I'm living in Seville, Spain. I've been here since the
Christmas. I came here on a bit of a whim, after having talked to folks a bit and having compared
Barcelona and Seville just superficially.
As is my habit, I have not left the area within a rather small radius of the center. Everything in its time. I want to see more of Spain, but I'm comfortable with my way of doing things. Indeed, I've met many people who have been in the midst of a whirlwind tour of the country (or, even, of Europe in total,) and while they seem to be having a good time, they have consistently understood the benefit of slowing down. This encourages me that I'm doing okay; everything in its time.
I'm living in an apartment that I found about three
weeks after I arrived in town. I was just ready to
leave. I went by my favorite establishment, Cafe Levies,
to say goodbye to the people who work there. While
there, with my backpack and two hours from the
departure of a bus to Ronda, I met a guy who works for
a sort of a low-budget slipshod rental agency called
Roommates Seville. I went to visit, and encountered
spoke English. For the price of the fact that not
everything was always up
to scratch, I got to get in without the paperwork that I'd encountered elsewhere.
I met an Australian guy at the apartment they
showed me, and decided to move in. P_, who turned 19
while he was here, stayed for a month, studying
Spanish. Great fellow. We had a lot of fun together.
While he was here, a French woman M_ moved in. How
the two survived amicably is a mystery to me now. P_
was a bit, uh, casual. M_, sweet and sour on
alternate encounters, likes things a bit more tidy. But
anyhow they never killed each other nor even fought.
I got a job, working at Mex Rock, a Mexican restaurant
on Calle Betis, a very busy street just across Rio
Guadalquivir from the center of town.
I lived in Seville between December of 2000 and June of 2001, when I flew to Dublin.