So recently, a bit has happened. All my data on my phone got deleted, and I met up with a friend I haven’t spoken to in years. We were talking about what we had done over the last spring break, and she told me about her great volunteer work, and I told her about how I emerged myself in Spain’s culture. My favorite city was Seville or Sevilla. It is a great and lively city with an interesting personality. She asked for pictures because she wanted to see if she’d like to go there, but I didn’t have any as all of them got deleted. For a moment, I was sad because it would not take long for me to forget all the details that a picture could capture.
Thankfully, I wrote some extensive notes about the city, from the smell to the sights. So as a nod to national poetry month and the upcoming spring break, I wrote a poem about what I did last year during that vacation so I wouldn’t forget it in the future.
So, this is for the friend who asked me for the pictures. I sincerely hope you go and visit sometime.
I call it, "The City of Oranges."
~
So I have heard you wanted to travel to Sevilla.
As a girl who had walked amongst mouths with foreign tongues,
bodies fueled on different food, I say,
this city has made an impression on me.
Nine, to be specific,
and if you’d like, I wish to tell you.
1.
The city is full of people attached
hip to hip in between
the narrow city buildings.
Late at night, parades are overflowing into the sidewalks, and
if someone tries to take your phone out of your back pocket, I give you permission to step on their toe afterwards.
I had.
2.
Be weary of falling, too. I have never hated or appreciated a road before.
They are beautiful and classic
with stones and cobble protruding out of the ground.
At times, it felt as if I was walking on the back of a toad,
afraid I was going to trip over because
the streets are not made of cement, but of
rock, or brick. If not
dirt or tile,
but, still, be weary because
you can easily slip and fall on both of them, too.
I would know.
3.
Here, in America,
kids know that religion is no longer cool, but
there, in Sevilla—
that is what keeps the city beating.
Jesus is on floats and paraded around on the streets.
Little girls hang their feet off balconies, just to get a better view.
Old women willingly push you to the ground to take a better look at a statue,
representing this man they believed saved them all.
I did not appreciate religion until
I could actually see it.
4.
When eating your meals, eat them outside.
There will be pollen and fallen leaves on your plate, but
the waiters are gracious enough to wipe them. It should not matter anyway.
Order something you cannot pronounce
because, then,
you’d have to pronounce it.
Speak Spanish when ordering, and
if one, single waiter smiles at the way you say
Puedo tener la paella de mariscos, por favor
do not be offended. There is a great lesson in your mistakes, especially
in language.
Do not worry, though, most of them are kind.
While waiting for paella,
watch the people at the other table smoke;
watch the smoke evaporate into the clear air,
relax
as much as those people are.
Sip some of the sangria that smells like fruit punch.
People look away.
If not, say you though it was fruit punch.
(Read: Don’t actually do this. Obey the law.)
5.
There are beautiful people on every corner.
You can find yourself
- a mate.
- your self esteem being lowered.
It is up to you really
(I think it is because they dress well).
6.
There is a certain aroma that settles around the city.
It is not one of baked goods,
ice cream bars, but instead
like bad breath, hanging between two people,
but it is not bad bread, it is
horse poop.
If you smell something but find no horse in sight,
I advise you,
with a heavy heart,
to look down because you are probably stepping in it.
7.
Personal space and claustrophobia is
uncommon (See number 1).
Streets are narrow, and sometimes,
filled with people.
Everyone is closed in by buildings—
all tall with its own personality.
It is loud and can be quite chaotic, but
I found it to be the best way to appreciate the taste of air.
8.
Admire everything.
Walk slowly, as if you were in the South,
but get out of people’s way.
The streets are splattered with orange from
wax from candle sticks, orange peelings, leaves,
street lamps
hovering over the cobble stone streets at night.
My father did not like a single toned palette for a city
but I cannot help to admire
having the perfect color of a sunrise at my feet.
The buildings are bright with warms colors
from deep browns to reds to yellows, and
it was as if twilight and dawn painted the city.
You must love it.
I did.
9.
If you find yourself walking in the same steps I have,
do not follow anything I have just said.
Walk somewhere else.
The best way to experience the city of oranges is to
experience it yourself.
But
if it just so happens, for some reason,
you find my missing hair tie,
a string from my sweater
or my whisper, echoing where you are walking,
would you please do me a favor
and take a picture?
Recently, I had lost all of mine.
~
