Let the good times roll

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Saturday the 26th of April arrived and brought with it my journey south. After a 25 minute metro trip I had returned to Valencia airport. The land of bountiful vitamin C was soon to be but a memory, and I shall be acquainting myself with Sevilla shortly. Within an hour of touching down in Andalucia I knew that I was in for a good time, however long that would be. How long would I remain in Sevilla? At that stage that was a question with no answer, but things were to work themselves out nicely for me. I met Maren, a German girl whom I met at the Sydney Mardi Gras in 2007, in the suburb of Triana. I left my bag at her house and we headed into the centre of Sevilla. The centre was amazing. Cobble stoned streets, horse drawn carts and innumerable buildings from as far back as the 1200’s gave the impression one had stepped back in time. After being pointed out a few key features of Sevilla (like the tourist district, and therefore where not to buy anything), we found a tapas bar full of locals. Must be good, right? It was! A feast of potatoes with aoli, tortilla and paella, along with a couple local cervezas, was had for the princely sum of eight dollars. Maren told me of a room for rent poster she had seen on the notice board at her uni, which was available from the 29th for two weeks. I had a place to stay with a couch surfer for three nights so this would be perfect. All being well, I was going to stay till the 14th. Having done some shopping earlier, I cooked dinner that night for Maren and her friend Anna, after which we decided to go out to Bar Buddah. Since it was 2200, there was still two and a half hours to kill before any effort would be made to lift ourselves from the couch.
0030 approached, so we changed and headed to Plaza de Armas. While looking up at the old warehouse turned shopping centre, Maren said “we’re here!” while also looking at the same building. A club in a shopping centre? I know, I was as shocked as you presumably aren’t. The first level of the club was full of couches, which appealed to me as it was nearly one am. I attempted to buy a drink but was dragged upstairs where there were no couches in sight, a dance floor taking their place. After a couple drinks I was just as entheaused by that as I had been by the couches 20 minutes earlier! The house music was good, but after a couple hours we went upstairs to sample the techno beats of the third floor. House was the preffered option so it was back downstairs to a now near capacity dance floor. After a couple more hours busting the moves it was five am and time to head to bed. Rather than trekking out to the CSers who lived about 3km from the centre, I stayed at Maren’s for the night. On the way we stopped for some churros. Deep fried and perfect for preventing any hangovers. At the churros shop we met an Australian by the name of Nathan. Upon hearing that I hold a pilot licence he told me that unless I joined the Air Force I could never work for a company like Qantas. Two things mate; you’re wrong, and you’re drunk. Get back to me when you’re sober. When Maren said she was German, Nathan came up with the gem “Oh so you’re an Aryan!” Jeez. The badge on Maren’s jacket bearing the Aboriginal flag and calling for a National apology (badge was from 2007) got the remark “What have you got that crap for!?” Crude, racist and arrogant. Core sample of what’s wrong with Australia right there. Perhaps not wanting to remain in the presence of people who thought he was an absolute wanker, Nathan told his friend that they were leaving and wandered off into the night, leaving his friend’s order of churros unclaimed. Lets hope natural selection does its bit. We took our churros, and gave the spares to a group of people sitting nearby. They did the trick, as I awoke a little tired but with no hangover.
After a sleep in the park we took my bags to Anna’s house as it was a little closer to the CSers house, and on the way to check out the room which was for rent. It was close to the city, the river and Betis, the street you can’t see for bars. 150 Euro and a set of keys changed hands and I had a place. Tops! I headed to Anna’s house to collect my bags, where I consulted my map and found the CSers house. A straight walk down the river, then right a bit. I arrived at 2200, and was met by Dagmar from the Czech Republic. She is here working with an organization helping immigrants integrate into society. After tea and biscuits it was nearly midnight and time to claim my fold out bed turned sofa from those playing monopoly, and get some sleep.
The next morning Dagmar had to work at eight am so that was a good chance for me to get up early and see the cathedral before the massive ques formed. Instead I sat in a café reading until 11, then joined the fairly fast moving que. I thought the building was impressive on the outside, but inside was astonishing. Sure, I am not religious, but I can still appreciate a place that had so much time and effort devoted to it. Amazingly high ceilings supported by intricately detailed sandstone columns rising from a red and white marble floor. The main alter was decorated with gold and almost blinding in its brightness. Within the cathedral stands the tomb of Christopher Columbus. Ok, so he was Italian and had a Portuguese crew, but Spain paid so they get the glory. Sevilla was the city that he returned to after discovering the new world, making it a major port and therefore very wealthy. That is reflected in the architecture of the city. The uni was a tobacco factory hundreds of years ago, but nevertheless puts a lot of palaces of Europe to shame. Back to the cathedral though! The main steeple (do they call it that on a cathedral?) is open to tourists so I found the entry and headed up. If it weren’t for the numbers on the wall, I would easily thought I was in M.C. Escher’s print walking up the never ending stairs, around each corner was a corridor that looked identical to the one that preceded it. Eventually however there was one that opened out to the balcony atop the steeple. Had I made it ten minutes earlier I would have been witness to (and probably deafend by) the ringing of the bells which are located about three meters above the heads of those on the balcony. I saw the day out with some futher exploring of the old city and of course taps.
Wednesday I moved into my place and found the local Aldi and a cheap fruit shop to stock up my shelf in the fridge and my cupboard. When I returned with my shopping I met one of my flat mates. That was Katie from Colarado who is here teaching English. My other flat mate (Beth from Kentucky) it turns out is also teaching English here. Katie and I went for a run along the river and were back about 2200, or dinner time. Every place has its quirks, and 3A, San Pedro Martir 8 is no different. Take the toilet seat for instance; ti is not attatched to the bowl in any way. Using it is very much akin to doing your buisness on an inflatable gym ball. I imagine at least, not having actually tried on a gym ball. I mean, there's no hole so it ould just get too messy. Anybody eating? Just stop? Thought so. Then there are the taps, labled 'C' and 'F'. When washing my hands for the first time I naturally turnd the 'C' tap. The speed at which the water heats up in my place is great, but not when you are expecting cold water! Needless to say (now), 'F' is the cold tap.. oops. Rather than being a quirk, perhaps that is just my own idiocy shining through.
Having been in Spain for a few weeks now, I found it hard not to get sucked into the Spanish schedule. Waking up about 10, a light breakfast followed by sightseeing/chillaxing by the river, which ever takes my fancy, lunch about 3, a rest then more activities, dinner at 10 then going out at about 12. Repeat. Not the healthiest living in the world, but a lot of fun nevertheless.
On Saturday Maren and I rented a car and drove to Conil, on the Atlantic coast. Thanks to my international licence I could do the driving, leaving the semi local to do the navigation. By lunch time we were soaking up the rays in a little Spanish city by the sea, just like the happy endings in all those books/movies. Driving in Spain can be hairy at first, but with in 30min I was at home on the roads. The Spanish style of driving suits me down to the ground; if the road is there - use it, and try not to hit anything. If any Australian police are reading, that is the most fun I have had on public roads.
One day while checking Facebook, I saw a message from Alex Hoyle, a good friend from Sydney. I knew he was in Europe at the moment, but not sure where. Turns out he was in Cordoba, and would be in Sevilla the next day. Needless to say we caught up, and had a feast of caracoles, or snails. They weren't bad actually, except for the crunch bits which was sand the snails had in their stomachs. Delish!
The next day after returning the car I made for the bus station to head back to Sevilla. Having waited 20 minutes beyond the scheduled time of the bus, I asked two Americans if they’d be into sharing a cab to the city. They were, and in 15 minutes we were drinking ice cold beer by the river, whilst a bus load of people were waiting for… a bus. The guys were Sam and Marc, from New Hampshire and Rhode Island respectively. They are doing a semester here learning Spanish and generally having a good time… which they proved as I have gone out with their group almost every night this week. Wednesday night I cooked beer battered salmon and potato salad for what ended up being nine people, and after dinner I was invited to a scavenger hunt through Sevilla. The starting point was Long Island Bar, where the first challenge was to drink the shot of your state. Not being an American, I was deemed an honourary Rhode Islander for the night. The tasks ranged from holding some ones baby to drinking a cerveza with a bum to catching a fish with bare hands. Thanks to my monkey arms I was going to be attempting to catch the fish! There are small schools of fish which for no apparent reason swim in circles of about one meter diameter, constantly. Until a hand tries to grab one that is, then they scamper, but soon return. Hey, they can’t help it, they’re fish! I got so far as having one in my hand and out of the water, but the slippery little bugger got wriggled itsself free. Saturday was the Torro Del Oro Cup, organized by Sam, which was a pedal boat race from one bridge to the next, and back. There were four to a team, and pedalers would be switched at the half way mark. It was not as simple as first team across the line wins, however. The winning team would be the first across the finish line with all their alchohol consumed. The losing team would suffer the indignity of having a penis drawn on their face, which would remain there for the entire pub crawl that was to follow, or simply jump in the river. The start was a case of the backseaters holding on the next boat and everyone realeasing at the same time. Some people pushed off other boats to gain an advantage, but when everyone did that it juts got messy! Boats point every direction, limbs floating in the water and people drinking furiously. Ok, not so many limbs, that was just for effect. My boat was in the middle at the start and jackknifed by another after the start, which put us behind the eight ball in a big way as all boats were evenly matched for speed. Despite having a soccer player and a cyclist aboard, my boat was the last across the line, there were team members on another boat still drinking away as we slowly but surely passed under the Puente De Triana. So we didn’t win, but most importantly we didn’t lose! The result was hotly debated, and as a result nobody had a penis on their face, however two people did jump in for the hell of it! They are still alive, so can't have been too gross in there! All in all, thank god for Spanish inefficiencies, as it meant I met Sam and Marc, and as a result have had a blast this past week. On top of that, im going to catch up with alot of the folk i've met here when I hit the states. Let the good times roll!

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Photos

The rio
with the sun turned off

My room..
..as clean as ever

The crazy kids from the States
That's Marc and Sam on my left and right.

Comments

[annis]

god, fish are so stupid. "danger, danger, swim away! hey, what am i doing here, outside my circle? better jump back in." no wonder the oceans are nearly empty of the dumb buggers.

[willso]

I rekon. I could have turned them into fish sticks if their posture was better!