Summer in the City

I spend almost four hours every day in transit to and from the center of the city for my classes. However, it´s so easy to turn this lemon into lemonade- one of my favorite past times is people watching. (Which is indeed one of the greatest perks about living in the city)
In all big cities including Sevilla, inevitably you are going to run into strange people, see strange things, and always, ALWAYS have something to laugh about. Which is exactly what I had to do when I gave an account to Meara of all of the characters I had encountered. Here are just a few-

1. Mr. Sweats
Mr. Sweats was an older man with disheveled and sweaty dark grey hair and he carried a pretty large gut. If I have ever seen anyone take an outfit seriously, this guy did. We were on the bus riding into the city, and I noticed him when we came to the last stop and got out. He was ahead of me at the cross walk, sprinting across all 8 lanes of traffic while there was still pleanty of time. But he´s no middle distancer, and he slowed directly after the cross walk. I rounded the corner and passed him on my way to the tranvía. Then, when the tranvía was at the last stop, Mr. Sweats got up and jumped to the door, reaching around the lady in line to push the button for the door to open, when I noticed he not only had on some serious sweats, but also new sqeaky shoes, of which he immediatly put into good use sprinting to who knows where.

2. Mr. Body Odor
One incredibly early morning I was taking bus 5 into the center of town and ended up downwind of this big bear of a man who had apparently just gotten off a hard day at work and was drenched in sweat. (He smelled pretty ripe and I had no way of escaping the smell in stuffy slow bus number). So of course when he got off at his stop, I was able to breathe easy for the first time in at least 2 miles. Whew!

Well, weeks later, which was yesterday, I ended up on the bus for my afternoon commute to class and ended up holding the handle bar right next to the same man (this time he smelled much better). He read the paper for awhile, holding it just inches from his big coke bottle glasses, and then began to doze. His balding head with a lovely ring of cotton ball hair dropped and jerked as he slept, and we were approaching his stop. Oh my goodness, I though. What if we pass his stop, and he sleeps through it? He would probably be disappointed to sit on the crowded bus while it drove in circles. Perhaps I should tap him on the shoulder and let him know his stop is coming up.

But wait... think about it Chelsea... What if I woke him and told his stop was coming up? That might be wierd. What are the odds that a complete stranger knows which bus stop is YOURS? Would that wierd you out in the slightest? It would wierd me out.
Right about that time the bust abruptly halted in traffic, waking him, and the dillema was solved. So this bear of a man sleepily gets up and smiles apologetically at some lady whom he bumps into, and then as he passes me he accidentaly whops me on the head because he´s so big and the bus is so crowded. ¨Esta bien¨I say, as Mr. Sleepy Head (formally Mr. Body Odor) exits the bus.

3. I heard a rooster on the way to the bus stop.
I kid you not. I live in the 4th largest city in Spain, and in my neighborhood on the way to the bus stop, I heard a rooster crow. The nearest blad of grass is at least a half a mile from my house, and yet, there it was, 315 in the afternoon, rooster crowing steadily from who knows where (was he hanging out on someone´s roof?) My suspicions that it was some Spanish man giving me a hard time was eliminated because it is not humanly possible to make a noise this loud and steady repeately without faltering just a little. Perhaps he was hanging out, waiting to be somenoe´s dinner, but who knows. I´m sure he knows just as well as I do why he is a rooster living in the city.

So I didn´t actually go to Morocco this weekend, but I will still come away with the knowledge that I have been closer to Africa than I ever had in my life! That´s still somewhat satisfying. Friday morning I woke up at 5 am to shower, left the house by 545 and made an almost hour long trek through the still dark city with my luggage and two of my friends to the river(the city bus I need to take wasn´t running yet). Several times I felt like stopping and napping right there on the sidewalk with my backpack as a pillow, but I resisted. (the sidewalk was a little dirty) We boarded our charter bus by the river where I immediately fell into a time warp of dozing and drooling untill we arrived (I don´t know... 2 or 3 hours/days later?) at the ferry station in Algeciers. Here we waited as ferry after ferry was cancelled (never cancelled more than 5 minutes before scheduled departure) due to inclement weather. We forraged our way through incredible wind to wine in dine in a local hotel, and then returned to await a charter bus from Sevilla to come pick us up. All in all, it was about an 8 and half hour ordeal of sitting in the ferry station, not including our time warp trip to and from Sevilla, but spirits were high and there were pleanty of incredibly hyper and attention starved children in the ferry station to keep things entertaining. Would have been the perfect day to learn how to play RISK. Somewhere around hour 7 I decided that we had been in the ferry station long enough that we could begin a microeconomy, bargaining with other foreigners, this jacket for that candy, that really cute baby for this novel. However, we were forced to leave our new home before the economy was ever really launched into anything. And so, the little country inside the ferry station that could have been never was. And I spent the rest of the weekend in Sevilla.

Saturday morning I awoke at 8 to a yellow sky. It was such a strange color that I couldn´t help but imagine a tornado suddenly dropping down our of the sky, ripping all of the unripe oranges off the trees and all of the clothes off the lines, and bending all of the television antenas in our lovely little neighborhood (so maybe I imagined a pretty tame tornado?), but thankfully it didn´t happen. It just spit rain and blew things around. However, at lunch I was watching the news and saw that 2 boats had tried to leave Algeciers (the port I know so well) and ended up wrecking, so I was happy we didn´t try again for Morocco on this day. The news was filled with floods and rain, and there was another ship that got blown up agaist a cliff and spilled oil in Cádiz. Needless to say, I spent the morning safely reading and resting, and then ventured out to shop once it was nice.

Sunday, I met up with some friends for dinner and a movie, and happened upon a parade of the Virgin Mary of Pilar (to whom I owe thanks for not having class the following day). We saw flags hanging in the neighborhood and asked our host mother what they were for. She told us they were to celebrate the Virgin Mary of Pilar, of whom they would parade a statue of that evening, and so we scoped out church in which she resides and waited for her to appear. We waited with a crowd of people outside of the church, and finally different brotherhoods within the church paraded out. The first was a band playing beautifully haunting music and then people carrying large candle sticks and finally an incredibly large float of the virgin covered in flowers and candles.

I saw Mama Mía with some friends. My favorite part of the entire ordeal was hearing my room mate guffaw from 3 seats down in sheer enjoyment, and my next favortie thing was Pierce Brosnan´s fatal attempt to sing. All in all it was an incredibly silly movie, and once I got past the initial shock, it was really enjoyable.

Afterwards, after having been through terrible withdrawl symptoms from lack of Indian food, I fueled my addiction by eating at a restaurant with the most exquisit smells and tastes I could have asked for. There were spicy, salty, sweet, and hot flavors all in the same meal, which was a pleasant change from the fairly mild flavors of Spanish cuisine. Every once in awhile i just need a good torch to the mouth and a kick in the gut, and that is exactly what I got at this now beloved little Indian restaurant. (needless to say, I´m returing soon)

Chocolate y Churros

I have four things on my agenda to tell you all (my lovely, dedicated readers) about. The first subject on my mind is a seroius topic that deserves everyone´s undivided attention- I just had my first cup of hot Spanish chocolate. Muy importante, ¿no? Please imagine with me for just a moment (just humor me, I´m all the way in Spain, okay?)... are you ready... a cup of hot chocolate that is so thick it can be eaten with a spoon, with the consistency somewhere between hot cocoa and pudding. ¡Wowee! My blood sugar is still reeling from this Spanish delight (my insides are trembling a little), and I didn´t even touch the packet of sugar that came with it. Just when you think that this story couldn´t get any better, or have a happier ending, I´m going to tell you to hold all assumptions and listen up. Next time I go take chocolate I can ask for churros to go with it. Ladies and gentlemen, please hold on to your seats, because churros are sticks of friend dough that you can actually dip into the chocolate. Okay, now you can be jealous that this is at my disposal to order any time I want during business hours. And now, all I ask from anyone is to please hold judgement if I get happily fat here in Spain. (if you do this, you might receive some chocolate y churros in the mail!)

Okay, on to subject number two. I went on a trip this past weekend, and am planning to upload pictures and tell you all about it another day, in another post. Allrighty, on to topic three!

Yesterday, Meara and I went adventuring around the city in between classes. We decided to visit the Plaza de Espana, and it was pretty cool and big.

Four, I´m going to AFRICA this weekend!

An introduction to my house, and Happy Birthday Cara!

This picture is for my wonderful, beautiful sister who just turned 23. I ride bus number 23... eerie coincidence or no?

This is Rosario and me on the roof of our house. Rosario is probably one of the most precious people in the whole world, and I happen to be lucky enough to have her as my host mother. She is an amazing cook, amazing host, and so sweet. She calles Meara and I her niñas, and every once in a while she will just give me a big hug and call me her muñeca (her doll).

¡Que Guapa! She is such a model.


I think this bathroom is one of the most wonderful bathrooms in the whole world. I love the tiles on the wall, the tiles on the floor, the great little fixtures (besides the shower head), and yes, I am standing in the shower.


We have a bidet! (In Spanish, bidet). Have yet to try it out.


Some appliance designer needs his/her license revoked. This shower head hangs at a 45 degree angle pointing itself towards the wall. Last Friday when I was showering, the shower head flew off the little holder (not uncommon, usually hits me in the back of the head) but on this particular day it took a kamikaze dive of death past the shower curtain and onto the floor, and the hose was writhing in delight as it gushed water all over the floor. Thank goodness it wasn't a carpeted bathroom.

Peanut Butter and chocolate are the ruling parties, but that's not what my story is about

So, I have a short little story for you. Last week I had some time to kill and was in the center of town, so I decided to take a walk, go exploring, and get a little lost (but not too lost, you see). It was a beautiful day, and the 6 o'clock sun was keeping the stones on the buildings warm. I was wandering through the narrow streets, enjoying the fact that it's not uncommon to see men in the coolest business suits ever whizzing down the street on their scooters. I was enjoying the moment, marveling in the fact that I am in Spain, and oh look at the little balconies 3 stories up. What would it be like to live on a little cobblestone street in Spain? Could life get any better than this? My mind was savoring the moment like a piece of chocolate dipped in crunchy peanut butter (by the way, in the history of all super heroes and side kicks, pb and chocolate win, case closed).

Interrupting my thoughts, to the right of me was this innocuous little ... splat. hmmm. A sunny weather splat. Upon closer observation, I saw that the cause of the splat was this foamy white ball of spittle, and the perpetrator none other than a 7 year old punk on the third story balcony. And then... he spat again, this little punk! I think he was aiming for me! I looked up at him, and he ran inside, so I must have shown him who the boss clearly was. Hopefully. But Perhaps not. Next time I decide to wander through the streets, I will be armed with vocabulary enough to set this kid straight, or else a water gun! :()

Herederos

The past few tuesday nights have been filled with drama, sex, passion, money, drugs, baby thefts, and much more. How, you may ask, did my life become so crazy? Because I have been watching the greatest tv series in the history of man kind. Herederos. I don´t think I could have even fathomed what the word drama meant before this show quietly creft into my life and wrapped its fingers around my neck. Now I am hooked, my next breath depending on when I get my next 2 hour fix. If you want the sweet and condensed version, here it goes.

Imagine filthy rich family presided over by matriarchical mother, whose sister is actually her daughter and didn´t know it who has another sister whom we thought was really her daughter but stolen, but it turns out her sister is really her sister and she had a baby at one time, but someone has the baby held ransom for money, and her husband is in on it somehow because he has an office and people are always coming in, and so we think he´s coniving, and the lovable bull fighter- restaurant owner son-brother who has lost all his bulls and his restaurant in the latest episode, and he loves this girl that his friend ended up sleeping with, and another friend that hid drugs in his restaurant, and that´s why the restaurant burned down, because the police were coming to raid and the chef found the drugs and burned the place down because he didn´t have time to do anything else. And said sister who is actually the sister and not the daughter works in the fashion industry and has aids and her boyfriend has it to, and she has crazy dizzy spells and hasn´t told her family. And then there are more characters and more plots which i won´t go into. So imagine this crazy plot and times the complicatedness by 10 because it is all in Spanish, and the equation equals Herederos.