sevillllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

The year I spent in Sevilla was without a doubt the best year of my life... which is why I can't believe that so far during this entire year in Madrid I had yet to return to the south to visit the old romping grounds. Sooooooo, last week I realized that I was going to be the only one of my friends with nothing to do this past weekend. Everyone was going to be studying/doing work except me, as as I had already plowed through my exams as if they were nothing because hell, I'm just a genius (haha just kidding- exams sucked! Just because I rock doesn't necessarily mean I'm made out of stone). Anyway I thought to myself, Betsey take a break from being the lazy (but nevertheless totally awesome) piece of poo that you are, get off your ass, and DO something. So I decided (yes, me... Elizabeth Marie Mattern made a decision) I'm going to Sevilla. I alerted the Span-fam, as I so affectionately call the family with which I spent my glorious junior year aboad, that I'd be coming to play and they were more than happy to offer me my old bed for the weekend.

So to the south I went, and it was a fannnnnntastic weekend. For a couple short days it was as if I had never left- on Friday night I even woke up briefly at one point and looked around the room where I had slept night after night for 9 months, wondering if I was still 20 and living there. As Yogi Berra would say, 'It was like deja vu all over again.' The whole family was around- 6 people- which means that it was like a Sevilla overdose for a quick moment as I had 6 people shooting rapidfire questions at me. But it was so nice to be there again, because think about it. This family took me in knowing absolutely nothing about me aside from what I had written in my little 'Hi my name is Betsey...' note. Yes, that literary work of art in which I expressed that I was sexually excited to meet them. Regardless of whether they thought I was a pervert or not, from day one they treated me as part of the family, worried about me, cared about me, went out with me, wanted to know everything about me, were dying to meet my family when they came, etc. The day I left was one of the worst days ever- I cried. A lot. ME... CRYING. I cried like my little sister cries (but she does it on a daily basis... and as all of us Matterns know, it's usually for no reason). I cried in the apartment, I cried in the cab, I cried in the airport. I cried for two weeks straight when I got home. Because even though I was going to be back with my own parents and siblings, it was still being without 6 people who became part of my family and not knowing when and if I'd see them again. So being back with them made me realize that they're always going to be such a clutch part of my life. I knew it when Maribel (aka Span-mom) went all motherly on me offering me something to eat and then worrying that I don't eat enough when I said I was fine, wanting to know all about Madrid, asking all about my family and friends, patting the seat cushion next to her to have a long-overdue chat.

An hour after I got there I met up with my friend Isabel (see photo!) for some magical caffeine potion (trippy way to describe coffee)... although we left quickly because we soon realized that we were surrounded by creepy old Sevillan men who were saying inappropriate things to us. Sooooooo we went off for a walk around good ole Se-to-the-villa. Isabel is probably the sweetest person I have met in Spain- one of those people where after two years of fairly limited communication, you can still sit down with her for a couple hours and have it not be any different than it was two years ago. We walked for awhile, past the university, through the center, past the cathedral, saw our beloved 'Email Place' that Holy Cross had paid for us to be able to use, through Santa Cruz's maze of tiny cobblestone streets. We updated each other on our lives, friends, showed each other pictures, etc. I lurve her. That night, I went out with Arantxa and Almudena (Span-sis #1 and #2) and their friends to eat... during which I felt at times extremely out of place because they were talking about their jobs, one was showing pictures of her CHILDREN, and I could talk about... going to class? But it was fun and there was wine and weird foods that they made me try (BEFORE telling me what they were... they're smart like that...)

Saturday we spent all day out and about in Sevilla- Arantxa let me do my mix of being touristy and nostalgic with every street we walked down. Then we met up with more friends for a brew in Plaza del Salvador (where Joanne and I had parked ourselves two years earlier to watch Holy Week processions..) and then to eat at the most delicious place EVER. Then comes the strangest part. We went out drinking-drinking. At like 4pm. We walk into this bar, and it's PACKED with people boozing as if it were 1am. The closest comparison I can offer is that of Holy Cross on St. Patrick's Day... except instead of 18-22 year olds (or 27 year olds if you're on the hockey team) drinking flat keg beer, it was full of 25-35 year olds drinking things that actually taste good. At first I was like, I don't think I can do this at 4 in the afternoon and ordered a diet coke thinking that we were only going to be there for a little while. Then the whole group of people we were with eventually convinced me to let my inner alcoholic be free, including the doctor in the group who said that alcohol is medicine and that I need to drink a lot of it to stay healthy. So, per the MD's orders, I drank. FOUR HOURS LATER everyone's half in the bag. We walk out and then into another bar. I swear to God that this second bar was like a full-fledged freakin nightclub going on in there. People drinking, dancing, making out in the corners (and because it's Spain, land of the PDA, also NOT in the corners). I was like, what the FRIJOLES is going on here. It was great. At like 10:30pm, which at this point felt to me like 4am, I was already tired.. annnd starving.. so I headed home. All this before dinner. It was a blast and I met some of their friends who currently live in Madrid and who I apparently "have to go out with every weekend" according to them. We'll see if I can keep up with the the lives of 30 year olds..

Annnnnnnnnd today I inevitably had to make my triumphant return to Madrid. Maribel made one of my favorite meals (awwwww... she remembers! haha) and then sent me along my way with a sandwich in tow just in case I got hungry on the train.

In conclusion, I love Sevilla and always will. :o)