My Señora and I

I wish I had known about blogs when I was living in Sevilla in southern Spain. Living in a host mother was one of the more interesting experiences ever. I could write a book about my time there. She was such an unconventional Spanish woman and not the best cook I've ever met. She had this distorted concept of the period of time in which food remains suitable for human consumption. A couple of months ago I decided I was going to write a book, but didn't get very far. The excerpt below is about when I first arrived at my host mother's apartment and is in fact all I've written for this so-called book titled My Señora and I:The Tales of a Vegetarian Abroad

Chapter 1: Triana

Triana. Tri-an-na. I loved the way the word rolled off the tip of my tongue. Triana: Seville’s most famous barrio whose corners and sidewalks burst with untold stories riddled with sailors, gypsies, pirates and dance. The third floor of an apartment building on one of those lively corners of Triana belonged to my señora- my host mother for the next six months. I guessed I wouldn’t be living with a young couple after all, just a señora who, according to my study abroad student handbook, would most likely be an older woman who lived alone and rented out her extra room(s) in exchange for some friendly company during mealtimes. I would soon find out that my señora was none of those things. Little did I know that young people, let alone young married couples, are actually outnumbered by senior citizens in Seville and that I would soon find myself spending many an afternoon zigzagging at various speeds from side to side on sidewalks throughout the city in an attempt to avoid an early death caused by a low velocity collision with one of its senior citizens.

After the taxi driver rid himself of my luggage and left me alone in front of building no. 3, I took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer to what I thought was apartment 2A. No answer. I pressed it again and still no answer. “Great,” I thought outloud, “my first day in Triana and I’m going to have to spend it out on the sidewalk with all of my luggage, waiting for a pirate with a patch over his eye to appear and steal my stuff ”. I pulled out my cell phone and decided to give her ring to make sure it wasn’t just that she hadn’t heard the doorbell. “Hello?” said the voice on the other end. She sounded too young to be the older woman I had imagined. “Hi, it’s Adrianna… the new student” I replied in Spanish, “I pressed the buzzer but I didn’t get an answer, I’m downstairs”. I had buzzed the wrong apartment apparently.

After what seemed like ages spent lugging my suitcase up two flights of stairs while she struggled with the weight and I struggled to keep myself from falling backwards under the weight of my hiking pack, we sat down in my new living room with a glass of water, exchanging awkward glances with our curious eyes. She proceeded to tell me about herself, a story which I only half remember because she told me her whole life story in 5 minutes. She had studied some form of law, had a part-time job working for the University of Seville and hadn’t the slightest idea what a vegetarian was. Even though my heart literally sank to the floor upon hearing that, I tried to give the impression that it didn’t bother me in the slightest because after all, studying abroad in one of Spain’s most historic and culturally rich cities was supposed to be a learning experience- for both of us. She even had a surprise for me, a welcome dinner complete with a seafood rice dish, a cheese plate and a hearty salad made especially for me. As we sat down to eat lunch, the biggest meal of the day in Spain, I figured now was as good as any other time to bring up the fact that being vegetarian meant that I wouldn’t be eating any cooked animals starting with her seafood rice with shrimp that still had their heads attached. She looked at me with a disheartened look across her face as she told me that no one had informed her that I was vegetarian and that she usually didn’t cook seafood rice, but had made is especially for me. Just this once, I decided to put my morals aside and spare this poor woman her dignity. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just pick the seafood out and eat the rice. I’m sure the rice is just as delicious!” I said through a smile as my stomach prepared itself for the worst. I would just ignore those little black eyes peering at me from my heaping plate.
-end-

This is actually one of my better dinner experiences.