02 February 2011

Sevilla: City of Small Disasters and Sunlight


I journeyed to Sevilla last weekend, and despite the absurd occurrences and a lot of discomfort, it was an excellent sunny getaway. Three friends and I left rainy, cold, then dreary Granada and arrived to Sevilla by bus in the early evening. Promptly, a wheezing cab driver who could have died at the wheel at any moment took us to our hostel.
I was feeling a bit congested, so I decided to try Maura’s Netty Pot as soon as we checked in. I had never used a netty pot before, but people swear by them, so she set it up and I gingerly stuck my nostril over the nozzle. As I was watery-eyed and coated in snot while shooting sinus rinse up my nose in the bathroom as Maura took pictures of it all and coached me through the experience, I met our first roommate: Kim, Australian traveler who, after I wiped the snot off me and introduced myself, asked in her neat-o Australian accent, “Is that what you do in Michigan? Snort things?”
While that tremendously uncomfortable interaction was taking place, our other friends were placed in a room downstairs, where their roommates over the weekend included a strikingly handsome half-Moroccon/half-Argentine man named Alejandro (Seriously. Ale-ale-jandro, ale-ale-jandrooo), his Chilean friend, and a beautiful Brazilian man.
Hold on. WHAT? I have yet to file an official complaint to the hostel about their very skewed distribution of hot roommates, but I obviously need to do so.

Dynamic, unlucky duo
While our friends enjoyed the company of their roommates, Maura and I basked in our misfortune in an awkward club, where I exchanged the following words with some piece-of-shit fifteen-year-old in between verses of Ke$ha:
Fifteen-year-old: “Where you from?”
Me, obviously uninterested: “The U.S.”
Fifteen-year-old (to his friends): AMERICAN GIRLS!
Fifteen-year-old (to me): “Wanna make out with my friend?”
Me (disgusted): “No.”
Fifteen-year-old: “Why not?”
Me: “Jesus Christ, how old are you?”
Fifteen-year-old (obviously lying): Nineteen. Wanna make out with my friend?
Me: No.
Fifteen-year-old: Why not?
Me: Because you’re children.  It would be illegal and weird.
End scene.

La catedral, y las naranjas
Despite the ridiculous situations and cabbies on their final wheeze-filled drives, Sevilla was full of sunlight, and oh, it was nice. So, so nice. It’s a beautiful city with orange groves and impressive Spanish streets. It was lively; it was warm, and as I lay barefoot in the grass by the river on Sunday, I thought of the blizzard happening in Michigan with tenderness.

Also, thank you for some of these pictures, Erin.

And happy Groundhog Day, to the believers out there.

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