A New Home

Sunday, September 11, 2011

From my rooftop terrace (!) these past two mornings,  I have watched the sky turn from a dusty grey to pink, to an "oh thank God" cloud-mottled blue.  Morning doves coo and fly from roof top to roof top, and smaller birds call from trees.  A tiny red-breasted wren lands on the potted lime tree (!) next to my chair, then flits away -- startled to find someone invading his morning, I am sure.  At 7:30 am on Saturday, the Sevillan streets were quiet, but by 8:30, the first madres and abuelas rattled along with their rolling shopping bags. By 10:30, the streets were alive with the sounds of footsteps on the cobblestone street, car doors slamming as people headed out for the day or the weekend, and voices carrying across the terraces. Sunday seems to be a quieter day.  By 8:50, I sill had not seen any human activity.  On both mornings, and well into the afternoon, the air remained fairly cool.  I opened all the windows as soon as I woke up, and I reveled in my privacy after three days as a guest in a stranger's home. 

Our apartment is tiny -- my bedroom doubles as the living area, and our kitchen will struggle to fit the two of us, but windows let in light and air at every turn, the furnishings are simple and clean, and we are beginning to feel at home.  Even the Sevillans have been grateful for air conditioning this past week, and AJ and I felt so blessed to turn on the air and sleep in comfort for the first night since our flight landed.  To make up for the spartan space inside, we have a roof top terrace of prodigious proportions.  Wooden beams and some sort of netting shade one large area so we can escape the sun, and another area, just as large, is open to the sun and gives us a lovely view of the street and our surroundings.  Tiny steep stairs can take us to a less finished roof top area with an even better view of the Porvenir area.   Looking across the buildings, I can see the tall trees of Parque de Maria Luisa and can look across to the pristine terraces of the villas down the street.

We went  grocery shopping for the first time Friday night-- interesting to discover how little one can buy when one is both shopper and transporter!  We purchased a shopping bag at the Bazaar Ting-Ting, and that, in addition to our two backpacks, provided us with sufficient space for bread, lettuce, carrots, yogurt, juice, some dried beans, salad dressing, a microwave pizza, and a bottle of wine.  As an aficionado of fresh, homemade food, I generally shudder at frozen pizza in any form -- a microwave pizza adds insult to injury.  However, in the gathering dusk of our terrace,  that soggy and undercooked pizza on melmac plates accompanied by a glass of wine and my 13 year old world traveler left me with more memories than any four star cuisine.  

After dinner, we took our paseo to Maria Luis Park to see the Plaza de Espana lit for the evening. The clatter of horse-drawn carriages, the murmured conversations of couples walking hand in hand, and the sparkling reflection of tiled bridges in the ponds created a magical bubble -- a soothing counterpoint to the riotous sights and sounds of teenage revelry outside the park's gates.  Apparently,  the great Sevillan teenage meet-and-greet happens at the Plaza de Espana. The park is closed to automobiles in the evening, but cars and kids gathered at the gates.  A group of boys carried trumpets from which they brought forth tones to make a band director shudder. Many also carried bottles of wine and other harder liquors some covered with plastic shopping bags, but some open to view.  We have often heard that, for European kids, alcohol holds less mystery and therefore less danger.  What we saw last night bears witness for me that adolescent hormones and inhibition-decreasing substances create a volatile and unpleasant cocktail, regardless of the culture. 

Was the evening ruined and did we leave the park never to return?  Certainly not.  The walk in the park has become a nightly routine for us, and every night we walk past the teens and their partying with little comment.  We have been fortunate to receive directions and assistance from many very wonderful Sevillans who have been kindness itself.  I am sure, for every over-indulging teenager in the park, another non-inebriated teen leads a perfectly healthy lifestyle.  The partying teens and cockroaches serve as healthy reminders that this is not paradise, just Spain -- another modern country full of regular people -- good, bad, and in between.