time’s up. party’s over.
July 16, 2014
Time’s up. Party’s over. Time to go home.
I’ll soon be leaving my new home to return to my.. old home, the one I left 6 months ago. I was cleaning up my desk today and started packing some of the stuff on it and the first things I touched were a bunch of seashells, cool shards and little stones that I collected as souvenirs during my trips. Some of them were still covered in sand or dust and I instantly had flashbacks with the great times I spent here in Sevilla, or at the beach, or during all of the trips I’ve had, from Lisbon to Granada to Tarifa and all that’s in between. When did it all go away? It feels like just yesterday I set foot for the first time in Sevilla, on a stormy rainy evening, feeling a bit disappointed with the city and the weather while freezing my a*s off.
Now I’m sweating just from the effort of typing a few words on my laptop – which is almost literally burning and starting to melt. It’s 2 a.m. A drunk man is passing by my window singing happily while he’s stumbling on his way home and it reminds me of the vibrant and colourful lifestyle of Sevilla. This city is breathing life from every corner of every little street, from every bar and restaurant, from every shop and market. People here seem to always be happy, always in the mood for a coffee, a beer or a wine, always in for a chat (and hell, they do talk a LOT!), no matter what problems or crisis they might be facing.
And I’ll miss like hell those stone paved narrow streets. The colourful and coquettish buildings. The tapas. The ice-cold tinto de verano. The siesta (well, this one was driving me nuts when I needed to buy food or other stuff at noon and everything was damn closed). Being so close to the ocean and to my dear Tarifa. The never-ending sunny days (although the heat can get really horrible and there’s no place you can hide from it). Our glass case full of empty alcohol bottles. Our hangovers in the living room. The river’s shore near Isabel II Bridge. Solomillo al whisky in Avelino. Our apartment and our drunk neighbour that never walks his poor dog. Our rooftop terrace with its great view. Walking on Sierpes and Tetuan while dieing inside for not having money to buy all those pretty useless things. 100 Montaditos. The cheap coffee from Mercado Provenzal. The amazing cookies from Dulce Regina. The view from Metropol Parasol. Waiting for the sun to rise while counting every minute on the rooftop. The enchilada de pollo from Calixto. All those other little bars with they’re delicious tapas. The colourful and chilly patios. The sandwiches I used to buy from a little shop in front of the school (basically, I’m going to miss a lot of food from here). My dear no-brakes bike (I hope the new owner will be kind to it). Feria de Sevilla and its wretched rebujito. Cursing every morning of Semana Santa those procesions with the fanfare stopping in front of my window and waking me up. Going to the beach. The beach itself, the sand, the sea, the waves. The cool surfers. Kitesurfing. The spanish photoshoots. Hanging the laundry on the rooftop. Dieing of heat while walking in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. Cartuja and its Expo ’92 Pavilions). Passing through Maria Luisa Park with my bike on my way to University. Universidad de Sevilla. All those dreadful classes when we were making fun of the professor. The funny Spanish classes. Getting sunburnt in February on top of Sierra Nevada. Tarifa and the view of the african coastline. Portugal and its cute and nostalgic Lisbon. 3,6€ tram ride. Cabo da Roca and Cascais. Pastel de nata. Getting home from the club with my feet covered in yellow dust at 6 a.m.. Plaza de España. Awfully cheesy movies in Alameda. Having a coffee at the corner of my street just because I can. Eating a napolitana while trying to control my bike with one hand (and no brakes). The library. Container Art. Making fun of the (other) guiris. Giralda and Alcazar. Camara Oscura. The views from all those awesome places. Triana. The inseparable couple church – bar at every corner of every street and along the streets as well. Our unknown neighbour who always plays the piano. I could go on and on, ’cause every little memory brings up ten others. 🙂
Last but not least, all those friends I’ve made here and the great times we’ve spent together – I hope we’ll meet again!
Oh, yea. And I’m taking the long way home – mini-roadtrip through Europe. 3500 km. Just a few bucks left in my pocket. An empty space in my heart for leaving my dear Sevilla and plenty of excitement for all the new cool stuff awaiting ahead. 🙂
See you soon and hopefully I’ll keep you posted with my new adventures! ♥