Dejé mi corazón en Seville

I left my heart in Seville.

From the moment I breathed in the fresh southern Spain air, I knew part of me was at home. The whole entire trip I just kept saying, "Indiana Jones lives here! Can't you just picture him leaping from roof to roof and popping out of random street corners?"

It is amazing the difference between Barcelona and Seville. The architecture there is so gritty and down-to-earth; much more of an Islamic influence and the entire city felt older. Wiser. Slower. The phrase to live by in Seville is mañana, mañana. Tomorrow, tomorrow.
You don't have to dress up to go out and have a drink. I went out for tapas and wine wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and didn't even stand out. In Barcelona, that is unheard of.
Speaking of that, I finally discovered a wine I absolutely adore. It is called tinto de verano (summer wine); or, basically, carbonated lemonade (Fanta or something) and red wine. Truly delicious, and also a typical southern Spain thing.
Let's not forget the orange trees. They line nearly every street in Seville. I don't think I had ever actually seen an orange outside of a grocery store until this trip. Legend has it that one of the old kings, who married a woman from Granada, planted all those orange trees for the white blossoms. One year his queen wanted to return to her home because she missed the snow. He refused to let her leave, but loved her so much he said he would bring the snow to her. Well, it is always hot in Seville. The king planted the orange trees so when they bloomed and the petals fell, it would look like soft snow falling to the ground.

And so, I fell head over heels for Seville. The first few hours were admittedly hard for me. My heart broke a little because I desperately wished I had chosen to study there instead of Barcelona. This sparked much inner turbulence and frustration with myself. Every city I have visited, I have loved more than Barcelona.

Then I started considering that idea. Is my love-hate relationship with Barcelona a sign that I dislike Barcelona, or is it part of human nature to always 

want what they cannot have?

On one of my tours here in Barcelona, our guide told us that Barcelona is the third most visited city in the world. Not in Spain; not in Europe. The world. That is no small fact. And I live here. That is no small fact either. But the tragedy of living in a beautiful place is sometimes you forget to recognize the beauty.

If I had a whirlwind 48 hours in Barcelona, as I have had with all of the other places I have visited, would I fall in love? The truth is I will never know for sure. But I do know that although Barcelona enchants me during the day, at night the pace here is too fast for me. There are only so many times I can go dress up to a club before I get bored and irritated. Sangria is actually not all that thrilling. The pickpockets make everywhere dangerous. In Seville, I could safely put my purse down on the chair next to me. After 2 and a half months in Barcelona, not holding on to my things every second was exciting.
Basically, I am not the type of girl who parties on the weekends. Or during the week, for that matter, as many people do in Barcelona. This culture is so active and loud and constant. I am an old woman at heart. I much prefer peace and quiet and, well, blogging. I get excited about things like orange trees and gardens and journals.

And so there you have the things that I dislike about Barcelona; to sum it all up, basically, the pace of life. But I have only discovered this because I live here. It is because of my time here that I have realized what is really important to me; the little things you find in the quiet. If I did live in Seville, maybe I wouldn't appreciate the little things as much.

 If I only had 48 hours, my city would be a wild, exciting, modern fantasy that would no doubt capture my heart and leave me saying, "I wish I studied abroad in Barcelona."

I did leave my heart in Seville. I also left a piece of myself in Venice and in Paris, and a large part of my soul in the Pyrenees mountains.
When I fly back to the States in a few weeks and plant my feet back on reality, I am going to have a huge gap where mi vida en Barcelona used to be.
You are thinking, "Alex, stop it. You are being depressing."
Not really. When I think about going home, I know I will be sad for a while.
But the greater joy, and the greater thing to be thankful for here, is the fact that I can even say,
"I had a life in Barcelona."