Fugitive

I´m in Sevilla. Yesterday I saw a cleverly titled pamphlet in the tourist info office called ¨Youthing¨. It had listings for movies, clubs and plays for the next couple weeks. The very first entry was for a free film called ¨Brad, una noche más en las barricadas.¨ (Brad, one more night in the barricades). About the assasination of a journalist in Oaxaca. 8pm. 55 minutes long. What did I have to lose?

I googled the address, circled it on my map of Sevilla, and headed out towards what I expected would be a small, alternative, independant film theatre. Something like Liberty Hall maybe. What I found was something quite different.

The street the ¨theater¨was on was really an alley that turned a corner and then came to a stop where four blue wooden planks formed what resembled a door. One of the middle planks was torn off to make room for people and bikes to squeeze and duck through. It looked nothing like a small independant film house, but I knew I had the right street, so this had to be it. Upon entering (and I felt somewhat brave just for doing that) I was surprised to find that I was still outside, no roof overhead, and the surroundings were:

a table of miscellaneous flyers announcing upcoming activist events and current government proposals to be battled against,

a small tree in a pot and several small sad potted plants,

sheets of white crate paper taped everywhere with lists in marker of things to be done/ways to volunteer/volunteer schedules and duties etc,

a few hippie types,

a couple maybe-big-into-drugs types,

and all of this set in the entryway to a huge abandoned building, with random abandoned building crap scattered about and halfway torn down, halfway graffitied abandoned building walls.


I later found out it used to be a fábrica de sombreros (hat factory).


I had arrived late, but they were still in the process of setting up chairs and the computer in the room where the film was to be projected onto a cement wall. Then they had tech problems and sent a guy out on a bike to bring another computer, but that still didn´t work so we ended up not watching the movie.


But while waiting for them to start it I started talking to the two women in front of me, in Spanish of course. It was soon apparent that they weren´t Spanish, so I asked where they were from. England. We continued speaking in Spanish, however, because they were really serious about practicing. They invited me to another movie event they knew about that took place in an urban garden area. So I followed them there, where we checked out the garden´s compost heap (which Katie found lacking), checked out the figs of the nearby fig tree (overripe, dry, and a few with maggots), then helped ourselves to the tubs of free wine and beer. I met one of Katie´s friends named David, then watched a great portuguese documentary projected onto the side of one of the buildings surrounding the garden. It was called The Island of the Flowers. David invited us to go to a bar where he´d arranged to meet friends, so we went, and talked to his friends, one of whom lives on Avenida de Kansas City, one of the most important streets in all of Sevilla. She told me there´s a statue of an indian in the middle of the avenue.

The next morning I experienced one of the bigger coincidences of my life, but since I´ll be in the states tomorrow I will just wait and tell that story in person.

Right now I´m in an internet cafe hiding from my landlord, who doesn´t know that I didn´t move out of the apartment at the end of May. I was calmly packing my bags when Elvira came to the door to tell Belen and Raquel that someone was going to come view the apartment within 15 minutes. I hastily shoved everything into my suitcases and fled, and now I wait for the ´´safe´´ call from Belen.