fresca joven

this lunch is what my spanish suenos are made of,

so it gets its own post.

i sought out mariscos emilio with a mission to complete, oysters and manzanilla.

fresco y frio. the word on the calle was that this was the freshest in sevilla.

this was reason solo enough to come to this city.

the bar was seemingly full and i wandered back and fro from the dining room,

waiting for a seat.

a lovely japanese business man was finishing up, questioned me a bit and

offered up his place at the steel bar. barman totally scoffs at me and then i lay it down.

poneme una manzanilla y cuatro ostras (literally, you say put on me what you would like to order)

he stops the ridule and raises a brow, es la verdad senor, i'm no joke and i wanna eat the sea.

we then discuss my shrimp options and i decided on some raw mariscos con cabezas

with my oysters and old lady drink. vamos a comer!

the rest of this may become hazy and dreamlike, it was my sublime.

and i embark on a low tide high.

manzanilla is the speciality drink of andalucia, its a crisp dry sherry served iced cold.

its bloody wonderful with seafood and totally refreshing and

i plan on consuming much more after this lunch.

the mariscos arrive doused in a bit of rock salt. i feel like i just stepped foot on the shore.

i waste no time and peel, suck and indulge myself til i'm giddy,

discarding each decapitated specimen on a plate like a white moon.

ostras interrupt me. they are mucho mas grande than those i'm used to at my

brooklyn beloved marlow and son.

i order another glass and i'm well on my path to oblivion.

i'm meant to arrive at the seaside in a few days but these glossy half shells make

my mouth feel like it beat my body there.

this amigos, is why i chose spain.

i stop for a moment to look up and enjoy the chaos. cockles and calamari. canas and cracking.

these dudes behind the bar are making a swift dance pouring cerveza and knocking open shellfish.

sadly, i finish up my plate, want to order more.

watch the dance a bit longer and let senor know i'm ready to depart.

he seizes the moment again but nod with approval at my empty plates and glass,

'veintiuno, joven' (translation: 21, young one)

hit it.

mariscos emilio!

calle genova, 1

sevilla espana

angry dancing ladies

this is the perfect time to come to sevilla, semana feria.

two weeks after semana santa and easter, sevillianos get down for a week

with horses, open up the bull rings, drink and dance themselves silly and

pull out the festive get ups.

all the chicks had out of control trajes de flamenco on. in all colors and shapes.

(i think the polka dot prints are a must)

they were also tricked out with the fans, fringe shawls, huge earrings, espadrillas,

hair combs and flowers on top their heads.

my first hour in the city, i saw a cluster of mujers singing and dancing in the street.

they looked great and i totally regretted not bringing along my red polka dotted number.

guapa penelopa.

one of the first things i wanted to do upon my arrival in espana,

was to see the new almodovar film, Los Abrazos Rotos.

i attended a late afternoon show with muchas abuelitas. i laughed out loud.

its always me and the old ladies, thats cool though, i dig their style.

penelope was great, as usual and she looks stunning in this picture.

but to be totally honest, i was un poco underwhelmed. its charms,

and there are many, lies in the similarity to his earlier films (say mid to late 80s)

and you must see Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988 or 89, i think)

to fully appreciate and understand Los Abrazos Rotos.

i don't want to reveal too much but when its stateside and worldwide, we will return to

this discussion. i plan to view it again with subtitles just in case i missed a few things.

nonetheless, viva pedro!

(ps, see Matador if you have not yet, its gonna blow your eyes open!)

death in this afternoon

(caution sign. this is an intense and descriptive depiction of what goes down during

a bullfight-so i would skip this one if you are uneasy or simply uninterested, i won't take offense)

because it was feria, the opening of bullfighting season and i was in Sevilla, where the substance

of the corrida was developed, my desire to witness a spanish bullfight had reached max capacity.

saturday morning in the centre, i found a taquilla and had a word with the hombre aqui.

he convinced me that evening there were tickets for prime viewing and i secured my seat.

on my way to La Maestranza, Sevillanos were gearing up for the rounds with with alcohol in

all the little bars in El Arenal. i picked up a striped seat cushion and made my way in.

of course, chaos spanish style. yo penso que they love acting a bit mad here.

the plaza de torreos was beautiful and the scene was unreal-ladies in their flamenco,

many and most in straw hats and nearly everyone with swatting fans.

at 18:30, we are introduced to the cast. tres matadors, their cuadrillas (helpers),

the picadores (on horseback) and banderillos parade in.

after a bit of paparazzi and fanfare, the saffron ring is cleared and things get under way.

the first bull, fiercely runs into the ring and is agitated by the banderillos with pink capes.

toro is getting pissed off and its obvious because he is chasing after the banderillos

and slamming his horns against the wooden barricades they hide behind.

a horn sounds and next up are the picadores and things get intense.

dos hombres on horses have long spear like sticks, known as picadores and their goal

is to stab the bull in the back of the neck to weaken him.

the banderillos coax the bull over and the picador takes his stab. the bull is bleeding

from the next and now trying to slam the horse into the wall. its hardcore and at one point

one of the horses has been knocked down and the picadore pulled out of the ring.

after a bit of this, another horn.

and its the banderillos go. each of three dudes have dos banderillas,

(little poles with barbed ends and colourful streamers)

they do a bit of preening, tip toeing and dancing around and then swiftly waltz up to

the toro and festoon him in the neck with these daggers. i imagine this must be a truly

courageous act, running up to an angry bull in your fantastic traje de luces,

(i quite fancied the naranja one!) and not much else.

another horn and its the real deal.

the matador with his pink cape comes into the ring. its just him and the toro and

things get quite mesmerizing.

the dance between the bull and matador is in slow motion and almost romantic.

each matador has a different approach-one quietly coaxes the toro to venga (come)

and lets the pink fabric fall over the bulls back, another lets the spanish machissmo

fly and juts his pelvis in the toros face and plum around for the spanish audience, who

are totally loving it. this matador did have the moves though, he literally jumped up in

the air and did this wild spin move.

so the matador has his flirt with the bull and then when he decides enough is enough,

he gets the sword. he has got to get the bulls head down and be directly in front of him

to make a smooth kill. matador in verde does just this, takes his cut and the bull staggers

and falls. i think he was deemed the winner, after his first round, the crowd was waving

little white kerchiefs in a sign of approval. (noone else got this, Sevillanos are notorious

for being hard to please in the corrida)

the bull is now tied to a band of horses and pulled out of the ring.

the whole scene happens five more times.

i found it to be fascinating and like nothing i have ever seen.

the spanish love it and are so visibly proud of this art.

crema on the terraza

i found this beautiful, dusty old school art house cafe

specializing in sweets, took a break and had a refresco 

and some coco de natas.

i admit to going there a couple of times,

it has a lovely old city vibe.

confiteria la campana

calle sierpes, 1&3

sevilla

espana!

colores y comidas

of course, my first off shore post had to be food related

it wouldn't be me writing if it wasn't

i arrived early in the dia and just walked around Madrid

i found all these city cleaning guys sporting these radical neon colour combinations

i dig the yellows/reds/blues with the reds/fuschias of the flores

it was brilliant to see shannon later that evening and hear her beautiful flawless spanish

she took me a couple of her visiting pals to txirimirla

this basque tapas bar

we started with this amazing dry white wine, txoli, which had me considering rerouting my

travel plans to include a stop in bilboa to grab a case of the stuff

i had four glassfuls. and a heap of great tapas.

we took a late night coche spin around the major sites in and around the ciudad.

a first noche to beat.

love and respect

i was floored with the amount of love and support i have received in my last few days prior to my departure.

thank you immensely for your kindest words of love and admiration, the beautiful gifts, songs sang to me, hugs and kisses, messages and letters and 3d glasses.

leaving my empty room and all of you became clearly apparent in my last few hours.

i got a message in my last minutes of madness and stress that really helped me get on my way.

muchas gracias, love. i needed that.

i was totally bawling on my first flights from nyc to philly, which i throughly believed the nasty snatch

of an airline stewardess was relishing in because prior to that, she yelled at me to put my wallet and

bagel into the overhead compartment. i mean a bagel, really. and when she saw my stack of

letters and cards to open, i think she despised me even more. nonetheless, i flew, met a cool

windsurfer paparazzi dude (that was the spitting image of a young eric hemion!)

on the way, who assured me i was going to have a splendid trip

and convinced me i must stop in morocco and then i landed safely in madrid.