Adios, amigos

It was my last day. And it was a great one. A bit hectic at the end there, dealing with luggage struggles (and who knows how it will all actually go down once I get to the airport and they weigh the bags), but overall, it was the perfect close out to a perfect 5 months. Took my exam- piece of cake. Went shopping with Emily to spend a few extra euros- bought a great dress, can't wait to wear it on the beach. Had my favorite lunch- the spinach casserole. Sat on the river with friends- lost track of time and didn't care one bit, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it is finally, finally, hot again (thank you very much, right as I leave...at least I got this one day). Had fresh strawberry mojitos by the river- watched him make it and now have the key to the secret recipe, and I can't wait to try it myself. Bought the last little gifts for people here and there, and my time strolling home for dinner. I feel so content, and I feel so ready to be home. I love you, Sevilla, but I love lots of things, and I'm ready to get back to them.

Some things that I will miss, though:

+The way Cristina answers me saying "Qué hija?" in such a caring way whenever I call her name from near or far away

+The orange, the violet, and the palm trees; actually all the vegetation. It's tropical and I feel like I'm living in a dream land every morning when I walk to school (even though the violet ones cry? We never learned why we get sprinkled with water, as if its raining, every time you walk near them)

+Ordering casual drinks 

+Cheap fruit, and lots of it

+Llao Llao and the man at Nervion Plaza who always gave me mounds of each topping- everywhere else I went seemed to gyp me but he never let me down

+Having 2 hours to set aside for each meal, it used to be a pain to sit down for that long, but I've gotten used to it and I love that time after eating when we sit and chat about everything and nothing

+better flavored Doritos

+better chocolate/double stuffed Principe cookies

+the feeling that the city is so alive all the time, big enough for anything to happen and small enough that you're sure to run in to someone you know if you're out and about

+Sevici-ing around; I'm making it a goal to start riding my bike most places at home now, even though it won't be nearly as easy

+people calling the "chino" stores "el Chino" and it not being an offensive statement (I guess what I'll miss is how open Spaniards are, and how direct their sense of humor is)

+dancing in the kitchen with Cristina and making her say English words (her latest is "hiccup" and for the life of her, she can't say anything but "hippo")

Actually this list could go on and on. I'm sure I'll remember so many little things that give me a little pang of sadness for the next few months, but it won't hit me until I'm home. The truth is I don't know what I'll miss most. I hope I can remember everything as vividly as I do right now, and I know this blog will help me do that, but I just can't imagine forgetting the little things that have come to mean so much to me. Or the things that have come to be such a big part of my day. But that's always the way it is. You do something every day, its part of your daily routine, a natural habit your body is used to, and then when you stop doing it, you forget all about what it was like when you did. I guess there's not really a way to avoid it. But if I can just tell myself to remember one thing about this whole experience, I'd like to tell myself to (well okay, it can't just be one thing) A. stop and smell the roses, it is absolutely necessary and in fact imperative to maintaining your sanity, B. trust yourself and go with your gut, and C. be patient, have patience for others, have patience for yourself, and be good to yourself. You deserve it. 

Day 142

Happy day #142 in Spain! I've been here 4 months and 21 days. 20 weeks and a day. 3,384 hours (Googled it). Actually, that doesn't seem like that much. But when I think about what I've been able to do/see/find/make happen/experience in some one-hour spans of time, I feel like I've packed a lot of life into this past semester. And I'm leaving tomorrow. After all of the people I've sent away from Sevilla and all the times I've taken weekend trips out of town, its hard to think that this time when I go to the airport, I'm not coming back. I'm pretty much packed and ready to go, but I'm definitely going to leave for the airport early enough so that if/when the check-in people to tell me my bag is too heavy, I'll have time to rearrange and throw out more things. I also feel pretty content. Sure, there's always more to do, and I don't by any means feel like an expert at being abroad, but for this period of time, I feel like I've taken full advantage, made some long-lasting friendships, built a life and discovered a true family, seen so many things, gone out on so many limbs, that these past couple days when I've been doing things that might be "the last," I feel pretty okay with that. Haven't gotten emotional yet, maybe I will when I actually hug Cristina goodbye, who knows. I do know that after saying goodbye to half the people already, it feels like we've been winding down for a long time. And I can safely say I'm more excited to go home than sad to leave. Which I think is the best of both worlds. I'm not homesick, and I'm not sick of being here. I'm just content. And I'm just so gracious for this experience. It's been the richest of my entire life. 

And I couldn't speak about studying abroad without mentioning the studying portion of it. I feel like I've actually learned things in my classes, without all the drama and stress over boring and tedious assignments, papers or group projects that count for 75% of your grade, etc. It makes me think we don't actually need all that extra crap to learn. The thing I'm most proud of is how far I've come listening in class. My history professor speaks the most rapid, most muddled Andalucian Spanish imaginable, and at the beginning of the year I had to sit on the front row and crane my neck, straining my ears just to pick up on some words that would give me a clue into the context of what he might be talking about. And if I zoned out even for a minute? I was done for. But by the end of the semester, I could write notes pretty easily, keep up with him (ma o meno) and I left class every day feeling pretty competent. That is a huge accomplishment. And I don't know when it happened. Emily and I were just talking about it one day after class, that we didn't feel totally lost. We just looked at each other and said something like, "how freaking cool is that." 

Not being stressed and still learning? What kind of crazy combination is that? More importantly, why do I have a hard time grasping that its okay? Studying for exams. Never have I ever and never again will I ever have the kind of exam week that I've had here. And the thing is, I still stressed about the tests. Because that's what we're taught to do. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it is. I couldn't let myself not study, even when my final was open note/open computer. That was my EU exam. Jesus asked us to please get out all our notes and open our laptops, not put close/put them away, and to write for as long as we cared to about "what did I learn in the class this semester." For history, we spent a good 3 hours the morning of the exam comparing notes, Emily, Evan, Shoshanna and I, talking about how we hoped he would ask the essay questions on tema 6 or tema 9, because we just didn't know the others that well. Well, when we sat down in Serrera's office he looked at the syllabus and said, "what would you guys like to write about?" So tema 6 and 9 it was. And now I'm sitting in the EUSA cafe, 45 minutes before my Islam exam, and I'm blogging. Because even if I didn't take this exam, it would take of 20% of 30% of my grade, and the whole thing is pass/fail anyway. Its hard to wrap my mind around the fact that its okay to do badly, and what's more, that even when I don't study, I'm probably not going to do badly. 

Oyoyoy. This, right now, is the life. After I finish this last test, I think I might go to the river to hang out. But not go get ice cream, because- and I never thought these words would come out of my mouth- I am so sick of sweets. Ice cream in particular. I think I hit my max the other night when we sat at Fiorentina past closing time, talking to the Joaquin, ordering multiple helados. Crema Vaticana is actually a religious experience to eat. But that last tarrino pequeno of it might have just done me in, because now when I think about eating anything sweet I just feel sick. And Cristina really wanted to spend some time with me yesterday, and insisted on taking me out for...you guessed it: ice cream. I ate it, but after that I just said NO MORE. I'm done. So. The first thing I can't wait to do when I get home is eat A. what I want, when I want, and B. try to do some kind of cleanse. Also, the tendinitis is finally subsiding, so while I want to take it easy, I really want to get back into exercising, doing something else besides cycling. I've grown to like it here, and I especially like taking classes in Spanish because I can't always understand when the instructor is telling me to crank it up a gear or not, so I just do what feels good and challenging to me. So. The second order of business will be to get back into a variety of exercises that are fun (I don't miss running, because usually I hate it, and I don't want to make myself do anything I don't want to do when I get back). And what's fun to me? Yoga. I am so excited to get back on my new mat (new to me, got it at Christmas and haven't really been able to use it yet) and sweat the fun way. 

And...yep, that's pretty much it. I'm going to enjoy my last day here (it still hasn't really hit me yet, because even typing it out doesn't phase me) and once I get on that first plane tomorrow- assuming I make the 4:30 am bus, which Emily is so kindly accompanying me and all my luggage to- I will be SO ready to land in Charlotte, see my family, run around my house without slippers on, fall into my comfy bed, watch TV on a couch, open the fridge without asking for anyone's permission, drive my car, ride in a car in the passenger's seat, go to the grocery store, use my phone in the middle of the street where there's no wifi, wear something other than one of my 5 rotational outfits, ask a salesperson questions without having to figure out what exactly I need to say in Spanish to get my point across, not convert everything to dollars to figure out just how much it costs, use my debit card and forget about 2 cent coins (they are the worst), give my feet a rest because, at this point, they feel almost beyond repair, wake up early and have people in the world be awake too (including the sun), order breakfast somewhere and it not be just tostada con mermelada y cafe (going along with that, having eggs for breakfast and that be normal). And that's just what I can rattle off off the top of my head. Now that its 10:30 and I have my last exam in 15 minutes, I'm going to go over notes and get going with day #142! 

Joaquin, Emily and I; one of the many Fiorentina excursions

Oh and Cristina bought loquats? Is that a real fruit? I Google translated the Spanish name and it came up as that, but I've never heard of it before. Weird and cool to eat something you've actually never heard of or seen before in your life. 

LDOC

Last Day of Classes. Was technically last Wednesday, I guess, because I skipped/had my classes canceled on Thursday and don't have class on Friday. And today, Monday, is my last normally-scheduled day, but I'm only going to the classes to take the exams. And then I have one more on Wednesday morning, and that's the end. I read over my notes a few times this weekend, studied a bit with Emily last week, and woke up early this morning with every intention of hitting the books hard. And yet, somehow, I've managed to convince myself that journaling is a better use of my time. To tell you the truth, it doesn't take much convincing at all. I know I'm going to do fine on the exams, and if worst comes to worst, they're essentially pass/fail anyways. It's so hard for a Carolina student, and a worker-bee (when it comes to school work) like myself to purposefully not give it my all on something; there's something that never sits quite right with me. But in retrospect, 20 years from now, I'm not going to care one bit if I got a 7 or an 8 on this history test, but I bet I will like going back and reading about the little ins and outs of my study abroad experience, reliving the moments as if they're happening in real time again. And I can, because that's what I've done with all of my entries- kept up with it, made sure it was thorough, and left no detail unmentioned. And I'm pretty proud of that. So here I am, sitting at the kitchen table with Cola-Cao, the Dia (off) brand of Principe cookies, a family-size box of Corn Flakes, my empty tea glass and a box of green tea packets in front of me. And let me just say, I've been going all out on breakfasts as of late.

Here's a yogurt (desnatada, better than semi, for sure, but the consistency is a little too similar to cottage cheese for my yogurt tastes) and granola (corn flakes) mix with sliced strawberries and bananas mixed in, a piece of honey/corn flake toast (to resemble the corn flake french toast at Carolina Coffee Shop...it didn't, by the way) and another piece of toast and strawberry jam. Also threw some jam in the yogurt. It's a hot mess, but I like preparing stuff in the kitchen, and I definitely miss the liberty of opening the pantry and fridge and looking for something interesting to make for breakfast (since its my favorite meal of the day), so this'll have to do. 

As for exams, what? 2 today? This weekend I went shopping, babysat and played with Nico for an entire day, got Fiorentina ice cream twice (May's flavor of the month, Violet, was in the back but the owner brought me a sample of it anyway, and then proceeded to make me get out my phone in front of him, go to his Facebook page, and "share" his link to the flavor of the month with all my Facebook friends), cycled at the gym a few times, messed around on the machines on Saturday morning- no one is there on Saturdays, and I'm not good at using the machines/don't know how most of them work, so I always feel self-conscious about figuring them out if someone is waiting around behind me, but on Saturday mornings I don't have to worry about that (all Spaniards are still sleeping)- and went to Cadiz on Sunday for the entire day. Took 11am bus out and the 9pm bus back. It was cloudy and I even brought my textbook with me to study, but that didn't mean I got much of anything done. We got frozen yogurt, set up our things in our secret spot, napped, took advantage of the Sunday special (everything 1 euro) at Cien Montaditos, and went back to the beach to nap again in the sunset. All in all, I'd say it was definitely worth my 20 euro bus ticket, and who are we kidding, would I have really been studying that much more if I'd been at home? 

Last day trip of the semester

It was also so necessary that I get out of the house for the day. I've been wanting to spend more time with Cristina lately, because her family is awesome and I really will miss them so much, but she's been getting under my skin just ever so slightly about lots of little things and I don't want to end on a bad note or with any kind of sour taste in my mouth. But its so apparent, sometimes, how self-absorbed she is. Anytime (and this is if and only if you can even get your story a midst her rants) you say something about yourself/your day/your friends/your family, she half way listens to you and then says "igual de mi hija..." blah blah blah, basically just turning the story back to her and her daily happenings. Its not like I want to talk about me, I just want to talk about anything besides whatever she's obsessing over at the moment, because she'll repeat that story in so many ways, at so many different times, find ways to bring it up in places you couldn't imagine it could possibly relate, all throughout the day that its almost unbearable. When I tried to leave for the gym around 11 on Saturday, I literally had to go back to my room, pretending I forgot something, and come back through the front hallway to start the good-bye over again because each time it didn't work and I got sucked in to another one of her rantings. This time it was about her daughter's novio italiano and how much she dislikes him, how bad of a person he is, and who knows what all else about him, I couldn't listen past 11:30. It took that long to get out of the house. 

Funny nuance number two about Cristina, she isn't really self-sufficient for anything but cooking and cleaning, which is pretty sad, but also humorous when it comes to certain things- like figuring out the weather. There IS a Weather Channel on Spanish television, and C COULD turn the TV to it once in a while to figure out what the week's forecast is, but she waits for her best friend, Meli, to call her and tell her what to expect. I crack up every time I ask Cristina, "will it be warmer by Wednesday?" and she replied "I don't know, Meli hasn't called to tell me yet." Seriously? Does she think Meli is the weather goddess or something? Only she has the power to truly know if its going to rain? Oyoyoy.

Interesting and very eye-opening to me about Cristina's viewpoints on social norms in life, she told me one day (it was her rant of the day) that she called her son, Jairo, while he was ironing his wife's clothes. She was appalled that not only does he have to iron his own clothes, he's ironing Joli's, now, too! "Lucky wife!" Cristina said. She doesn't think its right that, since they both are working parents, that Jairo ends up doing laundry/cooking more than Joli does. I don't know anything more about the situation, but its so clear to me that Cristina has the traditional mindset, that the wife is meant for the housework (and not necessarily anything else), and I've never been around that before, and especially not in such close quarters. 

Hopefully after this mini descanso, I'll be fresh and ready to embrace all her quirks and laugh at them rather than want to step on her broken toe. But sometimes I just want to grab her shoulders and shake her and tell her there is so much more out there in the world she doesn't know about! And she's not too old/too weak/too whatever to find some of it out. She's too afraid to fly, so that's why (she says) she wouldn't ever come to the U.S. But ohhhh what I would give to have her come visit me and stay in my house, and see her reaction to everything we do that she is so unaccustomed to. The thing is, I know she's happy- well, not exactly happy, because she complains daily that her kids never call her and she's all alone and she feels abandoned...I would feel awful for her if these were accurate statements, which they're not- but she is content with the life she leads and doesn't want to learn anything new. This experience has taught me that there is such an unbelievable amount of new things out there in the world to learn, and that I can never let myself lose sight of that. I want to always feel like I do right now- that I have so much to experience, and that the time to experience it is now. Studying abroad has taught me confidence to manage the logistical side of things, which will now support me whenever I want to go out on a limb and do something out of my comfort zone. I know I have the capability to handle whatever is thrown in my path, and what I have to gain from taking that leap of faith sometimes knows no boundaries. 

I can't wait to bring that home with me and see what kinds of adventures I can find right under my nose there. But first, to the university to take my exam.

The Last Two Weeks? Can't Be Real

I just can't seem to believe that in one week from right now I'll be sleeping in my bed in North Carolina. Instead of going to Barcelona in either of the last two free weekends I have here, I decided to spend them here in Sevilla. Now I'm having mixed emotions about it. Barcelona is a place I definitely wanted to go to, and everyone that went (which was everyone) said it was one of their favorites, if not their favorite, place to travel to. And tickets are cheap and its a short flight. And I had friends going this weekend. But I made the choice to be here and I'm for the most part glad that I did. Last weekend was especially fun, even though Emily and Tim were in Madrid. I spent the whole weekend with Evan, another American student I met in my History of the Americas class. Until this weekend we'd been pretty much classmates that sat next to each other and shared notes, but all her friends happened to be out of town last weekend and so were mine, so we hung out, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. On Friday we went to Alfalfa with another friend, Georgia, which was by itself pretty fun, not trying to meet up with anyone else, not trying to stay out until a certain time, not really trying to do anything. We went early, shared a pitcher of Agua de Sevilla, and sat in a corner table of a quiet bar chatting for over an hour. By the time we walked out Alfalfa was flooded with people, and we bounced around for a while before deciding to head back. Evan and I both have Sevicis, but Georgia doesn't, so we attempted to do as the Spanish so often do, and try to tandem bike it home. I checked out a bike and put the kick stand down, then stepped back to stare at how two people might fit on this monster. The thing is, these bikes are SO heavy. The normal tricks don't work. And the Spaniards, as skinny as they may be, sure do know how to maneuver these things and make it look easy to do what we tried to do. Let me just say, it is NOT. Here's what some of our efforts looked like:

Nothing worked. I had almost spent my half-hour check out time right in front of the station just trying to figure this all out, but after we came to the realization that even if we did manage to get going for a minute or two with Evan holding the bike for us to begin with, we wouldn't have a hope in the world if we ever had to stop at a crosswalk. So in the end, we walked home. The next day I got Chinese with Miguel Angel and Cristina for lunch. I have no idea how I didn't know about this place until today, because its less than a five minute walk from our house, it is regularly-portioned (as in HUGE plates of each food) and cheap as can be (4 or 5 euro for a big huge platter of anything), and it is legitimately delicious Chinese food. I loved spending the afternoon with them; even after we finished eating we sat at the table and talked for at least an hour. And I'm understanding MA almost perfectly (which, he says, means that I have passed [he talks the fastest of anyone I know], and I can really say I know Spanish). He ordered the food for all of us, because he says he knows what's best, and I had no problem with that. There were 5 pages of menu items! We ordered a lemon chicken, a bamboo and mushrooms plate, a pad-thai type deal, and two humongous spring rolls, each the size of the entire plate. With drinks it was 20 euro. Are you kidding? In America that'd easily be a 50 dollar meal. 

One spring roll

Clean Plate Club

...and she insisted I take this.

I met back up with Evan after lunch for some Macarena and Alameda exploring. First stop: Cake at La Cacharreria, the best hidden gem of Sevilla, in my opinion. Second stop: Freshly baked, hot cookies (yes, I found actualy cookies POR FIN) at a little store right across the street. 

banana-caramel cake

right out' the oven

We had a day on Saturday like I'd had in some of my first few days in Sevilla, where I would just be walking for the sake of walking, having no real plan or need for being out. I took pictures of everything, even though I already have so many, because we stumbled across areas of the town that still hold surprises for me. Por ejemplo:

shadows painted on the walls of a building

It was our ultimate goal to find cute boutiques and go shopping, but to avoid the main shopping streets. We found two awesome stores near Alfalfa; Evan bought a very 50's style, floor length pale pink dress in one and I bought a short sleeve sweater across the street, almost solely because the couple that owned this particular boutique named their store after their weiner dog, George, who sat in his own chair near the dressing room so you could ask him how everything looked as you tried things on. I just relaxed at home Saturday night (with the new girls) and watched Ted in Spanish with MA and C until I fell asleep on the couch. On Sunday I decided it might be time to be just the slightest bit productive, since I had 4 finals, 2 presentations, a group project, and 2 papers to write before leaving, which is 10 days from this point. I met Evan in the park and we studied history until the sky clouded over, it became quite ominous outside, and we made the great call of packing up and moving our laptops and other electronics inside. Just as we were approaching San Fernando, it started raining cats and dogs and we ducked inside the nearest place with wifi- Dunkin Coffee (not Dunkin Donuts, because the word "donut" is copyrighted in Spain, or least something like that, I'm told). I'm so much more of a Krispy Kreme fan, and I actually can't understand why anyone would go to Dunkin if there's the option of KK, but this is where we were so I got a chocolate creme donut (and was disappointed, as usual, with its cakey dryness) and finished writing both of my papers. 

And on Monday the marathon of hanging out with Evan continued on, as we rewarded ourselves after class at 9 am with yet another slice of cake from the heavenly Cacharreria.

carrot-cinnamon

There was a practical reason for having cake for breakfast. We wanted to talk to our professor during his horas de tutoria at 12:15, and since we didn't have anything to do in between class time and this, it seemed like a pretty good way to break up the morning and get out of school for a bit. After clearing up some things about our exam, and him telling us to please not worry, he just wants us to enjoy our time in Sevilla, and to also not go to class on Thursday because there is a school-wide strike (and he wasn't sure if us Americans knew or understood that...I think that'll be a memory I'll keep forever, having a college professor to tell me to not come to class to support the people's strike), we both felt pretty good about the exam. "Good" meaning we don't actually need to study, maybe just go over a few notes for max a couple of hours. I asked Professor Serrera for a picture with him before leaving his office, and while I knew he wouldn't mind, I could never have predicted what ensued once I posed the question. We ended up having a 15 minute photoshoot, moving around different places in the office, catching the light from the balcony in different ways, taking some with flash, some without, taking a few zoomed in, then more further back, horizontal, then vertical, taking one photo on his good side, then switching it up in case my good side was the other one, then switching over the camera so that he and Evan could do the same. And if that wasn't enough, he wanted to have a few of the two of us, for his memories. But even once the camera could finally be turned off, the shenanigans continued. He said, so seriously, how important it was that we send him these photos for him to have as well. And not just a few, all of them. It doesn't matter if they're bad or bad lighting or someone isn't smiling their best smile in one, he wants the collection. And he realizes his email only allows up to 12mpg or whatever to be sent at a time, but that shouldn't stop me, all I need to do is send multiple emails. He then showed me how to. Thanks dude. 

He really is one of the nicest professors, so we were more than happy to appease him. In class the next morning, however, he let me know he received my emails by displaying all the pictures on the projector in front of the class. How much of a teacher's pet did I look like. Well, no pasa nada, I haven't made any Spanish friendships in the class that could be jeopardized in any case. 

The rest of the week was pretty average. Working on homework, going to the gym, running errands (such as buying avocados from markets in the morning to eat as a merienda before dinner, because I am just too hungry and I am over sitting in my bed waiting until 9 pm in misery). All the things one does when they live somewhere. Its just regular life for me now. During my walk to class, I pass by a few familiar faces that have the same schedule as me, like the old, lanky man wearing aviators and listening to his iPod, and its just a reminder to me that I've been here long enough to establish a real normality. In Spain! If I take the time to think about it, its crazy. I'm sitting now on the couch in Cristina's living room, stretched out with my feet up, watching a singing game show as Cristina snores in the chair beside me, occasionally waking herself up with her extra loud snorts and laughing, and its almost 8 pm but I'm no longer pining over dinner. I know its coming at 9, I've had my snack earlier (today it was la Fiorentina), and I'm good to relax until then. 

Some of my "norms" that seem so average and make total sense here will seem so strange and hilarious once I'm home, I'm sure. Like the fact that since we can't hang out in each other's houses, and we don't always want to go to a bar or restaurant or to get ice cream, we actually have hung out at school before. Emily and I share a love for Homeland, and we both only recently started watching it. So we meet at EUSA, in the Cinecu office, with her computer and my snacks, load episodes of Homeland online, turn off the lights (when Cheryl's not in), prop up our feet on chairs, and watch TV like we would at home. 

One day we bought a 3-pack of popcorn and a big Milka bar to split, I popped the popcorn at home, carried it, already popped and piping hot, in my purse, to EUSA where I met Emily after her class to watch an episode. I also brought nail polish and nail clippers to do nails while we watched. Definitely things you do at home on your living room couch, not in a school office. But hey, desperate times. Just this past week we picked back up on the Homeland trend, starting season 2, and opening the bag of Birthday Cake Oreo's Em's fam sent her in the process of watching a couple episodes. About one sleeve through the bag, I thought about how great they would taste soaked in milk (reminds me of sitting in Grandaddy and Gig's living room at night, dunking double stuffed Oreo's in milk for at least 30 seconds so that they were so soggy and almost detached from the rest of the cookie by the time you lifted it out of the milk). We went downstairs to the school's cafe and asked for a cafe con leche, hold the cafe. And after that, the afternoon was perfection. Homeland+milk and cookies+hanging out with friends in a non-bar setting=perfection, no matter how extraño the circumstances of it may be. Later on in the week Emily's señora actually let me come over to her house (!?!?). Chloe left Emily at the same time MC left me, but Emily didn't get any new roommates, so their house has been extra quiet as of late. Under the pretense that we had to study and that we share a textbook, I went over to watch Homeland after dinner on Thursday. It was so interesting to compare Cristina's apartment to Tia's. Hers is much more decorated than mine, with lots of ornate religious figurines, many more paintings on the walls, it all just looked a lot more movie-esque. In comparison, I would say my house looks pretty average, nothing too out of the ordinary that makes you think "where the heck am I."

So I guess, now that I'm thinking about it, even an average week has so many nuances and new, interesting things that happen than an "average" week in Chapel Hill. That will be something I will truly miss about being here, and hope to find ways to bring those kind of nuances home with me, whether that means going out to find a new restaurant once a week, making the time to go on a hike in Durham one day, riding my bike somewhere far away just to explore what's around, or what have you. This week we went to la Fiorentina yet again, but this time I met the owner. He not only was so excited to tell me about himself and his store, and how he makes all the flavors himself (and offered plenty of free samples to show off, and I was not going to stop him), he then made Evan, Tim, Emily and I all get on our phones that minute and add the heladeria as a friend on Facebook. If its just a technique to get me to come back, its working, because I'll go out of my way to eat this ice cream and I just can't accept any other in Sevilla as anywhere near the same quality. I also ate dinner with Cristina, the woman who owns the apartments my dad stayed in when he was here. We exchanged information back in March and she told me to contact her whenever I wanted to get together, that she'd love to. Time had kind of slipped by, but this week I found myself with much more free time, especially since there's just so many less people in town these days, so I called her up and we arranged a dinner date. Cristina took me to one of her favorite places, Zelai, and ordered all the tapas for us (great for me, I hate decision making). We had ox, a cheesy risotto, a tuna steak and vegetables, and orange tinto. We ended dinner with caramel liquor shots. We sat talking until the restaurant was closing, and I had no idea we had been sitting there for so long when we finally stood up to leave. She's got a really unique life story, has traveled to more places in the US than I've been to, and is great at English. We switched back and forth between the two languages almost seamlessly. It was great to be explaining something in Spanish and then not know a word for something and just be able to ask quickly, "como se dice..." and she could fill in the blanks for me. 

The Spanish are so open to grabbing a drink, having a meal, or sitting and chatting for any period of time with you, even if they barely know who you are. If you are open to making a connection, I think you can almost make a friend out of anyone. Which is why I wasn't sure what the man at the gym, cerca age 30, really wanted from me when he asked to get a coffee after a Pilates class one day. I've been going to LowFit Viapol for a month now, and have seen this guy a couple times in yoga and Pilates classes, and we've spoken once or twice in passing. On Tuesday we had an actual conversation in which he informed he was recently divorced, and all of his old friends were his wife's friends, so he's been having trouble "meeting people." What kind of meeting people does he mean? New amigos? Or new potential spouses? I'm not great at deflecting these kinds of situations in English, but in Spanish I just had no idea how to go about avoiding the coffee date but still keep it neutral and un-awkward every time I have to see him at the gym from now on. It wasn't fully resolved, I just pushed it off until maybe the next time I saw him (and since he's always at the gym in the mornings, I've switched up my schedule to the afternoons). Only a few more days of this, so I figure its no big deal. But, "average week?" Hmm, maybe not. 

This weekend, though, almost no one is home. Friday was a humdrum kind of day. I spent it sleeping in until 12, doing yoga in my room until lunch, buying a bus ticket to Cadiz, taking a little walk and then a cycle class, getting ice cream with Julia and checking out the Cerveceria Internacional, and sitting by the river until 2 or so in the morning, as I've done many nights this week (I love it, its so calming, and I know I've only got a few more nights left of seeing these sights). But then again, humdrum days aren't so bad. They give me time to do this kind of stuff. And every day can't be an all-out, wild and crazy whirlwind of experiences. I've been lucky enough to have so many of those this past semester. And I've come to appreciate every kind of day I have here in Sevilla, whether it be the kind that I witness the world famous Feria up close and personal, or the kind where I sleep in until lunchtime, because who knows when I'll have the opportunity to do that again? 

I guess I'm off to study now? Or watch Vampire Diaries. Yeah, probably that. 

Missing You, MC!!! (The extra exclamation marks are for you bebe)

I had no idea how much I'd miss Mary Carr after she left! I knew my program lasted longer than hers, and there would be time at the end of the semester where I was here and she wasn't since before we arrived. But when the last few days actually came and we would be sitting, having ice cream, and one of us would say "last ice cream together!" it really hit me. Rach was here when she actually left, and I do wish I could have been here with her and Cristina on her last couple days in the house, but it helped to lessen the blow a little bit. That is, until I walked back into my house after dropping Rachael off and I had to walk past my old room, see that there was nothing in it, and go into my new room with no roomie. It's only for a couple weeks so its not that big of a deal, but it showed me how great I had it to have such a great roommate that I got along with so well, how nice it was to have someone else there to talk to, and someone to share the Cristina Experience with. Only she really gets it. And I'm so glad I have her to reminisce with when I get home, just so I can remember that it actually happened, that it wasn't all a dream. 

Our "last meal" just the three of us, C, MC and I, couldn't have been a better story. One night when I wasn't eating in, they got pizza from the new pizza place downstairs. Cristina has been raving about it. "I get the pizza simple!" She announced to me as soon as we decided we were going to eat out for our last dinner together (When we got to the place and she tried to order it, it wasn't even on the menu...she had just made that name up, but was so confused when she tried to ask for it and they asked her to describe what a 'pizza simple' is). But before this, MC and I had gotten dressed up (at least more so than our usual sweatpants/t-shirt/slippers get-up) because we were going out to meet everyone after at Alfalfa and Cristina took pictures of us with the rose garden background in our complex. She loved her photographic skills and considered the pictures to be a great work of art. We walked out of the apartment gate, took a left, walked about 15 steps, and turned left again into the pizza place. Which is more of just a counter where you order the pizzas to-go. We did, and they said it'd be 30 minutes, so we decided to take a walk while we waited. First stop, a Chino, obviamente, to get Mary Carr a Coke Zero, and then we started meandering down a street that Cristina led us toward. 

We thought we were strolling, but we couldn't have been more wrong. All of a sudden she turns to face a gated lot with overgrown vines hanging over the entire length of the fence and begins to shout "Maria Carmen!?!?" We looked at each other like, "I'm sorry, is someone expecting us?" Sure enough, after a minute we hear locks being slid back and un-clicked, knobs being turned and bars being lifted and finally, the gate opened slightly to show the face of a very old, white-haired woman. And then her cats spilled out onto the street. Kittens. Everywhere. She immediately yelled for us to grab them, and while I'm not a cat person myself, MC absolutely wouldn't touch them, so I was left scooping out the cats oozing out onto the street. I awkwardly dumped them into Maria Carmen's arms, at which point she pushed the gate open all the way, motioned us inside her yard, shut the door and dropped all the kittens to the floor, where they all went sprawling across the lawn. Who was this woman? Why were we here? Should we know the answers to these questions already? It turns out, Maria Carmen is the mother of the boy who was the friend of Miguel Angel, or the mother of one of his novias, or maybe nothing like that, but anyway she is old and not Cristina's family, but Cristina loves and admires her. 

First thing I notice (after the fact that she is a real live cat lady): She's got a house. A real house, not an apartment building. First one I've seen. Second: She doesn't speak directly to either of us, only asks Cristina questions about us, even though I know exactly what she's saying. And Cristina answers for us without looking to us to give her the reply we might want to be given. Again, why are we here?? Still, the old woman invited all 3 of us inside and I noticed the third major thing going on here: She is rich as all get out. Paintings on paintings on paintings, covering every inch of the wall, both staircases (because its not just a house, its a 3-story house), all surfaces of every table, and she's got bowls of jewelry in random places like on the living room coffee table. Diamond earrings. I don't doubt that they're real. All of a sudden, Maria Carmen starts to cry. Apparently her husband has just died (as in like past few days) and she's super triste. Obviously, we learned her whole life story after this. And even more obviously, its been way more than 30 minutes. Our pizzas are undoubtedly getting cold. 

MC captured the "what the heck are we doing?" moment perfectly

Por fin, back at the pizza place

We made it back to the house by 10 to finally eat our lukewarm (but still delicious) barbecue pizzas. 6 euro. Great call Cris. 

It wasn't our last night together, but Rach was coming the next day and I wouldn't have any more meals with the 3 of us. Right before MC left, though, when Rach was sleeping in at the hotel I biked back home to grab a few things and we snapped one final photo together.

Day #121

And it was the perfect last photo to take, because it resembled another one taken just a short time earlier...

Day #1

I lucked out big time with an awesome roommate, an awesome senora, and, I think most importantly of all, the combination of the three of us together. I don't know if I could have gotten through some of the more frustrating days without MC to mediate, and I know I've learned so much from both of them over these 4 months. The last month is no doubt different, living in a different room, living with new roommates, living without the old one, but there's something to be learned from everything. I've got the best memories, frozen in photo-form (and video) for the most part that can never be taken away. The last month is a little bit more of me-time, which I think I can take full advantage of. It's already brought me closer to my entire host family. I'm thinking aboutcha all the way back in Carolina, MC, since its not even 2 pm for you there and I'm sitting on my yoga mat, waiting for dinner all the way across the ocean. I wish you were going to be sitting down beside me at dinner to laugh at whatever our plate might consist of tonight, and then to cover up our laughs with me, changing the subject muy rapido to something Cristina can go off on a tangent about for the entire dinner conversation. But I can't wait to see ya back in Chapel Hill where we can re-watch all our hilarious videos, and think back on times like this last day with all the cats and gold paintings...so random. And it so describes our entire semester. Wouldn't have wanted to close it out any other way!

Early Mornings Make Me Productive (By Spain Standards)

This morning I agreed to help Cristina out with Nico. She can't pick him from his crib/stroller so she can't really have him over if MA or someone else to help out isn't around. But Jairo needed to go to work today and I figured, hey, what do I really need to go to my last day of class for anyway when there's a cute baby that needs my help!? So I woke up at 7 with Cristina to be awake when Nico arrived. And here I am sitting on the couch 2 and a half hours later- he's finally fallen asleep. But I'm up and at em' now, and I've already missed class, so why not take the time to go back and journal some things that have slipped through the cracks in this whirlwind of a last month I've been having? 

MC left almost 2 weeks ago. That's just crazy to me! That means I have just one more week left in Sevilla. In exactly one week from right now I'll be in Lisbon, waiting on my long flight back to America. Say whhhaaaaattt?? The summer study abroad students arrived  last Friday, so almost exactly a week ago. That means that they're already done with 1/5 of their entire experience in Sevilla. That's even crazier to me. I can't imagine only coming abroad for a summer now that I have spent so long here. It seems kind of sad to me, come to think of it. They get a teaser of what it's like to be living abroad, but they can never get fully immersed, can never build lasting relationships with their host families, can never travel to all the places they undoubtedly want to see while in Europe. Actually, I don't think any amount of time is totally satisfactory. If I were here for a year, I would still find things I've missed out on, knots left untied and items on my to-do list left unchecked, and I would probably think to myself, "how could anyone only come here for a semester!? You just can't do it all in 5 months!" But hey, all we have are the experiences that are our own and I can't help comparing what they're experiencing to whatever I've gone through. I have a couple friends here, studying for the summer, and I wanted to meet up with them last weekend when they arrived. They were at Hotel Alcazar, where I began my journey, and as soon as I stepped inside I was immediately sent back to January when I first arrived in Spain, in a total state of shock and awe, having absolutely no idea what was going on or what lay ahead. I meant to just walk around with the two of them, but it turned out that lots of the other summer folks wanted to see some of the city too, so I ended up giving a mini tour to the bunch. Marian wanted to sit and have a coffee after so we went to Cafe de Indias, which just so happened to be the very place MC and I went to on our first day. Talk about a flashback, woah. 

And as I watch my new roommates (yes, I have two now) across the table from me at meal time, I see myself 5 months ago. Only now, when Cristina talks I can half listen and still know what she's talking about, and way back in the beginning I would be hanging out to every word, trying to make sense of what she might be talking about based on random vocabulary I could pick out (which was not very often). And now, when I want more bread, I get up and get it without thinking twice. And now, when I'm ready to be done eating I know how to semi-interrupt C in a non-rude way, let her know what's up, and finish lunch on my own time. Now, I have so many inside jokes and funny stories with C that we never run out of things to talk about, never need the TV or the radio to keep from having an awkward silence. Now, sometimes I just want to keep sitting at the table, talking, long after I've finished eating, because really, I have nowhere to be and I'm cherishing the last few meal times we have together. 

Things that are hilarious about the new dynamics in the house: 

-Spaniards in general are so funny about vegetarians. They respect that many Americans' are, but they definitely don't understand the whole concept. One of the girls is, so on one of the first days she asked why. Well. When she said "it was a personal choice," I thought it was over. Turns out, she dug herself deeper when she said "I've been a vegetarian for 2 years." Cristina goes off, then, saying "I understand why if your parents are and you've been raised that way your whole life, or if you have a condition and you can't eat meat..." etc. etc., all reasons that are acceptable for vegetarianism; personal choices, randomly out of the blue one day, are not one of them. She then doesn't hesitate to explain that she needs to go see a doctor to make sure she's getting the right nutrients, and there's no way she is with the way she's eating right now, and that she's worried for her. HAHAH, it's been 3 days and she's already telling her she knows what's best. That's Cristina for ya, gotta love it.
-Spaniards also don't worry about hurting feelings/being politically correct, and you have to have tough skin sometimes, or just learn to let things roll off your back. I hope this chica has. The same girl (vegetarian) just happens to be pretty young for study-abroad age and is just a small person in general (in stature, voice, actions...she's just really petite and quiet). Cristina compared her to her 6-month-old grandson, saying how all he does is eat and sleep and that's all she does too. I looked at her like she might not want to say that, but she just kept going, and even asks her multiple times a day, "Are you going to nap now, little baby?" Also hilarious.
-I've learned lots of things to do and not to do around the house, like to unplug the toaster, don't leave toothpaste in the sink, leave the window open after showering, don't shut doors loudly, DEFINITELY don't hang your clothes up outside...okay so they've never done that but they're still learning the ins and outs of the house and I am loving being on the other side of it. I know I'm not at all, but I feel so wise, sitting in my room hearing her lecture the new girls about something they've forgotten to do. Or like when I spent one night earlier this week watching Ted in Spanish with MA and C in the living room and the girls went out to "explore" as they say (and as MC and I used to say when we were in their shoes). When they came back I could hear them coming up the stairs and all I could think to myself was "so this is what Cristina always hears when I'm the one coming back." And then the trouble with opening the door- I remember so clearly learning how to work the keys, and how when I would come in she would be there in her chair, craning her neck to look back at us and say "Que?? Dificultad con la puerta??" I hear them outside now, fiddling with the door, and I started to get up to help them with it and C just goes, "tranquila, hija, necesitan aprender," meaning, "let them figure it out." That's just what we did, and that's what they'll do eventually, too. But right now, they're just so fresh and new to everything in Sevilla, seeing it all with bright eyes, which makes me feel all the more like a seasoned vet. I know I'm not, I know there's so much more I've got to experience here, which is a great feeling and one that makes me so sad to leave, because I know I'll never feel "ready" to go back. I'll be ready to see family and to eat the foods I want again, but I'll never have another semester like this in my life and to think that its already happened, its over now, is not something I'll really want to come to grips with. 

Basically, over the past week I've been hit with the emotions of excitement to get off that plane in Charlotte, such contentedness with feeling so at home in Sevilla (especially when I see first-hand the alternative, the new kids meandering the street, wide-eyed and almost surely lost), the bittersweet feeling of my classes coming to an end, meaning I am almost done with studying (if it can really be called that) but also meaning I'll be a senior and that much closer to facing the real world, nervousness about what's to come next when I get home and actually have to search for a job, and total gratitude for my friends here who already know what I might be thinking/feeling on any given day because they're going through it too. 

Claret Volunteering

Throughout the semester I've been going to Colegio Claret, a private Catholic school for grades k-8 (or like the Spanish version of that) every Wednesday to volunteer with the same class of students, ages 14-15, during their English period. I practice English with them, doing whatever lesson the teacher sends me the night before. I never really talked about it much, but until the last day I went I absolutely dreaded this 2-hour span of my week. The class itself was too old to have a person like me come in and try to demand their attention. They just didn't care what I had to say, and when the teacher would send me a recommendation of what to talk about, it would be so vague I would have to make things up on the spot every week. I spent half the time just pleading everyone to please be quiet. I honestly didn't think they got much out of it at all, they seemed so bored with me, and only 3 or so students out of the entire class of 30 answered any of my questions or spoke up at all. But the actual hour of class time wasn't even what I loathed about Claret. It was getting there. It's way too far to walk, and I had a class that ended at 12:00 on Wednesdays and my volunteering began at 12:30. The bust stop was too far away to walk there and then catch the bus to the nearest stop by the school, and then walk to the school from there. So, Sevici-ing was my only option. And when I say I had to book it there, I am not exaggerating one iota. We're talking no looking both ways before crossing the street just making a mad dash for it, pedaling until my quads were throbbing and then pedaling some more, dripping sweat when I finally arrived- the whole shabang. One day early in the semester when it was still frigid in the afternoons it was also raining and I had to wrap any loose articles of clothing I could around my laptop in my backpack so it didn't get ruined, and when I got to the school I was a complete mess. The class made fun of me the entire day for not taking the bus (which I couldn't, but they just didn't understand, or care). When it started getting warmer a new problem arose. There's a million Sevici stations near the school, but somehow everyone needed to bike to that area of town at the exact time that I did and by the time I arrived, there were none open to be found. Twice I biked until I had a minute left on my bike rental, and I had to frantically bike back and forth on the street, scavenging for any new action on the bike-checking-out front. 

The task of getting to my last day of Claret was no different. Except maybe that it was twice as hard since Rachael came with me and we had to maneuver two bikes in the war zone instead of just one. Oh and it was raining and cold. Oh and when, at one point when I looked back to see if Rachael was still behind me, the bike turned the wrong way and on the slick ground I did a baseball slide for a few feet, landing totally on my side with the bike on top of me. An old man biking past me shouted "esta bien chica??" but never actually slowed down to hear my answer. It was just the suddenness of falling, and the frustration of needing to find two empty spots in 5 minutes, but I teared up when I tried to shout at him "estoy bien gracias!" I looked pitiful. All this mess for a stupid commitment required by our school, which neither party really gets anything out of- or so I thought. We found one spot for R's bike, but I honestly thought I was going to have to leave her outside in the rain with mine while I went in for my hour of misery (which I hated the thought of because I wanted her to meet the kids, didn't want to leave her out in the cold, and I didn't want to pay all that extra change for keeping the bike over 30 minutes). But just in scene-from-a-movie time, someone checked out a bike across the street, and all was fixed. Great note to end on for my time at Claret.

But no, this one is better: when I got to class today Rufino, the English teacher (not English at all) told me today would be different. The students were going to teach me a lesson instead of vice versa. Some girls came up and showed a PowerPoint of a pilgrimage that happens around this time of year in Sevilla, one boy came up with a recipe for salmorejo written down for me, one kid wanted to teach me a magic trick (pushing down on my arm as I pushed up, and after 30 seconds when he let go, my arm magically raised above my head), but the cream of the crop were the kids that taught me some Sevillana dancing. They all sang a traditional Sevillana song, with words that meant they were sad that I was leaving. It was truly sweet, and in a totally non-sappy kind of way. They continued playing and singing the song as a couple got up and demonstrated the first 4 steps to the dance, and then another girl got up with me as I tried to keep up with them. I definitely wasn't getting it all right, but when the song ended the entire class clapped and cheered for me. I don't know why I didn't see some of their smiling faces before (actually I'm not entirely sure they were making them). But now they all seemed so happy that I was there that I felt like I might actually mean something to them. Rufino presented me with a giant card, signed by all the kids, for me to take home. 

So no, Claret is not my favorite place in the world; the kids are rowdy, there isn't much organization, even the teachers' lounge is like a madhouse (when I walked in there one day when I arrived early I was shocked to see teachers standing on chairs, all talking over each other while their colleagues were reading or grading papers, definitely not using their indoor voices or acting much like professionals, it seemed to me)... but this one day may have made my whole experience almost worthwhile. And Rachael was there to capture the whole thing with photos (minus the baseball slide in the rain).

The arm-raising game. Notice the board- it says: "Have you enjoyed with us?" And there's a meter shaded in so that however high my hand goes up, that's much I 'enjoyed with them'

And then it was Rachael's turn...

...and then ours. They loved this game.

Rufino, reading the words of the song so that we'd know exactly what it means

Some adorable Sevillana-ing

Rufino y yo

¡Mi clase!

Back to reality (sort of)

What? I'm not on summer vacation yet? Monday morning was a rude wake-up call when I had to get up from the luxurious hotel bed to get dressed and pack my book bag for class at 9 am. My walk to class was nice because it was so much closer, already being in the center of the city, and I got to walk by the cathedral on Avenida de Constitucion, a sight that's never disappointing. And I did pass by a woman dressed in a jean mini skirt, a studded/acid-washed jean jacket, white lace stockings that rose to mid-thigh, and pointy pink heels. And she was eating a medium-sized gelato, at 8:45. So that was fun to see. But sitting and listening to the history of the discovery of the Americas was so far from what I wanted to be doing, especially having spent the last 4 days with Rachael in total vacation-mode. Right after, I had to take my language-assessment test at EUSA, so I made the trek up there, and even though I was the second person on the list to take the test, they had somehow already fallen 45 minutes behind...typical. So I sat and played my addicting little game on my phone that Stephen showed me and now I can't stop playing, and waited and waited and waited. I didn't think I'd have time to go to the gym anymore, my original plan, but I managed to squeeze it in- for my own sanity. I just feel like getting a little exercise in clears my head, brings me back to reality a little bit. I only spent 45 minutes or so there, and usually I like to at least stay an hour and a half (mostly stretching for the last half of my time), but it made a world of difference. Did the Tabata timer, making up my own exercises that don't bother my tendinitis, a little biking, and I was outta there just in time to meet R back downtown. We walked all the way back up to Nervion together to have lunch at Cristina's. I honestly don't know how I managed that one. She's so weird about having guests over, and even though I'd hinted at wanting to share the meal-time experience with my family and with Stephen when both of them were here, she immediately nixed it and said "we'll have a coffee." Meal times are so sacred, sometimes I think its just a little ridiculous. Am I not paying her to feed me 3 meals a day? She's gotten so many breaks with all the trips I've taken, and I've bought every meal for myself since Rachael's been in town. Luckily I scored the one lunch date and was able to at least let someone experience what a meal is like. 

I was debating asking Cristina to make a certain thing that I knew I liked so Rach could try it, but I decided to just let her go and make whatever she wanted to make, whether it be good or bad, and either way the outcome would be fun or funny. Turns out, she made paella. Not too shabby, Cristina. And a great salad with avocado. I think on the inside she really wanted to have a guest over, or maybe she just missed me :). While sitting to eat, Cristina filled me in on all the things I haven't been around to hear over the past few days (I so called it, too- before we arrived, coming up the sidewalk to our apartment, I told Rachael "I bet we talk about how her foot injury has progressed for at least 1/3 of the time"). Mostly she just talked to me and whenever she had a question for Rachael, she didn't even try to ask it to her, she just would say "did your friend like the park and Plaza de Espana?" And I would look at Rachael, ask her, she would answer me, and then I'd answer back to Cristina. I could tell Rach was pretty bored but lunch is a time for being together, not just eating and running, so I couldn't stop the conversation. When we finally did clear the table, I had to reorganize my things into my new room (David's room when he stays here). Although its got more space to roll out my yoga mat and a higher ceiling light so I can actually stretch my arms up without hitting it, my new bed is made for a 6-year-old, there is a rather disturbing sepia-colored, poster-sized portrait of her oldest sun holding a gun and wearing a uniform at age 6, there are baby toys lining the walls with very little space left for any of my things, the closet doors don't open all the way (according to Cristina,they are fine and she made a point of scolding me when I tried to open them the normal way, because that is obviously not the way they can be opened, as I almost caused further damage to them), and the wifi is much worse. Okay there's my rant. I will say I would much rather have my own room now than share a room with any new girls, and its only for 2 weeks. I'll manage. C told  me, "now we can be vecinas!" because this room is right across the hall from hers. How cute. 

Still, it pained my heart to walk past my old room and see it looking this way. We didn't have a lot that we could call "ours" over the past 5 months, but this room was as much MC's and mine as it could have been. We had lots of great times, just chatting late at night, getting on her bed like a couch and putting her computer on mine and finding movies or old TV shows online to watch until we fell asleep, getting ready to go out together, or reading funny blogs and watching stupid YouTube videos until 3 am on our beds with only the space heater light on. I'm gonna miss that little Tweety Bird picture and butterfly sculpture, the only two pieces of art in the room. But there will always come a time to move on, and its better to leave something when its still good than let it drag on until you're sick of it. At least that's what I always try to remind myself. So after I'd reorganized and turned David's room into my own, I stole a few apples and oranges, and went to my afternoon class. That night we went to las Setas at sunset, and arrived just in time to see the city at its prime. Added bonus- there were no annoying couples and no signs of PDA anywhere. 

We stayed up at the top and grabbed a mojito as the sun finished setting, Rachael, Chloe and her friend and me. Together we walked toward Macarena, an area of town I've yet to explore, and checked out a bar called la Bicicleteria. Hippie central, the smell of marijuana everywhere, the most eclectic bunch you ever saw in one place, and the biggest dog as well. He couldn't even fit between the tables. Later we met Tim and Emily at Alfalfa for more mojitos and lots of dancing (Chloe's last night in Sevilla...so many "lasts" its been ridiculous).  

On Tuesday morning I went to class again, and was the only American student there. I felt so accomplished for just getting my butt there; it was living proof that I haven't lost all work ethic from being abroad. We met Chloe and and her friend after my class ended at 10 and saw the Alcazar together. I love this place more and more every time I go. By now the greenery is everywhere, there are flowers in every nook and cranny, and lizards, peacocks, and other birds roam the grounds in abundance. I even heard one peacock make noise and fly, things I've never seen before. I don't think our friends' were as in to the history as I was the first time I walked through, so I spared them my tour guide role (for the most part) and we just meandered around, mostly through the gardens. No complaints there, it was a great last trip to the Alcazar and I'm not sure I would have made if if Rach hadn't been here. That's something I'm loving about having her here close to the end of my time in Spain. It gets me out doing things, seeing places I haven't seen in a while just because I know they're close within reach whenever I want them, and crossing things off my bucket list. 

The day I got the picnic with my dad and ate in the park was one of my favorite memories in Sevilla, so I wanted to do it again before I left. We walked to Triana to pick out avocados, mangoes and strawberries, walked to Starbucks for sandwiches to go (which Rachael did not receive; they gave her a hot panini on a plate with real silverware, and we then had to make the executive decision to bring it along, plastic plate and all, with us to the park), and set up our big white Vincci La Rabida bath towels in a sunny spot in Parque Maria Luisa. 

I will miss these strawberries in their kilo-size portions so much

Pure bliss

That night we shopped a little, I bought a dress with the gift card to H&M MC left for me, and wore it to dinner at the hotel that night. We just ate on the patio, rather than the rooftop restaurant, and had the whole place to ourselves. We were definitely overdressed for the occasion, seeing as the patio is meant for a casual drink or tapas before going out, but we came to stay, and we did. When our waitress wasn't taking our orders for tapas after tapas, we were dancing around the patio, taking pictures by the fountain, making fools of ourselves, without a care in the world. I had a black risotto (squid ink) with cuttlefish and Rachael had an egg casserole and tuna and vegetables. And after, sllllllleeeeeeeeepppppp. Wednesday was fast approaching, my busiest day of the week.

We awoke to grey skies and cool air. I knew it was going to be one of those rainy days in Sevilla, and normally I hate when its like that on Wednesdays, because they're already so boring and filled with class and things to do that its just another thing that adds to the dreary mood. But if any day were going to be bad weather, I'd want it to be today for Rachael's sake. I had to drag her around with me and we were inside most of the day, but with a day like this we didn't feel like we were missing out on much. She came to class at 9 with me, so she could experience Professor Serrera's incredibly muddled voice, she read at EUSA while I sat through Islam, she biked with me to Claret for my LAST VOLUNTEERING EVER (more on that later), and learned what its like when you get yourself into a time crunch for finding an open Sevici station, she came back with me to Cristina's to drop off more things, and came to class with me that afternoon as well. In between we grabbed lunch at Telepizza, the fast food pizza place around here. It was just what I expected and had hoped for- a non-Spanish, non-tuna or Iberian ham-topped, hot, gooey pizza with normal crust. We almost finished a large between the two of us. When we finally made it back to the hotel after my evening class, we collapsed on the beds since we hadn't stopped all day. So it wasn't the most fun of last days for a vacation, but we'd had plenty of filled days over the last week, and R gott a taste for what it an average day is like for me. That night we ordered room service, and when I couldn't get across what I wanted to order by phone the waiter came directly to our door  to show us the salad options. Just a few minutes later our salads appeared, and we watched Spanish game shows in our robes for one last time. In the morning I walked Rachael to the bus stop at 7 am , passing a Starbucks on the way and noticing that it wasn't open (this would be horrific in the US) and sent her on her way. And just like that, she was back off the states! It's so weird to think that every time I've sent someone off after their trip here, they've gone back to their respective homes and I've stayed here. I've been here for such a long time! It seems that way, and it seems like just yesterday I was getting out of my cab in front of 9-11 Villegas y Marmolejos to meet Cristina. I made the walk from el prado San Sebastian, down Calle Enramadilla and Avenida Ramon y Cajal once again, turning the corner onto the street of my house, entered my building and my apartment, passed by what used to be my room, and fell onto my new bed. Home again, home again, jiggity jog.