Indeed. Hotel. The Road of Trials involves many interesting twists and turns.
AJ and I arrived in Seville according to schedule, but our luggage was not so lucky. Not a crisis. After a tour of the apartment and a stroll through the barrio, by 8:30 pm, AJ and I surveyed our barrio from the vantage point of a sidewalk table at a local tapas cafe and bar. Feeling a bit travel worn and surely smelling less fresh than we had 40 hours previous (when we had last gotten out of bed!), we both still felt pretty thrilled with our situation. A half moon threw warm light on the Alameda De Hercules, and Sevillans roamed the streets, chatted at the tables around us, and generally filled the Monday night air with a sense of late summer holiday. A big screen TV -- outside -- played the Brazil-Ghana soccer match. Sorry, Dr. Sam, the Brazilians won.
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| Tapas Bar outside La Casa de las Cucarachas |
Surfeited with una media de queso Manchego and Iberian Ham (given lack of sleep, I skipped cerveza or vino), we returned to our apartment at 10:30 to find we had roommates.
Several.
Three to four inches long.
Brown.
FAST.
Las cucarachas.
Say it slowly in Enlish. Cockroaches.
One -- right there, running across the bathroom floor. Eek. Another one, running across AJ's bedroom. Too fast to stomp. Ooops. One ran under Alison's bed. CRAP.
Picture one thirteen year old and one . . . . significantly older . . . mother standing in the middle of the living room -- screaming. Turning on all the lights. Stomping on throw rugs, scanning the walls and floors. Wishing for an uzi -- or one of those cool flame throwers.
DAMN -- another one by the terrace door. Picture one thirteen year old trying to be the man, fighting back terror, disgust, jet lag -- and losing. There are times when a mom just has to be a mom. Take charge. Hold the nightmares at bay . . .I looked in the kitchen cupboards for a solution. (????). I spun around in circles. I looked down the dark stairs to the gated entry below us -- (??). Did some more circles.
I take pride in the fact that I did not actually scream.
Not very loudly, anyway.
After the 10th crunchy, brown thing skittered past us -- one falling from AJ's backpack when he shook it (how many times have we told them not to leave things on the floor?) --I made the executive decision. We grabbed our bags -- that is, AJ's backpack and my purse -- and headed for the nearest hotel. Imagine the registration clerk's surprise and confusion when I asked her for a room sin las cucarachas. She let us inspect the room before we took it. Two twin beds pused together in the middle of a small room. No windows. 89 Euros. Clean. Nothing moving. Priceless.
She needed my passport. The one I left in my room with my computer bag and carry-on. A quick glance at AJ told me he was NOT going back to that room before the exterminators had cleared it. So, leaving him at the hotel, I walked back. Opened the outside door to the building, then the inner gate, then the apartment door (three flights up). Tiptoed through the apartment. Grabbed my bags (shook them carefully), searched the apartment for the second set of keys. Grabbed AJ's ipod and headphones off the bed, bit my lip and held back the screams. Locked all the apartment doors and windows. Hurried back down the stairs and out the gate and gratefully out the front door. Ugh.
AJ fell asleep at about 11:30. I showered, typed an email to the woman in charge of housing, and went to sleep.
Okay. I typed an email and lay in the dark while visions of bugs danced in my head. I thought about the luggage that had not yet been delivered and the cockroaches that are thankfully not in our clothes. Wished for a beer. Turned off the lights. Worried. Wished for a beer. Turned on the lights. Worried. Read the map of Sevilla. Wished for a beer. Finally fell asleep with the lights on.
Tomorrow is another day.
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