Two Young Civilians in Sevilla

Just about two years ago, during my Granada life, I went to Sevilla for only a few hours with my dear peer, Ally. Last weekend, I had the fortune of returning to this enchanting land with another dear peer, Caroline, for two and a half days! Thus, after just a bitty taste of Sevilla the first time, I got a good-sized mouthful the second time.

And speaking of mouthfuls, I'm embarrassed (but secretly proud) to admit that the first mouthful I had in this charming city, known for its delicious, Andalucian food, was a brownie at Peggy Sue's, an embodiment of what Spaniards would imagine an American restaurant from the 60s to be like. It was complete with jukeboxes that didn't actually work; a menu consisting of burgers, fries, brownies, ice cream, and not much more; piercingly pink walls; and "typical" American drinks (two different types of Fanta were on the list...who drinks Fanta in America?) I felt super self-conscious sitting there, jabbering away in American English. I wanted to reassure the waiter, "I DO eat Spanish food, too! It's just hard to resist brownies sometimes..."

So after our brownie indulgence, we went to bed at a reasonable hour so as to energize up for the big day of tourist fun. Our room consisted of two beds, a triangular coat-closet, a sort of make-shift bathroom that was clearly forced into the room after its completion (there was basically a toilet and sink shoved into the corner with a plastic wall surrounding them), and there was no heating, so I wore two sweaters, two pairs of leggings, two pairs of socks, and a jacket to bed, and woke up shivering in the night. But on the bright side, it was only seven euros a night, very centrally-located, the people working there were cute and friendly, and they did give us a heater for the other two nights.

Caroline is Unimpressed with the Bathroom

I won't get too detailed on the tourist attractions because no one honestly likes reading extensive descriptions of other people's vacations, but I'll say that Sevillians (I want to write it as "Civilians") are known around Spain for being arrogant and proud. I can't say I encountered any arrogance, but there was definitely a lot of pride to be seen. For instance, we went to two flamenco shows at La Anselma and La Carbonería (which were wonderful, by the way, but I did, embarrassingly enough, fall asleep in the middle of one of them, only because I was super tired to begin with) and over half the songs were about Sevilla and how wonderful it is. But I can see why--there's definitely a lot to be proud of: There's the Alcázar, an astounding castle (one of those you-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it places); the beautiful cathedral with the Giralda tower that gives magnificent views of the city; tasty food (we ate at lots of places in addition to Peggy Sue's); a vibrant flamenco culture; some nice art; the almost surreal Plaza de España, which seems to appear out of nowhere; and a grand, old bullring (well, this is a source of pride for many, although I can't say I would personally be too proud being in a city that hosts bull-torture, but that's just me).

The Alcázar. Honestly, just go there. Way more impressive in real life.

Trying to Soak up the Alcázar's Glory

The Giralda Tower

In Plaza de España there were plaques dedicated to each community in Spain. Obviously I got excited to see good old Granada there, my favorite place in all of Spain (but Sevilla does fall closely after!)

 On our last day, we had to leave but there was no one at the desk, so we went through the gate, locked it up, and threw the keys through the gate along with a note that said "gracias." But of course, the second the keys were out of reach, I realized my backback was still in the hostel. So then we had to stand there, waiting like morons. Shortly after, a woman who works there returned, but this is Spain we're talking about, so even though she works there, of COURSE she didn't have a key. I stood there, guarding Caroline's bag, while she and Caroline walked around in search of some sort of rod/pole/stick to fish out the keys. A neighbor kindly lent us his broom, but it was about an inch too short. So we stood there, helplessly eying the keys, until a fellow hostel-stayer finally appeared in the lobby and let us in. After that, we had just enough time to go to a history of Spain and the Americas museum before heading to the bus station to return to Cáceres.

The week passed by without anything particularly outstanding occurrences, just the usual: Frustration at speaking to a classroom of rowdy youngins and feeling like I'm talking to myself, and dopamine highs when kids remember words I've taught them, comment on how much they enjoyed a class, or give me hugs.

Yesterday was a lounge-in-bed-and-eat-cereal type of day (very necessary after nonstop movement all week), and today was supposed to be an 18-kilometer hike with my roommate and 400+ other hikers in a mountainous town an hour and a half away that's filled with streams and "gargantas" (which means "throats" but also "streams that descend from snowy mountaintops" in Spanish) but when my roommate and I got up in the dark at 6:45am and saw that there was an 100 percent chance of rain for the whole day, we were like "uh, never mind, and went back to bed, losing the six euros we'd paid but gaining four hours of sleep in our warm, rainless rooms. Then, so as to get out of  the house and feel slightly less guilty about our laziness, walked to the ancient part of Cáceres and peered at the pretty view from the tower. But the intense rain and wind made me super glad we'd opted out of the six and a half-hour hike.