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.