La lluvia

Sevilla is a city of the streets. The people of Sevilla literally live in the streets. At almost any hour, you can probably find a group of people just hanging out: grabbing a bite to eat, perhaps some tapas, chatting over a drink, sitting on a bench overlooking a fountain, or our shopping with a friend.

(In fact, on Saturday morning as I was walking to the bus to Córdoba, I noticed several people, still dressed from the night before, finally heading home to go to bed. Keep in mind that this was 8 o´clock in the morning.)

It´s great, I love it. I feel safe pretty safe walking even at night, because there are always a lot of people out. But on a Sunday, this is a different story. NOTHING is open. Stores close. Restaurants close. There is nowhere to go. And the only thing you can do is go for a walk, go to mass, or sleep. Literally, those are the only things you can do.

Ok, now that that has sunk in, let me throw a little curveball: What if it happens to RAIN on a Sunday? What then? Sleep all day? Try to attend every mass in town? Go for a walk in the rain and catch a cold?

You end up doing nothing.

You don´t want to leave the house because it´s raining. The streets, all cobblestone, are really slippery. So you can´t even go for a run in fear of losing your life in a tragic slip and slide accident. The stores are closed, you woke up too late to go to mass, and even if you pass by a Starbucks that happens to be opened, you are a) not willing to shell out €5 for a small hot chocolate and b) not in the mood to squeeze into the packed cafe and wait to be served.

So, the question is, what did I do on my first rainy sunday in Sevilla?

I did what any other, and every other Sevillan does. I went to the movies.

The movie: Vicky Cristina Barcelona.
The company: Jenny and a few other girls from my program.
The place: Plaza de Armas.

Now, as is typical Lauren and Jenny fashion, we arrived at the movie ten minutes late. Now, we would have been on time, but Jenny left the umbrella she borrowed from a friend in the CVS type store where we bought candy. But we didnt really care we were late, we just wanted to get out and do something.

So we open the doors to door number 12, and inside the movie is playing, as we expected. We enter and try and find seats with the girls we were planning to meet, but we cannot see a thing. I am not talking about your typical, lets-wait-until-our-eyes-adjust-so-we-can-find-some-seats dark. I am talking, crap-I-must-be-blind dark. Not to mention that the seats in this theatre are high-backed, so its not like you can see the heads of people sitting in the seats. I walk ever so gently towards the front of the theatre, not even knowing if I was in an isle. I peer into each isle trying to find two empty seats.

Nothing.

After I felt like I had been standing in the middle of the theatre for hours, during a bright scene, I finally spot a section of the theatre on the far right side, that seems relatively vacant. I point Jenny to the back, so we can go around. "How do I get there?" she asked. I had no clue. I still could not see a thing. We trip towards the back because the floor suddenly slanted. We both let out a small gasp. Follow the lights, I whisper to her. She starts cracking up. As we literally trip our way to the other side of the theatre, using only the small lights lining the crooked and slanted isle as our guide, we miraculously make it to a section that had open seats. We huff down in the chairs (which, I must say, had to have been the most comfortable movie seats I have ever sat in) and rip off our jackets in hopes for some fresh air and a good movie.

And it was a good movie. It made you think. But I didn´t like the ending. It wasn´t your typical resolved ending. In fact, nothing was really resolved. But I chalked it up to artistic license and the fact that, well, in real life, nothing is really ever really resolved.

After the movie, Jenny and I head over to the bus station to get a schedule of times to Madrid. Then we treated ourselves to our first churros y chocolate. While sitting outside, next to the small churro kisosk, we ended up seeing three other girls from our program. They all stopped to chat, and they all had the same thing to say: There is nothing to do on a rainy Sunday.

At 9:00, as Jenny and I ended our intense two hour conversation about the effects of bullying in school, the differences language can have on personality, and the role teachers play in society, we packed up to head home for dinner. I couldn´t wait to get back so I could finish my book that I had read all weekend so I could give it to Jenny to read.

When I arrived home, and Conchy asked what I had done during the day, I replied, "Nada mucho." Nothing much.