Breaking it down

The apartment
I live in an apartment complex with a pool. I went for a swim today with Ben, my American roommate. Kids were playing with beach balls while. The little ones had these life jackets that were just precious. I can only describe them as cylindrical inflatables on their backs. Inside the apartment, there is enough space for the four of us: the housemother, her 28-year-old son Carlos, Ben and I. The mother, Myriam, I think is about 60 years old. She’s fantastic. There aren’t many rules beyond using as little electricity and water as possible (not overusing the fan, turning off lights when leaving the room, taking short showers). We can stay out as late as we want. In fact, she went out for a while last night. We have to speak to her in Spanish, but of course, we want to, and she’s pretty easy to understand. We see Carlos for lunch, but not much more than that. He has a girlfriend and leaves for work early during the week. He works with computers and, more specifically, the Internet. He tried to configure Internet for us at home, but no luck.

The room
I live in a room smaller than my double at Ithaca freshman year. Still, it’s enough for myself and Ben and our stuff, which is more or less anything I could fit into two oversized suitcases and two carry-on bags. There’s no air conditioning, and so we sleep ontop of the beds. The fan helps, and we’ve adapted.

The food
I’m eating more than usual. Myriam offered us breakfast at 12:30 p.m., but with a big lunch in a couple of hours, we waited. There are three solid meals. Breakfast is usually toast and croissants with a chocolate spread or fruit jam. Lunch is around 2:30 p.m., when all of the shops are closed for a few hours for “siesta,” which is basically a rest period. More on that another time. Lunch is two plates. Today it was salad and then chicken with rice. I don’t know what everything is, but I’m giving everything a shot and I’ve liked almost everything we’ve had to eat here. This is easily one of the perks of living in a home, not having to go out or pay for meals every day. We had sandwiches and kiwi for dinner tonight. Basically, an American dinner is a Spanish lunch and vice versa.

Spanish
The language barrier is not that bad. Ben and I talk Spanish almost all the time, which helps us both practice understanding and expressing ourselves. I understand Myriam and Carlos pretty well, but the average person on the street is much more difficult. People in the south of Spain (Seville included) speak a broken Spanish. They drop the consonants at the end of words, use a “th” sound for “d,” “c” and some other sounds. They cut off the beginning of some words, but it really doesn’t make it much more difficult to understand. It’s the speed and the vocabulary that are the most challenging. Speaking is another story. I’ve learned that my Spanish can get me pretty far. I’m thinking in Spanish when I’m not doing something in English, so that’s a definite positive.

It’s getting late and I need to be up early for the first day of classes tomorrow. I will post when I can, so check back later this week. Bedtime.