I Think I'll Go On A Walkabout...

"A walk could cure most all my blues
bare feet or in my two shoes.
I think I'll go on a walkabout
Find out what it's all about."

~Excerpt from "Walkabout" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

(click to enlarge)

What does one do for fun when they have a three day weekend, and a tight budget. Walk. I suppose there are many other things to day, but walking is what I chose.

From the edge of my town, Lerbija, you can see some "mountains" in the distance, I have wanted to go explore a bit, and decided to make a weekend out of it. Well, a fellow teacher recommended that I make it to Arcos de la Frontera. Arcos is in the same direction as the moutain/hills I want to go to so I figured I would B-line it over the hill/mountains and walk to Arcos. I looked at Google maps and such to consult distances and how long to plan for, etc. A professor volunteered to drive me to the next pueblo, El Cuervo, because the walk from here to there is rather boring. Half way between El Cuervo and Arcos, is a small town called Gibalbín. It is at the base of the hill/mountains I was walking towards. Google said that the first half was 16km, the second stretch was 14km. I planned to split it up into two days to take time to read and wander.

So Friday morning I packed up my things and arrived at school. After his class, Juan Viel drove me to the next town. There in El Cuervo I picked up €9 of fruit, bread, cheese and started along the road. Not 10 minutes down the road and someone pulled over asking if I wanted a ride to Arcos, which I turned down because I wanted to walk to see the country side at a slower pace. I was surprised, because I had heard that hitching was difficult in Spain these days. We chatted for a minute or two until the car behind him started honking, he ended up being a good friend of the PE teacher here at El Fontanal, my school.

I continued down the road until I cross there highway, where then started to make my way through the country side, mostly farmland. I ran into one of the owners at a gate and asked if I could pass through. She said no because of the bulls in the fields, it would be too dangerous. But the bulls are in their pens so I walked a little further down the road and jumped the fence when she was gone.

I could see some bulls up ahead and tried to make sure that there weren't more than I knew about. As I was walking up the fence row, in case I needed to get on the otherside quick, I saw a few lumps in the shade. I had seen some lumps early in the distance and when I had passed them made sure they weren't bulls, but I didn't want to assume the same about every lump. So I pulled out my camera and took a picture and then in the preview mode zoomed in to get a be view. I couldn't quite make it out what it/they were. It was then that I saw these tracks. I stood and thought for a moment and couldn't decide if they were bull or not so I figured I better just keep going and make for the fence if the lumps in the distance move. Upon closer examination the lumps were just logs, so no problem there. On I went until the next fence, where I started up a water channel in a vineyard.

I had to duck and run the first bit because there was a farmer in a tractor below. I quickly realized that the countryside was not the fastest route. The brown countryside that I thought would be covered in dead grass was mostly dirt, or at least it was dirt two days before, but it had rained the previous day.

After crossing through the vineyard and another mucky field or two I was considerably closer to the mountains than I thought, and that they didn't seem like mountains at all from the new proximity. They were just hills, but at least they were greener and that meant less mud. I started up the greener fields and found a service road that went to the cell phone towers. I didn't get on the road because I think from that side of the fence there was nothing stopping the bulls from wondering my way. I was walking and heard a vehicle coming up the road. I debated running to a bush or something but it sounded too close, they would probably just see me and be more pissed that I am on their land and trying to hide it. It is better to just claim ignorance. The man asked me where I was going and what I was doing and where I was headed. I couldn't tell whether his response was that I couldn't go that way because a. it was his land and he didn't want me on it, or b. there just isn't a road that goes to the town I was headed to. So he said to turn around and take the road, but at this point I had already invested 2-3 hours walking through the countryside and wasn't going to backtrack. I waited for him to leave and had lunch in an abandoned shack. I continued up the hill and found something that put me both at ease and on edge, a horde of used shotgun shells. 1. Comforting because it meant that people walked there and didn't get gored by bulls. 2. It meant that the people whose land I was trespassing were armed.


Well kept trekking and crossing over the ridge wasn't as easy as excepted. It is not that it was steep or anything, just that I was neck deep in thick Holly-ish-painful bushes, but I wadded through and crossed an Olive grove, and through a field of dead sunflowers until I finally made it to Gibalbín. I arrived in the town around 4:30 and was tired. Kicking the mud off my shoes every 5min will interrupt the flow and joy of walking. I wasn't thrilled with the country route not only because of the mud and torro scares but because it felt dishonest sneaking around hiding from farmers, and I hate dishonesty. I found a bar to rest in a while to think about the weekend. (there aren't really many restaurants, mostly bars that serve tapas)

For €1.50 in Gibalbín you can get a glass of wine, refill you hydration system, refill the ole TP stash, and find out which road goes to Arcos...really the only thing that you have to pay for is the wine. After a good sit and the wine, I felt much more energized and ready to walk some more. Back to the road and I planned to stay the the roads from then on...I think it is fast the trying to walk as the crow flies anyway. The road after Gibalbín was much pretty which is also a great motivator. Well it was nearing 6:30 at that point and sundown is 8:30 so I was starting to look for a place to pitch a tent so that I would have time to read a bit before the light went away, but at the same time I wanted to make it to Arcos in the first day. So I stuck my thumb out and a few cars later I was traveling 100km/hr as opposed to 6km/hr. Curro picked me up and we made it to Arcos in no time. He was very knowledgeable about the trees and wildlife and pointed out what tree was what, all of which was forgotten in a matter of seconds because I can't learn it unless I see it spelled, but cool nonetheless. He is a Geologist in Sevilla, which explains knowing of the name of every tree we passed.




















































Well, he didn't just take me to Arcos but about 20km further, to a campground in a gorgeous area called Algar. I told him how very grateful I was for the lift and he said it was nothing. He was just driving home and didn't mind taking the long way since it had been a while since he had been in that area and it was a beautiful drive. He had been in my same situation before, a poor traveling 20-something, and every country he visited there was always someone willing to go out of their way to show him the best of their country, I suppose the one redeeming thing about patriotism, and they are his examples about how to treat a foreigner. You really couldn't ask for a better first hitching experience. In Algar I walked down to a lake to camp for the night under a cliff. I did a little exploring before sundown and found a lot of what I am sure is natural marble. Super guay.

I stopped in the town of Algar the next morning
and had the cheapest cafe in Spain thus far, €.80. The bar was full of old timers with the sweater vests and wool caps, and then there was me with my frisbee jersey, short athletic shorts and chacos, and my backpack in the corner.

Back on the road I was able to see all of the beautiful things we had driven past the night before but at foot-pace. The area was beautiful. Grazalema, a mountain, was off in the distance, there are fields of sheep, and old timers ridding their bicycles around the roads, it seemed to have more of a Irish feel that Spain.

I walked and walked and walked. I stopped to take pictures of a cow here and there, or the Eucalyptus trees (brought here years ago). Algar is the only area I have seen those. When I got tired I would stop for some avocado on bread, or a plum, or whathaveyou.

Finally I arrived in Arcos de la Frontera, a beautiful small town on the top side of a cliff. I arrived at siesta time so I had to sit and wait a while to get into the tourist center to get a map and a find the nearest cheapest campgrounds. I was directed to the Lagos de Arcos Camping, really close to a lake. I spent the evening reading and drying wet clothes.

The last day, Sunday, I walked up into town in search of the bus station. Curro, my hitching guide, told me to call him because he was going to return to Sevilla that Sunday and that I could ride back if I wanted. I tried calling numerous times but it always said that he was unavailable and to call back another time. I debated walking out to the highway where he found me and waiting until he came by, but by this point I was tired and just wanted to get home. So on the next bus I hoped. Of course, 5 min after leaving, he called and said he was going to be leaving soon if I wanted to come. Oh well, the bus back was only €7.60. So in all my weekend cost me around €20 I think including 2 nights of camping, my meals and 156km. Not too bad.

It wasn't the most eventful of weekends, but that isn't what I was looking for. I was once railed for expressing my opinion that exercise is great for mental health, and happiness, which I still stick to, and the beginning of the week I noticed I was happier and more energetic...however, I am biased and could have been looking for my confirmation. The comment was made to a group of female friends, so suggesting more exercise to girls was maybe not the smartest idea, because the word is inextricably connected to physical fitness and body-image, touchier subjects for women than for men...I could have worded and prepped the thought a lot better, but I am pretty sure it is scientific. I need to find more things to do to keep physically active and now that I am moving to Lebrija, I will have considerably more time. I think that I would like to get a road bike while I am here...I could see a lot more in the same amount of time. Our apartment is right on the edge of town so I could be touring the countryside in a matter of minutes if I decided...perhaps once I start doing the private English lessons I can save up for one.

See the rest of the journey HERE.

More Spanish Graffiti...

You can see the rest HERE.

Isolation surrounded by Community

I finished reading Walking On Water the other day, a non-fiction by Madeleine L'Engle about the relationship between art and faith, the source of creativity, among many other things. There is a quote I really like because I feel the same way, or that I want the same thing. It was this:

"The writer, too, should see work in this way and understand that the building of a novel is also corporate work. The writer at the desk is indeed writing in isolation , but (for me, at least) this isolation must be surrounded by community, be it the community of family, village, church, city."

I have the isolation part down to a science, but I need to find that community here in Sevilla for the year. I have a few friends that are other teachers in the same program, but I don't want to spend all of my time with people of the same age, and similar backgrounds.

I really enjoy the time I have spent with my boss and his wife. They are very kind and generous. They buy my cañas when we go out, and Luciano loaned me the use of his clipper set so that my beard didn't get too unruley. Great people. I think I am going to meet them in a bar tomorrow night to watch the Atlético Madrid vs Real Madrid futbol game.

It is hard to find places to get connected with a language barrier. I think I can get involved in the couchsurfing community, they do more than just couchsurfing. There are groups on the website that you can join and people there are threads on the Sevilla forums for picnics, fish dinners, an outing to see Quemar Despues de Leer, known as "Burn After Reading" back home. Perhaps I can befriend university students as well, we'll see what happens.

My favorite thing about yesterday...

is that for €6,21 i bought:

4 manzanas (apples)

2 ciruelos (plums)

3 naranjas (oranges)

2 kiwis (kiwis)

1 granada (pomegranate)

3 papas blancas (white potatoes)

2 aguacates (avocados)

and

2 limones (lemons)

Yes, when you convert it to dollars it is $8.45, but I am not making dollars

Lagos no ocurrió

This weekend is what the Spanish call an acueducto, a really hell-of-a long weekend, it is obviously referring to the Roman aquaducts that went for miles across Europe. I don't work Fridays and Monday is a holiday. I expect there will be lots of acueductos in the coming year. Due to the closeness of most things in Europe, you can travel almost whereever you desire in a 4-day weekend, money permitting, which mine does not.

The plan was to go to Lagos, Portugal to redeem the one hour of beach experience I have in my life. Better yet I wanted to camp on the beach, because it is cooler and cheap to free depending on the legality of your beach camping. Augusto, my flatmate, Siân (pronoucned Shawn, I was expecting someone oriental when I read the name, but it is Welsh) and Catherine, fellow Auxiliares, and I set out a little late Friday night due to some Latin American timing. We planned on not going straight to Lagos, 2.5hrs, but to take our time and hit a beach in Huelva, only 1.5hrs.

Well the group wasn't particularly outdoorsy and Augusto talked the others into renting a cabin, rather than squeezing everyone in my 2 person tent...I was a bit peeved because I had confidence in my tent's abilities to hold more than the recommended load and I wanted to sleep on the beach...I decided they can have their cabin and I will pay my share, but I am going to sleep on the beach. (the exerience of this weekend started to shed light on my only-child attributes, more later)

We had started the trip knowing that the whole weekend called for rain, but decided what the hell, in four days there is bound to be spots of sunshine and bliss.

After dinner we went down to the beach, it was night and cloudy but the moon was faintly illuminating everything. Augusto brought his bottle of wine and a guitar. There we sat, sea shells at our feet (I have to write very illustratively because I never had a chance to take photos) and we drank some wine, played some songs and told jokes, and by we I of course mean them more than me. I was predictably quite removed from the socializing because I was more interested in watching the waves and the storm in the distance over the water. (I used to feel shame about not being very sociable but have since come to enjoy it about myself and take advantage of it)

A few drops of rain scared us into the tent and the others got bored and tried brain storming what to do next, more jokes, truth or dare, but again I wasn't really a participant, I wanted them to just be quiet so that I could at least listen to the waves if I couldn't see them. It was also during this time that I started reflecting on why the company was not adding to the experience but detracting and that I wished I had just come alone. I remember traveling in Granada and having plenty of fun on my own and other travelers asking if I preferred to travel alone. Yes, I think I do, but, it is more obvious now that it is only my greedy only-child self that doesn't want to compromise and do what others want to do. I had previously been prideful for enjoying traveling alone, and the strength I thought it showed, however, at that moment I was realizing that it was also rooted in my stubbornness, and selfishness...not something to be proud of.

After the rain settled a bit more the others said goodnight and went back to the cabin. I wandered the beach a little bit alone, at peace...and at the same time I was ecstatic, I was having a wonderful time running along the shore running away from the surf when it came in and then chasing it back where it belongs, only to retreat and run away when it came back (alot like the little dog who picks fights with bigger dogs, but cowers when the big dogs show their teeth). It was peaceful, amazing, and terrifying at the same time. I don't know if fear of the sea is something everyone feels or if it is just the first few visits, but seeing that huge span and water, and thinking about the depths it goes to, and the things that live there...not to mention it being nighttime and not a pretty blue horizon, but only black water to be seen, and bolts and lighting in the distance, it was quite menacing...but maybe I'm just a Kansan.

Do you think if we had evolved into sea creatures instead, coming to shore from the opposite end would have the same affect? That seeing all that dry rugged expansive terrain would put our stomachs in knots?...I don't.

So I went back to the tent and lay down to go to sleep to the waves. My eyes had probably been shut for 10-15 minutes, and the black of my eye lids were being more frequently interrupted by flashes. I poked my head out the door to check it out. The gray horizon that I remembered from before was gone, and a blacker one was in its place. The lightning was clearer and I heard thunder for the first time that evening. I jogged my memory about lightning saftey from Camp Eagle and JBU classes. It is kind of fuzzy, I remembered that hills are like instant death and to stay clear of trees, but wide open flat beaches never came up...or at least I didn't think it would be relevant. Well, there was high ground above me where the water had not erroded, so it was more likely to strike there, but I was in a tent with metal poles, so I debated whether they were aluminum(which should be safe), or something else that lightning is better friends with. I decided to observe it for a bit, I couldn't tell if it was coming very fast or not. Then I thought it was best to pray about it. I didn't want to abandon camp so easily, but I also didn't want pride to keep me there, and then be found struck by lightning, drenched, drowned, and prideful on the beach the next day. Well, when I opened my eyes and found that that nasty blackness which was a small portion on the horizon was filling most of my vision(and I am not a long prayer, so it was coming fast), and I decided to pack my things. Thirty seconds into packing my things and a giant wind came and started pushing my tent sideways, so I decided to pick up the pace. The wind felt like gale force, not that I really have the experience to know what that is, but it was really kicking my ass. Here I go into panic mode and decided not to bother packing my things. I ran outside and pulled the steaks, though only found 5/6. I zipped the tent shut and grabbed the whole mess fully assembled and started halling down the beach. Running down a stormy beach is one thing, but running down a stormy beach with all of your things in your tent and the rain-fly still attached (which acts like a giant pairasail) and gale force winds is something entirely different. I got to the stairs and attempted going up them, but my tent kept getting snagged. I finally, get it undone and had to open the big iron gate. It would have been really great if it needed to be opened with the wind and not against it...but it wasn't so. I continued up the trail. When running with your tent in the dark in a panic up a trail you have only come down and never reascended, it is REALLY easy to run past the trail to your campgrounds. So on I ran to the abandoned restaurant that only runs during high season, luckily we had driven by it that night and I knew where the campgrounds were from that spot. I made it to our triangle shaped cabin and knocked on the door. Catherine opening it and the tent and I slipped through about as easily as a baby passing through a birth canal, and just as slippery too...(i know that imagery like that is not necessary, but like I said, I wasn't able to take pictures...)

Inside I explained the aforementioned story and crawled into the attic of the triangle were my bed was waiting. Yes, in the end I ended up sleeping in the comfort of the cabin, but anyone who has seen the cover of the "Perfect Storm" would have done the same.

The next morning I got out of bed and ran straight to the beach (i was already wearing my trunks from the night before, because I planned on doing the same from the tent on the beach). To the beach I ran, it was still gray and cold and cloudy and a little drizzle too but I was going to the swim in the ocean for the second time ever. (the first time was cold and gray and cloudy too, but I live on a peninsula now, and dammit, I will have my comeuppance) First, I ran to the sight of the camp, easy to find because fortunately we had littered our wine bottle from earlier. I palmed through the sand until I found tent steak number 6. I put it in a cluster of clam shells I decided I had to have and went into the water...not to far in, mostly just to the shelf where the waves fall over themselves and let them batter me around a bit. (I had forgotten how salty salt water is....)

After that we packed our things and went to town to talk over the trip and drink cafe con leche. I am writing now from Sevilla because we decided to turn around and use the acueducto for rest and relaxation. Lagos, Portugal can wait until a sunny weekend, and I think I will be going with people who don't mind being beach bandits and sleeping wherever it is free.

On the Road to Find Out

Well, I left my happy home
to see what I could find out.
I left my folk and friends
with the aim to clear my mind out.

Well I hit the rowdy road
and many kinds I met there,
many stories told me
of the way to get there, ooh.

So on and on I go,
the seconds tick the time out,
there's so much left to know,
and I'm on the road to findout, ooh.

Well in the end I'll know,
but on the way I wonder
through descending snow,
and through the frost and thunder,

I listen to the wind come howl,
telling me I have to hurry.
I listen to the robin's song
saying not to worry, ooh.

So on and on I go,
the seconds tick the time out,
there's so much left to know,
and I'm on the road to findout, ooh.

Then I found myself alone,
hoping someone would miss me.
Thinking about my home,
and the last woman to kiss me, kiss me.

But some times you have to moan
when nothing seems to suit yer,
but nevertheless you know
you've locked towards the future, ooh.

So on and on you go,
the seconds tick the time out.
There's so much left to know,
and I'm on the road to findout, ooh.

Then I found my head one day
when I wasn't even trying,
and here I have to say,
'cause there is no use in lying, lying.

Yes the answer lies within,
so why not take a look now,
kick out the devil's sin,
pick up, pick up the good book now, ooh.

Yes the answer lies within,
so why not take a look now
kick out the devil's sin,
and pick up, pick up the good book now, ooh

~lyrics by Cat Stevens




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQ--odAAA1A

Been in Sevilla 2 weeks now.

This weekend marks my second week in Sevilla and I just started "teaching" this week so there is plenty to talk about, but alot has probably been forgotten too.

I arrived 2 weeks ago Saturday and for the first few days I stayed with a wonderful family that I got connected with through couchsurfing. Juán (Spanish) and Anna (Italian) live here in Sevilla and have two kids, León and Linnus. They are probably 6 and 4 but I am terrible with kids and ages.

I mostly recuperated from the previous week of traveling, so I didn't leave the apartment until Monday. Monday marked the start of my search for housing. I made a list of all the hostels in town and tried to hit as many as possible asking if they would give me free housing in exchange for a few hours of work a week. Most of them were really small and family run so they weren't really options. I had seen a flyer online that another hostel in town was doing it, but I had already been in contact with them and they wanted to do it legal, but I would have to go through a lot of hassle to get a work permit (even though I am working now the Auxiiliares de Conversación come on student visas for whatever reason) Even though the day was mostly fruitless I was able to wander most of the city and get acquainted.

Sevilla was talked up alot before I got here, however, after Granada the Euro-pueblo luster was already wearing off, so when I arrived I was kind of tired of that already (apparently my tolerance was really low, I only saw like one old church in Granada). So I am only now starting to appreciate the beauty of Sevilla.

Back to the day in pursuit of free housing. I really enjoyed it. I took my time and wandered aimlessly from here to there. I would take the occasional opportunity to practice my Spanish with some stranger on the streets. I talked to the pastel artist drawing the Giralda, while sitting next to a Flamenco guitar street musician . I tried to chat a bit with the guy who asked me if I was selling porros, joints (maybe I should get the bullcut and a shave as well if I am getting that stereotype.) Lastly, with the fishermen by the river, just the ole "Catch anything today? What is the name of this river? What kind of fish are in it? Do you have any porros?...not really that last one.

Well, Tuesday and Wednesday I pretended to be adult and actually looked at rooms that cost money. This required calling people and asking them if the room was still available...and I had never talked on the telephone in Spanish before, so that was a learning experience. It definitely confirmed that I understand hands and faces alot more than I do the actual Spanish.

Considering that Uni was starting Wednesday and it was the first of the month, all the good apartments were taken. I wasn't to enthusiastic about dragging out the searching process, especially since I was staying with a family, so I had a look at 3 apartments. My options were:

Apart. 1- It took me 1.5hr on bike to get there and find it, so you could call it "remote" if you'd like to beat around the bush. No oven (which is very common here in Spain). There were already dishes piled in the sink and it was kind of dumpy.

Apart. 2- Less than 1km from the family I was staying with, which is quite removed from the heart of town, and not exactly close to the train station. The room was bigger than the first. Definitely the cleanest of the bunch, and it had an oven. The habitants were 1 Peruvian guy, and a girl from Zaragosa (close to Madrid), both seemed very nice, happy, and excited at the chance to learn a little English from their potential roommate.

Apart. 3- Cool neighborhood, closer to the center, closer to the train station, and the price showed it too. However, crap building with small kitchen, no oven. The room was the biggest and even had a small terrace. The roommates were an Italian girl and a British girl.

So I chose Apt. 2, it wasn't that hard of a decision, I want to become fluent so living with non-Spanairds wasn't an option.

So fastforward to this week. Not much important happened in between. Every class this week was the same which got a little boring. The teachers gave the students a worksheet to fill out with information about me-where I'm from, what I like to do, my favorite futbol team and all that. Some classes didn't finish the sheet, some did. The ones that did, offered the unique experience of making up their own questions that aren't on the work sheet. Here is where Spain starts to show its colors. Numerous classes would ask if I smoke and drink. I wasn't used to that frankness, at least not in the teacher/student setting. I would kind of look over at the teacher to get a go ahead and of course it was fine. That isn't to out of the norm, but several classes also asked "Do you smoke Marijuana?" Again, I looked to the teacher to read if this was uncommon, not so much that them asking is unusual, but the fact that you know that the ones who ask are also the ones who do those same things, they are essentially admitting that they do, and want to see if you have that in common. (also helps to add that I teach at Instituto level which is 12-16 year olds) Well, after answering those same kids they would tell me right there in class with the teacher as witness that they love smoking weed, and then the teacher doesn't bat an eye.

Here in Spain, from what I understand, not many laws are unforced very strongly. I think drugs are illegal, however, it is not uncommon to smell reefer from someone sitting next to you at an open bar on the patio, in fact there is hardly a place where you won't smell someone lighting up. And what I have heard from people here is that cops aren't going to bust you for smoking weed, ask you to put it out maybe, they do arrest for selling and buying, or in cases of large quantities, intent to sell. I think the same goes for most drugs except really hard ones, which apparently aren't that popular anyway.

On a similar note. The other night my roommate Augusto and I went to go see Christina Vicky Barcelona, an american movie set in Catalonia, a few provinces over. Anyways, driving back from the movie we get stopped at a random Police search checkpoint. They have us get out of the car and they notice I am not talking (because I don't understand anything they are saying), one officer asks me "¿Eres rumano?", "No, estadounidense." I reply, and suddenly he gets cool and tells us to go on our way. He had asked me if I was Romanian, one of the crazy gypsies.

There is a neighborhood called Tres mil viviendos, which is completely gypsy/Romanian. You hear the craziest stuff about them, and I believe it all. Everyone sternly tells you to stay the hell away from it. The boyfriend of the girl I share a flat with was telling me that if you go there, at knifepoint, they will steal the shoes off your feet, your pants, your shirt, they will even take the thoughts out of your head.

The latest warning I got was today, from a co-worker. I was told that if you are getting close, you know it right away. You can see the barrel fires at night and hear the singing and guitar playing (he also said they are predominantly Evangelical...because that meshed best with their love for singing and dancing).
Other things I have heard:

They have stripped all of the elevators out of Las Tres Mil because they sell metal for scrap.

Their donkeys are kept indoors, and you can see them through the windows if you drive by.

It is apart of their religion/folklore to always live in a tent, so they all have tents setup inside of their houses.

Also, apparently they have the truest Flamenco, and that is the only place were Flamenco is true.

Anyway, so when I wasn't Romanian the cops brushed us along. When we got in the car I explained to Augusto that I was really nervous that they would give us hell about the almost empty beer can in the cup holder in the car (we were in a hurry on the way to the theater so I just brought it with me, so what?). He laughed at me, "Of course the cops don't care about the open container, it's Spain."

Lastly, today I was having cañas in the Plaza Alameda de Hercules with the Bilingual director from my school and his wife around lunch (there isn't really a time when Spaniards don't drink beer). We got on the subject of theft, and how Sevilla is supposed to be the worst, most particularly when it comes to bikes. Then he said that I had to check out this TV show called Intermedio on every night. They set up a hidden camera on an unlocked bike in two Spanish cities and compete to see which gets stolen first. Well it just so happens that tonight I was telling my flatmate about it so she turned on the TV even, though I thought it was too late. Who were the cities of the night? None other than Malaga vs. my very own Sevilla, and where was their location of choice, but the Plaza Alameda de Hercules where I was dining that afternoon...well needless to say Sevilla won.