La Feria de Abril

Imagine a week of festivities that combines the best of Mardi Gras, Steeplechase, and the State Fair and throw in flamenco, traditional gypsy attire, and an endless supply of manzanilla (a type of Spanish sherry). That's the best way I can think of to describe La Feria de Abril, Sevilla's spring fair that takes over the city every year two weeks after Semana Santa.

Since I arrived in the fall, Feria has been a constant topic of conversation among my Spanish and American acquaintances alike. The people of Sevilla and Dos Hermanas have taken every opportunity to tell me about their special week and the customs associated with it. A few of my friends decided to take classes to learn how to dance sevillanas (a specific style of flamenco typical of Feria) and several bought trajes (the flamenco dresses worn by Spanish girls and women for most of the week). And, despite a select few drawbacks to the celebration (which I will get to momentarily), the overwhelming consensus was that Feria is one of the highlights of the year in Andalucía and probably the most condensed representation of authentic Spanish culture you can find.

Despite all of the hype, I found myself entering the first week of May--when this year's Feria happened to fall--without many expectations and with significantly less excitement than most of my friends. After all, I hadn't learned to dance (I can thank my parents for my lack of skill in that department), I hadn't dropped 200+ euros on a dress, I had no connections to the casetas (the private tents, owned by groups of friends, organizations, or businesses), and I am generally not a fan of huge crowds.

Still, on Tuesday, the first full day of festivities, I felt obligated to check it out and see what all of the hype was about. Janet and I met up a little before 7 o'clock and headed to the fairgrounds, which are located on the other side of the river in a neighborhood called Los Remedios. There, we met up with several of our friends who were already there and knew much more than we did about where to go and what to do. One of our first stop's was the Rotary International caseta, which Pam had access to because they are sponsoring her year-long scholarship in Spain. She brought us the first of many pitchers of rebujito, the official drink of Feria which is a deceptively strong combination of manzanilla, sprite, and fresh mint. Although I was initially skeptical and not sure that I really liked it, I not surprisingly came around to the idea after several small glasses (about the size of Dixie cups) of it.

After our stop at the Rotary tent, we decided to try our luck at one of the public casetas, which are put on by various groups from political parties to local neighborhoods. Since anyone can get into these, they have a bad reputation among sevillanos and can allegedly get a little rough around the edges as the night wears on. However, given that we were there before nightfall, we had no problems and, as foreigners with few or no connections to private casetas, we appreciated being able to enter without a member. One of the highlights of our time in the public caseta was getting to watch Pam and Ana (our Spanish friend) show off their sevillana skills, which were quite impressive after months of dance lessons.

We spent the rest of our time walking through the streets--the fairgrounds are really a city of their own--and taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Feria. We saw lots of horse-drawn carriages--a major part of the Feria tradition--and all got a laugh when I was almost run over by one.

While I enjoyed watching the locals, commenting on the endless array of trajes, and drinking rebujito, I felt like one day of Feria was probably enough for me. I had a good sense of what it was all about and could say I had experienced it but didn't feel connected enough to it to make me want to go back.

However, by Thursday night, I was itching to get back to Feria and enjoy more of the nightlife side of the festivities. Janet and I (and eventually Pam) ended up joining one of her Spanish friends at his friend's caseta and spent most of the rest of the night with them, bouncing from tent to tent and using whatever connections or power of persuasion we could to get in. One of our favorite casetas was essentially a mini-discoteca by the time we got there, full of club music and non-flamenco dancing. By the time we called it a night in the wee hours of Friday morning, I had officially become a feriante. Even though the exclusivity of the private tents can be daunting at first, we gradually learned that you can get into them as a foreigner if you take advantage of who you already know or make new friends along the way. In the end, everyone is out to have a good time--and, as I always say, the more the merrier.

My last Feria outing was Saturday night, by which time we had all recovered from Thursday night's adventures. It was basically more of the same but it was the perfect way to end a highly memorable week. While the 2011 edition of Sevilla Feria has now come and gone, there is still more Feria fun to be had in my last month in Spain. Starting tomorrow, Dos Hermanas will be celebrating its annual fair which, while obviously much smaller in scale than Sevilla's, is a major source of pride for the city. And, this weekend, there has been talk amongst my friends of making the trip to Jerez, a city near Cadiz, which many of my Spanish friends claim has the best Feria around. I guess the only way to find out is to give it a go!

Semana Santa

Well, I am back in Sevilla after nearly a week of living out of a backpack and, as much as I love traveling, I have to say that I am glad to be "home" and back to my routine.

My solo trip began the morning of Friday April 15, when I caught the train to Madrid. I had decided to stay there Friday before catching an early flight to Lisbon on Saturday morning. Even though I had passed through the capital city (where I studied abroad in the fall of 2008) a couple of times since September, I hadn't had a chance to spend any meaningful time there or revisit my favorite places.

I spent most of the day walking around and enjoying the 80 degree temperatures and plentiful sunshine. Some of the highlights of my day included El Parque del Buen Retiro, Plaza del Oriente and the Royal Palace, Parque del Oeste, and the Moncloa/Arguelles neighborhood--where I used to live. I ended the day with a visit to the Prado art museum, which is free every evening from 6-8. It was the perfect way to cap off the first day of my vacation.

Being back in Madrid was an interesting experience. I had forgotten how beautiful it is--and how different it is from Sevilla. Whereas Sevilla is a fairly large city (about 700,000 people), Madrid is enormous--around 3 million within the city limits (and about 2 million more in the surrounding area). As the capital of Spain, Madrid has a very European, cosmopolitan feel while Sevilla is just about as authentically Spanish as you can get and has a much rawer, grittier personality. For me, the biggest difference between the two is the connection I feel to each. Despite spending nearly 4 months in Madrid, I have almost no attachment to it. Since I traveled nearly every weekend while studying abroad, most of my time in the city was spent in the area between my host family's apartment and the university. I don't know my way around very well, I don't have any favorite restaurants or bars to speak of, and I haven't seen the vast majority of the city. Sevilla is another story altogether. I think I can say that I know this city pretty well. Yes, I've spent more time here...but I think that I am much more well suited to Sevilla--as I've said all along, it's much more manageable in size, the people are a little friendlier, and in a lot of ways it reminds me of the Spanish version of Nashville. Don't get me wrong--I still love Madrid. These are just some of the thoughts that crossed my mind while I wandered around Madrid.

Saturday morning I woke up at 3:30 a.m. so that I could be at the airport by 5 for my 6:25 flight. Not surprisingly, there were lots of people out and about in Madrid at that hour... only they were still partaking in or returning from their Friday night festivities. The flight to Lisbon was quick, only about 50 minutes, and--although I was going on only 3.5 hours of sleep--I was excited to have the entire day ahead of me to get acquainted with the city.

I took the bus from the airport to the city center and found my way to my hostel. The girl who checked me in was incredibly friendly and helpful and was eager to give me tips on where to go, what to see, and the best ways to get around the city. After a quick nap and some complimentary breakfast, I walked to a nearby tram stop to catch Tram Number 28, which would take me through the heart of Lisbon to the Alfama district, giving me an opportunity to get my bearings on the way to the area around the Castelo do São Jorge. The best part was that my ticket from the airport bus would get me on the tram for free all day.

Riding on the tram was a cool experience in and of itself. Lisbon draws a lot of comparisons to San Francisco and the trams are the equivalent to cable cars. The trams are old, the ride was a bit bumpy, and many other tourists had the same idea as me. Still, it was worth it to see a lot of the city in a short time and it saved me from having to walk up the city's incredibly steep hills--the second way in which Lisbon is similar to San Francisco.

I hopped off the tram in Alfama, the ancient Moorish part of the city and one of the only neighborhoods that survived the 1755 earthquake, and took in my first glimpses of the Rio Tejo and the city's trademark red roofs and beautiful architecture. The city, and especially Alfama, has several miradouros (or viewpoints) that provide breathtaking looks at the city and its surroundings. From the first miradouro, I could see the 25 de Abril Bridge, which not only looks exactly like the Golden Gate Bridge but was actually built by the same company that constructed the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge.

After snapping several photos, I climbed the rest of the way up to the castle, which is probably the most popular tourist attraction in Lisbon, both because it is beautiful itself and because it provides spectacular views of the city. I spent the rest of the morning exploring the castle and taking way too many pictures before taking the tram back to my hostel to change into shorts. As the girl at my hostel had warned me would happen, the temperature was heating up--and fast.

For lunch, I decided to find a restaurant where I could try bacalao (salted cod), the national dish of Portugal. It is usually doused (and I mean doused!) in olive oil, seasoned with lots of fresh herbs and served with a side of potatoes. While I am glad to say that I tried it, I have to admit that I am not a fan. It was much too salty for my tastes!

After such a filling lunch, spending the afternoon exploring the city on foot sounded like a good idea. I returned to the Alfama district, made my way to one of the uppermost miradouros in a neighborhood called Graça, and got lost (on purpose) wandering through the steep, winding streets of the oldest part of the city. Although I was tired and feeling a little lonely without my usual travel companions, it was an awesome day--and I was fast falling in love with Lisbon!

I had designated Sunday as the day I would take a day trip to Sintra, a town that is about 40 minutes by train from Lisbon. My friend Briana, who went to Portugal when she studied abroad two years ago, had recommended doing so and after doing some research on the area I decided it was a must, especially given the summer-like weather. Sintra is home to several castles and palaces and is surrounded by lots of greenery and mountains. As soon as I stepped off the train, I understood why the Portuguese royals had chosen it as the site for their vacation homes!

I ended up on a public tourist bus that made stops at two of the most popular tourist attractions--the Moorish Castle and Pena National Palace. The Moorish Castle--which consists of stone walls and towers that wind around the steep hilltops-- was built in the eighth or ninth century, obviously by the Moors, and the views of the surrounding area and the town of Sintra are spectacular. Pena National Palace, on the other hand, was built in the nineteenth century and is purely Romantic in style. The exterior walls are painted in bright colors (yellow, pink, etc.) and, as my mother accurately pointed out, it looks just like something from Disney World. As at the Moorish Castle, the views were out of this world. I finished my excursion with a walk around the historic city center of Sintra before catching the train back to Lisbon.

On Monday, my last day in Lisbon, I hit the ground running as soon as I got up so that I could check the rest of the items off of my to-do list. My first destination was an area called Belém, which is down the river from central Lisbon. I got off right in front of Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, a sixteenth century monastery that is now a World Heritage sight. Afterward, I made a stop at Pastéis de Belém, the birthplace of pastéis de nata, a delicious pastry that is just about everywhere you turn in Portugal. While I knew the pastry would be good, I have to say it was one of the best pastries I have ever eaten! With my sweet tooth satisfied, I walked to the Monument to the Discoveries, which commemorates Portugal's role in the Age of Exploration, and then the Torre de Belém, a fifteenth century military fortification.

I had read online that some of the best views of Lisbon were to be found across the river. So, my last activity of the morning was taking the ferry to Cacilhas, the suburb opposite Lisbon. It was really neat to see the city from that perspective, though because I had experienced so many great vistas over the course of my trip I can't say that this one was necessarily the best!

By the time I finished lunch, the weather (which had henceforth been absolutely perfect) was starting to take a turn for the worse. However, before the rain got too heavy, I thought I would take a stroll down Avenida da Liberdade, the main thoroughfare in downtown Lisbon that runs from Rossio (the central square) to Marques de Pombal Square. The avenue itself is beautiful and is lined on either side with pedestrian walkways and gardens. It is also the ritziest street in Lisbon as the home of expensive hotels and stores. Its relative newness and modernity was an interesting contrast to the old parts of the city I had spent most of my time in and, after my walk, I felt like I had a good sense of Lisbon as a whole.

On my last night in Portugal, I thought it was only fitting to have one last traditional Portuguese meal. As it was pouring down rain and thundering, I decided to try out a restaurant a couple of streets from my hostel that the staff had recommended to me on my first night. When I walked into the restaurant, I was the only customer--in fact, the waiter/owner was sitting at a table enjoying a glass of wine. When I sat down, I quickly realized that the menu was only in Portuguese and, while I had picked up a few vocabulary words over the course of my trip and could figure out some of the dishes using my Spanish, I wasn't entirely sure what I was reading. Thus, when the waiter came back to my table, my first question was "Do you speak English?" As I had suspected, he didn't--and I soon learned that Spanish was off the table as well. As a result, we communicated in an entertaining mix of English, Spanish, and (mostly) hand gestures and miming. I ended up ordering a frango (chicken) dish--or at least I hoped that's what it was! Luckily, when my dinner arrived, I discovered that I had made the right choice and that I had in fact ordered chicken. I should have listened to the hostel's recommendation in the first place because this was by far the most delicious (not to mention cheapest) meal I had in Portugal. Even though it was nasty outside, my trip was ending on a good note.

Tuesday morning I caught yet another early flight to return to Madrid, where I met up with Pam and her brother, Steve, who was visiting from the States. We spent most of the time wandering around and ended up at Retiro park, where we sat by a very picturesque pond and enjoyed another day of perfect weather. Once they left to go back to Sevilla on Wednesday, I went back to the Prado, where I saw two temporary exhibits. While I enjoyed my time in Madrid, I was certainly happy to get back to Sevilla on Thursday afternoon.

All in all, it was a great trip. Unfortunately, the weather back in Sevilla did not cooperate and almost all of the Semana Santa processions from Thursday on were rained out. In fact, the local press has written that this was the most disappointing Holy Week in decades. For me, though, getting to see the Easter morning procession was one of the most memorable experiences of my time in Spain. By Sunday morning, the weather had cleared up, at least temporarily. I was sound asleep at 6:30 a.m. (after getting home at 4:30 after a night out) when I was awoken by the sounds of a marching band. Although I was initially disoriented and confused, I quickly realized that what I was hearing was the procession celebrating the Resurrection. I threw on some jeans and a jacket and ran outside since I knew that this was my last chance to experience Semana Santa. Even though I had seen pictures of the processions, seeing one in person was more impressive that I ever imagined. The processions, which are put on by hermandades (brotherhoods), are centered around massive pasos--lifelike wood or plaster sculptures of individual scenes of the events that happened between Jesus' arrest and his burial, or images of the Virgin Mary showing grief for the torture and killing of her son. The pasos are mounted on huge floats which are carried on the shoulders of members of the brotherhood staging the procession. They are accompanied by various other participants, including nazarenos, who dress in the unique habit and hood of their brotherhood--which, as any American observer will tell you, bear a disturbing resemblance to the robes worn by the KKK. Between the paso, the nazarenos, the music, and the pervasive scent of incense, there is no way you cannot be moved on some level by the entire scene. I followed the procession for close to an hour (and was still within a block of my house) and then went home to get a few more hours of sleep. I can honestly say I am very pleased with the way my week off turned out.

A Day at the Beach

Until I moved to Sevilla, I'd never lived close enough to the coast to be able to go on an impromptu day trip to the beach. Thus, when the opportunity to spend the afternoon soaking up the sun in the neighboring province of Huelva arose yesterday, I couldn't say no.

I met up with my friend Janet and two English girls who were visiting her for the weekend at Plaza de Armas to catch an 11:00 a.m. bus to Matalascañas, the closest beach to Sevilla. We had given ourselves 15 minutes to buy our tickets and find our seats. Unfortunately, upon arriving at the bus station, we discovered that just about everyone else in Sevilla also wanted to spend their Sunday at the beach and we anxiously waited in line, hoping that we would be able to make it on time. Luckily, this being Spain, where almost everything runs behind schedule, we still made the bus, despite being a few minutes late.

The bus ride itself took a little over an hour and along the way we got to admire the beautiful Andalusian countryside. Once we got off the bus, we followed the crowds toward the beach, stopping to stock up on sunscreen and water. Although it felt a little on the cool side at that point, we knew that it would only be a matter of time before things heated up. The beach was already fairly crowded but we were easily able to find a spot. After applying sunscreen, I stretched out on my beach towel and commenced by lazy day by the sea. I was once again reminded that I am truly my mother's daughter and my grandmother's granddaughter--I am perfectly content to lounge on the beach for hours on end, without any need for entertainment.

Around 3 we headed to the boardwalk in search of food. We settled on a restaurant where we could sit outside and admire the view of the Atlantic while enjoying some typical Spanish cuisine. I ordered arroz marinero, which is essentially paella made only with seafood (no chicken or rabbit). After our meal we made a quick stop at an ice cream place and then made our way back to the beach to enjoy a couple more hours of sun.

Once we were back at the beach, one of the other girls commented that the tops of my legs were looking a little pink. I hadn't noticed them feeling burned at all but decided to apply some more sunscreen. I didn't think much of it at the time and continued on my quest to return to Sevilla with at least a little more color than I'd had before.

By the time we got back to the bus stop at 6, I was definitely beginning to feel like my legs had been overexposed. As we made the trip back to Sevilla, I was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute... and my legs had gone from a slightly pink color to bright red. As luck would have it, we got stuck in Sunday evening rush hour traffic as all of the sevillanos were returning to the city after spending the weekend at their country or beach homes. When we finally arrived at Plaza de Armas around 8, I bid my beach companions farewell and made a beeline towards home. After talking to my mom (and subsequently bursting into tears from the pain of the sunburn), I showered and applied copious amounts of lotion to the affected areas, which turned out to be just about my entire body, not just my legs. I then put on some loose-fitting pajamas and cursed myself for not being more responsible with applying sunscreen. I had forgotten just how much stronger the sun is here.

I certainly learned my lesson and hopefully will not have a similar experience the next time I go to the beach. Despite having one of the worst sunburns of my life, I still managed to have a great day and am glad I decided to take advantage of being so close to the beach. I might even venture to say that it was worth the sunburn.

Just when I thought life in Sevilla couldn't get any better... it did.

Last week wasn't without it's moments, though. Here the preface to my story: my friends Rachel and Jan, who teach together at a school in Sevilla, had recently been told by their principal that the junta (the regional government) had sent a letter regarding their auxiliar work schedules. According to the school, Rachel and Jan not only had to make up the days they had missed (which is understandable) but also had to put in extra hours to account for the daily recreo (recess) period, which the school had been counting in the 12-hours we are required to work each week. Despite the fact that the discrepancy in their schedules was clearly the school's fault, not Rachel and Jan's, the principal and bilingual coordinator told my friends that they would have to make up the time by the end of April--or else they wouldn't be paid for the month of May. Considering we only receive a measly 700 euros a month, not receiving our stipend is a big deal. Thus, Rachel and Jan, naturally very upset by the situation (which wasn't good to begin with), waited for their school to decide what they were going to have to do and prepared to fight back.

Fast forward to early last week. I was working with Javier in our department office when the principal of our school came in and presented me with what I think must be the same letter that Rachel and Jan's school had received a few days before. Basically, the letter explained that there seemed to have been some discrepancies in the schedules sent by the schools to the junta at the beginning of the year and that the bilingual coordinators needed to fill out new schedules and resend them to the Ministry of Education. The letter also outlined the stipulations of our contracts as far as our schedules go. Obviously, I already knew that I was required to work 12-hours per week. However, the letter expanded on that requirement by saying that at least 8 of those hours had to be spent in direct contact with students in the classroom. This was a new piece of information that I don't remember ever seeing before and one that caught my attention as my schedule only has me spending 4 hours in class with the students... and that's on a rare good week, when there are no exams or other interruptions to keep me out of class. Considering what I knew about the events at Rachel and Jan's school, and despite the fact that my school is one of the more laid back I have heard of, I was scared that I was going to have to make up an absurd number of hours or adapt to a drastically different schedule in the last two months of work. Plus, I've missed my fair share of days for travel. Yes, I have had Ceferino's blessing and I had been told that I didn't need to make up those days. Still, it was beginning to seem like the government was realizing just how much of a joke the Language & Culture Assistant program is and wanted to cover their tracks.

The next day, Ceferino showed me a new schedule that added class time to my preexisting schedule. I was a little disappointed... until he informed me that this version was just to make the junta happy. I would still be working my old hours and there was no mention of making up any missed days. Unfortunately, Rachel and Jan's situation wasn't resolved as easily. I won't go into all the details because it's very complex but suffice it to say that I am very lucky to work where I do.

Relieved that my work dilemma had come to a quick and painless end, I was ready to enjoy another weekend in Sevilla. Thursday, after work and a much needed siesta, I met up with Pam, Andy, and Janet in Plaza del Salvador, which is once again filled with young sevillanos on weekend evenings. Thursday nights at Salvador were one of my favorite parts of the fall semester and I was glad to get back there after a very long hiatus. Friday afternoon I met up with some friends by the river to soak up the beautiful 80+ degree temperatures and strong sun. We spent a few hours out there, talking, drinking, and fending off the ducks, which encroached on our territory several times in search of food. After that outing, I headed home to get to sleep early, in anticipation of Saturday's day trip to Gibraltar.

Saturday morning at 7:30 I met up with Pam, Andy, Janet, and Jan at Puente de la Barqueta to catch a bus, along with about 50 other people from the Thursday night intercambio group, to Gibraltar. I had been wanting to see the famous rock and strange British colony since arriving in Sevilla and was excited to finally have the opportunity, with a great group of people no less. The bus ride itself was about 3 hours, including one stop for breakfast and bathrooms. Upon arriving in La Linea de la Concepción, the last Spanish town before Gibraltar, everyone got off the bus and was free to spend the day as they pleased. We flashed our passports and crossed the border and my four friends and I headed toward the city center.

After a bit of wandering, we stumbled upon a tour guide, who offered to take us on a 1.5-hour tour of Gibraltar's highlights for 25 euros, including tickets to enter the nature reserve. Since we had no idea what else to do, and he explained that seeing all of the sights on our own would take 3 times as long, we decided to take him up and boarded a van, along with a nice English guy. Our tour guide had lived in Gibraltar since he was a young boy and was very knowledgeable about the history of the colony, which has been under British control since 1704. We began our journey up the rock and made our first stop at a view point, from which we could see the Spanish city of Algeciras as well as the coast of Africa, which is only 17 kilometers away. Afterward, we continued onward, stopping next at St. Michael's Caves. Having seen many a cave in my day, I have to say that these were some of the most impressive I have ever seen. Perhaps one of the most interesting things about the cave is that there is a huge amphitheater in the middle, where musicians from all over the world come to perform. We spent about 15 minutes admiring the rock formations and then exited the cave to reunite with our guide. The next attraction was the official home of Gibraltar's famous Barbary apes, which allegedly came to live on the rock hundreds of years ago when merchant seamen, who kept the monkeys as pets, left them behind when they got too big to live on board the ships. We had been warned ahead of time to beware of the monkeys as they have been known to snatch belongings (sunglasses, jewelry, etc.) from tourists and occasionally get a little aggressive. Before we knew it, Pam had an ape on her shoulder, thanks to our guide who had called the animal over. Jan and Andy were also brave enough to hold a monkey. Meanwhile, Janet and I stayed as far away as we could, resolutely telling the guide that we wanted nothing to do with the animals. After telling the apes goodbye, we saw some more amazing views of both the Atlantic and the Mediterranean (which meet at Gibraltar) from the top of the rock and then made our last stop of the tour at the Great Siege Tunnels. All in all, I think we were very pleased with our decision to take the tour. We learned a lot about Gibraltar, which I am very glad to have seen.

As we were all very hungry and still had a few hours to kill before returning to Sevilla, we decided to take advantage of being on British territory and enjoyed a delicious lunch of fish and chips. After that, we wandered around a little before heading back to the bus to meet up with the rest of the group. We were back in Sevilla by 7:30, exhausted from a wonderful day.

Having had a low-key, restful Sunday, I am recharged and ready for another week of work. Two more to go before Semana Santa and my trip to Lisbon and Madrid. And on that note, it's dinner time. Hasta pronto...

Spring Has Sprung

La primavera has officially arrived in Sevilla. Temperatures are consistently in the mid-70's (which feels much hotter under the strong Andalusian sun), the Alameda and other outdoor gathering places are full of people, and the long-anticipated annual festivities of Semana Santa
and the Feria de Abril are looming on the horizon. There are other small things that make me overjoyed that the endless cool, rainy days of winter are now in the past--the ability to once again hang my laundry on the roof, no longer needing to turn my heater on the minute I walk into my room, and the resumption of my beloved Sunday morning paseos by the river. It sounds cliche but life is good.

That said, the onset of spring also means that my days in Spain are numbered. Come June 9 I will be on a plane headed to the U.S. and the fairy tale life I have been living since September will inevitably come to an end. My passive musings about "what I am going to do with my life" are quickly turning into something of a panic and it's beginning to dawn on me that I am going to have to say goodbye to all of the wonderful friends I have made this year. As with any major transition, there are both good and bad sides to the thought of bringing this chapter of my life to an end. I have come to realize that the key to a successful transition is balancing the two and approaching the situation with a realistic point of view. I am also beginning to appreciate the concept of living life to the fullest (another cliche, I know) and I have resolved to take every advantage that I can in my remaining months in Sevilla. Since I last wrote, I have had two experiences that exemplify this new carpe diem attitude.

Exhibit A: On Thursday March 17, my friends and I traveled to Ireland to enjoy an authentic St. Patrick's Day celebration. As we had to fly out of Malaga, we all made the executive decision to skip work that day and caught an early train out of Sevilla. Even though we felt slightly guilty about neglecting our auxiliar duties (okay, they felt guilty and I was indifferent), passing up the opportunity to spend "Paddy's Day" in Ireland was not an option. So, after a 2.5-hour train ride to Malaga, a 3-hour flight to Dublin, and a couple hours on a cross-country bus, we found ourselves in Galway, the main city in the western part of Ireland and apparently the fastest-growing urban area in Western Europe. Oddly enough, this wasn't my first time in Galway--I visited two years ago while studying abroad. Still, I was excited to be there and knew that there would be many new experiences to be had and plenty of people to meet.

After dropping our things off at our bed and breakfast, which was conveniently located about 5 minutes from the city center, we headed out in search of some pre-pub food. Unfortunately, we soon discovered that just about everything other than bars are closed on St. Patrick's Day and that the Irish subsist on beer, with a little whiskey mixed in, on their special day. Luckily, we did stumble upon a little pizza shop, run by Spaniards no less, and enjoyed a quick slice before getting the night started. We ended up venturing into a pub called The Front Door as it seemed to be drawing a pretty good crowd. We all decided to try Bulmer's, a hard cider that is very popular in Ireland and, once we had our drinks in hand, made our way through the pub (which turned out to be a lot bigger than it looked from the street) in search of some open space to stand. As you can imagine, the place was packed. Thus, after one more round, we decided to head out and try another establishment. The next bar we ended up at was equally, if not more, crowded than the first one and it was fast becoming apparent that the assumption that all Irishmen/women can hold their liquor goes out the window on Paddy's Day. People were falling all over the place, bumping into us, and I think that I spilled more beer than I actually drank. By the time we decided to leave, we were all soaked in various alcoholic beverages and I had come to the conclusion that big crowds and raucous party scenes in confined spaces are not my cup of tea. We walked around a bit more, hoping to find somewhere a little calmer to take in the festivities, but in the end decided to call it an early night. We were all happy to be able to say we had spent St. Patrick's Day in Ireland but I think it's fairly certain that we won't be making it a yearly occurrence.

It was probably a good thing that we didn't stay out too late on Thursday night as first thing Friday morning we were scheduled to go on a bus tour, which was going to be picking us up at 9:45. Much to our chagrin, we ended up on a bus with what appeared to be an entire sorority from a northeastern American university (not to be named) and their male counterparts. I'm not sure if they were still feeling the effects of the previous night or if they were just plain ill-mannered and disrespectful but suffice it to say that kids like these are the reason why Americans have a bad reputation abroad. There were several times when we crossed our fingers that the bus driver, Billy, would leave them behind at one of our stops. However, we had no such luck and were stuck with them for the day. The saving grace of the tour was that the Irish countryside is beautiful and well worth putting up with our unruly companions. We drove through the Burren, an area that is an interesting combination of rock and greenery, stopped at the Aillwee Cave, and saw some sort of Gaelic burial site. The highlight of the day, hands down, was our stop at the Cliffs of Moher. I had been to the cliffs on my first visit to Ireland but had been there on an extremely rainy, windy day with very low visibility. This time around, though, the weather decided to cooperate and I was able to take in their full beauty. Of course, we took copious pictures... proof that we did occupy our time in Ireland with activities other than drinking.

Saturday we went on another day trip with the same tour company as we had found a deal online that gave us both tours for only 22 euros. This time we were headed for Connemara, an area near Galway that boasts an absolutely breathtaking landscape. Some of our shorter stops included a coastal town, a village that was deserted during the potato famine of the 1800's, and the site where "The Quiet Man," starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, was filmed. Our main destination was Kylemore Abbey and Gardens. Even though the weather took a turn for the worse during our time at the abbey, it was a beautiful place. In fact, it made me want to move to the Irish countryside.

Saturday night we decided to give Galway nightlife another go, hoping that things would be a bit tamer than they were on St. Patrick's Day. We went back to our "favorite" pub, The Front Door, where we enjoyed dancing (albeit not to traditional Irish music) and people watching. By the end of the night, our opinion of the Irish and their way of having fun had been restored.

Having exhausted the tourist options in Galway, we spent Sunday, our last day there, walking around and exploring. We bought Claddagh rings, for which the city is known (and which I promptly lost in the Dublin airport), and visited the harbor area, which we had seen from the bus. We found an awesome little restaurant for lunch, enjoyed some tea at an adorable tea shop, and then went back to the B&B to collect our things before our train ride back to Dublin. Unfortunately, we were only able to spend about 12 hours in the capital city due to our Monday morning flight. We did manage to make it to Temple Bar, Dublin's most famous bar, and achieved our goal of hearing live music (though it still wasn't Irish music). Overall, it was a great weekend with great friends. Being able to hop from country to country at the drop of the hat isn't something I will be able to do in the future. Right now, though, I can, and you better believe I'm going to enjoy every last minute of it.

After getting back from Ireland on Monday, the rest of my week was busy with my usual engagements (work, tutoring, French, etc.) and by Thursday night I was exhausted. Despite being tempted to go out that night, I decided to stay in and get a full 8+ hours of sleep in anticipation of Friday's festivities. La Fiesta de la Primavera is an annual event in Sevilla, which was described to me beforehand as a mega botellón, or, in other words, where hordes of people gather in a public place to drink and socialize. Other than that vague description, I had no idea what to expect. What I did know was that whatever the fiesta would entail was going to be incredibly Spanish and well worth attending.

Friday afternoon, after picking up ice and a 2-liter bottle of pre-made tinto de verano (a red wine/fanta mix that is very popular in Spain, especially in Andalucía), I headed out to meet up with Pam, her friend Kevin (who was visiting from the States), her Spanish roommate Ivan and a couple of his friends, and Andy and Janet. With our plastic grocery bags full of ice and beverages, we made our way across La Puente de la Barqueta with all of the other party-goers who had similar supplies. It was a beautiful spring day and, as it was pretty hot in the sun, we couldn't wait to break into our tinto de verano when we reached our destination. It turned out that the fiesta is held in a huge parking lot on the other side of the river and, essentially, it amounted to the Spanish version of a tailgate--minus the ensuing sporting event. There were cars parked around the edges of the lot, each blasting music and competing to see who had the loudest speakers, and a few trucks selling food and ice. Mainly, though, there were just lots of young Spaniards, ranging in age from early high school to mid-to-late 20's. We picked a random spot in the middle of the parking lot, set our stuff down, and got to enjoying our beverages, which tasted incredibly refreshing at this point.

It wasn't long after we arrived that I spotted two familiar-looking faces in the crowd and realized that they belonged to two of my students from I.E.S. Torre de los Herberos. I was able to catch their attention and they came straight over to where our group was standing. I think that they were just as surprised and excited to see me as I was to see them. They spent a few minutes talking to us and then continued on their way. A little later, one of them and another student from their class returned. It seemed that news of my presence had spread quickly. This time they stayed much longer and even convinced me to give them a drink. They kept commenting that I am very shy at work. My only response was that being a female teaching assistant in a room of 9 teenage boys is intimidating, to say the least! I especially enjoyed hearing their opinions of the teachers in their program. Let's just say that we have very different opinions of them! Nonetheless, seeing my students was one of the highlights of my day!

After the excitement surrounding my students' appearance, the fun continued as we watched our supply of tinto get smaller and smaller. For the Americans in our group (it was about a 50-50 split), perhaps the best part of the fiesta was being surrounded by Spaniards, without any other guiris (non-Spaniards) in sight. There was no doubt that we got a heavy dose of authentic local culture! We stuck around the fiesta until around 9:30, by which time it had gotten dark. It was a good thing we left when we did... we later heard that someone was murdered just after our departure! Despite that bit of tragic news, though, Fiesta de la Primavera ranks among the best times I have had this year, if not in my life. As we enjoyed some very necessary tapas a little later in the evening, we all reminisced on the events of the late afternoon and early evening and agreed that we were glad we had gone. It was certainly unlike anything I had ever seen before.

Both my trip to Ireland and last Friday's fiesta are further proof in my mind that there is no time like the present to enjoy life and take advantage of every opportunity I have in the next two months. While few things could live up to La Fiesta de la Primavera, I am looking forward to many more good memories. Next stop-- a day trip to Gibraltar on Saturday.

And on that note, I am off to bed... my 6 a.m. wake-up call is going to come much to soon!

Hasta pronto!

Back by Popular Demand

I apologize to those of you (read: the 5 or so family members who read this) who have been looking for an update from me over the past several weeks. As I recently wrote to a family member in an e-mail, it's truly amazing how quickly I have gone from being bored out of my mind during the week to barely having time to catch my breath Tuesday through Thursday. Between my twice weekly French classes and tutoring in Dos Hermanas on Wednesday evenings, I am keeping busy. Although there are times when I miss the days of two hour post-work siestas, I have to say that I much prefer my newly full schedule.

The only part of my week that is lacking in activity is the time that I actually spend at "work." Since I first assumed my duties as an auxiliar back in October, I have written that my job is very minimal, with a maximum of 12 hours spent working each week and limited responsibilities both inside and outside of the classroom. My friends, who teach at other schools in and around Sevilla, and I have said time and again that the program we are in is a "joke." The past couple of weeks at I.E.S. Torre de los Herberos have taken those observations to a whole new level. There have been several days where I have commuted to Dos Hermanas, which in itself is an hour-long process from the time I leave my house to the time I walk into school, only to work an hour or less. Under normal circumstances I would be frustrated by going all that way only to be told that I'm not needed. However, at least it gets me out of bed and moving in the morning. There have been other days where I haven't gone in at all, either because I have been told ahead of time not to bother or because knowing I would only be there for an hour has led me to inform them that making the trip no vale la pena (isn't worth it). Granted, there is usually a good reason for days like those I just described--one of the teachers is sick, there's a test, or, in last week's case, there has been a family emergency for one of the teachers. Still, I wouldn't mind having more of a reason to get excited for work.

Luckily, my dull work days are balanced out by the weekend trips that I try to take once a month. Since I last wrote, I enjoyed a long weekend (February 24-28) in Belgium with Rachel and Briana. We had booked the trip before Christmas in anticipation of the February Puente, which we had off from work because of Día de Andalucía, the regional holiday. We arrived in Brussels on Thursday night, spent two days there, and then moved on to Bruges, where we stayed until Monday. If you were to ask me what we saw in Belgium, I would probably struggle to come up with very much. As we had been warned ahead of time, there isn't that much to see or do there. However, despite the lack of tourist attractions, we managed to entertain ourselves by doing lots of walking around and, of course, indulging in the foods (waffles, chocolate, and "French" fries) and beverage (beer) for which the country is famous. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed Belgium's gastronomic offerings, I think that the thing I liked most about it was the interesting mix of French, Dutch, and even German cultural elements. France and Germany are two of my favorite countries and it was neat to be in a place that reminded me of both. While I haven't been to the Netherlands, I can imagine I would like it. Overall, it was a successful trip and I wouldn't say no to going back to Belgium some day.

The beautiful weather that we experienced in Sevilla in the week leading up to my trip to Belgium didn't last long, meaning that, when I haven't been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, I have been spending lots of time inside, avoiding the seemingly endless rain and being forced to think about the day when I will inevitably have to leave Spain and return to the States. When I ventured across the pond back in September, I came with a one-way ticket since I had no idea when what the next nine months would hold. Thus, over the past several weeks, I have been checking out my options as far as flying back in June are concerned and trying to find the best deal on airfare. On Sunday morning, when I predictably woke up much earlier than I wanted to at 8:30 a.m., I finally found the lowest price I could and bought my ticket for… drum roll, please… Thursday June 9. While part of me was tempted to stay until the end of the month, I am quickly coming to the realization that I can't put off the real world (let's face it, the life I'm currently leading is in no way, shape, or form the real world) forever and that finding a job in the States from overseas is challenging. Needless to say, it was a tough decision but one that had to happen sooner rather than later.

I have no idea where I'll end up or what I'll be doing in the post-Spain chapter of my life. I do, however, know that thus far this experience has been the best year of my life and that I want to fully take advantage of the time I have left in my adopted home country. Aside from a trip to Ireland this coming weekend for St. Patrick's Day, I am planning on spending most of the next three months in Sevilla, or at the very least on the Iberian Peninsula. During Holy Week, which falls in mid-April this year, I am finally making it across the border to Lisbon, Portugal, for a few days of solo travel before meeting up with Pam and her brother in Madrid. Then, in early May, my friends and I are taking a beach trip to Lagos, Portugal.

More important than where I spend the next couple of months, though, is who I spend them with. The past six months have been the best experience of my life and I am determined to enjoy as much time as possible with the people who have helped make it that way. Recently, some of my friends and I have started a Saturday night supper club, which we are trying to make happen at least once a month. Because my house is centrally located and has the perfect set-up for entertaining, we always gather at my house to enjoy each other's company, good food, and cheap Spanish wine. This past weekend the five of us threw together a last minute potluck, complete with vegetarian lasagna, proudly made by yours truly. We always have fun and hosting dinner parties makes me feel incredibly grown up. There is no doubt in my mind we have many more such occasions to look forward to!

As I am writing this during a free period at school and the bell to end second period is about to ring, I am going to cut this entry off here. Look out for another post next week... and this time I mean it! Hasta pronto…

Life After January

January has always been my least favorite month and, despite spending this one in Sevilla, I still found myself counting down the days until those dreaded four weeks were over. I have to admit that for the first time since I moved to Spain in September I was experiencing the occasional pang of homesickness and wasn't as motivated as usual to take advantage of everything that living abroad has to offer.

Part of this slump can probably be attributed to the less than ideal weather that I returned to after Christmas. Those of you at home in Nashville, who have endured an abnormal amount of snow and below average temperatures, are probably laughing at the fact that I am complaining about highs in the mid-50's and the occasional rainy day. Take it from me, though--not having central heat, combined with the fact that it is humid here in the winter rather than in the summer, makes for a rather uncomfortable season. My friends and I constantly joke that we are turning Spanish because we have started to wear coats and scarves at virtually all times, regardless of the actual temperature. I'm still not sure whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. What I do know is that next winter in the States will be a struggle.

I also attribute the minor seasonal depression I fell into after the start of the new year to the fact that the novelty of living in Sevilla had officially worn off. While I love having a routine here, there wasn't anything in my week that I really looked forward to. Back in September and October, everything was new and therefore exciting. I knew that I could rediscover the spark that made Sevilla great in the first place--I just had to figure out how to do it.

It's amazing how much of a difference a few short weeks can make.

Yesterday (Sunday) I woke up much earlier than I wanted to--leaving an entire weekend day with nothing planned. Luckily, it looked to be a nice day, leaving me with endless possibilities as to what to do with my time. After my usual morning routine, including my now customary café con leche at a little place on the Alameda, I decided to head out for a long walk, something I used to do regularly on the weekends but haven't lately because of the weather, traveling, and general laziness. I soon found myself crossing the bridge to Isla de la Cartuja, just across the river from my side of the city. I started going over there back in the fall but had forgotten how much I love it. Jardín de las Américas, where you can find just about any plant from North and South America, is easily one of my favorite spots in Sevilla. Maybe it's because of their location, or the fact that the gardens were just reopened last year and thus aren't as crowded as other parts of the city, but there is something incredibly refreshing about them. Sevilla isn't that big, and I would say that I am more of a city person than a country girl, but I have to say that I've missed going out into nature and enjoying some alone time since I've been abroad. If I can't take Lucie (my German Shepherd, not my mom) on a hike in Percy Warner Park, this is the next best option.

After spending some time walking around the gardens and enjoying the 60+ degree temperature and sunshine, I changed course and wandered toward el centro, with no real idea of where I planned on going. Whereas in recent weeks the streets and cafés have been relatively empty, Sunday morning and early afternoon was a different story altogether. Young people, families, and older couples were out and about, enjoying the beautiful weather. That's something that I have missed during the winter months. It really is true that Sevilla is a different place when it is warm outside.

By the time I got back to my house around 2 for lunch, I felt great. The way I am writing this makes it sound like I have been entirely unhappy here of late, which couldn't be further from the truth. However, my walk, combined with various new endeavors I have undertaken in the past couple of weeks, reaffirmed my reasons for being here--among others, to enjoy life and all of the opportunities it presents me--and renewed my commitment to taking advantage of my remaining time in Spain.

As I alluded to above and in my last post, I have picked up some new projects and activities which go a long way in spicing up my weekly routine. The first of these is my new tutoring job, which I started two weeks ago. Every Wednesday afternoon I go to the home of Rafael, a teacher of my school, to give English lessons to his children. The first time I went, I worked mostly with María Jose, who is 16. This past week, it was 13-year-old Rosa's turn. Both girls continue to impress me with their high levels of English. Especially in a country like Spain, which reportedly has the lowest English proficiency in all of Europe, it is a nice change of pace to find young people who not only speak English but are excited to continue to learn. It looks like from now on I will be working with María Jose for one hour and then splitting the second between Rosa and her 8-year-old brother, who is very eager to get in on the action. Unlike my last tutoring job (which I ended up leaving), I can tell that I am going to enjoy working with this family. I have definitely discovered that I work better with older kids than with 5-year-olds.

In addition to my new clases particulares, last Thursday I began my introductory French course at the French Cultural Institute. Learning a new language is something I've wanted to do for a while and I couldn't turn down the opportunity to do so now, when my work week is all of 12 hours long. I can already tell that the class, which meets Tuesdays and Thursdays from 5:30-7:30, is going to be one of the high-points of my week. It is taught entirely in French by Catherine, who is a native speaker. Even though my knowledge of French is very basic and limited to what I remember from my days at Ensworth (which is a lot more than I realized), I made it through two hours of class with very minimal problems and learned a lot, from greetings and how to introduce yourself to the alphabet and numbers. I am hoping that the class will also be a good venue for meeting new people (one of my New Year's Resolutions). There is no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision in signing up for this course.

Travel remains an important part of my life abroad and undoubtedly gives me something to look forward to. This weekend I am going to Belgium (Brussels and Bruges) with Rachel and Briana as we have Monday off in celebration of Día de Andalucía. I am really looking forward to the trip, as Belgium will be a new addition to the list of countries I have visited. Then, in mid-March, we are going to Galway, Ireland to experience an authentic St. Patrick's Day. I have actually been to Galway before but am looking forward to going back and seeing more of the surrounding area. After that, who knows where my travels will take me. There are still lots of places I would like to see but I think I will probably slow down a little as we get into spring. While it's nice to be able to hop on a plane and be anywhere in Europe in a matter of hours, I do want to be sure to enjoy Spain and soak it all in.

Sometimes, it seems wrong to complain about the small annoyances you find in day-to-day life abroad. After all, life could be a lot worse than spending a year in southern Spain. However, nothing is ever perfect, my present situation included. That said, I am learning to take this experience for what it is, the good and the bad, and learn from it. Ultimately, every once and a while I just need to readjust my perspective and adapt to my circumstances.