A group wide excursion this weekend led us to Córdoba and Sevilla Spain. We awoke early to find a bagged lunch from the hotel awaiting us. (The last time we went on a walking exclusion without breakfast the group got close to violence). What better to have first thing in the morn than, you guessed it, a Jamon sammi? I'm divorcing cured ham after this. We are done. We took the windy mountain road three and a half hours out to Córdoba, a beautiful Renaissance Andalusian city. We crossed the long and formidable bridge into the old city center to meet a lovely and calming guide named Loli at the Triumphal Arch. Walking at a leisurely pace she whispered history and notable facts through our single channel head pieces. We strolled through the supremely manicured gardens of the Alcazar. The water features brought in by the Moors allows for both irrigation and spectacularly beautiful fountains. The smells of Córdoba were overwhelmingly fragrant with florals. 
The most notable sight that day was the Córdoba Cathedral, a former Mosque of the most grand proportions. This place was huge, monarchs adding to it as the city grew. The tile work and decorative carved wall surfaces left me in awe. We were finally cut loose by the guide and free to pursue lunch as we pleased around 3pm. (By the end of our tour, the guide kept parading us in front of outdoor eateries and I caught every single face looking longingly at plates of food like hungry dogs). We ate a late lunch, menu deal dia, at a traditional Spanish place. I had a thick regional gazpacho, paella and a cafe con leche. Córdoba is truly a beautiful city. We hopped on the bus again for another hour to head to Sevilla filled with conversation about the day and singing to Whitney Houston, well specifically Clay giving us a lip synced version from the front of the bus. 
We met a young casual guide who chain smoked while leading the pack named Eduardo. He chattered on and on in what he thought to be a charming manner. We were a very tired and captive audience. I at that point didn't have much patience for insistent charm (which bordered on obnoxious) but I did appreciate his critical lense on history. He also conveniently covered the history lessons I was charged with giving the next day. No, no, no. I am fine with losing a whole day to research that was redundant. No problem. We ended the tour at a spectacle built for Spain's 1929 exposition used as a set on Star Wars. From there we were informed of a snafu with the accomodations and bus driver hour limit and hustled to the hotel to make the check in time. (Side note: this was all ONE SINGLE DAY mind you. 7am - 10pm of sightseeing. The guy planning this probably wouldn't be able to keep up this kind of physical and mental exertion I'd wager). We ended the night in the hotel cafeteria with you guessed it, paella and the most delicious, sweet white wine I've ever had. I collapsed into a very comfortable bed.
The next morning we spent the morning at the Reales Alcazares and her expansive gardens. This palace is still the official royal quarters for the royal family during their stay in Seville. Originally a Moorish palace every single room is decorated with the repeating patterns of Spain's past. On and on each space was richly decorated with the horseshoe arches, tiled masterworks and carved undulating surfaces. Even the ceilings took my breath away. I may be getting used to abundant beauty however, as I get swept up in banal beauty more often. The smells of the restaurants and flowering trees, the kindness of a stranger, the Spanish Tweens' cool, divine and effortless beauty seem to compel me more than all of this excess, surprisingly. We leisurely walked the royal gardens to find the kind of courtyards and labyrinthine hedge work you only find in movies. Each small section delighted with a richly decorated tile fountain and masterful botanical creations, all very, very beautiful to behold. I felt lucky that morning. (Side note: I'm really paying close attention to the ridiculous photos people take at these tourist destinations. I don't know what I'm going to do with it but it is providing me a belly laugh every time.)
We spent the next hour or so at the Seville Cathedral, the third largest in the world. We walked yet again another incredibly tall tower to see the city view. Originally this tower was the minaret and the man calling all to prayer traversed the heights five times daily. Luckily, there weren't steps but ramps that he scaled on top of his donkey. 35 flights to a true vision of an old and vibrant city was worth the sweat.
I broke off alone with a delightfully easygoing student Angela, fatigued by the group dynamic-to see the art museum and lunch it up. The art museum was free but sadly mediocre, lots of flamenco gypsie and matador paintings that reveled in saccharin cliches. We cut out quickly to have a bodega lunch, me of course having another paella, a record for me being three meals in a row. I know, I know. Beach season is right around the corner. You don't have to remind me. We bought a gelato and walked to the plaza featured in Star Wars who's name I can't recall. We rented a rowboat and struggled to maintain a direction or pace, bumping into rowing tourists the whole time. We ended the day laughing and me a little sunburned. The three hours back involved bobble headed naps and a pit stop at an oddly familiar gas station that was exactly like one might find in the U.S.
More side notes.
1. The students are struggling to maintain composure in social settings. The group is isolated and feeling restless. Gossip is happening. I keep my head down and spend my evenings streaming House of Cards with Angela, who is gleefully content without chatter. When I bed down in the late evening I am careful to make sure I lock my door -in case someone feels stabby. I'll report on the dynamic as it shifts. Hopefully there won't be a revolt. They like sharp things and I sleep soundly. ;)
2. European restaraunts are still painfully stingy with water refills. Also, they think highly of their cooking as I can't find salt and pepper on a table to save my life.
3. My shower head is still possessed. I haven't had two hands free to wash my hair in months.
4. I've produced hardly any painting while here. I am overwhelmed and incredibly distracted by all that I've seen. I've had no time to reflect and feel like all the preparations I made to come here and work were for naught. I feel like my work is at an impass. The students begrudge me because I think they wanted to witness the creative act. Sadly, they are but its not what they expected, a little discussed facet of a visual artists' process. I am starting to shed this guilt though as I know it will make sense when I have a real studio back in my life.
5. I'm ready for hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. Wine and Tapas don't keep you warm long enough.
6. I've been wondering if my dogs dream of me like I dream of them. 
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