Regular Irregularity

In the Spanish language, there are so many irregular verbs that the regular ones seem strange. Life as a foreign language student in Sevilla is the same: it is a parallel universe in which the irregular is the norm. With students arriving and departing every week, our social spheres are constantly in flux. And with this ever-changing cast of characters, one week in Seville is profoundly different from the next.

I have already had so many wonderful, if overwhelming, adventures to process after only 2.5 weeks in Sevilla. So, today's field trip to Seville's Cathedral offered a welcome opportunity to gain perspective, both literally and figuratively.

The Cathedral is a massive monument (the third largest Catholic church in the world after the Hagia Sophia and St. Peter's Basilica) that dominates the historic center of Sevilla. The Cathedral is composed of a vast grey stone Gothic structure. As with so much of Sevillan culture, the Cathedral is built upon the foundations of a preexisting moorish monument, a mosque. In fact, the church's bell tower, La Giralda, is a re-purposed minaret. The bottom two thirds of this tower date back to the moors.

Most companiles (bell towers) in Europe consist of claustrophobic passages crammed with vertigo-inducing stairs and too many tourists. La Giralda, however, is a refreshing change from the norm. Rather than stairs there are 35 gentle ramps, which back in moorish times allowed the prayer callers to reach the top of the tower on horseback. The climb is easy, despite the oppressive July heat. Windows along the journey to the top help orient you and track your ascent. The view from the top of the tower is a treat. From here the city of Sevilla extends in all four directions. Buildings are clustered all around La Giralda, some with roofs adorned by electric blue swimming pools (all the more tempting on a sweltering day like today!), others with sunbathers and satellite dishes. And, off in the distance beyond the urban tangle of whitewashed apartments and church domes, there is the dusty orange earth of the olive farms.

The rest of the Cathedral consists of the Patio of Oranges (also dating back to the mosque). I felt like a pancake on a griddle standing in this Patio under the blazing sun, and I left as quickly as possible. In general, Seville's prediction for orange trees in general is a bit of a mystery. All of the guidebooks say that the oranges are absolutely awful tasting, so it's not clear why these rancid fruits have been cultivated for so long.

The Cathedral itself has a gargantuan interior. The soaring space suggests the incredible wealth of Seville from the Reconquista through the eighteenth century. You cannot help but feel a bit small as you stare up at the stained glass windows high above. The Cathedral is a consummate declaration of power and opulence, quite different from the cluttered baroque churches used by Sevillans daily.

Tomorrow my housemates and I host a barbecue, on Saturday we go for a night time paseo and Sunday we go to the water park.

Here in Sevilla, regular irregularity leads to adventure. As a store window on the Calle Tuetan says "el tiempo es ahora." Seize the spontoneity, seize the day!