La Vida Sevillana

Hola Chickas -

The Misanthrope is in Geneva today and finds himself with a rare break in the schedule. I've been in Europe for six days now and I find myself thinking in a language that can best be described as Spanitalofrancodeutschenglish.

The trip began last Friday with a visit to Sevilla to see my friend Pete. He moved to Sevilla about two monts ago to take up a fellowship at a research institute. He's an evolutionary biologist and our drunken ramblings around Sevilla at 3 in the morning were peppered with fascinating discussions (well, I didn't have much to add) about his research.

The city itself was fantastic. I never had to leave New York time because we would eat dinner at 10:30 P.M., go out until 3:00 or 4:00 A.M. and sleep until noon. Because Pete was plugged in to the locals through work, we managed to avoid tourist places and he delivered me unto what must surely be the mecca of tapas in Sevilla - the Coloniale bar. I think I would have been happy just sitting there for a day and eating whatever they offered across the bar. The food was fantastic. We also had an excellent paella on Sunday that was all the better because it seems that finding paella in Sevilla is a bit like finding a baby pigeon in New York. It's a famous Spanish dish, of course, but many bars and restaurants just won't make it because of the preparation required.

Our search for flamenco proved fruitless. We asked all of Pete's Spanish friends where to go, but they made it seem like we would never find "true" flamenco because the essence of the style is that it is spontaneous and improvised. We did get to one bar just as an impromptu performance had finished, but that was the closest we got. It was like searching for the Yeti.

Pete's friends were incredibly nice. It was funny to be standing in a bar in Spain at 3:00 A.M. having a lively conversation with Enrique (a Brazilian) about my love for composers such as Villa-Lobos, Barrios and Tarrega while he wanted to talk about American music like Tom Waits and, remarkably, bluegrass. Once nice side effect of beer is that the more I had, the more "Spanish" I thought I knew.

Of course, the conversations were peppered with the inevitable moments of bizarre views about Americans. Europeans feel a freedom to be rude about America and Americans in a way that would be considered unacceptable in most of the U.S. It's really depressing, but, ultimately, it says more about them than it does about us.

I really don't believe that much of the European anti-Americanism that is so frequently discussed is based in any informed grievances with American policy or American culture. The reason I believe that is because so many intelligent, well-educated Europeans basically have no idea what the hell they are talking about when they discuss America. The most virulent anti-American comments tend to come from people who have never visited the U.S. Even the ones who have spent time there have some truly bizarre misconceptions.

They don't really know America, they just know some popular stereotypes that seem to be pervasive. So much of their information comes from television or film, but there is no way to know how representative these films are of America. I imagine that Americans have similar distorted views of countries they have only seen through films.

For example, Enrique's trip into bluegrass started through "O Brother Where Art Thou" and "Deliverance." In our discussions, it was clear that he believed that vast swathes of America were filled with hillbillies, even though the lived in the U.S. for a time. Now, hillbillies exist, but I don't think they are a major component of American culture or society. In fact, it seems kind of quaint to even use the term these days.

In these situations, I relish the opportunity to fill in the gaps for people and try to be an ambassador for the U.S. There is a deep satisfaction in dispelling some myth that has developed around Americans. What you find when you approach the situation this way is that there is an enduring fascination with America because it is so odd and so big and so powerful.

And it delights me to overcome the stereotype of Americans as naifs who know nothing about other cultures. At dinner on Friday night, I found myself explaining the history of the Spanish guitar to a table full of Spaniards. It was very enjoyable.

When I get another moment, I will post some photos from Palos de la Fronteras, where Columbus set sail for the Americas in 1492, and some other areas in and around Sevilla.

Salut!