I Am Orange

Another plaza, Seville, 2.59pm

After a fairly quiet few days, bumming around Lagos, I'm in one of the most gorgeous cities and learning their beautiful language to boot.

My time in Lagos was fairly low key, the lady at my hostel obviously didn't approve of packet soups and made me have some of her own soup (with chickpeas in it) a couple of times, plus cake with a microwaved apple on Saturday night. Not to mention the omelettes and twenty squillion pieces of toast every morning. Going hungry was not an option. I ate these meals at night in the company of her husband (truly the ugliest person I have ever seen, cracked toad comes to mind) while watching the French news. She only spoke to me in French and who knew nine months of French lessons would be enough for me to not feel completely clueless?

I did a day trip to Sagres, which is down on the very bottom tip of Portugal and quite dramatic and gorgeous, must be fantastic in summer. The town was no great shakes, but I did enjoy watching the old boys play petanque in the square while I waited for the bus. Oh and it was windy as hell..if hell is as windy as it is hot.

Friday in Lagos the rain came through and left me with my book and a cup of tea in my princess mug. Followed by a delightfully sunny winter day on Saturday, so I could wander along the main beach and get attacked by a friendly pride of stray cats at the marina. I kid you not, at least fifteen just hanging out on the rocks, desperately rubbing against my legs, hoping for a sardine. Being the sensible traveller that I am, I didn't touch them with my hands, not wanting to be sent back to Melbourne with feline rabies or similar.

Sunday saw me on the early bus to Seville, and there I sat with ice blocks for feet for five and a half hours, so by the time I arrived in Seville I was tired, hungry, cold and needed to pee. Plus it was 8degrees and BUCKETING down with rain. Everything I could see was falling down and covered in graffiti. I was not impressed. I was yet to be delighted by Seville.

So in the pissing rain I got a taxi driver who understood my hand-drawn map to my hostess' apartment and dropped me at the end of her 'street'. I use the term loosely, to me it was a lane, like something you'd go down in Melbourne and expect to find a really awesome bar at the end of, behind the obligatory dumpster. Apparently not so here, here it actually was a one way street, cobbled, of course, and lined with apartment buildings. Under my trusty umbrella, I wheeled as fast as possible my excellently wheeled suitcase in 4WD mode, for about seven kms (probably not quite) till I found #66 and got myself inside and out of the downpour. It was so wet. You know in movies to make it extra romantic they have the two leads in the rain and in about three seconds they are drenched to the bone and you watch it and go 'oh right, SURE, it never rains like that'. This was rain like that.

Anyway, upstairs to my hostess' apartment and oh goody she doesn't speak a word of English. But boy does she like to talk. And unlike French, I don't have a CLUE what she's on about. The apartment is fine, bit old lady naff, but my room is big and it's all pretty clean. Lunch was a broth with a potato, carrots and LOTS OF CHICKPEAS..followed by the obligatory Sevillian orange. Spent a lot of time thinking what a guest in my circumstances in my parents house would get fed....mustn't dwell on the excessive chickpeas. Also staying in the apartment is a 20yr old American guy, who's here for four months learning Spanish and travelling. He speaks a reasonable amount of Spanish, but wasn't horrendously chatty so no translating there. Although he did tell me one thing I'd obviously missed from my hostess - no hot water. Apparently the German guy before me busted the hot water system and it hadn't been fixed yet. I am DEARLY HOPING that has been fixed today, because I just stuck my head under the icy water last night to wash it and almost died. Seriously unimpressed. I can deal with a chilly apartment as long as for five minutes a day I can get hot and steamy in the shower. And in another wonderful misunderstanding I couldn't work out if I had to be at school at 8 this morning, or if my hostess would be up to get me breakfast at 8. So in case it was the former, I was up at 6.30. Of course it was the latter and she got moving more at 8.15, to stick a pot of water in the microwave to make it lukewarm enough for me to have a cup of tea with my toast.

In case it hasn't been clear just yet - I was fairly unimpressed with all of this.

I also didn't have anything better than a highlighted line on a map to get me to school, not the name of the school or anything. So off I went, map in pocket, tepid tea in tummy. Found the school where it was supposed to be and only because there was a line of young people inside and it seemed to be a school. Luckily they had my name and could direct me to a classroom so at least I knew I was in the right place and there were people just as confused as me at all the insistent use of Spanish and no English. Yes, it's one of those schools. I'm all for lots of use of the language once you understand a little bit, it's just really hard concentrating and hoping you've understood correctly when you really have no idea. And seriously, when I'm asking if I have classes in the afternoon, just explain it in English because you'll just have to say it all again in English once I've given myself more wrinkles, furrowing my brow in concentration.

Anyway! Got through my two morning classes, getting the gist of it all. I now know that clock in Spanish is 'reloj' and quite possibly the hardest word to pronounce that I've ever come across.

My classes finished at 1pm, so I trundled out to find lunch and explore a bit. My school is right near the central historic bit of Seville so I didn't have to go far. And now, I love Seville! It's exactly what I romantically thought it would be, everything I couldn't see yesterday in the taxi and pouring rain. They're incredibly serious about their oranges, orange trees literally line the streets and their buildings are beautiful, churches look AMAZING from the outside and again, the coffee is excellent (although unfortunately not as cheap as Portugal). Don't think I have to be home until much later, so plenty of time to wander this afternoon, and every afternoon.

I've written heaps, I know, so I'll leave you with this....They are as serious about their bullfighting as their oranges. My hostess had a televised bullfight on the TV last night and it went for ages and it was AWFUL. There certainly wasn't any disclaimer at the end saying 'no animals were harmed in the making of this show'. I was absolutely disgusted, riding around on horses and stabbing hooks into the back of a bull? I think not. Thank goodness Seville is so beautiful, helps me forget their more violent side!