Por Fin

Where to start, where to start…How about last Saturday?

Saturday:

We went on a giant scavenger hunt around the city.  We had a list of clues in order to figure out the destinations we needed to find and take pictures of.  Places farther away earned us more points and places closer to the central meeting location were worth few points.  My group wanted to get a far location, so we spent our time walking there.  So much walking.  I love walking.

Here are a few pictures from the scavenger hunt:

(We looked like crazy tourists in a mob, asking people to take photos of us by random things.)

(La Catedral de Sevilla...not really on the scavenger hunt like we thought it was, but we passed it a lot.)

(La Plaza de España...This photo does not do it justice, but I like the sepia effect.)

(The field where one of Sevilla's soccer teams, Betis, plays.)

Sunday:

I woke early to go on an excursion to Italica, Roman ruins in the outskirts of Sevilla (it was basically a city for the rich Roman gladiators at the time.)

*Fun Fact: I learned the reason why Cypress trees are so popular in cemeteries.  It’s because their roots go straight down and do not interfere with or raise the graves as they grow.  Also, the trees are tall and thin, as if pointing toward Heaven…Now you know.

When I got home from this half-day trip, the apartment was empty and there was a note on my bed. This note told me that they were at the bar that my madre showed me on the first day and to call her and meet them there (note: bars and churches are basically the only public places open on Sundays, other than tourist locations and major department stores).  After reading the note about 20 times to make sure I knew exactly what it said, I called the number my madre had given me the second day (I recently realized that I do not know if the cell number is actually my madre’s or my sister’s since they are both named Maria and my sister was the one who answered the phone).  I did not know which bar they were at since I was shown two specifically on the first day.  While speaking with my sister on the phone we did not understand one another (I understood what she was saying, but was confused about what I needed to do).  She and her boyfriend had to come pick me up to take me over there.  This was the beginning of a day of me being a foreigner. 

When we arrived, I met the remainder of my immediate family, my oldest brother and his wife and my older sister’s husband.  My family was eating tapas (To explain it simply, they are like appetizers. Because meals are eaten so far apart, it became common to have a snack time around 6PM or so—their equivalent to a happy hour. The idea of tapas was originally created to be a small snack-size serving of food on a hard piece of bread that could be set on your glass as a topper to keep the flies out of your drink and you socialize with friends.)  They were eating more authentic tapas such as gambas (prawns aka those big shrimp), camarones (little shrimp), and jamón serrano (the very popular cured ham).  I enjoy seafood, but have not been exposed too much of it in my life, so I do not know how to eat most things. My family had to show me how to eat the gambas, and my older sister proceeded to take a picture of me in my struggles! I tried something with the texture of dried pineapple, but a flavor so salty, I spit it out. I cannot even explain how salty this thing was! My padre likes it because it’s good to drink cerveza (beer) with, he says.  My brother-in-law then “showed” me how to eat the camarones—just like the big ones, you pull of the head and the legs…not correct! You just eat them whole.  He joked that the camarones are for the pobres (poor people) and the gambas are for the people who can afford them.  After tapas, we went back home for lunch and dulces (sweets/candies).  I was informed that this was a special occasion because it was El Día de María (day of Mary).  Apparently, in Spain everyone’s name is associated with the name of a saint (because the majority of people are Catholic).  Each saint is honored on a specific day, so each person gets a celebration on their birthday and the day of the saint which shares their name.  My madre and sister are both named María, so we were celebrating their day.

After lunch, my oldest brother and his wife, who are 35 and 34, took me to my sister-in-law’s house.  I met her family, saw their house (which is much bigger than the apartment I live in because it is in a pueblo, still technically in Sevilla, but not in the heart of the city), and enjoyed coffee and pastries with them.  Her family spoke very slowly to me because they didn’t think I understood anything.  Honestly, I’m pretty good at the speed now; it’s just the accent that is hard to understand.  They were very nice, and made me feel like a novelty item.  It was an interesting perspective on things…Afterward, my brother and sister-in-law took me walking all over the city, showing me things and talking to me in Spanish. It was absolutely wonderful! I felt truly welcomed into the family. 

Tuesday:

I had arranged to have a Skype date with my parents after dinner.  My host sister was out of town Tuesday-Thursday, so I assumed I’d have dibs on the internet while she was away.  I discovered at dinner, when I asked to use it, that my sister had taken it to her school for someone there to use for a few days.

I did not realize how important the internet was to me until I began crying about it.  I spoke to my mom on the phone for about 40 minutes, which will probably cost me $50. No bueno.

I was overwhelmed with emotions because I was upset about not having the freedom to communicate with people outside of my home, and I felt guilty for being upset about something relatively insignificant, and I was frustrated with my lack of understanding, since I’m sure my sister explained this before she left for her trip.  I am so privileged to have resources and technology such as the internet, and yet, I have clearly been taking it for granted. 

I made the necessary accommodations to get everything done that required the use of internet.  Everything worked out fine, and in hind-sight I realize that the biggest factor was that I was surprised by the situation and felt no control.

This experience was really grounding, which I appreciate. 

Wednesday:

I realized after sitting in my room for 2 hours, that it was literally too hot for my brain to function.  I could not write my essay.  I decided to wake up early to finish it.  But not too early, because when I get up to pee in the morning, my madre wakes up to make me breakfast, even if she does not need to be awake.  I still can’t get used to this.    

Thursday:

I did not study as much as I should have for my intensive grammar course midterm.  I instead stayed up watching TV with my sister, who’d gotten home.  It was a good way to practice my Spanish, so I didn’t feel bad.             

Friday:

Midterm.  Too many essay questions. I forgot what superlatives were.  Dumb mistake. 

Epic night.  Fran, my orientation guide (soon to be real friend…as opposed to someone just being nice to you because they feel obligated), organized quite the event.  A large group of us met and took the Metro (like a subway) to a bufé libre chino (All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet) and then went to a giant street party in one of the plazas.  After this, some of us went to a discoteca.  The first one was pretty lame, so we left.  Then we went to one called Obbio.  I had a water bottle in my purse, so the bouncer smelled it to make sure it was water.  It was. I got in without problems.  But some of the guys were carded.  That was interesting.  They played American music, which is pretty popular here.  It was dance music, so it was fun.  I didn’t get home until 5:30AM. 

Saturday:

Shopping was done.  Much needed. Good, but long day.