A quick jaunt south-east

has landed me in Seville. Originally this seemingly random trip wasn't to be so random, with me heading down to Andalusia (will be using this yucky anglicised spelling as authorised by Wikipedia) to experience the birthplace of many so-called Spanish icons and just generally have a good time during Semana Santa. The latter was a motive for me coming here but eventually proved to be my undoing as I could find no beds in Granada or Córdoba later this week. No problem, will be heading north to Lisbon instead!

The two days here have confirmed Seville's second place in my list of so-far visited Spanish cities, which means it's above Barcelona and behind Valencia, which is by default unpassable. Even though it might be as touristy as B-town during Semana Santa, this place has culture bursting from it. Seeing Parc Guell, the Sagrada Família and all of Gaudí's masterpieces is a fantastic experience if expensive. However with Seville architectural charms know no bounds; you only need to look up to see something Moorish and definitely moreish. Almost every bar I have stepped into here carries the distinct tiling. The seseo stands out here whilst I seldom got addressed in Catalan in Barça (okay, it's not the same, but you get my drift).

When I arrived I was dead set on seeing a flamenco performance, without castanets. I could have seen one in Barça, indeed bars were adorned with performance ads and souvenir shops carried the characteristic young girl's dress. But I waited until today: flamenco is seen outside Spain as Spanish, a national musical genre. Tourists and migrants from the south have used the nation-state of Spain to put an Andalusian gem in Catalan heartland. In reality this nation-state the only thing making flamenco Spanish. I wouldn't dream of paying to see flamenco anywhere other than down saaf, much like I wouldn't speak Galician in Valencia or expect anyone in Extremadura to know what a fallera looks like.

But I'd eat a crepe anywhere in France; Breton they may be, but stronger the French national identity also is. /yoda On a visit of my housemate's (also French) friend he was to buy his sister a souvenir; she had specified "algo de España", which means fallera models and Valencia-branded crockery were rejected in favour of a glass with an Osborne bull on it. I admit to ignorantly wrinkling my nose thinking "typical French" given the two countries' completely different attitudes toward regional identity. Makes you think, though.

The flamenco was awesome by the way. To Lisbon!