By Nacho (aka Kyle), from Tufts University. Published originally on his own blog, where you can follow his adventures.
I suppose the most logical way to start this blog would have to be with this woman. Meet Paqui Pedrosa.
If the Real Housewives of Seville existed, she would undoubtedly be Nene. When she’s not affectionately using “coño,” at the end of every sentence, Paqui cooks like crazy, irons my socks (literally bless her) and LOVES Facebook. Like, she literally loves it. More importantly, Paqui Pedrosa has a heart of gold, a terribly contagious laugh and a strange affection for baby animals which we frequently bond over. That particular sweater she’s wearing is covered in baby giraffes.
My host Dad, Alberto, is kind of a boss and he knows it. He also has an incredibly sick flow (“hair,” mom) that I’m uber jealous of. The only way to sufficiently describe Alberto is via story.
Yesterday morning, Alberto called me in the kitchen for some homemade orange juice (#winning). I eagerly got out of bed, crossed the apartment and just as I entered the kitchen, he stepped out from behind the refrigerator with a rabbit. Like a WHOLE rabbit (fur, eyes, tail, I’ll spare you here). Alberto proceeded to chase me around the apartment with the conejo, propping its head up and down in such a way as to make it appear alive and well. Amidst my screams of bloody murder, I explained to him that I once had a pet bunny, which he thought was the most hysterical thing of all. He later apologized by giving me a piece of toast which was the most epic peace offering I’ve ever received. We ate the rabbit for lunch.
In summary, my family is incredible. We live in a small apartment in Plantinar with my roommate Henri (“Enrique”). Here are some photos of the extended family which frequently stop by to gossip and eat (in that order).
So ya, I live in Spain. Lol wut? Seville is the most beautiful city I have ever seen excluding Medford, MA.
Every building/monument has an incredible history that dates back to at least 1990. One of my favorite excursions thus far was La Catedral, the biggest gothic cathedral in the world.
Christopher Columbus’s body is being held captive there; a shout-out to every history and social studies teacher I have had since 1st grade. This is just one of the many visitas organized by my program.
Sevillanos, people from Seville, are some of the proudest people I have ever met. They pride themselves in their city’s prolific history, its beer (Cruzcampo – Cruthhhcampo) and its reputation for being a part of the most relaxed, party-oriented part of Spain. Speaking of nightlife, so strike me dead if I ever step foot in a frat again. Oh actually, I’ll see many of you at 123’s “Call on Me,” which is the second best day of the year after NQR, which now makes it the best day of the year. Essentially, nightlife in Seville follows a very strict protocol. People botellón, the equivalent of American pre-gaming, anywhere from 5-12 pm by the Río Guadalquivir. People leave to go to the bars at around 12:30/1:00am, bar hop until 3:00/3:30am and THEN proceed to the discotheques until 7 or 8 in the morning. But actually, this has been the most difficult transition of all #stillwinning.
(Here is a picture from Buddha,
a three-story nightclub that is totally cray cray.)
I had just casually finished battling an ambiguous go-go dancer and rightfully regained my position on said platform. The Queen is in the house ya’ll.
I also speak loads of Spanish here which is cool. Virtually no one in Seville speaks English so it’s pretty crucial that I use the language or else I might die. On that note, the form of Spanish spoken in Seville, Andalusian Spanish, is incredibly difficult to catch on. For those of you familiar with Spanish, the people in Seville exclude the letter “s,” from all words because they find it boring. This makes it impossible to decipher whether or not anything is plural. I.e. dos más = do ma. The lisp is also notoriously stronger in the South than in any other part of Spain. Cinco = thinko. Sopa = soh-pah. Hearing the most virile men lisp their way through a conversation is actually very amusing and immediately eliminates their macho exterior. Sucks. Sevillanos also choose not to pronounce the following letters when they get excited, “d,” “r,” “l.” I’m literally living in a city of divas. Low and behold, though, I am adapting to this new form of speech and seem to understand more and more each day.
School doesn’t start for another 2 weeks but the Sweet Briar orientation is very well done and is making my immersion smooth like nutella. The program itself is small, 24 students in total, and is teeming with super chill bros and hoes. I’ll talk more about them in future posts because they are funny and weird (in that order). Before I conclude, 10 quick things I have learned during my first week in Seville.
1. There are no boundaries for P.D.A. in Spain. Today I learned to steer clear of small cafés as Dan, Avery and I practically mopped the saliva from our faces-the product of our very liberal neighbors.
2. ALL babies are cute here.
3. ALL old couples hold hands in public.
4. Sevici, the public bike system in Seville makes transport SO much easier,but it is very difficult to look cool on a Sevici bike. Most men will try.
5. Rabbit tastes like chicken.
6. The Euro is whack.
7. Siestas are real life and should be made mandatory in the states.
8. Rollerblading is IN!
9. Chacos are OUT (Sorry, Caroline)
10. I love Spain.