Tranquilo y Pasion

Sevilla could not be lovelier. The profusion of oleander blooms draping over cobalt and pearl tile benches, warm aromatic breezes, the joyful voices overlaid with bursts of song and flamenco clapping.

David and Lorenzo, alternately, taught me the interior map of their travel the shady winding alleys rather than the hot, bright congested avenidas, the best tiny, inexpensive tapas bars, the local musicians, the sherry to savor...









Andalusia, you have stolen my heart.  It matters not that your romantic overtures were over the top: 'You are the sunshine of God's face,'; 'Your lips are my world'... I could linger awhile in the liquid eyes of your men, admire the intensity of your women and delight in the happiness of your laughing children.

But I am only here on a temporary visa.

I pray for a Good Medicine Death, that wherever my spirit may travel, it takes along the lessons you have taught me.

And that if I can bring along some camping compression sacks it will not unduly squish the flamenco dresses I couldn't fit in to my backpack.