A Day in the Life, Sevilla Style
My alarm goes off at 7:30, and I jerk myself out of bed to begin preparing for the day. However, even this mundane ritual is improved by the pale blue sky, the feeling of promise brought by birds chattering cheerfully across rooftops. I apply a layer of bright pink lipstick, something I would never do in Boston because it screams, “Look at me!” Here in Sevilla, I wear it dutifully for the very same reason – the difference being that I no longer feel the need to apologize for such a bold choice.
At 8:15, I head down to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast. My host family is still sleeping, so I take care not to make too much noise as I ready my tostadas y café con leche. I slip out the door in time to meet a friend at Plaza de San Martín de Porres, or as we so affectionately refer to it, “the triangle.” Together, we begin the thirty-minute voyage to our language school. We don’t particularly mind the distance; the mornings are cool, the views are beautiful, and the people are interesting subjects of study.
Our language classes start at 9:15 sharp and are taught by two of the liveliest women you ever did meet. While we work quite efficiently through chapters from our (free) textbooks, the class also has a strong conversational and cultural component. We can tell stories and joke with our teachers, but we can also ask them about the latest procession on Calle San Jacinto and learn a few vocabulary words in the process. During our break, we tend to congregate in the downstairs café, where you can purchase a delicious bocadillo for €2-3 and mingle with students from around the world.
Once classes are over, I journey back home for lunch with my host family. Invariably, the enormous meal induces an overwhelming desire to sleep. In the United States, I might attempt to fight off this feeling, but I am in the land of siesta and I take full advantage of it. The afternoons are also a good time to do homework – most of the stores are closed and the streets are more or less deserted, so any attempts to go procrastishopping are effectively thwarted.
It’s difficult to describe a typical afternoon because each one is different. Oftentimes, we attend class excursions. For example, we recently learned how to make salmorejo, a cold tomato soup that originated in Córdoba. On other days, small groups of us will venture out to our service-learning placements – mine is at a nursing home in Bollullos. Either way, I usually return early enough to eat dinner at home and catch up with my host mom before she leaves for her night shift at the hospital.
Unlike in America, the excitement of an Andalusian day is hardly over after dinner. Weeknight activities range from buying ice cream and exploring the city to going out for tapas. It hardly matters whether it’s Friday or Wednesday; the streets are always bustling until the wee hours of the morning.
At the end of each night, I make a point of surveying the city from my roof terrace and soaking up the ambience of my overseas home. Certainly, there is something comforting about settling into a routine here. At the same time, it’s thrilling to taste the prospect of thriving in an unfamiliar place, of fitting in. Of course, we’re off to Barcelona in the morning, so all of this is about to change…
