Everyone arrived in Sevilla on Thursday, a warm, sunny, welcoming day. The taxi driver who transported Liz and I from the airport to the hotel had a very thick Andalusian accent, but we were able to pick out a few phrases. He informed us that we could pick and eat any of the delicious-looking oranges from the trees we saw growing along the side of almost every street. We arrived at Hotel Becquer at around 1400 hours, just as our group was sitting down to eat together. I must have retained a French aura from Paris, because when I walked into the hotel, the receptionist took one look at me, and greeted me with a "Bonjour, madame." I looked around to make sure I was in the right country.
The hotel is named after the writer Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, who was born in Sevilla, and who I know about thanks to my Spanish poetry class last term. My professor advised us to remember one of his poems and to try using it in a bar as a pick-up line. Here it is in rough translation:
I think it has potential. I'll have to break it out some night.
In the hotel, I walked into a room with sixteen other females and one male.
Can't feel bad for that guy! Although he must have been a little uncomfortable and not really known any of the girls, because as soon he spotted me, he walked right up and started reminiscing about the one time we'd hung out, which I have to admit really is a story worth reminiscing over.
So, a slight diversion:
Freshman spring, in order to avoid the plague that was going around Union, he (his name is Dan) and my friend Churchill and another fellow named Emmett decided to camp in Jackson's gardens one night. Churchill told me to come visit them there, so I did. Apparently none of them had a real tent, so I arrived to see them gathering up huge logs and branches to construct a makeshift shelter. They draped sheets over a loose structure, and clambered inside. I have to admit, it was a pretty impressive construction. We laid there as the sun set and talked about philosophy, religion, and other deep things. Then Churchill started telling ghost stories. If I wasn't such a baby and had watched more scary movies in my life, I would have realized that all of his story lines were unoriginal; he slightly altered the plots of some popular horror movies for his stories. I have a ridiculous imagination, and am much too gullible. It wasn't long before I was too scared to even walk back to my room. Those gardens are creepy, let me tell you, especially considering the legend that the ghost of a young girl haunts them, thanks to the villagers of Schenectady, who burned her at the stake there in 1672. So I eventually wound up just falling asleep there with them. We were woken up at dawn by some boots to our stomachs. Campo wasn't pleased with the setup, but they were impressed: "This is pretty cool, but you have to take it down. You're not allowed to mess with any of the plants or anything in here." We assured him that we hadn't cut any trees down and put every rock and branch back exactly where we'd found them. They were nice enough that they didn't write us up. Unfortunately, I wound up getting sick anyway; the night outdoors just prolonged the arrival of the virus, so that I was vomiting the night before a final exam instead of the night before a regular school day.
But back to Sevilla. We were served bread and a decent sized plate of food. When we finished that, they took away our plates, and we were surprised when they brought out another plate with even more food, which was then followed by dessert. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day here. After a brief orientation, we then had dinner at 9pm, which is normal here, even a little early, and then went to our rooms to relax and shower. We were going to get a wake up call at 7:30 the next morning, but we decided to go out anyhow. Carolyn and Shelby (two other Union students) were excited about their purchase of wine from earlier that day, for 2 euros a bottle -- "Such a good deaaaal!"-- but were less thrilled when they poured a glass and saw lots of little yellow flakes floating around in it. They tried it anyhow, only to discover that it tasted as it appeared: like sewage. After about an hour of trying to force this down their throats, at a little after midnight, we all headed out to explore the nightlife. It was right after El Día de los Reyes, which is like Christmas here, so not very many people were out. Also, it was still early for the Sevillanos. We found a place called Kudeta, known by the locals as "buddha". A dimly lit bar/chill out/disco-tech, it seemed to have potential. We walked in and found some comfy couches to relax, talk, and observe. Some of the girls went to coerce the bartenders into giving them free drinks. They were thrilled when successful, but Liz and I are almost 100% sure that the round of shots they gave us contained little to no alcohol. The drinks we had to buy were about seven euros each, so Liz and I refrained from partaking. We stayed there until about 230, when the locals were just starting to show up.
After sleeping for five hours, we awoke, Liz and I feeling much better than most, to eat a delicious buffet breakfast. We were then given a tour of the school, which is little and cute, with very few staff members....brought me back to SCS days. At 10:00, we all took an exam to determine whether we would be in the intermediate or advanced level grammar class. Liz and I both made the advanced level (brush shoulder off).
Then it was time to meet our families!!!!! Liz and I arrived at the house, number 34, painted pink. We walked through a large, wooden French door, and encountered a second, barred door. A woman opened it from the inside for us, and we saw, for the first time, our host parents! Emma and Alejandro. We greeted them with two kisses, one on each cheek, as we had been taught to do. Next to them was a tiny taco bell dog, wearing a sweater that apparently they made by cutting holes in a sock. There was also an adorable little girl in a dress, tights, mary jane shoes, with a bow in her hair. We learned that she is three years old, and her name is Julia (pronounced hoolia). She looks like a little doll, and loves to talk--as her father repeats daily with a smile and a shake of his head, "Ella nunca para," she never stops. The parents informed us that she was a "surprise child". She has two older sisters, Emma, 22, and Blanca, 17. Both are beautiful and very friendly.
One of the first things they told me was that they had my suitcases. The day couldn't get better. Until we went up the stairs. The second floor, then the third floor, then the fourth floor, then, finally, our floor, at the tippy top. "All this is yours?" we asked our Senora, who was leading us. "Yes," she replied, "the whole house is mine."
We walked past a set of French doors to the end of a little hall, and opened the door into an adorable little room with two twin beds, two bedside tables, a closet with a bureau, a desk, shelves in the wall, a space heater, and a bathroom. "This is where you'll stay."
Liz and I were ecstatic. We immediately began settling in. On the wall are posters classifying dogs, horses, and bulls; a tad bit strange, but we don't mind. The house itself is very old, with high ceilings and marble floors.
When we had placed everything where it belonged, we walked down the hall, through the French doors, through another little room, out to a beautiful rooftop terrace. The housekeeper, Carmen, (yes, they have a housekeeper, five days a week) was hanging up the wash to dry in the sun. Turning around, we saw that there were stairs up to the actual rooftop, where we found a little round table and chairs and a fantastic view of all of Sevilla.
Returning to the terrace, we were joined by Alejandro. He told us we'd have to tan out there when it got a bit warmer, like his daughters. He then told us about the disease he'd suffered through and survived a year ago: meningitis. "Every day," he said, "I get better. For a while though, they didn't think I would live. Gracias a Dios," he pointed to the sky. He has only praises for his family, always talking about how wonderful his mujer, his woman is. He told us they are lucky to have us in their house. "You," he said, nodding at me, "You're always smiling. This is good." and after a few days, to Liz: "Your Spanish is getting better already!"
Indeed, for the first few days, Liz and I struggled to understand our family's thick accent, but little by little, our comprehension and speaking improved.
We were surprised at how cold the first night was. Huddled beneath the covers, we struggled to stay warm. The estufa, the space heater, literally translated as stove, we are not allowed to have on during the night. I am so glad I brought my thickest sweatshirt. Since that first day, there has been mostly rain and cold, with half a day of partly-cloudy stuck in there somewhere. That day, Liz and I went running by the river. It was a lovely run. In Sevilla, there is a cultural "phenomenon" called piropo, which we had been warned about. We experienced it for the first time on our run. Without fail, men of all ages stand on their street corners and call out things like bella or guapa, catcalls, at passing women. Interestingly, it is not considered something to take offense to, but is really just part of the noise of everyday life. As advised, we just continue on by.
I still have lots to catch up on, but it's getting late here, so hasta manana iguanas. Tomorrow is supposed to be seventy and sun for Sevilla!
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