Sevilla

This past weekend in Sevilla started off very quickly. On Thursday afternoon, my friends Rachel, Erica, Pammy, and I decided to go to Madrid earlier in the day. They wanted to go to the Prado to look at El Greco’s famous paintings (I went last weekend), and I wanted to go to the Apple store to attempt to fix my iPOD and computer problems. I did not make it to the Apple store, but instead we made it to this very delicious Italian restaurant. I wasn’t complaining. Hopefully my computer/iPOD situation gets better—for now, crashing word documents, a broken ipod, and a computer that doesn’t consistently turn on does not sound too appealing.

We then continued to the bus stop in Madrid where we took an over night bus ride to Sevilla. We arrived in Sevilla at 6:15. We couldn’t check into our hostel until noon. It is suffice to say I was incredibly cranky while we went to attempt to find something to eat and tour the famous Gothic cathedral (pictures are on Facebook. I had to climb up 35 flights of stairs to see that view. I repeat, I was not a very happy camper at this point…I had not slept in two days and just came from a 7 hour bus ride…all I wanted was bed). I ended up eating my first “churros con chocolate” which is what you are supposed to “drunk eat” in Spain (although I wasn’t in the slightest bit inebriated). Also, I will probably never eat them again. You all know how much I don’t like sweets, and this was four pieces of heavily fried dough dipped in thick chocolate. Delicious for about two bites, and then nauseating. I have a feeling that you would like them, Moe. In fact, I think you do like them.

Since we toured the Cathedral in the morning and everyone was basically a walking corpse, we took a nap after checking into our hostel. Then we woke up and did a tapas crawl (Sevilla is renowned for its cheap wine and delicious tapas). Later that night came my favorite part of the whole weekend. We went to a free flamenco show at this place called “La carboneria.” The inside of this place looked like a German-style beer hall and people from many different nationalities gathered to see this robust woman do some kind of stiff dance. I was in the back of the bar so I couldn’t see much, but I could hear the guy sing (he was good) and I enjoy the drinks and meeting some blondes from Amsterdam. They immediately wanted to know where my friend Rachel (another blonde) and I were from because we and the Amsterdamians totally stood out.

After the flamenco show, we were heading towards a club called Cathedral (how ironic) when we decided we didn’t want to pay 10 euro to dance with some Moroccans. So my friends Conor, Andrea, and I went to this club. Some Spanish optometrist started talking to us and we just told him funny lies. I am not sure why this night was so fun (I just stood at a bar with my friends and lied to some weird Spainard), but I had a blast.

The next day we visited the Alcazar (an Arab inspired palace built in the 700s—think Disney’s Aladdin) and the Plaza de Espana (which is supposed to be one of the most captivating plazas in all the country. It is ). Later that night we kept it low key (minus the pitcher of Agua de Sevilla [water of Seville]: 1 liter pineapple juice or syrup 1 bottle of cava, a pink, sparkling, fizzy wine located in Spain, 1 cup whiskey, 1 cup cointreau, triplesec, rum and heavy cream) and went to a strip of bars that contained a lot of Americans. Oddly enough, I ran into Amelia Cisneros (I went to high school with her) and met Julie Davis’ (I specify last names because I am not sure who is reading this) roommate and close friends from the University of Illinois. It truly is a small world.

We got our last beautiful view of Sevilla’s waterfront, orange trees and palm trees that night. We woke up the next morning to pouring rain and our bus got stuck in traffic. Oh, and the bus driver took a detour to drop his friend off in a random “pueblo.” We traveled from 130 pm to 1 am that day. In wet clothes. Not that I am bitter or anything. I walked in my door at 1 am and debated going to the corner bar to watch the Super Bowl (even though my favorite part—the commercials—were in Spanish). I sat down my cozy little Toledo bed and instantly my mind changed. It really was good to be back to this place I am starting to call home.

Next week I am going to London and I am SUPER excited because many of my friends and my cousin Philip will be there (don’t worry Aunt Norine and Uncle David, I already contacted him). I cannot wait. In fact I got so giddy on my 12-hour transport home that my friends thought there was something wrong with me. My friend Conor told me that it costs 8 pounds for a bagel in cream cheese in London…maybe since I will starve there, I can finally get rid of all the Papas Fritas Maria Luisa has been making me. Actually, I told her I couldn’t eat them anymore and that I wanted more veggies in my diet, and now all I get for meals is a fat bowl of grilled veggies. Better, but no happy medium. And she is hilarious. She is 76-years old and audits classes at the local university. It was her second day of this one class, and she skipped it to go to the Peluquería (Beauty Salon). Oh, Grandmas and their hair…they are the same in every country.

Miss you all—can’t wait to see you (Mom, you are first)—

p.s. Check your facebooks, pictures are up