There are several things that are amusing to me about this post::
1) It is a post all about Sevilla, although these stories are now 2 weeks and 2 cities behind me
2) I am drinking a Coca Cola Light and it is almost midnight here. I'm not drinking it because I'm tired. Or because it tastes remarkably delicious. But really just because I have yet to drink a Coca Cola Light in Europe and somehow this seems like a tragedy.
3) I am typing this blog on one of my student's laptops, which is amusing because I explicitly told ALL of the students not to bring their laptops since internet cafes are easily accessible. Thankfully my students are grace filled, generous and have yet to call me a hypocrite.
So, Sevilla. Leaving Madrid bound for Andalusia was hard, but for me saying goodbye to any city is always a mini-tragedy. Thankfully I am surrounded by energetic, enthusiastic college students and their zeal for embracing the next destination on our itinerary keeps me too distracted to weep any nostalgic tears.
Although I really had no idea what to expect when I accepted the invitation to serve as a T.A., I expected to encounter problems such as feeling too lazy, anxious or shy to do my job well. No matter how much I prepared to face the unexpected, I was not ready for the challenges that would greet me in my two weeks of travel. The personal details involving others are not exactly blog appropriate, but suffice to say that my amateur counseling skills have been well used and my emotional reserves drained several times. Also, I had a big reality check that the majority of college aged students are not by nature mellow and mature. Especially when a 3:1 ratio of girls to guys is involved. Thankfully by this point things have calmed down, walls have disappeared and perhaps everyone is finally on the same page. Or at least all reading the same book, which has been a lesson in itself--that I can't set my own agenda for the students on this trip. On a related note, the night before I left for this trip I stumbled across the following Bible verse which I wrote in the front of my journal as it seemed appropriate for easing my fears about the unknown path that lay ahead:: "Do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you." (Matthew 10:19-20). Ironically, during my week in Sevilla when I was feeling my most overwhelmed this exact verse appeared in my email inbox as part of a daily words of wisdom email I receive. Serendipity. Fate. Once again a moment while traveling reassures me that all things happen for a reason.
I wish I could say that our hostel in Sevilla had us situated right outside the Barrio de Santa Cruz (the city centre) or that we had cushy accomodations in this location that touted itself as "brand new." Unfortunately, "new facilities" means "newly changed from dorm to hostel," the city centre was a bus ride away (or an hour walk, as I would later find out), the entire hallway and all areas surrounding the hostel reeked of rotten cauliflower (imagine "The Aroma of Tacoma" x 10) and there was no free internet! (which shouldn't matter, but really did after being so spoiled in Madrid). But by the end of the week we discovered that being out in the boonies does have some benefits. We discovered 2 euro sandwiches, a beloved bulk candy shop and dirt cheap and delicious cafe con leches. And we were walking distance from the Parque Maria Luisa which was a phenomenal destination for running, journaling and people watching.
When I visited Sevilla back in '05 I had the great fortune of being there at the same time as the Feria de Abril, a week long event where Sevillanos head to the fairgrounds that have been converted into a carnival of sorts. The grounds are filled with a circus, amusement park and dozens of tents called "casetas" which families rent out to host parties filled with food, drinks and plenty of flamenco. All of the city's residents dress in flamenco dresses and suits and ride around in horsedrawn carriages. I had no idea what to expect from a Sevilla that wasn't adorned in ruffles and flamenco music and I feared that I would be severly dissapointed.
However, my fears were washed away as I set sight on the neighborhoods of the year-round picturesque neighborhoods of Triana and Santa Cruz, smelled the orange scented air and discovered that Sevilla had been a city of inspiration for many famous writers. The thought even crossed my mind that perhaps my undying love for Madrid might have some competition...By the end of the week I realized that Madrid is still where my heart is, but I left the city with a great affinity for this white washed Andalusian mecca. We had enjoyed tapas, visited the breathtaking palace and gardens of the Real Alcazar, climbed to the top of the Cathedral's bell tower for a view of the city, experienced flamenco in an intimate setting, took advantage of siestas and even enjoyed an afternoon at the beach on the Strait of Gibraltar--which was unfortunately overcast and drizzling. But it was the beach. In Spain! And so I jumped into the water anyways. And then realized that I am not a fan of saltwater...
Everywhere I went in Sevilla I was plagued by feelings of "deja vu." I recalled conversations over breakfast with friends, falling asleep in my tights and skirt after a long day at the fair and running through the windy streets of Santa Cruz towards the tour bus bound for the beach when my alarm clock had failed. One of the strangest occurences of all was when we arrived at an Italian restaurant I'd been raving about (only because my guidebook suggested it) and once we were seated in the back my mind suddenly was flooded with a whole host of memories from the evening I'd dined there with a large group of my fellow students in '05. An event I'd had no recollection of was suddenly uncovered and left me wondering, if this was hidden somewhere in the recesses of my brain, what else lies buried in there awaiting the perfect external cue to unlock it?
The week in Sevilla was also filed with some other lightbulb moments. Such as when I was taking in the view of the gardens in the Alcazar and overheard a Spanish high schooler playing "Oh Susanna" on his harmonica. My heart sprang in joy at the sound of this instrument and my soul begrudgingly replied "ok. ok. I guess you can start practicing your harmonica since you did drag it with you all the way from Seattle." So a few days later at the beach I put all my effort into mastering "Oh Susanna," only to discover that harmonica is not as easy as it seems and that my students can only handle so much of my novice playing.
I also learned that my Carpe Diem attitude may get me into trouble and that sometimes listening to your body is just as good (if not more important) than seizing the moment. It was a Wednesday night and I wasn't feeling well after a day filled with too many cafe con leches and not nearly enough agua so I turned down the invitation from my students to go out dancing. Even though one of them knew a promoter at the club and promised it would be a fun filled evening. However, once they started playing dance music and getting ready for the night, my dancing self was swayed and I agreed to go. Looking back, I probably should've decided to change my mind again when we missed the last bus and realized we'd be walking to the city centre, but I had committed at this point and there was no turning back. By the time we actually reached the dance club, an hour later, my feet were tired, all I craved was a large bottle of water and a migraine headache was inevitably headed my way. The cigarette smoke, loud music and red bull and vodka did nothing to help how I was feeling, but I toughed it out for 2 hours until I could convince someone to accompany on the marathon trek home. We distracted ourselves by discussing what fast food places or grocery stores we might frequent if we were back in Seattle (we had definitely worked up an appetite after so much activity!) and the most joyous part of the journey was when we recalled that our hostel was home to an ice cream vending machine in the lobby. A vanilla ice cream bar has never tasted so delicious. By the time I got back to my room I was tired, cranky, dehydrated, still hungry and dissapointed with myself for not sticking with my gut. I pride myself on always "being game," but as it turns out when your days necessitate constant "gameness," it is wise to take advantage of the free moments when relaxing and rejuvinating is allowed.
Next up:: Granada. A quick 2 day stop in this city and I am already aware of how very soon I'll be saying adios to Spain and heading for Paris:: home of overpriced internet. I will do my best to stay uptodate with this blog, but can make no promises.
