Okay, so when we got here, we were told to keep maps with us at all times and to not travel alone. Simple enough, even logical. Did I listen to these directions… No. Why? because the little voice in my head said we could do it without a map or a buddy, as soon as things started feeling familiar-ish.

Going into my second week in Sevilla, I decided that I no longer needed a map because I knew my way home. So there I was headed home, when I realized I had been walking 4x longer than I normally do. This was the first indication that perhaps I wasn’t quite as familiar with the area as I thought I was. Shocking… not really. Sevilla isn’t a gridded city by any means. I’m pretty sure someone was drawing plans for a labyrinth way back when and someone else said “Lets make that into a city. We’ll call it Sevilla.” Another fun fact, all the streets kind of look like this…

Or this…

“That’s nice.” you might be thinking, but alas it is not. They all look a little bit the same and a little bit different at the same time. With balconies everywhere on buildings that all stand at about the same height, distinguishing one street from the other isn’t a simple task. They are also capable of looking like completely different streets if you walk down them the opposite way. (tilt your head to the left for that picture)

So there I was wondering about at an inconvenient hour taking turns that I was sure were getting me back to my home stay. This is also where I went wrong. I should have backtracked as soon as I realized what I did… but of course I didn’t do that. I was completely wrong about these turns because it takes a while to develop a sense of direction around here. I think it has something to do with the fact that the roads curve, but it seems so slight when you’re walking on them that you’re pretty much oblivious to that important little fact until after a few weeks of living here. 

All of these fun factors resulted in my standing by a large roadway (a place I had never been before and I’m sure could never find again). As I stood there, contemplating my inability to follow directions and just how uncomfortable it would be to have to sleep on a bench, I decided to check my phone one last time. It was dead, but sometimes you can get it to turn on for a couple of minutes and that’s exactly what I was hoping to do. I had no such luck. I considered asking for directions, but in yellow dim lighting everyone kind of starts to look like a mugger so I refrained from that option. Also, I felt like alerting people that I was a lost tourist, was kind of like asking them to take my wallet. We were told about 8 times to not look lost if indeed we were lost. I guess lost people get mugged more… I don’t know. Seeing as how disregarding advice was what got me into this situation, I felt compelled to follow that piece of instruction. I’m not sure how many natives of Seville stand around staring at roadways for lengthy periods of time, but I definitely would have blended with that crowd.

I eventually ended up deciding that if I kept wondering I would have to stumble upon something I recognized like Las Setas (a huge piece of architecture in the middle of Seville). I kept walking (for a long long time) taking turns here and there. On one street, I walked by a large dumpster and a piece of graffiti scribbled on the wall that surrounded a park. I stopped and stared at it. I had never, in my life, been so happy to see graffiti and a dumpster. I turned around and from that angle it all looked familiar. I had literally just passed my door. I pulled my keys from my pocket and ran to it. That was quite enough exploring for one night.

After about two more incidents (not quite as dramatic as the one described) where I got home much later than I had told my host mom I would be there, she figured it out. She would draw the straightest route possible to places on my map, before letting me go. I wasn’t going to fight her on this one. I didn’t trust my sense of direction either. And now my map of Sevilla has lines like this on it…

1. Everything looks 10x more malevolent when it’s getting dark and you’re lost

2. Don’t listen to the little voice inside your head that says “Psht maps are for chumps.” BE A CHUMP.

3. Take a buddy. Exploring (a.k.a. getting lost) is significantly less creepy when there is someone else there. OR take a cellphone that actually has a charge… otherwise you’re just holding some dead weight. 

4. Carrying a map never hurt anyone.

Except thats not what happened. Plot twist time.

After an excruciating ride in absolute silence, during which the driver and I played eye tag through the rear view mirror… because I had nothing better to do and looking out the window was nauseating as he drove rather quickly, he finally pulled over. He unloaded my things and then said in perfect English that my host mom lives in that building. He then proceeded to raise his arm in a general direction that I wasn’t looking in. Of course, I asked him to repeat himself. How awkward would it be to show up at the wrong home stay… you know what I’m saying? He then proceed to raise his arm in a different direction.

Something tells me she didn’t move in the last ten seconds… so the suspicion set in. Also he allowed for the longest awkward silence known to man, when he can speak English. Let’s just add that to the list of things that wasn’t right about this situation.

Fun fact about Seville, Spain is that street signs aren’t a thing. I didn’t know that. I called my host mom to let her know I was outside. She speaks absolutely no English (I found that out within 3 seconds of her answering the phone) so we had quite a time communicating. In very very broken Spanish I told her I was outside of her building. She then proceed to speak very quickly and I had no idea what she was saying. This frustrated her just like it frustrated me. It sounded like she then proceed to yell “WHERE WERE YOU BORN?” in Spanish about five times. Well, that led me to the conclusion that my Spanish skills were somewhere close to nonexistent because that’s definitely not what she was saying. The phone called then died and she was gone. I started to suspect that maybe this wasn’t the place I needed to be. Call it intuition or the fact that nothing in this area looked remotely like the pictures.

I confirmed that I wasn’t on the street I needed to be on after speaking with 3 young women and 1 elderly couple. (Thankfully they were all patient with my speaking skills AND they were all people I was certain I would be able to outrun, if things took a turn for the worst). I also learned through these interactions that street names are written on the buildings, a handy thing to know. 

The elderly couple informed me that street was in fact quite a while away. They spent quite a bit of time with me, most of it spent trying to explain the bus system. That was rough. When I finally had a general understanding of how to get where I was going the couple let me to get to it. I checked my phone on the way to bus stop and found that I had a missed called from a number I didn’t know. I called back. Oh my! English never sounded so good! It was the emergency number for my program. My host mom called because she thought something happened to me… A reasonable assumption. I was about 3 hours late and it was getting dark out. 

I was picked up by the bilingual person from the airport and taken to my home stay. Everyone a part of the program was apologizing over and over again. 

I was smiling like someone gave me a car. It became funny as soon as I knew that I wasn’t going to die. 

I arrived at my home stay and Ana, the woman I’m saying with, screamed “My child!” in Spanish and kissed me about 8 times on the cheek as soon as I got through the door. It was strange to think a woman that never met me could actually be that concerned. She restored my hopes in this trip would not be a complete wash. 

As much as I was questioning my decision to come here, when I was standing on the side of the road with all my luggage in a foreign country with almost no speaking skills, I wasn’t after I got to my home stay. From that point on it was just an awkward situation…  an adventure really. The kinds of people that will take advantage of someone, exist in every country. I unfortunately ran into one of these people within 20 minutes of arriving. It doesn’t mean everyone is like that. All I learned from this experience was to trust my gut (this is a Gibbs moment). I knew something was wrong about that situation, but I didn’t do anything. I attributed my feelings to a language barrier. Well I know now that instincts bypass linguistic setbacks. 

I am not smarter my instincts. 

I also realized that first week and all the things I got to see were well worth the taxi mishap.

Flamenco.

p.s. I don’t know why it’s sideways.

                                                               Or the Plaza de Espa�a 

Or dinner on top of the Mushroom (It’s literally called the mushroom, only they say it in Spanish of course)

                                                                                  There was an amazing view of the city                                                                                          from the top of the Mushroom.

Worth every awkward minute my conversations with those strangers.