Rain in Sevilla may just bring about the Apocalypse.
Being from Chicago, I’ve adapted to severe cold and extreme heat, rain, tornadoes, and everything in between. But now that I’ve moved to a city that sees five times more sunny days than rainy ones and reaches 115 degrees in June, I forget that rain and snow must seem like the world is coming to an end for a normal Sevillano.
I watched the rain spill over Triana from Jaime and Maria’s seventh story piso this afternoon. Uff, como cae, Maria remarked as her mother told me the hour was up and I collected my 14 euros. I wasn’t far from home, but the rain was falling so hard that I couldn’t see more than a few blocks over my neighborhood.
The whole length of their street, Avenida de Republica Argentina, is covered by soportales, or porticos. It’s one of those big, grand boulevards that I usually like walking down, but the businessmen and quiet buzz of traffic was non-existent. I looked for a taxi, willing to pay to be dropped off in front of my house. Every taxi that passed had its lights off. The two buses that went by were so full, that no one was getting on or off.
I had to walk. I dug my umbrella out of my bag and propped it open, heading down Esperanza de Triana. The streets, being as old as they are, have seen a lot of wear and tear, and although Sevilla is flat, my flats soon became waterslides. I jumped from puddle to puddle, barely avoiding water more than a few inches deep. Old women, obviously oblivious to the fact that I was in a hurry, constantly stepped in my path as they dragged their carrito to the supermarket.
After dodging a few spindles of umbrellas, I arrived to Calle San Jacinto, the main artery thru Triana. Cars welcomed me by their usually beeping, not because I’m famous, but because the street construction coupled with the rain and EVERYONE hopping in their cars makes it impossible to pass thru the city in an effective manner. The bus I tried to take had probably moved three blocks, I thought to myself. The normally crowded street was a ghost-town, with Trianeros scrambling to ge underneath awnings or into any cafe that sells coffee. I had no choice but to go on towards home, stepping through the rivers of water on the streets and wishing I would have put on my rainboots before going to class.
I can’t complain much. In the last month, it’s only rained three days and it’s still in the 80s. For October, we call this Veranillo de Membrillo. I call it paradise, rain and all.
I have to admit that I had butterflies in my stomach the entire ride between Toronto (which is, for the record, 7 hours with tailwind, but a broken brake kept us grounded an extra two hours). I didn’t know if I was making a good decision, which was then exacerbated by the delay and the lack of train tickets and the lío of Alejandro telling me he wasn’t going to pick me up because Kike need a lift at the exact same time.
But the second I stepped off the train in Santa Justa, David sent me a text welcoming me back “home” and all that crazy build up of feelings and nightmares just kinda…evaporated. And I feel happy here. I’ve been doing my best to keep Kike at bay, do things my way, look for new opportunities and just be happy with what I’ve got. And despite little problems I’ve had, things have gone well these past three weeks.
Manolito says I seem mas ligera, Melissa swears I’m happier. My Spanish is struggling and I’m always beat. But I’m staring to make sense of the things I want and the things I don’t want (which is always more clear).
My big complaint is my schedule. I’m in Olivares four times a week, and only in the afternoon, so I’m constantly running from one place to another. I have to pay my own transportation and get up even earlier, and with my classes being all the way across town, I’m always looking for a way to shorten the trip or move things around. IT BLOWS not even having 30 minutes to eat and check my email tranquilita. What’s worse is that I want to find time to do something for myself, be it take yoga or volunteer or whatever, and I can’t. Mad at myself.
Butttt I’ve already gotten a little traveling in. I used the Puente de Pilar (Day of the massacre of the indigenous population of the Americas, really) to get to London. I’d been there once before, but my cousin Tom and darling, dearest friend Cat live there, so I was willing to from the 78 euros on RyanAir to spend a few days. Not prepared for the cold or the money spent on transportation (over half of my allowance!!), but a good time with two mostly gorgeous days! I would write more, but I’m beat. Hoping to find more time to actually write anything interesting and up to par…besossss