Bienvenidos a Sevilla

Adeus, Lisboa!

My last day in Lisbon was lovely – after indulging in another fabulous Portuguese breakfast, I took a tram to Belem to see the Moistero de Jeronimos, where Vasco de Gama is entombed. I also went to the Torre de Belem, a fortress built in the middle of the Tagus in 1515. The Torre de Belem was the starting point for Portuguese navigators, and on it is a large statue of Maria, to protect the sailors as they set out on their journeys. The tower is no longer in the middle of the Tagus – it sits right on the bank of the river, so I am guessing the Tagus is about half as wide as it was in 1515.

After visiting (Oh Little Town of) Belem, I went back to the Alfama neighborhood, my favorite in Lisbon, to see the Castelo de Sao Jorge. The streets leading up to the castelo are steep and winding, and they are made of very slick cobblestone. My guide book advised that tourists, even in the best of shape, take a tram up the hill to the castle, but I hoofed it… I was sorry I hadn’t listened when I got to the top. On my way back down the hill, I stopped in the Se, Lisbon’s cathedral – it is decorated with some beautiful stained glass windows.

Hola Espana!

I left Portugal Saturday morning and arrived in Seville around noon. Before I could go to my flat, I had to pick up keys in the city center, which was easier than I imagined. I then took another taxi to my flat and was afraid the keys wouldn’t work or something, because it all seemed too smooth… I did stand outside my neighbor’s door for a few minutes trying to figure out how to unlock a “Spanish door,” but once I realized I was on the wrong floor of the building, I quickly hurried up the stairs with all 65 pounds of my luggage, and let myself right in to the correct residence.

Ah, home, sweet home. But not so fast… all of the rooms seemed to be occupied except for one in the back of the flat, with two twin beds dressed in dirty sheets -- heinous (I reserved a single room with a double bed). Being Saturday, and not having a Spanish telephone, I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. I went in search of an internet café so I could contact my program coordinator, who, by the way, is located in Salamanca (in the north). I let him know of the situation, fully expecting not to hear a word until Monday, and then I set out in search of sheets and towels. By this time, it was nearly 3PM, and I quickly learned that, in Spain, all stores close at 2.30PM on Saturdays. And they aren’t open on Sunday. I have to admit I was pretty pissed at this point – quite the contrast to my 5-star hotel in Lisbon, which was now so far away :(

I slumped down at a café and ordered a bottle of water and a café con leche – at least I’d have one luxury that Saturday! As I sat eavesdropping on the Sevillanas seated near me, I noticed a grocery store around the corner, and it was OPEN. I nearly cried tears of joy when I found that not only do they sell towels in the 4^th aisle, but they also sell sheets! Que bueno! I was so happy that I wouldn't have to dry myself with paper towels after a shower. With sheets in hand, I went straight back to the flat, picked the dirty ones off the bed (thank goodness for long fingernails and hand sanitizer), and placed my new ones on it immediately. Not 5 minutes later, a woman came in to the flat to understand the problem I emailed about, and then she showed me where the clean sheets are kept. She told me that the school had made a mistake and my room would be free Sunday at noon, as soon as the guy living in it moved out. Awesome.

I spent Sunday getting settled, and walking around Seville. The layout of the town has no method at all which, I hear, is the Spanish way for many things. Not much goes on in Seville on Sundays, although people were pouring out of each church I passed (there’s one on every corner), and the cafes were packed with families enjoying lunch together. I returned home around 4PM, and met my flatmate, Sander. He’s from Holland and is only here for a week – he studied at the school last year, and asked to rent a room while he is in Seville on holiday. Since Sander already knows the town, he was able to show me to the school and the gym, and also a wonderful tapas bar in the Santa Cruz neighborhood. We ate around 9PM (grilled eggplant, carpaccio, bruschetta, and caprese salad) and had some very tasty (and potent) sangria and beer … perfecto.

This morning, I woke up extra early so I’d be sure to arrive on time, like any good student would :) After packing up my backpack, I looked out the window to see that, at 7.30AM, it was still pitch black outside. I started to worry that I had messed up my travel alarm clock, or that I had missed a time change, so I quickly pulled up the world clock online. Apparently the sun doesn’t rise until 8:30 in Seville! So, I set out in the dark, with directions in my hand. I didn’t think I would need them since Sander had already shown me the way, but I wanted to be safe.

45 minutes after I left my flat, I was still weaving in and out of the labyrinth that is downtown Seville – some of the streets are so small that you have to walk single-file, but they’re still considered streets, and they do all have names… they just aren’t posted anywhere! Don’t get me wrong, though – Seville is an absolutely beautiful town, and half the reason I was lost is I wanted to see what was around every corner.

I stopped 4 or 5 people in search of the right direction. I would say, “Sabes que donde esta la Calle Conde de Ibarra?” And each person's answer sounded something like, “Si, blah blah blah, a la izquierda, y entonces a la derecha, blah blah plaza en centro blah blah.” Wow, my Spanish is rusty. I finally ducked in to a hotel to ask someone who’d know the area, but the man at the front desk had no idea where the school was. I walked back into the maze, and pulled out a map. I started to walk to the right but turned around to see the sign of the school directly behind me! So much for the man at the hotel across the way. I'd finally arrived, and I was only 20 minutes late. The staff didn’t think anything of it… I am sure it happens often, but I also know that Spaniards typically disregard keeping time.

This morning I took two tests – one written, and one oral. My written test went very well, but I’m not going to speak of my spoken… there’s a reason I do what I do for a living, and it’s obvious even in Spanish. The woman who gave me the oral exam told me that she thought I just needed to speak, speak, speak while I am here in Spain, and I quickly nodded my head ;) After we received our level assignments, all of the new students were given a quick tour of the neighborhood around the school – it seemed so easy to navigate with a guide. We then sat on a sunny plaza for morning coffee before classes… some people ate churros dipped in chocolate, but I was happy with the coffee. I could spend the entirety of my 5 weeks in Spain sitting at a café in the sun – I absolutely love it!

Once we’d had our break, I returned to the school for four hours of Spanish classes, two of which were grammar, one hour of culture, and one hour of super-intensive conversation. My classes are all very small, with people from all over the world: Iceland, Korea, Norway, Austria, Germany, New York… and there are people of all ages, too. A 19-year old boy from Austria asked me today how old I am, and my teacher quickly corrected him, letting him know that you never ask a lady in Spain how old she is. This was only after I had answered ;)

Tomorrow I plan to visit some sites after class so I can take some pictures, especially since I have yet to snap one in Spain!

Buenas noches, por ahora…