I should have been studying...

    So there I was, minding my own business in my room after a nice long run by the river. I was still disgusting and sweaty when my señora came in and invited me upstairs to the housewarming party she was having on her terrace. I needed a break from the studying I wasn’t doing, so I followed her up and took a seat. She said that she had invited a “cuenta cuentos” to her party, which I took to mean some kind of storyteller. Intrigued, I sat back and listened.
    I’m going to preface this by asking the universe, how do I get myself into these situations?...There were two “cuenta cuentos” a younger guy and girl most likely in their late twenties. They stood there in front of a semicircle of 40-somethings and started to tell their stories.
    The first one, the tamest of the three went a little something like this:
    Once upon a time in a far away land lived a young prince. The prince contracted a mysterious illness, and asked his best friend to take care of his three greatest treasures: his mother, his sister, and his wife, the princess. So his best friend had sex with all of them. The end.
    Maybe it was just me, but when the cuenta cuentos started talking about taking off clothes, touching boobs, and boners, I knew this wasn’t exactly the study break I signed up for.
    The stories were like a fine wine: each got better the more time passed. The second story was about a young girl going through her feminine changes. Her mother told her not to hang out in the field when she had her time of the month because it could be very dangerous (whatever that means). Naturally, the girl decided to go completely against her mother’s warning, went to the field when Aunt Flow was visiting, fell asleep by the river and some kind of blood-hungry lizard entered her. As the legend goes, the only remedy to remove the lizard was to have a man sex it out of her. Then they got married. The end.
    Story number three. They told us this would be the most sensual of the three. Basically this sex-deprived housewife starts an innocent flirtation with one of her neighbors. Not wanting to cheat on her husband, she suggests they have a threesome instead. Lo and behold, double penetration.
    And that’s all she wrote, folks.

A Weekend in Cádiz

Let’s talk about something for a hot sec. This trip gets better each and every day, and this past weekend takes the cake.
We took an overnight weekend trip to Cádiz, a beach city on the southwestern coast of Spain. Cádiz is known for a lot of things including its deep-rooted FLamenco history, its beautiful views from the top of its main cathedral and, of course, its beaches. It took us about an hour and a half to get there from Sevilla by bus, but the good company and random conversation about buffalo people made the trip fly by.
When we got to Cádiz, we went on a walking tour of the city with our extra spicy with a pinch of sugar guide, Alejandro. He’s the epitome of the sexy teacher, and I pray to God that he doesn’t understand English because I’m not trying to get a sexual harassment suit while in another country.
Anywho... the city of Cádiz is stunning. White buildings line the streets that are just a little bit wider than Sevilla’s, giving the city a more open, fluid feeling. We saw the Plaza De Flores, an open market area where the sweet scent of flowers mixed with the savory smell of fried fish for what I can only nicely describe as an interesting combination. Our final destination was the cathedral which stood towering over the center of an open market plaza. We got to climb to the top of the cathedral’s bell tower which was done by ascending a spiraling ramp that took you all the way to the top. It took about 10 minutes and what I can only imagine to be like 5000 burnt calories to reach the top, but wow was it worth it.  The view was out of this world. You could see practically every corner of the city from one side and miles and miles of beautiful ocean sprawling out in front of you from the other. The way the city met the shore before the waves broke couldn’t accurately be captured in a picture.
After our tour we had the rest of the day free (minus an optional museum tour which most of us opted out of lol) so we spent it on the beach. I dunno whether it was the Malibu and coke that we bought from the asian supermarket across the street from our hotel or the topless couple gently humping about 50 yards away from us, but this was a great beach day. The sand was soft, the sun was hot and there was a perfect breeze that put the entire scene together. The theme of the day was aggressive, and we definitely went from zero to ciego more quickly than expected, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
The night took a turn for the unexpected when we couldn’t really find any bars/discotecas to go to, leaving us stranded in central Cádiz, full of questionable fish and no sense of direction. Eventually we made it back to the hotel and I can’t say for sure what happened that night, but what I can say is that what happens in 608, stays in 608.
In conclusion, Thank you, Cádiz for a great weekend with great friends. :)

My day with Jeronimo

Today I had the great pleasure of spending the day touring the city with a former history professor at the University of Sevilla, a man named Jeronimo. For five hours, he guided us through the historic Sevillan streets , explaining the history of Andalusia’s Islamic, Jewish, and Christian roots. Jeronimo was just 60-some odd years young, but his breadth of knowledge about Sevillan history was incredible and extensive.

The streets of Seville are narrow and winding. With each corner that turned down another unmarked, shaded alley, Jeronimo told us stories of kings, palaces, writers, and artists. In true teacher’s fashion, he was eager to share his knowledge, and even more eager to answer any questions we had. With each palacio we passed, Jeronimo uncovered the histories of ancient Sevilla. From las columnas in La Alameda that date back to ancient Roman times, to the Arabic remains of mosques found in the center of la Catedral, Sevilla contains a mix of rich and very different cultures.

I guess this is what I pictured when I decided to go abroad; I would walk historic streets and learn how they came to be there. But this wasn’t your average tour. Jeronimo was special. For hours he told us stories about ancient peoples and their traditions, but it was when we stopped at a café near the university to take a rest that I learned more about Sevilla, or any other place I have ever been or will ever go, than I have in my whole life
Jeronimo had an ease about him, and as he sipped his beer in the bright sun, he told us about life. He told us that he moved to Seville in 1976 when he was in his twenties. Here he went to school, met his wife, and had his three children. Then he told us something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He told us that he remembers being 46 like it was just yesterday, and here he is today talking with us wondering where the time went.

He said, “We work and we work and we work and for what? When do we have time to enjoy life? We think we’re immortal and one day you could be sitting at a café talking to three young girls like I am and your heart could stop, and that would be it. But if you take the time to look around every once in a while, at least you’ll be able to say that it was all worth it.”

He went on to say that as a teacher, he thinks that they should teach a class called, “How to live.” Our preoccupation with making a living often gets in the way of living itself.

I’d like to say I remember everything Jeronimo taught us about the history of Seville, but unfortunately my memory is not so keen. However, I remember the look in his eyes when he talked about his life, a living history of a person who lives humbly with the intention to enjoy each moment. I remember his words of advice and his gentle smile, one that peeked out over his beer in between stories. And I remember the way me and my two friends looked at each other as he talked, and we all knew that in this moment, we were present.

I may have just met him a few hours earlier, but Jeronimo made an indelible impact on the way I look at life.

Jeronimo, you stole my heart and opened my eyes. Thank you.

"Let's Take a Coffee."

It’s my third day in Sevilla, and little by little I’m starting to discover the city and and all that it has to offer. My new motto: try everything.

If you know me, you know I’m not a big coffee drinker by any means. My mama always told me it would stunt my growth, though it seems I really never stood a chance in the vertical department. But, every now and then I’ll take it upon myself to indulge, usually in Dunkin’ with a very light, very sweet coffee. 

So, I’ve noticed that whenever we have a break between orientation meetings, our orientation guide asks us in his endearing Sevillan accent whether we want to “take a coffee.” I’m guessing this comes as a direct translation from “tomar un café.” Yesterday, still unable to shake my jetlag and needing a quick fix, I decided to take him up on the offer. We stopped in Alameda, a plaza with a lot of bars and restaurants, and one of the central nightlife spots in Sevilla. There we “took a coffee” at Café Borras.

It. Was. Delicious.

 Apparently if you ask for “café con leche,” they give you half coffee and half milk and it ends up as a perfectly mixed concoction, with just the right amount of bitterness and kick. 

After tapas and tintos round two last night, my orientation group and I decided to go out for the first time to experience the real night-life (which usually doesn’t end til about 5 or 6 in the morning). We started out near Café Borras in Alameda at la Sureña where we got 5 beers for 3 euros, and that’s a bargain if I’ve ever seen one! We bar-hopped from there, ending up at 84 where the bartender gave us a free round of honey rum that went down like water. 

After meeting up with some other groups, we made it to Alfalfa, another popular bar/nightlife area. Even though my mama told me to never talk to strangers, it’s been the norm here in Sevilla. Last night I had a great conversation with a 20-something very fashion-forward girl at Bare Nostrum. We exchanged compliments about our clothes and she told me about her principe(prince), or boyfriend, who absolutely loves her trendy new pixie cut. After more girl-talk, we chatted it up with some much older men about their glory days owning the streets of Alfalfa. Lemme tell you, if you’re gonna talk to random people at the bar, groups of 50-year-old men usually give the best advice and tell the best stories.

I may be breaking mama’s rules, but that's what they're there for, right?

Until next time...Ciao!

Over the Pond and Into the Heart of the City

Now that I’m all settled in and filled to the brim with my first tapas experience, I figured this would be a good time for blog post number one!
They say it’s all about the journey, and so far mine has been very interesting, give or take a few awkward encounters.
On the flight to Heathrow, I had my first legal drink (does this make me a part of the mile high club?) which was a Spanish red wine that sent me right into the comfiest of snoozes. Next stop, Heathrow, London.
Things not to do in a British airport:

1. Ask an attendant who looks like Chuck Bass which security lane you have to go in. He will answer by telling you your final destination(which is written on the ticket you showed him), thereby making you both feel really, really awkward. You win, CB, you win.
2. Take your shoes off at security to walk through the detector. They’ll ask you why your they are off and insist that you “Please put them back on and just proceed to the next attendant.” 
3. Assume that powder in make-up form is not a liquid. Cause it is. And they will hand-search your bag until they find it...25 minutes later...

London town may have been a bust but it was smooth sailing, or I guess flying from there!
When I arrived safely in Seville, the wonderful people at CIEE took me right to my homestay. One great thing about Seville is that a majority of the population is below 5’5” so I finally see eye-to-eye with people I’m talking to!
I love my new host mama! She may not speak a lick of English but I’m sure we’ll find a way to break the language barrier and hopefully it’s over a few rounds of tintos(red wine and soda)!
Mama 2.0 mistakenly locked us out of our piso so we spent the afternoon in her neighbor’s apartment. Let’s just say that I wasn’t even in Spain for an hour and someone already tried to see me naked...They have four kids, all under the age of six, and one of the little boys was insistent on opening the bathroom door as I was changing from my flight clothes. Still, I can confidently say that playing with a 2-year-old baby within my first hour in Sevilla was just the best thing that could have ever happened.
Time to sleep off this jetlag!