Spain is in a league of its own when it comes to European tourist cities.
Paris was more saturated in history and art than the Chip Shop is saturated in fat. It took no attempt at all to learn; I simply walked not even out of the building, but out of my room and shot back in time with what the signs on the door warned us to be "old Parisian staircase."
Rome was much more full of its own solid culture of the oldest civilization that somehow echoed through time and was maintained in artifacts, culture, and customs. Hearing the Italian was a little bit more familiar than the snotty French, but still not quite comprehensive to my native English mind.
Now here I am in Spain, the country who doesn't take lessons from the others and does its own thing.
This program was originally supposed to take us to Salamanca, but changed to Seville due to it being more urbanized for us little city students. Even though I know the feeling of being secluded from any type of urban setting and requiring modes of transportation to interact with other humans, I'm not used to it during my school time months.
It's not nearly as bad as my shaded house in the hills, as we can walk down the block for restaurants, bars, and markets, but the real action is a 40 minute walk.
THE HORROR.
I supposed we would be able to live without the 3 minute distance between the nearest department store like we had in Paris and Rome, but didn't realize how truly quiet of a setting we were capable of living in as a group.
All of our basic conveniences are very close by which is a convenience, except between the hours of 2 and 5.
Perhaps you've heard of something called Siesta? Basically, it's nap time. All the stores, restaurants, gelaterias, farmacias, and even the cervecerias close their doors and have lunch and a nap.
Oh you smoke and just finished your pack of cigarettes? Well you get a chance to dabble with the cold turkey method because you're not getting a drag until everyone wakes up.
Oh your brand new flip flops ripped and you're walking on one foot? Well you're going to waltz the Walk of Shame like no other broad after Halloween, because you're gonna do it with no quick fixes available with a quick debit purchase.
Or maybe you just need something to eat, or your sweet tooth is begging you for some churros and chocolate? Not until after dinner, which isn't until 9 o'clock anyway.
I didn't understand their late dinner until I got here, and went out to the club. You see, in New York, we would always be ready by about 10 or 11, be out by 12, stay there until anywhere between 2-3:30 depending on who had too much to drink, and go home.
In Spain, they eat because they need to have the food in their stomach close enough to when they start drinking, which is at least 2 hours after we even finish pre-gaming. Most clubs are free before 1AM because no self-respecting siestaing Spaniard would even dare hailing a cab to the club until 2AM.
Spain is so chill, it's unbelievable. I don't chill like "dude I been drunk for days, spain is so chill."
I mean you walk outside, and the traffic, even with all the stop lights, is a maximum of 5 cars. They sleep in the middle of the day and give you tapas for 2 euro. The bike lanes, which run directly roads, are possibly the most serious aspects of Spain; if you're walking on the bike lane, approaching simply ding the bell and you step aside onto the designated sidewalk.
I'm telling you, neanderthals.
What I could probably appreciate the most is tapas. Since Spain was announced on my itinerary, all Dad said was "you havta get tapas." And I finally have and understand why.
A bowl of paella, plate of calamari, and a chicken selection: 2 euro each; 6 euro lunch.
Absolutely delicious.
The sunshine? Yeah, that's been on spring break too I guess. But otherwise, the palm trees and calm winds are everything to reckon with.
Y yo hablo español todos los dias.
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