The above video is a decent summary of my first few days in Sevilla– frenetic and rough around the edges.

Which is not to say it wasn’t a great decision.  But in introducing myself on The 195, I remember considering this fall as an educational opportunity to improve my Spanish speaking abilities, with space for a bizarre version of “Fear and Loathing” in various European locales.

Surprisingly, the easiest part of the whole experience has been speaking Spanish.  Factoring in jetlag, lack of sleep, and the general disorientation that comes with beginning a (temporary) life in another country, I’m surprisingly able to articulate myself.  I only really become incoherent when I have to use some tough combination of verb tenses, but hey–that’s what you get for learning English without paying attention to the way the language actually works.

For a New Yorker like me, Sevilla has been a confusing city.  Much of the streets near me exist for about 100 meters (the size of a football field, for all you English system-loving fans out there), and then end abruptly at a tapas bar.  Or worse–change names three or four times before you reach your destination.  Its the thing that makes Europe so romantically adorable to your average tourist–alleyways and narrow sidewalks–but makes it easy to look stupid when you have to be somewhere with your body still functioning on Eastern time.

Though I feel like I’m getting the hang of it now, the first few days living in a homestay had been similarly rough around the edges.  With a limited means of expressing thanks, problems, or anything else, it felt for a while as if I took two steps back each time my Spanish took a step forward.  I would praise the deliciousness of the food, only to be told to clean my room (to be fair, I had just unpacked my suitcase and my clothes were sitting on the floor, neatly folded–I guess the limited space in the house is at a premium, even when it’s technically mine to use for the next few months).  Forgetting simple courtesies, which is usually my stength, feels more essential to making a good impression than it might otherwise be.  But then again, I’m American–if I pronounce my double l’s and don’t make too much noise, I think Spaniards consider that a decent first try.

The video also has two important implications:

1) Expect more of it.  Assuming I don’t have to cop the “Barber of Seville” theme on my guitar every time, the music will seem more appropriate.  And I don’t think I can do Sevilla justice, in terms of how beautiful its scenery actually is, quite as well as my camera can.

2) This place is pretty good-looking.  To say the least–it’s got architecture that’s centuries old, and the University took the place of an old tobacco factory.  But you wouldn’t know it–apparently, una fábrica de cigarillos, means “palacial” in English.

Oh, and I’m living with a dog for the first time, interestingly named Blackie (though I wish it was spelled Blaquí).  Please excuse the non-dog-owning only child in me for now.