All is well here on Zheleznovodskaya Street. The giant rectangular hole in the driveway has been partially filled in, and someone ripped down the caution tape, making leaving the apartment easier. There was a beet and potato salad for dinner tonight, and my printmaking professor was wearing his t-shirt with the erotic embroidery again today. He even showed us the book the original image is from – it’s called “sex in the life of men.” The temperature is fluctuating around 0 °C, and the sky is producing a mix of snow and rain.
If I don’t return from Sevilla it’ll have been because of the streets. The streets here are smaller than the sidewalks in Portland and the drivers crazier than 16 year olds who have had their license for only 14 hours. Getting to class is practically a matter of life and death, 15 minutes of dodging cars, switching sides of the street when the sidewalk disappears—because that’s usually something sidewalks do—watching for people coming out of the various hidden entrances to the various churches and trying not to step on small dogs or step in what they leave behind. That being said, I like it. And not so much for the Indiana Jones obstacle course aspect but because it’s nice to walk through a city and not fully understand what’s being said around me. It’s like a game—can I pick up on that person’s Spanish fast enough to eavesdrop on their conversation? Nope? Oh well, onto the children.