When in Spain, do as the Spaniards do

It seems like weeks have passed since our visit to Seville even though in reality it's only been one. We pack so much into our days in a mad dash to not leave behind a single thing we might need that ultimately we come away with three or four bursting suitcases of stories to untangle once we arrive back home.

 

The second and final day in Seville was spent leisurely sipping tinto de verano (red wine and Fanta, certainly something worth replicating back home for lazy mornings, afternoons, and/or evenings) and trying out such fanciful dishes as bull tail. That night we teamed up with the rest of our hostel-mates and enjoyed a tapas dinner and pub crawl.

 

Let me start by saying that this is not your grandparents pub crawl, unless they're in the habit of returning gleefully home at six, seven, eight o'clock in the morning - a concept most Americans seemed to struggle with both physically and mentally. I was speaking to a girl from Tunisia who lived in France and was now going to university in Spain (attempting to use languages from all three) about the embarrassment and difficulty suffered when bringing young Americans out to party, but she said fortunately most opt to stumble home around two or three in the morning, which is when the fun, for me at least, really began due mainly to an increase in the willingness to dance salsa. Being spun around and dipped by Spaniards rivals taking classes with the ever-talented and smooth Yves back home in Richmond. 

 

The bus back to Cadiz departed at 0700, which was terribly convenient timing after wearily coming back to the hostel at 0600 and catching a taxi under the sunrise. Knowing we would miss breakfast on the ship, we were devastated to discover that the Burger King in port sacrilegiously did not serve breakfast and were forced to drag our feet through the streets to find churros and chocolate sauce. 

 

The next day (our only day off between Cadiz and Casablanca) was spent sleeping through seminars and debriefings and having lunch on deck as we simultaneously looked out over Gibraltar and Morocco. Success? Methinks so.