Alive and online!

We made it, though the journey was not without its trials. But I'll get to the complaining later.

Seville is wonderful. It has been 70 degrees and sunny everyday so far and I didn't realize until our first day here that I'd forgotten what the sun felt like. It's true what people say about Seville being what you imagine Spain, and Europe in general, to be like. Narrow cobblestone streets taken over by Vespas and tiny cars, Old World architecture at every turn, and café, after café, after café, after café... I wonder if I'll get sick of the constant beauty.

Of course, it isn't all roses. People don't know how to pick up after their dogs and there is a lot of construction going on at the moment, so in parts it's not as nice as it will be. Our apartment--which is above a marijuana shop, hilariously--is in a great area that's slightly urban and less touristy, which only makes us feel more like tourists when we walk into one of the many tapas bars that line the Alameda de Hercules. (P.S. I've already succumbed to a small piece of jamón.)

So far we've managed to get our wants and needs across in Spanish pretty well; though I hate to say it, not many people speak English, like I expected. (Hoped?) When I think about being here for three months, I admit it's a little daunting, but I'm sure that will change once we get a better grasp on our surroundings. (It took us about a half hour today to find a supermarket in the basement of a department store, an odd pairing in itself.)

So, on to the complaining... As I mentioned, getting here was no picnic. First, my bank denied me access to my accounts, even though I called and said I'd be traveling abroad. Jay already had withdrawn the maximum his bank allowed, so, until I was able to call to correct the mistake, we traveled through Spain like little paupers, debating whether we should dip into rent money in order to eat. A quandary for sure, but not an unfamiliar scenario for anyone who lives in New York.

Our experience with the high-speed Avé train immediately made me miss New York (N.B. to our visitors: Sometime soon I'll post pointers so that you won't have to go through what we did). We arrived at Atocha Station at 1:30 p.m., hoping to catch the 2 p.m. train to Seville. To say the tellers operate at a snail's pace is being kind; it was almost a full hour before we got our tickets, leaving us to wait for the 4 p.m. train and kill time in the rain forest-like train station, with no money to burn.

In addition to all this, my luggage handle was broken, which made for all-around navigational awkwardness. We also hadn't showered or brushed our teeth in 24 hours and looked like it. We were so tired, both of us fell asleep for most of the two-and-half hour ride on the Avé, though I managed to catch glimpses of the Spanish countryside, with all of its olive groves and orange trees.

My day-three assessment: I get the feeling that just when I start to get a handle on things, it's going to be time leave.

(I do have a photos for you, but it turns out the Internet connection we're using has its limitations, so I may need to head to an Internet café to get these online. TBD.)