It has been a fairly unexciting week. Up until last night when Eddie and I went out to tear it up with some friends there was really nothing worth noting, except the results from Midterms coming back in. Even those weren't unexpected, but the general grumblings from other students continue to tickle my funny bone. I have one professor, an young Italian woman named Ida who has a PhD in Medieval Spain (I think) and attempts to inspire interest in the subject matter of our 3 cultures class (Muslims, Jews, Christians); I say tries to because frankly she has a weird sort of proficiency in English and odd phrasing combined with her accent which causes many to tune out. The male population of the class, myself included, has trouble focusing on the subject matter regardless of what she says. That kind of young Italian woman. She quite literally asked the class at large if we are in fact college students and if at American colleges we are required to write essays anymore. Hilarious, at the time; in retrospect.....I could go off tangentially about how far our education system has fallen in today's world. Europe alone provides so many vivid examples of how poorly we educate our children as a general rule. I was told by several Scandinavians and a Belgian I met some weeks ago that in the Scandinavian countries by the time a student is twelve he or she will be fluent in three or four languages, and by eighteen the number can climb to six or seven. One would be in serious need of being smacked around for saying all European systems of education are comparable or better than the best the States has to offer. Some are comparable, better even. Don't look now but the Asians have caught up as well, possibly even begun to surpass the West given their fanatic work ethics even by American standards. Ok so a little tangent there inspired by the lack of effort or ability or both on the part of some of my peers two weeks ago.

Ah yes, November starts Tuesday which means two events most immediately: Americans tearing up Sevilla celebrating Halloween which has only sort of caught on here as a commercial venture. The gay community LOVES the event though and since the city boasts such a vibrant gay community and Rico seems to know half of them by now it should be quite the spectacle. Luckily we have Tuesday off for all saint's day which I can only assume is a sort of holdover religious day of celebration of the saints etc. etc. whatever. All the holidays are just Christian replacements of old pagan holy days anyway. I personally enjoy the dia de los muertos as it is practiced in Mexico more than American Halloween. Maybe it's because I'm off in the head and refuse to eat candy.
More importantly, when Eddie and I looked at our schedule for October we knew we were going to have a ridiculously busy month, and indeed we have. The sevillanas dance classes twice weekly and volunteering with the kids both kept us moving at a brisk pace Monday through Thursday and the weekends have been full to bursting with trips and cultural visits etc. November looks slightly more imposing, if only because now term projects and papers and presentations are all going to be due at some point during the month, leaving us with only the last hurrah of taking finals in December. Next month will also be more....challenging? Adventurous? We'll see. We go to Granada, a two day/ overnight affair with the school the second weekend, and then beginning Thursday the 24th we do The Big One, Rome for four days. It looks increasingly likely that it will be my only other major trip outside Sevilla during my time here which is an idea which has grown on me. Financially I can't afford to go traipsing about willy nilly like I'd imagined. In the end though I would hate myself for flitting across the surface of many lakes rather than diving deeply into one and exploring. Tourists can see a bunch of cities in a short amount of time. I never want to be a tourist.

Now I must do something I hate: try to relate to you in words what can only possibly be understood by seeing, hearing, and feeling for yourself. Victor, our dance instructor, is the director of dance of the museum of flamenco here in Sevilla. The class was invited to attend a performance of his during Midterms but Eddie and I felt we couldn't go given our test load the next day. Judy informed us of a special performance he and the museum were putting on Friday night, a flamenco tribute to a famous Spanish poet on the anniversary of his death. I just was not ready. First, the setting was so incredibly understated. There were maybe 150 people sitting on three sides of this small wooden stage, the majority of them foreigners, Germans and Asians for the most part (go figure). The performance was given in four parts: first the woman, who we will get to in a moment, performed a piece of her own; next a singing solo in what can only be described as Spanish-Arabic style; next a guitar piece; finally, Victor Bravo in all his glory.

Now Victor was stellar of course. He was dancing in a style that originated in Cadiz and roughly translated means fun or happy. Man did he ever get into it, feet flying and stomping and him twirling madly one second and holding himself composed just so the next. But I am compelled by my nature to settle my focus upon Asuncion, or Asun (Ahh-soon) as they call her. I have never seen a woman dance like that. The only comparable emotional energy I can even think of would be from some of the pieces in Les Mis, but even those fall short. There is a concept which I think I may have mentioned already at some point: duende. It is a Spanish word with no possible accurate translation in English. The best I can do is dark soul because they say Sevilla is a city of duende, or as a famous Spanish nun who lived here once quipped: 'In Sevilla it is hard not to sin.' A person can certainly have duende, a sort of darker passion emotive of suffering and sensuality. Asun wore a blood red and black flamenco dress and her faced looked as if she were mourning the death of a child, but her body undulated back and forth in sensuous, rolling rhythm. Flamenco is possessed of so much energy to begin with but this was just senses tingling to the nth degree. As the dance progressed she was less mournful, and anger began to take form. Finally, she was stamping and twirling furiously as if determined to fight back death itself. To put it as succinctly as I am amble, when she was finished I was close to tears, not because her emotional state was translated to me although it did happen for others; I almost wept because all I could think was "I will never seen anything like this ever again." Kind of like 'nothing will ever be so bright, we'll never be here again etc'. You might say I'm silly for doubting my ability to see another incredible female flamenco dancer in my entire lifetime. You would be both right and wrong. Right because I certainly could. Wrong because the pieces Asun and Victor composed for the evening were in special tribute to the aforementioned poet, entirely their own creations. Taking video was expressly forbidden, but it wouldn't have done the experience justice in any case.  Rico nailed it: When Asun and Victor take the stage, God stops to watch. She was literally that impressive. One of my friends who went along has photos and even a video (shhh) of some pieces and as soon as they are available to me they'll be on here.


Different topic: the internet is awesome if you weren't already aware. I'm currently watching the Broncos get stomped on by the Lions thanks to some nifty streaming sports coverage sites. It's not much but just a little taste of being back home is cool now and then. Even if the commentary is being done by some British guys who have no clue what is actually going on. Back to soccer for you.