read the ending first

In the last two days I have taken almost every form of transportation available to man. In order, beginning Thursday afternoon: Train. Ferry. Train. Bus. Bus. Taxi. Plane. Bus. I think í'm missing a moped, and maybe a bike, and a helocopter, but that's about it. When I think back to all those connections I had to make, it's a wonder that i'm here in Seville again safe and sound. Last night at 9:00 I had no idea how I was going to make it to the airport in the morning, but this morning at 5:05 I was waiting on the street for my taxi. Today at 5:00 in the afternoon i'm tired... but i'm home.

Home?

I called my señora when I was in final approach to the apartment and she called me cariño and asked if I was ok and said she'd be waiting. When I arrived un cuarto de hora later sweating from the walk (but not the heat -- we're having a one-day cold spell) and the weight of my bag of dirty clothes she recieved me with open arms and multiple kisses on each cheek. After not speaking Spanish for two weeks except when I wanted to pretend I was speaking Italian and when I was talking to the old Spanish truck drivers on the ferry, I really did slip back into it and we were talking about celebrities and current events like old times.

And though it seemed like before I left that I would have a lot of time when I returned, now that i'm actually here it's really short. I can smell California, I can see it on my calendar in about two weeks time. I forget how little time there is in Spanish days to do anything, between waking up late, lunch, siesta, the heat, and dinner, there are really only a couple good hours in the day.

Leaving one home and going to another, leaving the other home and going to still another; I've gotten to be a pro at leaving. If it weren't for the heat, well I don't think I would mind staying. But it will be nice to go home home home, I just hope once i'm there I don't forget Sevilla.