Maybe Public Schools Aren't So Bad After All

After all the drama of the general strike, we finally arrived in Sevilla.  The train was on time, the taxi ride from the train station was uneventful, and we arrived at our apartment at exactly the same time as the woman who needed to let us in the building.

Since arriving, we've spent the past 30 hours exploring Sevilla.  It's a wonderful place with winding streets so narrow that even us small-sized Bucci men can stand in the middle and reach out and touch both sides of the buildings on either side.  I didn't know what to expect when we arrived but, so far, I'm loving it here.  How can you not love a place with restaurants that sell fried calamari by weight and wrap it in a paper "cone" so that you can munch on it as you go?

On a completely unexpected note, Sevilla appears to be the capital of clothing stores for little children.  I've seen nearly a dozen of them and the youngsters who live here take full advantage of that.  In some cities you'd sit at a little cafe, sip your wine, and watch the women walk by as you admire their fashions.  Here, it's the little kids who are the most fun to watch.  We saw one young boy walking with his parents early this afternoon as they left what appeared to be a wedding.  He had his hair slicked back and was wearing a navy blue suit with short pants.  He had on knee-high navy socks and shiny black loafers.  In America, he would have looked ridiculous.  Here, I was jealous of him.

Even with all the good food, ambience, and charm, the real highlight has been watching Nick speak Spanish with the natives.  If it weren't for Nick, we'd be pretty lost.  He's gotten us tables at restaurants, settled our bills at the counter, and translated our directions for taxi drivers.  At lunch today, he got engaged in a long conversation with Javier and Rosario, an older couple at the table next to ours who are in town for Holy Week.  Over the course of an hour, Nick, Javier, and Rosario held court on a variety of topics.  In addition to covering the basis (where we were from, when we'd arrived, where we were staying, how we got here), Nick, Javier, and Rosario took us through topics including:

• Whether or not it was legal for Nick to be drinking the beer he'd ordered for lunch.  We had just assumed that it was but it turns out he's supposed to be 18.  Oh, well.
• What it means to be Catalonian.  Javier is from Barcelona and was very proud to let us know that he was Catalonian.  He also pointed out that Rosario was not, although he seemed OK with that.
• Why Americans eat such large meals and why Sevillans don't really eat fruits and vegetables.

It was great fun to watch how capable Nick was of carrying on such a long and winding conversation in Spanish.  In fact, I may have to beg forgiveness for all the grief Mrs. Machado has received at our dinner table over the years.