How many times have I been here?
Current mood: content
I´m in Sevilla, at the house. Finally.
Let me tell you a little story--
My flights were perfect. Even the LA to London flight sitting next to the beautiful Indian woman in the gorgeous sari--who had such bad BO I thought I was in Africa again. I got to London, and since my bag was checked through from SD to Sevilla (very unusual and I was a little suspicious), I went straight to the Iberia counter to check in for my flight to Sevilla. The girl told me that I was very late for the flight that was leaving in 5 minutes. She called and told them to hold my bag and for me to run and try to catch it. They wouldn´t wait for me, but maybe I´d have a chance to get on. And if I got on, then my bag would to. No Alisa, no bag. Right.
Alisa in Sevilla, no bag in Sevilla. Of course. No problem, since I always bring clean underwear, my eyes and toothbrush in my carry-on. No one was at the airport to get me, no big surprise there. So I thought I´d just change some dollars for euros and take the bus to the house. No change office at the Sevilla airport. Oh, wait, there was one in LAX when I passed through, but it was closed. And there were certainly several in London Heathrow, but I had to RUN from one flight to the next. So what is a girl to do? I know, I´ll buy a phone card at a newspaper stand at the airport and call the house and maybe someone will fetch me. But Sevilla airport is not too big and there is no newspaper stand. OK, I can use my credit card to make the phone call, the payphone says it takes Visa. No, that card is not working at this time. OK. Think....
I went outside to the taxi stand and begged the taxi drive to take me, even though I had not one euro. I told him I´d pay him in dollars, which he wasn´t impressed with (that´s right, the euro totally outvalues the dollar, stupid American), so I told him he could take me to an automatic box. (The phrase here would be automatic teller machine, ATM). But box worked and he agreed. So we go zipping through Sevilla, I get some euros from an ATM, pay the guy and am delighted to be at my house around 10pm. I ring the intercom, no one answers. Of course. But maybe the intercom was broken, it was testy last time I was here and Paz has been on a no home improvement plan, so now that I have some euros I´ll just go to the newspaper stand on the corner and buy a phonecard. No problem, except that they don´t sell those at the stand anymore, I´d have to go to the "Chinos" (which is the Dollar Store, now owned by some Chinese), which, of course, is closed. So I sit in front of the house thinking that someone would have to show up eventually. Isn´t Paz a workaholic who never comes home from work before 10pm? She´ll just let me in when she gets here.
11pm and I´m feeling a little desperate. I saw some American girls and asked them how to use the payphone. They looked at me kindly and told me to go into the bar and get change for the phone. Change? I thought the payphones only took phonecards now. Oh no, just some of them. Fine. Go into the bar, get change for the phone, call. Maria answers "Alisa, where the hell are you? We´ve been so worried, it´s so late, we even tried to call the airline." Me, "Maria, I´m downstairs. I´ve been here for over an hour. No one answered the intercome." "Then why haven´t you phoned earlier?" "Because I´m an idiot and don´t know how to use a payphone. Now would you please stop yelling at me and come and open the door for me?"
Everyone is fine, fantastic, the girls look exactly the same and Paz looks even younger than before. She served me an icy cup of her delicious gazpacho the minute I walked in, then made my favorite tortilla de patata (potato omlette) with sliced tomatos on the side. Because she loves me.
Now I´m waiting for my bag to come. Paz washed my clothes for me last night so I have something on when I open the door. We had to call the airline to tell them to call the house when they are downstairs because the intercom doesn´t work. Sure, they said, they´ll just get one of the neighbors to open the door. Right. And did I mention that the doorbell to the house doesn´t work either? Remember Paz´s no improvement plan (ugly divorce drama).
Now it´s morning, I´ve had my coffee, I´m about to eat my bread with tomatoes and olive oil, waiting for my bag. I´ll see Jason later, we´re all going out to dinner. Oh yeah, he called last night like I told him to. Paula, who hates speaking English tried to tell him that I wasn´t there yet, but was he coming for dinner? Poor Jason. He missed out on the excellent gazpacho.
So today is the real first day of being here. Nothing changes, nothing stays the same except my family is still my family and this house is still my home.
I´m in Sevilla, at the house. Finally.
Let me tell you a little story--
My flights were perfect. Even the LA to London flight sitting next to the beautiful Indian woman in the gorgeous sari--who had such bad BO I thought I was in Africa again. I got to London, and since my bag was checked through from SD to Sevilla (very unusual and I was a little suspicious), I went straight to the Iberia counter to check in for my flight to Sevilla. The girl told me that I was very late for the flight that was leaving in 5 minutes. She called and told them to hold my bag and for me to run and try to catch it. They wouldn´t wait for me, but maybe I´d have a chance to get on. And if I got on, then my bag would to. No Alisa, no bag. Right.
Alisa in Sevilla, no bag in Sevilla. Of course. No problem, since I always bring clean underwear, my eyes and toothbrush in my carry-on. No one was at the airport to get me, no big surprise there. So I thought I´d just change some dollars for euros and take the bus to the house. No change office at the Sevilla airport. Oh, wait, there was one in LAX when I passed through, but it was closed. And there were certainly several in London Heathrow, but I had to RUN from one flight to the next. So what is a girl to do? I know, I´ll buy a phone card at a newspaper stand at the airport and call the house and maybe someone will fetch me. But Sevilla airport is not too big and there is no newspaper stand. OK, I can use my credit card to make the phone call, the payphone says it takes Visa. No, that card is not working at this time. OK. Think....
I went outside to the taxi stand and begged the taxi drive to take me, even though I had not one euro. I told him I´d pay him in dollars, which he wasn´t impressed with (that´s right, the euro totally outvalues the dollar, stupid American), so I told him he could take me to an automatic box. (The phrase here would be automatic teller machine, ATM). But box worked and he agreed. So we go zipping through Sevilla, I get some euros from an ATM, pay the guy and am delighted to be at my house around 10pm. I ring the intercom, no one answers. Of course. But maybe the intercom was broken, it was testy last time I was here and Paz has been on a no home improvement plan, so now that I have some euros I´ll just go to the newspaper stand on the corner and buy a phonecard. No problem, except that they don´t sell those at the stand anymore, I´d have to go to the "Chinos" (which is the Dollar Store, now owned by some Chinese), which, of course, is closed. So I sit in front of the house thinking that someone would have to show up eventually. Isn´t Paz a workaholic who never comes home from work before 10pm? She´ll just let me in when she gets here.
11pm and I´m feeling a little desperate. I saw some American girls and asked them how to use the payphone. They looked at me kindly and told me to go into the bar and get change for the phone. Change? I thought the payphones only took phonecards now. Oh no, just some of them. Fine. Go into the bar, get change for the phone, call. Maria answers "Alisa, where the hell are you? We´ve been so worried, it´s so late, we even tried to call the airline." Me, "Maria, I´m downstairs. I´ve been here for over an hour. No one answered the intercome." "Then why haven´t you phoned earlier?" "Because I´m an idiot and don´t know how to use a payphone. Now would you please stop yelling at me and come and open the door for me?"
Everyone is fine, fantastic, the girls look exactly the same and Paz looks even younger than before. She served me an icy cup of her delicious gazpacho the minute I walked in, then made my favorite tortilla de patata (potato omlette) with sliced tomatos on the side. Because she loves me.
Now I´m waiting for my bag to come. Paz washed my clothes for me last night so I have something on when I open the door. We had to call the airline to tell them to call the house when they are downstairs because the intercom doesn´t work. Sure, they said, they´ll just get one of the neighbors to open the door. Right. And did I mention that the doorbell to the house doesn´t work either? Remember Paz´s no improvement plan (ugly divorce drama).
Now it´s morning, I´ve had my coffee, I´m about to eat my bread with tomatoes and olive oil, waiting for my bag. I´ll see Jason later, we´re all going out to dinner. Oh yeah, he called last night like I told him to. Paula, who hates speaking English tried to tell him that I wasn´t there yet, but was he coming for dinner? Poor Jason. He missed out on the excellent gazpacho.
So today is the real first day of being here. Nothing changes, nothing stays the same except my family is still my family and this house is still my home.
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