Without the rose colored glasses

For those of you have been faithfully following my blog, you have heard all about the excitements, the adventures, and the surprises this semester has brought. I have been here for two months today and have not regretted a single day of my experience. Nonetheless, the semester has not been entirely rainbows and butterflies. There have been many difficulties, disappointments, and frustrations along the way that don't normally seem like blog entry material. But for a well rounded blog (and to keep all you folks at home from thinking Sevilla is entirely paradise) I thought I would dedicate an entry to the elements of the semester that aren't picture perfect.

- First off, the dogs here poop on the sidewalk. Yes. On the sidewalk. And the owners do not clean it up. Thus, you must keep an eye out to avoid stepping in mierda.

- Believe it or not (especially Hanah and all you other dear friends who drool over my food album in facebook)... I have eaten bad food. It was near the beginning of the semester when my señora was trying to figure out what kind of food I like and don't like. Right off the bat I had told her I don't like mushrooms or olives and I wasn't in love with fish. And she had done really well... it wasn't until she came home with an entire head of cauliflower that I realized saying I like all vegetables might not be true. Now if you know anything about Spanish cooking, you know they love love love their olive oil. Therefore, the next day I ended up eating (or rather shoving down my throat quickly between gulps of water) an entire plate of plate of cauliflower that I'm pretty sure had just been soaking in olive oil all day. I had no problem telling my señora that this was not one of my favorite dishes... luckily I haven't seen it since.

- Meeting up with a Spaniard is never easy. Let me give an example: On Monday I tried to meet up with Gabri to dar un paseo (take a walk) around the city and chat. (This is a pretty common social outing here.) First we decided to meet at the door of the patio of the University. Well luckily we were talking about the same University building, but there are 3 doors outside and a center patio with 4 more doors. I nixed this idea because the University was closed and I didn't think we would be able to get into the center patio to meet. I later found out he was talking about one of the other 3 doors. Ugh. Next we decided to meet at la Puerta Jerez. I knew where that was but to clarify I asked, "At the Metro station?" The metro station, by the way, has a huge sign that says Puerta Jerez. Well since he doesn't use the metro he didn't know what I was talking about. (I don't use it either but its kinda hard to miss.) He started talking about a fountain, which is in the same general area but not exactly in sight of the Metro station. So I started doubting myself, wondering if I was thinking about la Puente de Jerez. This by the way, doesn't exist. Finally after some more confusion, I decided to use one of the CIEE meeting points, La Puerta de la Derecha. All is well. Or so I thought. On Monday evening I showed up at 7:30... this was my first mistake. I really did try to be late but I had to run an errand beforehand overestimated the amount of time I needed it (normally this is a good thing...). Anyway, I waited until 7:36 to dar un toque, which is when you call someone but hang up before it connects to let them know you've arrived at the meeting point. So I patiently waited, enjoying the sky and nice evening, when I received a toque. Mind you its closer to 7:50 now. Well since he was obviously not in front of me, I wasn't exactly sure what to do (Molly and I are still trying to figure this out...) so I sent him a text message, "Dondé estás?" And he tells me he's at the fountain, direction central. Well where's the darn fountain? Then I spotted a fountain in the middle of the four lane road next to the University... hmmm I'm not sure that's it. But I went anyway and stood on the sidewalk in the direction of the center of the city before I texted him to clarify the fountain. Finally, he ended up coming to find me, still staring at the fountain and the University in confusion. Turns out La Puerta de la derecha is actually La Puerta de Derecho so when I thought I was telling him a particular door, I was actually telling him the door to the right (...of which door I have no idea). Darn genders of words.

- I've learned not to expect a Spaniard until at least a half hour after the initially designated meeting time. One of my professors showed up almost an hour late when he had appointments with 3 different students. He was out drinking coffee.

- One of the worst feelings in the world is to find yourself suddenly in a conversation that involves many Spaniards and no background knowledge to understand the context. What's even worse is when they start laughing. Its a mix of humiliation and frustration that can easily get you down on yourself for a while.

- The weather here is bipolar. When I leave in the morning for classes my outfit normally involves a t-shirt, cardigan, fleece, scarf, and jeans. By the time I walk home for lunch I'm stripped down to the t-shirt and jeans. Then I enter the house, which is meant to stay cool for the ridiculous summer, and have to layer back into sweat pants, slippers, long-sleeves and a scarf. I don't mind cold weather and I don't mind warm weather, but I would prefer not to have to change my outfit so many times in one day.

- You have to pay to drink water at dinner. Thus my ingestion of Coca-Cola has sky-rocketed. Who wants to pay for water when you can drink a Coke?

- There is an awesome Sevici system of bikes in Sevilla that allow you to take a bike from one location, ride it for 30 minutes and return it to another station. Problems? Finding out the chain is missing, the wheel is bent, or all the spaces at your destination are full. Good thing the Spaniards don't mind you showing up late because its never fun riding around trying to find a different drop off location without backtracking or going too far past your destination.

- I can't always understand the context or intention of a Spaniard's comments or questions. For example, Molly's intercamibio Ramón asked her, "Tienes confianza en mi?" (Do you trust me?) Now is he asking her that because he knows she's very cautious and wants to know if she considers him to be a good friend now or is he a creeper who is still plotting to chop her up and throw her in the river?

Okay... enough of this. I just wanted to remind you all that Sevilla is not perfect. I am not on some glorious "vacation" or "trip". I am living here. I don't speak in Spanish because it was assigned to me by professor or it seems exotic; I do it because that is my only option. I have found myself grasping for words, hoping that I'm expressing myself in the way I want to... not because I am being graded, but because I want my friends here to understand me. And although I have to go through struggles such as this or have experiences that aren't quite what I expected, I am blessed to be here. Everyday I am learning more about myself and about the world around me. And for this I couldn't be happier.

²³ The LORD makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him;
²⁴ though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.
- Psalm 37:23-24