I think that most often the hardest things in life are the ones you don’t expect to be hard. They start off good and lull you into a false sense of security. That was how Sevilla was for me.
I woke up Friday morning with plenty of time to get to the train station where we departed for Sevilla. This time I remembered the bocadillos that my host mom packed me. I even was able to fit all of my weekend things into my backpack sparing myself a suitcase.
When we first got to Sevilla we had to meet the owner of the apartment we were staying in. We rented it through AirBNB, which if you haven’t heard is one of the most popular and cheapest new ways to travel within Europe. It’s more for traveling in groups, because splitting the cost is what makes it so cheap, but if you can do it I recommend it. You rent through a private owner who provides towels, clean sheets, privacy, a separate key, etc. It’s just more comfortable than a hostel and the price comes out comparable. We paid 15 euros each a night for two nights, and most hostels are between 15-25.
After we were all settled we explored the main street in Sevilla, Avenida Constitución, which is lined with palm trees and has a tramcar running through it. It felt like a smaller, quainter Madrid to me and was reminiscent of Key West with its Cuban influences. We explored the Cathedral, more specifically, Catedral de Santa María de la Sede de Sevilla. It’s probably one of the most historically rich cathedrals I’ve been in. It contains the tomb of Christopher Columbus, here called Cristobal Colón, as well as art in the Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque styles from it’s various designers. We climbed the bell tower, La Giralda, to see the famous views of Sevilla.
The rest of the day was spent exploring. We walked down by the river, El Río Guadalquivir, which is populated by runners, bikers, and dog walkers. The sunset over the river was incredible and reminded me how much I love cities on water. Madrid deprives me a little of that. We also went to the famous Plaza de España, which is too beautiful to feel real. It features a Venice-like moat around that plaza with rowboats as well as various bridges connecting the plaza to the building surrounding it. If I had to say there’s one place you must to see in Sevilla it’s the Plaza de España.
Plaza de España
We met up with a friend of one of the girls I was traveling with. Her friend was studying abroad in Sevilla and already knew the best places to go. We accompanied her out to the bar, but I think all of us were too tired to enjoy it so we went home early. You’re probably wondering where the hard part comes in.
When we got back to the AirBNB my mom had texted me and wanted to talk, but I pushed it off to the morning, She said she’d call me at 10am, my time, which is 3am her time. So I thought something might be wrong, but I had a feeling she had just found cheap tickets to come visit me and wanted to confirm the dates with me and book right away.
She called me on my U.S. phone the next morning at 10am, a call which probably cost several dollars. She paused for a moment and then, her voice trembling, told me that my father had passed away from a seizure. I stood in front of my friends shaking and crying. I couldn’t get it out right away and just let me face burn hot with shock. I hate crying in front of people and felt that everyone was just watching my reaction. When I finally spit it out they were very supportive, but of course I wasn’t ready to be consoled.
I needed to go back to the United States, but I couldn’t get back until Monday without paying a lot of money and traveling all alone, so my mom and I decided I would stick it out in Sevilla until Sunday and then I would return to Madrid and fly out on Monday.
The rest of the trip became a game of me trying to distract myself. I still tried to tour. We saw El Alcázar, which is like the La Alhambra of Sevilla, a Moorish castle, but if I’m being honest I hated most of it. Nothing felt like it mattered, which is a shame because I think I really liked Sevilla. I knew the loss of my father wasn’t going to hit me until I was home, but always in the back of my mind was the general feeling of shittiness and that none of this was real.
Sunday we left on the train and were home by 5, but that train ride, only 2.5 hours, felt immense. I made the mistake of listening to sad music, and I mostly just tried not to make too loud of crying noises the whole time. I was dreading telling my host mom, who I knew would want to coddle me. But I didn’t want to be coddled, I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to stare comatose at the wall in my room. Instead, I had to wake up early, take two trains to the airport by myself, check-in by myself, sit on a 9 hour flight all to get home.
My Dad and I
I stayed in the United States for 9 days. I don’t particularly want to write about that time, it’s too raw and personal. All I want to say now is that I am back in Madrid, I’m terribly behind in schoolwork, but I’m going to try to readjust and make the most of the time I have left. I’m going to visit all the places my dad never got to see, because that’s really what travel is: a race against the clock to experience the world in your limited time. There are days when I want to stay in bed, but I’m going to surround myself with good people, good food, and beautiful sights because I know that’s what he would have wanted me to do.
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That was an absolutely beautiful story and tribute to your father. Do enjoy the rest of your semester; that is what your father would have wanted.