Everything looks familiar.
A pigeon pooped on me.
Seeing couples making out at the park doesn't phase me.
I didn't get lost on the way to the convent. Or on the way to the park.
The other day I was sprawled out on my bed, gazing up at the northwest corner of my room, and I thought to myself, "I feel at home."
I am a member of Club Día, which means I have a little tag on my keychain that gives me discounts at my favorite grocery store.
When I travel, it's easier to say "go home" instead of "go back to Sevilla."
I have been here two months, and I have two months left.
I suddenly realized I have hardly blogged about Sevilla, because it feels like just routine.
I can maneuver the sidewalks at rush hour.
I am hosting a guest: Alissa!
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2 comments:
Glad to hear you feeling acclimated, yet missing you from our home. Although we don't see many pidgeons, remember that you can lay under the wires by the pine trees and listen to mourning doves cooing above!
My 6th grade band is playing "The Barber of Seville". They know Sevilla (two Ls make a Y sound) is in Spain, but Rossini was Italian. And that you're there for the semester. Anything else they should know about the real Sevilla?
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