I worked one hour today. For the first time since May 31st, 2010. Well, with the exception of looking after a certain rabbit last fall, which I don't know if I would really call work, but I was kindly paid for it... Yes, May 31st was the day I wrote on my official resignation notice to Langara. Fortunately, I am starting work on a day that actually exists, a year and some months later. I don't know how much money this will make me - probably not enough to get by on, but you never know. It is a start.

I woke up unthinkably early, at 7:30 and went to Barrio Santa Cruz to meet Maria at her tienda. She had slept in, so told me to wait for her at the Bodega Belmonte, one of the restaurants I took a business card for, because the food was so good, when Sarah and Andrea came to visit. On the street that is perhaps the most touristy in all of Sevilla, the tourists had not yet appeared for the day, and various locals lucky enough to live or work near this Barrio were having tostadas with aceite (toast with olive oil) and coffee.

Maria told me to quit calling her "Usted", and then we fell easily into a conversation about the general direction our lives had taken, with mention of the major events. Maria received several pieces of beautiful cloth and balls of thread (which were in balls in those days and not on spools, she explained) when she was very, very young, for Christmas (from the three Kings - not Santa Claus). She was completely "encantada" by these, and from that time she has loved sewing and beautiful cloth.
Maria is a kindred spirit, and one of the few people I've felt so comfortable with immediately. She says "live is to be lived" and you have to do what makes you happy. She works hard but seems completely motivated by her projects, and obviously loves what she's doing. According to her, people here are close-minded. She has been kicked out of a convent, and has lived in Paris for a year in 1976, the same year Franco died, doing all sorts of jobs. From her stories, life experience, and manner, I feel she would not judge me for some of the directions my life has taken.

On the way to her apartment, we stop by her brother's shop. It is probably the most impressive place I've ever been in, for things of "design". There is furniture, light fixtures and lamps, art and wooden structures that have been or could be built into walls. Many of the pieces are what I would call architecturally designed. They are not merely fashionable. They are fascinating, high quality and probably one of a kind. They have price tags that probably deserve to be as high as they are. The place is slightly on the intimidating side - the opposite of Maria and her little shop. As we leave she points out a painting of bull-fighters in a ring, done by Lola Flores - one of the most famous flamenco dancers, also an actrice in old Andalucian movies.

She has a semi-industrial machine in her apartment on the second floor of a building across from the river, near the Puente Triana. From the tiny balcony, there is a view of the river with a palm tree in front of it, and the bridge.
She leaves me to sew and goes to open the shop. When I am almost done a young guy is suddenly standing in front of me with a surprised look on his face. "Hola, soy Ana," I say. It is her son, who did not know why he heard the sewing machine going.

I manage to do it all in an hour and bring them to the shop in time to run to the studio to practice.

Last night when I was supposed to start, Maria had not managed to bring the machine to the shop, because the table it is attached to is really huge. So I sat there while a constant trickle of people dropped by to chat or stopped in to browse. We helped an Argentinian couple choose a dress for the woman, because they had not expected weather still so hot at this time of year, and I met a woman about the same age as Maria (same age as my mom) from Paris who was in the process of "installing" herself here. This lady had already lived in Sevilla 5 years and no longer had much of a noticeable French accent. She had taught French there, and had lived in Africa, Morocco, and who knows where else, doing various things including some journalism. A big African lady with a striking outfit came in selling "silver" jewelry that Maria had already got on the shelf, and tried to sell Maria more of it. Despite the lady's pushiness, Maria wasn't bothered in the least and told me later how "encantada" she was of how this lady sometimes does her hair in a big scarf, and what a doll her daughter was, and what "gracia" she has (gracia is used to mean both funny; comedic, and graceful, or artful). I am always a little confused when I hear this word and usually assume that the person being described has a mixture of comedy and gracefulness.