The Cross of May

We were Skyping with Sandie Stratton on Friday afternoon when I heard a brass band. We frequently hear music in the streets of Sevilla but this time the band was close to our apartment, and getting closer. I stepped out onto the balcony and saw excited young boys in the narrow street leading from the cathedral past our apartment. They wore distinctive headdresses; one carried a wooden cross.

In celebration of particular feast or saints' days, Catholic brotherhoods in Sevilla conduct religious processions through the streets featuring a float, or paso, borne on the shoulders of men and upon which is mounted a religious statue. These small processions evidently occur often … we’ve bumped into three in the two weeks we’ve been in Sevilla. But this particular procession was bumping into us, and I was very excited! After taking a couple of quick photos from our balcony, I ran down the stairs to get in front of the paso. In order to do so, I had to squeeze past the marching band, but I saw others doing it, so I plunged right in. I darted into a vacant spot in a store entryway to see everything from the beginning.

The boys leading the procession wore not only their padded turban-like headgear which allows them to bear the weight of the paso, they also had on t-shirts that read Cruz de Mayo … Cross of May. These were young boys, and darling. Bill, who grew up attending Catholic schools, suspects the boy carrying the cross had earned the privilege somehow, perhaps by writing an essay.

Children from various Catholic churches compete against one another during the Cruz de Mayo, imitating the much larger processions with pasos built by their elders for this and other religious celebrations, such as the huge Semana Santa (Holy Week) held in April.

After the boys holding the cross aloft passed by, the paso approached slowly and reverently, carried on the shoulders of other little boys and directed by a suited man with excellent posture, who pressed his face close to the paso and shouted directions to the boys hidden below. The paso paused right beside me, and a shower of rose petals cascaded from the wrought iron balcony above.

As soon as I could, I stepped into the street to see who stood on the balcony, but I wasn’t able to really photograph the little girls I glimpsed in their flamenco dresses. However, I was able to surreptitiously photograph an enchanting baby girl parked in a stroller across the narrow street. Isn’t she adorable?

After the paso passed me on its way to another plaza or its home church, the band marched exuberantly through the narrow street. Then ... it was over. The crowd disbursed and the magic vanished; all that remained were the rose petals in the street.

Just another Monday in Sevilla

We slept on freshly-washed sheets with the windows open last night. It was cool outside, and either quiet or we’ve just gotten used to the noise in the streets. We had set the alarms on our cell phones to wake us (shrilly) at 6:30, when I get in the shower and Bill … lovely man … makes coffee and breakfast. We’ve discovered that a hard-boiled egg and toast is the best meal and the least trouble, but this morning we were out of bread, so Billy made me an egg with sliced tomatoes and an orange.

It was another productive day for each of us in the archivo. Saber, Kryzol and Justin are working on Florida (Justin showed me a cool document written in a native American Indian language and translated by a friar); Spencer is working on 16th century Venezuela; Ashleigh is researching Franciscans in China during the mid-16th century; and I am transcribing a long legal document dated 1542 about a conquistador in Nuevo Reino de Granada … Colombia. Today I transcribed seven pages in six hours … wow! Dr. Francis is in the midst of several books and he always has something interesting on his table. Not that we can wander around looking at other people’s legajos, because the Sala is tightly controlled and is much quieter than the UNF library. Sometimes, however, we manage to peek at one another’s documents.

At 3 o’clock, the girls came back to our apartment so Kryzol could give a Spanish lesson to Saber and me; Ashleigh needed to use our Internet connection. Bill had made a big salad and put out sandwich fixings, so we ate happily and then opened a couple of books written in Spanish. Saber and I took turns reading aloud while Kryzol corrected our pronunciation and helped us with translations. After the girls left, I tried to read The Handless Maiden: Moriscos and the Politics of Religion in Early Modern Spain by Mary Elizabeth Perry. It’s a great book and I have to read it for my independent study in Religion, but I could hear the sounds from the street below, and the breezes were wafting in through the balcony doors. I was distracted by the beckoning of Sevilla.

So we went for a walk. Every time we wander the streets, I fall a little more deeply in love. I thought today that, although I have been in some of the most beautiful cities in the world … Istanbul, Paris, Venice … I have never seen a city more lushly gorgeous, more romantic, or quite so evocative as Sevilla, Spain. I am completely enchanted. Just look at some of the things we saw as we strolled the streets this afternoon:

Spaniards are religious, and many of the Catholic churches in Sevilla have little celebrations which involve children (or adults) processing through the cobblestone streets carrying a float topped with the statue of a saint. Today we saw some young boys practicing. You can barely see the crucifix and rosary atop their float.

Early in our walk, we passed the Archivo General de Indias satellite office where we UNF paleographers go to work each day.

This is the little cafe next door to the AGI, where we have "onces" at 11 o'clock. I usually order a zumo de naranja (orange juice) and a croissant, but sometimes I ask for a cafe solo (espresso). Also popular are cafe con leche (a little coffee and a lot of milk) and tortillas (a fat potato and egg pie).

Isn't this a pretty restaurant? We've never eaten here, but as we passed it, we admired the building.

The streets are so narrow, many are closed to vehicular traffic. This street had a sign indicating that it was accessible to firemen.

Here is the gorgeous Alfonso XIII Hotel. The building is lovely, and behind these banana trees you can just glimpse the tented area where people were lounging on pillows, perhaps having a tinto de verano (red wine of summer). Billy and I are going to dress up and go here for cocktails one evening.

This is another view of the Alfonso XIII Hotel. It's surrounded by a beautiful garden ... and I'm crazy about awnings.

We stumbled upon this gigantic building which is currently closed and under renovation. It's the Palacio de San Telmo, built in the 17th century as a college-seminary for naval orphans. Only in Sevilla!!

Flowers, flowers ... everywhere! These pyramidal floral structures can be found throughout the city. Billy wants to put one in our backyard.

A view of the riverwalk. At twilight, it's glorious.

Another view of the riverwalk. See the doves and pigeons? There are birds all over Sevilla, including swallows which dart and swoop near the Cathedral all day and, it seems, much of the night.

Oops ... I guess I really liked the riverwalk! I do love flowers and beauty in general, as most of you who know me, know.

Here is the famous Torre del Oro, a bulwark tower built early in the 13th century by the Almohad ruler Abul-Ula. It used to be covered in gold tiles, hence the name. Today it's just stone, but oh-so-romantic. There's Bill in the background.

Isn't it gorgeous? This is Sevilla!

They don't speak English in the Texas Lone Star Saloon

I never, ever thought I would want to eat in an American-style restaurant while traveling in Europe. I've always looked askance at the McDonald's and Burger Kings which are, sadly, ubiquitous around the world.

I should have known better.

Every time I make a silent judgment about others ... "Why would ANYONE eat in a McDonald's in Paris??" ... I end up humbled.

So here is a confession: this evening in Sevilla, I absolutely had to have a hamburger.

Dr. Francis had (goodnaturedly) forbidden us to eat in the Irish bar or the Tex-Mex place which is ... right down the street from our apartment. He doesn't want us to cheat on our commitment to learning or improving our Spanish language skills. I thought I could eat there with Bill and just quietly not mention it. But now that I have, I find it's definitely blogging fodder, so:

I swear they don't speak English in the Texas Lone Star Saloon, Dr. Francis.

I've mentioned before that I'm not really loving Spanish food, although the tapas last night at Tapas Viapol were my favorite so far. I especially liked the Berenjenas a la Crema con Queso (mashed eggplant with cheese) and Piquillos relleno de Merluza y Rape con salsa de espárragos trigueros (peppers stuffed with fish and covered with asparagus and sauce). But we've been gone for 25 days and I've just been craving a big, juicy hamburger. So tonight we went to the Texas Lone Star Saloon.

The Saloon is a sports bar with a bunch of TVs mounted on the wall which were all playing fútbol ... not football, but soccer. The waitress approached us and spoke in Spanish using phrases we had never heard before. For example, she asked Bill if he wanted his cerveza (beer) "pinto o media pinto" (pint or half pint). I actually had to break out my apology phrase ("Lo siento pero no puedo hablar muy bien") for the first time in a day or two.

The waitress left us with menus, one of which ... I also confess ... I swiped. I just had to. It was too precious not to have for my scrapbook. I even took a photograph of it so you could see what a Tex-Mex restaurant in Spain serves. So I spoke Spanish to the waitress when she returned to take our order: "Me pone una hamburguesa Waco sin cebolla (no onion)."

Not surprisingly, our hamburgers were absolutely dreadful (that definitely was NOT barbeque sauce ... it resembled chili, and the hamburger patty, much smaller than the bun, was pre-formed, reheated, and overcooked).

Nevertheless, I thought it was ... ummm ... simply delicious!

Bill had a Fort Worth hamburger, which he ate with a knife and fork. I cut mine into quarters and picked it up like I do at home, lickin' my fingers and smackin' my lips. It was perfectly satisfying.

My hamburger at the Texas Lone Star Saloon was a fun end to a domestic day (laundry and apartment cleaning). Tomorrow I'll be up at 6:30 and off to the archivo for the start of my second week.

Why I love Sevilla

I am too tired to write. It's late again ... and I've been up late for too many nights in a row. My first week in the archivo was satisfying; in fact, I would even dare say ... thrilling. But I'm looking forward to a quiet Sunday of resting, reading and nesting.

They say pictures are worth a thousand words, don't they? I'll let them speak for me tonight.

The Sevilla cathedral at night

Billy and Karen at Italica

Italica ... Roman ruins outside Sevilla

Fabulous door knockers on a house in Sevilla


A view from the Giralda


A view from the Giralda: the cathedral, the Archivos General de Indias and the satellite building where we work each day


Inside the Sevilla cathedral

Inside the Sevilla cathedral

Random gorgeous building

Earthly and ethereal in Sevilla

After a satisfying day in the archivo (I arrived at 8:15 and left at 3) and a siesta, Billy and I went wandering in Sevilla. I wanted to go to the Giralda (I can't believe we haven't been yet) but it closes at 5, so, camera in hand, we began to walk. Thank the technology gods for digital cameras! We've been gone for 21 days and I have 1,643 photos. Okay, I do tend to take multiple shots of the same thing, but still ...

It's so difficult to cull through the myriad fabulous things I'd like to share with you; this evening I'll just concentrate on three of them. They are the earthly and the ethereal.

The Dress (the earthly)

The first time we walked down our street and I looked in the store windows, I knew I wanted to buy a flamenco dress and a fan. Spanish women are feminine, and they use beautiful fans with regularity ... it's so hot in southern Spain. I love the way these women look, sitting on the train or in a restaurant, talking, and fanning themselves offhandedly with a lovely lace fan. Hmmm. It seems wherever I go, I pick up a personal habit. The first time I was in Italy (1996), I saw Italian women wearing fishnet stockings with their business suits. I loved the look and began wearing fishnets years before they became trendy in the U.S., as they are now. I think I'm going to have to start carrying a beautiful fan.

But about the dress. Flamenco dresses are uber-feminine. They are festooned with ruffles, bows, laces and fringe. Many of them are bright. Fuschia! Chartreuse! Tangerine! Scarlet! Some are, I confess, a bit tacky for my taste. Many of them are handmade, and they don't appear to come in multiple sizes. When I look in the store windows, I see row after row of individual dresses ... only one of each kind. I think one must choose the dress one wants and have it altered. I have only been window shopping thus far ... I'm not sure my Spanish language or knowledge of the culture is adequate to venture into one of these stores so soon.

But I found the one I want. Actually, Spencer found it. He pointed it out to me in a window and I gasped ... it is so beautiful. This dress has the price displayed on a discreet paper "tent" ... €1,500 or approximately USD 2,067.73. Well, I can dream, can't I??? I wish I were brave enough to go in and ask to try it on. Isn't it gorgeous?

The Helato (earthly/ethereal)

Right up the cobblestone street from The Dress is Dr. Francis' favorite heladeria; we were in the mood, so we stopped in (before dinner ... it's the only way I ever eat dessert). Helato is gelato ... sherbet ... Italian ice. It's refreshing and cool on hot Sevillano days like today, and this particular place will make special flavors for you if you ask. But why? It already has a dizzying display of flavors. Today, I ordered something with the word "Colombiana" in it (chocolate chips and coffee) and "Crema de Sevilla" (lemony) ... yum! Bill had naranja (orange) and plantana (banana). Two small cups (each cup is a very generous scoop ... and you can mix flavors) is €5,20.

There are little tables outside where you can sit to watch the scooters roaring down the cobblestone street, and the pretty mamas strolling their beautifully dressed babies.

This is one of three cases ... that equals at least 42 flavors!

They even carve fruit into flowers ... these "flowers" are watermelons.

The Friar (the ethereal)

We'd barely finished our helatos when we bumped into a church: la Iglesia Franciscana de San Buenaventura. Unlike the Giralda, this one was open ... prior to mass (misa) at 7:30. "Let's go in!" I urged Billy. Oh, I love old European churches so much! They're like a perfect present. I admire the outside first, and anticipate what's inside. It seems so often when I open them up by stepping inside, the church is so lovely and heavenly it brings tears to my eyes. This one did. Just look at its Baroque beauty:

While I was quietly walking around looking at each of the chapels and the elaborately-dressed statues of Jesus, Mary and various saints, Bill concentrated on looking for the patron, Buenaventura. A friar sitting in an open confessional spoke to Bill in Spanish as he approached. I could see them talking together across the church, and then Bill followed the monk through a curtained door. I followed too.

The priest, Fray Tómas Patero, was an absolute joy. Using our halting Spanish, we told him that we lived in the United States (he wanted to know exactly where ... and was it near Cuba?), and that I was a student of history and religion working in the archivo in Sevilla. We asked him if there was an image or statue of the patron, and he told us about St. Francis of Assisi and his follower, Buenaventura ... who lived in his heart. He took us into the garden of the convent, and turned on the fountain for us when I asked if I could take a photo:

He even posed for pictures with Billy and me, holding my hand and then kissing me on both cheeks when we left:

For me, this was an incredible gift ... a moment in time with a man who has committed his life to God, taking vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. The memory of his kindness to us ... two earnest American tourists ... is something I will always cherish.

A short note about life in Sevilla

Yesterday, I was the first person at the archivo. At 7:55, I was five minutes early, so I had to sit on a bench to wait before they would let me in. Thus, I'm taking it a little slower this morning!

Another reason I'm moving a little slowly is because 6:30 in the morning seems to come so soon ... but especially when we've been out acting like Sevillanos the night before. Instead of taking a nap when I got home yesterday, I tidied up, and wrote, and read. Then, we had Dr. Francis over for oloroso (a type of dry Spanish sherry) and olives so he could look at my transcription thus far. THEN we headed out for tapas and vino tinto. We had some type of chicken and potato dish, a pork dish with huge roasted garlic cloves, and a special tapas: a small biscuit with sausage and a beautiful quail egg resting in the center. It was all delicious!!

But sigh. That lack of nap in the afternoon left me really sleepy this morning.

I guess I'll have to resort to a cafe solo this morning (black espresso in a small cup). At 11, we all troop out of the archivo and go to the little cafe next door for "onces" ... coffee and a snack. Some people bring their own sandwiches or fruit, and others order a croissant or tostado with tomate (flat toasted roll with chopped tomatoes on top). I love the orange juice, which is fresh-squeezed and warm. Today, however, I think I need coffee!!

I'll post some photos later.

Here it is! The Archivo General de Indias

The original Archivo General de Indias (the AGI, shown below) was built in the 16th century and functioned as the Casa Lonja de Mercaderes ... Spain's customs and tariff building. Although it houses 30,000 archival documents (many millions of pages ... that is, everything Spain possesses about its former colonies in the New World), researchers no longer work within it. We work instead in the Sala de Investigacion across the street in the satellite AGI building, and the original documents are brought over to us through an underground tunnel. The old building, which is now a museum, was declared a World Heritage Site in 1987.

This is the satellite building in which researchers work. Unfortunately, I can't take my camera inside to show you the actual sala since what can be taken into or out of the room is tightly controlled. Researchers must have a permit, enter through a metal detector daily, and store personal items in a locker. The room where we work is guarded by a uniformed security officer. Fortunately for all those who come after us, Spain cares seriously about its historical artifacts and heritage.

This is the door to the building where we work. It's modern, but right across the street from the original AGI building and the Giralda. It's absolutely gorgeous here.

Walking through this square in the morning is a glorious experience. Shown below on the left is the Seville Cathedral with its famous Giralda, and on the right is the AGI. I am so lucky to be here for eight weeks ... which is far too short a time to transcribe all the material I would like to have.

Day 1: Archivo General de Indias

I would like to say that my registration worries were for naught, but, alas, they really were not. That process at the AGI today was as challenging for me as I had feared. Perhaps my fears made it so, but perception is reality ... and that was my perspective.

The details of my inability to understand the several officials with whom I had to deal are unnecessary ... I will never have to endure that process again, and ultimately I was granted a permit to enter the Salon de Investigacion ... that hallowed place in Sevilla where researchers are allowed to handle, read and transcribe original documents pertaining to Spain's colonies in the New World. Using the AGI's online index, I had already identified two legajos (boxes) of documents pertinent to my thesis, and with the help of an archivist I ordered both of them (each researcher is allowed to order two boxes at a time). After a wait of 30 minutes or so, my legajos were brought up on a cart, and I went up to the desk to retrieve the first box: Justicia 1095. The friendliest of the officials handed me the first batch ... a stack of documents dated 1547, neatly bundled together and tied with a ribbon. I felt like I had been given a treasure, as, indeed, I had.

Dr. Francis had prepared us well ... we all know archivo protocol; I reverently untied my documents and began to read. From the first page, I could see that the documents were important for my project. Using a laptop (which researchers are permitted to bring in), I began to work; by 3 o'clock, when the AGI closes, I had transcribed a little more than six pages of 16th century Spanish ... I was delighted with this! I think as I become acquainted with this difficult scribal hand, my speed and accuracy will increase.

I'm off to bed ... I have to get up at 6:30 to be at the AGI by 8:15!

Scared in Sevilla

Tomorrow is my first day in the Archivo General de Indias. Because I arrived after everyone else, I have to run the registration gauntlet ... alone. Alone. And en espanol. Somehow, I don't think the guards and archivists are going to be quite as amused by my wretched attempts to communicate in Spanish as some of the merchants are. Or those lovely businessmen on the train from Madrid to Sevilla, who spent two hours speaking slowly and sweetly to me, finding my language skills after only two summer semesters rather endearing. Oh no. I'm afraid the archivists are going to draw themselves up and shoo me away when I approach them and tell them I have come to register for the first time ("Vengo registrar por favor").

I have a little cheat sheet with Spanish phrases written on it (which includes the well-worn "Lo siento pero no puedo hablar muy bien"), but I don't think I'll have time to refer to it. ("Hold that thought, mean guard, while I check out my cheat sheet.") But perhaps they will be so enchanted by my new black Wolfold polka-dot stockings that they'll let me in anyway. I'll report tomorrow.

Here is why I am falling in love with Sevilla:

Interior of la Iglesia de Santa Maria la Blanca ... right down the street from our apartment.

Beautiful, flowering trees ... everywhere.

Tile railings at the ... actually, I don't remember where I saw this during our walk today. I think it's the Plaza de Espana ... I'll find out!

Random beautiful building on our walk this afternoon.

Crossing the street near Plaza de Espana.

More crossing of streets ... it's just gorgeous everywhere I turn my head.