Tuesday, 9 February 2010

Obbio bar, Seville

Seville. The real Spain. Non-stop tango dancing in all the bars. Bullfighting in the street and the loser's legs strung up in blue-tiled cafes. Jesus being crucified in every window (they must really hate that guy).

It's sickeningly warm and sunny. 20 degrees but the locals walk around it hats and coats like it's 20 below.

- You will need to get your friends in Sevilla to organise the publicity as soon as possible because otherwise it is very doubtful if many people will go. I can't get involved in promoting for you since I am on tour for the next ten days and am very busy.
Andrew was an expat living in Seville and playing music.
- It's up to your friends to do promo.
I'll ask him.
- If you look at my previous message from 2 weeks ago I asked for your you to give me your contacts so I could explain to them  how to do some promo but you haven't sent me anything.
My friend Nick is an architect and isn't into music promotion.
- I seriously got the impression that since your friend recommended me and knew the possible venues they must have some kind of contact with the music world  and know how these things work.
I'll ask him to ask his friends. I really wasn't that bothered. For me it's an excuse to visit Seville. I don't feel I can go anywhere now unless I have ashow there. It's psychological
- I seriously suggest that whoever you know in Sevilla gets themselves in gear and gets on the street doing flyers etc. or there won't be anyone there at all!
He was right. Only seven people came to the show. And only two of those spoke English. I danced around as best I could and they said they enjoyed it. I felt bad dumping this responsibility on Nick and his girlfriend Pila.

Nick and I were housemates in Amsterdam. Like most New Zealanders he exudes the kind of inner calm that comes from long periods spend watching sheep.  Their house has the same feeling. Open, cold and airy.

It's also from Nick I learned the art of being a good house guest. Invisibility. I'll always remember the story one of his visiting friends told, of how he slept in their living room for three months, and when they came down in the morning all his belongings would be hidden away and would be sitting up on the couch as if he'd been like that all night.

House-sitting is the life. All the luxuries and none of the responsibility. I would have quite happily stayed in doors, only they kept questioning me on the sights I'd seen. I'd read about the sites and made up some thinly disguised lies but I think they were beginning to suspect that I hadn't left the house in three days.

So I ventured out into the narrow streets and quickly regretted it. Inside the old city walls Seville is a maze of short narrow streets zigzagging in all directions and I was quickly lost. I'm not into the tourist 'experience'. I'd seen enough walking to and from the bus. But it does have a certain charm.

It's charm is being eroded though. American chains like Munkin Monuts are setting up thinly disguised subsidiaries here.

Jesus, Joseph and Mary voodoo dolls for their satanic rituals
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