more, but all of a sudden, a seedy man named Javier appeared. He and Barri exchanged a few words, and then Barri told us that Javier would take us around. As Barri skipped out of the bar, he gestured to Javier and whispered to me, "Careful with him now, he's a real vulture!" Well gee, Barri, THANKS A LOT! The Irish are such kind folk.

    Javier took Nathan, Sherry and myself around and it was quite a painful experience, me not understanding Javier and Sherry chatting in Spanish, only to be left with Nathan and his incessant, purist Buddhism. Strange though, as he was sipping beer the whole time.

    Next day we went to the tower of gold, called the Torro del Oro. There was a nautical museum there, filled with tributes to Columbus, Magellan, Vasco de Gama, and the likes of explorers in Spain and Portugal's heyday. There were maps of their journeys and all I could think was how frightening it would be! Couldn't imagine sailing through a seemingly infinite expanse of water without really knowing when land would be in sight. True, much of it was ego and money-driven, but it still took a great amount of perseverance and adventure.

    Finally went to the cathedral. How was that built? Words can't describe it. The altarpiece there is one of the largest in the world. I was in awe. The Giralda Tower - 35 ramps uphill 96m and Sherry and I nearly died climbing it (whilst 70 year olds trekked past us), but it was worth it! A phenomenal view of Sevilla!

    That night we went to a Flamenco show at a places called Los Gallos. It was a very intimate setting and I've written a poem about the whole experience, but it's not finished yet. It was raw, passionate...couldn't understand the language, but felt the angst, beauty, joy. How does that happen? Of course, I start to cry again.

    We ended up back at Flaherty's pub, but on our way we passed Javier. Oh God. "Hola!" he said and I was going to pass without saying a word, but then Sherry cried, "No!" very violently, just after he greeted us. And we kept walking. I was shocked but amused by her audacity. Nearly died trying to contain my laughter. Same bartender was at Flaherty's and he recognized us. 2 sangrias later, he asked me, "So, did Barri show you around last night?" "Nope," I replied, "Javier did." "Who?" he asked. "Javier," I explained, "Guy with the long, frizzy, curly hair." Bartender nodded, "Oh, the guy who just walked in." "What? He's here???" Sherry squeaked. With that, I grabbed our Sangrias and told the bartender, "Um, we'll just be around the corner." Whew. Close call there. Finished our sangrias, started walking out of the bar and Sherry told me, "We have to be careful to avoid Javier!" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Javier was in front of us, and Sherry was stuttering, "Oh, Javier! Hola! I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you out on the street there!" Swell. Good save, Sherry. At any rate, we did escape, just barely.

    Went to some hole-in-wall bar where some random man told me (through Sherry's translation) that I had the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. What rubbish, but it managed to score us two free shots of some disgusting liqour. Yuck. Sherry and I wandered into the streets and she approached some young men and asked them something involving the word "Disco." They wrote down two words for us: "Antique and Palenque." Sher and I jumped into a cab and told the driver, "Antique!" very proud to know the local hot spot.

    We got dropped off at a massive building with Antique written in fluorescent lights. It was enormous! Everyone was on this outdoor terrace with fountains, two huge projection screens, flashing lights and tropical plants. Got in VIP, don't really know how that happened. Felt really lost because we were the only foreigners there. Realized that we were the token Americans who were jumping up and knew all the words to Eminem. How embarassing. In my usual form, I tripped going up one of the terrace steps. Such pain and so humiliating. Sat down with Sherry as she chatted with a Portuguese girl and in the pulsing light I could see blood on my foot. Great. I pointed this out to Sherry, but by now she was immune to my injuries, and pretended not to hear me. Thanks Sher. Used a beverage napkin to stop the bleeding. Typical.

    We danced some more, me spouting, "No hablo Espanol!" to every man who tries to speak to me. The best repellant ever! But then Sherry had to go and meet two guys and told me, "They're taking us to another club!" and we left the complex with them. Shortly thereafter, we realized that they wanted us to go HOME with them. As soon as this information was ascertained, Sherry and I grabbed onto each other for dear life, hailed a cab, and left the two poor sods open-mouthed on the street corner at 5am.

    The next day did not begin until 3pm. Sherry claimed she was "deathly ill." We didn't do much of anything except minor sightseeing and drink mineral water. We happened to walk past Flaherty's and I saw the bartender we knew inside, wiping the bar. He looked up at me and waved. I nudged Sherry, "Sherry, the bartender at Flaherty's is waving." "Ah. Well, it's time to leave Seville then," she replied.

    "Right."

~Hope