Weekends, Students and Futbol

Saturday is not a day for slumming around in jeans and t-shirts in Sevilla. We dress as much like sevillanos as possible, W in slacks, woven casual shirt and leather shoes. He has not tucked in his shirt and worn a belt which would be more customary. I wear a skirt, brightly printed with a tank top. Though we blend in better, we are still a few degrees less formal that others we meet on the street, particularly those our age.

Perhaps it is the shopping and socializing that must be done. Perhaps it is the weddings and confirmations that must also be done today. We see evidence of both at the Cathedral followed by a military assembly, including small band, that gathers at the southeast corner of the Cathedral. They wait, tucked around one of the numerous corners opening into the plaza. At long last, they vigorously march in and stand at attention. But no one comes. Whomever or whatever is supposed to process or proclaim has not arrived. Starting from the ranks and moving up, one officer walks over to another officer, who then walks over to another officer. Motorcycle police call on their radios. We wait for nearly 20 minutes before deciding to move on.

To give our feet rest, we go for a double-decker bus tour, opting to sit below as the sun has already risen high in the sky. The route for the tour takes us through the neighborhood where the Iberian Exposition of 1929 took place. The buildings are still in place, and many have been repurposed. Some house government functions while others have become centers for the arts. The idea behind the Exposition was to facilitate renewed ties, primarily economic. As JB would say, this is "ironical."

Our bus crosses the Guadalquivir River into the Triana neighborhood where many of the ceramic tiles for which Sevilla is known are still made. It is also the site of the 1992 Exposition. Unfortunately, this exposition site has not been repurposed as well. Part of it has been turned into a theme park while other buildings remain vacant. Up river is the amazing suspension bridge designed by Salvatore Calatrava. It will need a closer look.

As we cross the river, again, back to the city center, we see many rowing sculls on the water and a handful of sailboats at small docks. Looking downriver, we are amazed to see the height of the masts. The bridge downriver of the boats is double; however, a drawbridge section seems to be permanently raised while the section with vehicle traffic doesn´t appear to move!

At 5pm we meet all of the students, save two who have not yet arrived. One we know is having a partial appendectomy via laproscopy so that he can travel sooner. The other simply has not arrived. Orientation is excrutiatingly long for most of them. After dinner, though, many are out on the town. Some take in a movie while others fall in with AM, a Venezuelan student, who has been in town since Thursday. AM, a high-energy organizer, has already scoped out things and is ready to lead everyone who is willing into the Spanish nightlife. They make it back to the hotel around 4am Sunday, a common time for calling it a Saturday night.

Sunday morning, they meet their Spanish moms. We look forward to their stories of adaption. A handful are fluent in Spanish; others who have studied it in high school. Placed as pairs, they should be able to cope between the two of them.

The morning is unusually cool, to date, so we sit, sipping coffee, in the café across the street from our home. Everywhere we look there are futbol fans, enrobed in team colors. With exuberant ease, they break into songs that boast of their team. After siesta, we decifer the bus system and ride to the stadium. We know we are heading in the right direction because the team colors become increasingly visible.

The stadium explodes into view. Masses of people surround it, competing seas of green and purple. We make our way to the ticket windows but are told by scalpers that theirs are the only tickets available. We bargain unsuccessfully and opt to wait until the game starts to see if the prices go down. As we wait, the crowd grows and more crowd control officials begin to filter in. It is a bit intimidating. Mounted police move through the throng, the size of their horses testifying to their potential. Overwhelmed, we head back to the bus stop and make our way back to more familiar territory.

Caracoles (snails) are in season. Just a few days before Hay caracoles is written in chalk on the menu boards at cafés and tapas bars. Today, we hunt for more than an hour before we finally find one. Small but very tasty with a Cruzcampos cerveza.

Home for supper and then out again. We encounter masses of people filling the narrow streets near the Plaza Nueva. It is a procession for a saint, the iconic statue held aloft by unseen hands and shoulders. Ablaze in gold, it floats above the heads of the gathered people. No camera!

Rule: Always take a camera everywhere, all of the time!