sevilla
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Sevilla, Spain
I can do no better than to describe an individual moment in Sevilla. I had arrived maximally lost: this was my first time not on a friend’s couch; I still could hardly communicate in Spanish, despite my efforts; and I had literally no idea what I was doing here. Surely I’ll explore, surely I’ll have fun, but just as much it’s unclear: what am I doing here?
I arrived at the hostel, said my hi's, and asked the volunteer for a lunch rec. She was excited by my ostensive excitement, and suggested I try the restaurant around the corner. Bodega Santa Cruz, forever incarnated in my feast-y dreams, dreamy feasts.
The waiter placed me outdoors and left me a menu. I decided to stall my anxiety by half-assedly describing in my journal the physical things in front of me: a couple popping champagne at an outdoor restaurant, a busker, the sunlight. As I wrote the waiter came back to my seat and said just two words: “Hungry, hungry!” I smiled, said “Hungry, hungry!” and rubbed my stomach; then he rubbed his own in turn, then we laughed and rubbed our stomachs and chanted “Hungry, hungry!” together. He asked if it was my first day, I said si, and he took the menu. “I will bring you my favorites,” he said.
As he walked away, I asked for water. He said no. “Beer, beer!” It was 10am, nonetheless I consented, nonetheless I ended up having three.
The first tapa was tender pork cheek on cabbaged vegetables. I am so much aware that an accurate account of my response to this plate (and to the rest of the meal) is impossible, that I will spare the details. I should instead present what the food made me write. Transcribe if you so wish.
Other brevities:
I met a man, Jaad, who looked like me (he was Lebanese) but better looking: taller, groomed beard, shaved head, etc. We chatted a bit, connecting over our heritage and travels, and, after some conversation about our hair (?), I asked if he wanted to shave my head. And so: Jaad used his beard trimmer to buzz my hair on the hostel’s roof.
I had a beautiful art session on the patio of Catedral de Sevilla with Lizzy, a volunteer at the hostel, where I was spontaneously inspired to draw dragons.
My necklace is still in Sevilla if you happen to find it.
Travels are who you meet. I loved Sevilla in large part because I met cool people, perhaps the coolest of whom is Matt, who invited me to a Michelin-starred Spanish restaurant with him and toured the bar scene with me. More adventures from us in the future; luckily he’s a Londonite, so we have some years ahead.