The Spain v. England soccer game was played in Sevilla on Wednesday night. By sometime late morning, the streets in the center of the city were filled with visitors who had come to support England. I was surprised at how many enthusiastic fans of the opposing team had actually showed up. Walking to and from class, I was not even sure if I was still in Sevilla. Everyone was speaking English. I went to a bar to watch the game. I have always really appreciated how enthusiastic the rest of the world is about soccer. It was fun to watch people getting worked up over the outcome of the game. After the game I went out for drinks with some friends and the night ended well.
After having the same set of directions repeated to me for the fifth or sixth time, I left my apartment to go to the rastrillo. I am not exactly how I would summarize this event, but basically it was a combination craft fair/flea market/festival. My señora suggested that my roommate and I go check it out sometime during the weekend, so on Friday we hopped on a bus and went. The rastrillo was held on three floors of a large hotel. There were so many vendors selling so many different types of goods. On account of the fact that I usually enjoy this kind of thing, I had a great time. It was enjoyable for me to see the craftsmanship of local artisans.
This morning I volunteered five hours of my day repainting the gym of a local elementary school. Painting is tiring, but the end result was worth it, and I had the chance to make a few new Spanish friends in the process. I think it is very important to offer what I can to the community that I am currently living in. Not only do I want to say that I live here, but I want to say that I am a functioning and meaningful part of the community as well. I want to do more than tread on the surface of this culture. I need to swim deep within it. This is something that I spend a lot of my time thinking about. It is no easy task to transplant yourself into a culture that is not your own and be accepted.
After having the same set of directions repeated to me for the fifth or sixth time, I left my apartment to go to the rastrillo. I am not exactly how I would summarize this event, but basically it was a combination craft fair/flea market/festival. My señora suggested that my roommate and I go check it out sometime during the weekend, so on Friday we hopped on a bus and went. The rastrillo was held on three floors of a large hotel. There were so many vendors selling so many different types of goods. On account of the fact that I usually enjoy this kind of thing, I had a great time. It was enjoyable for me to see the craftsmanship of local artisans.
This morning I volunteered five hours of my day repainting the gym of a local elementary school. Painting is tiring, but the end result was worth it, and I had the chance to make a few new Spanish friends in the process. I think it is very important to offer what I can to the community that I am currently living in. Not only do I want to say that I live here, but I want to say that I am a functioning and meaningful part of the community as well. I want to do more than tread on the surface of this culture. I need to swim deep within it. This is something that I spend a lot of my time thinking about. It is no easy task to transplant yourself into a culture that is not your own and be accepted.
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