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By Kris B., Guest Blogger from Sevilla, Granada and Barcelona, Spain
As I headed for Sevilla, where I was planning to stay for three weeks, I was a little nervous. Initially I had chosen an apartment stay, but had changed to a homestay as an afterthought, as I thought that it would provide me a chance to interact with a family and make the immersion experience more authentic. However as a person who is not exactly an extrovert, I was worried that the experience might not work out as planned. I was not sure what to expect. What if I did not like the family or vice versa and I was stuck with them?
On arriving in Sevilla on Sunday afternoon, I discovered that house was in the heart of the Barrio Santa Cruz and barely a five-minute taxi ride from the Santa Justa train station. The taxi driver dropped me off at a nearby plaza and gave me directions to walk to the homestay. I was immediately struck by the narrow cobblestone lanes and the brilliantly whitewashed facades of the period houses. I felt like I had stepped back in time and half expected to be run over by a horse driven coach. I stopped in front of four-storey building, which was Dean Lopez Cepero, 9, with a commanding wooden door. There was no bell and after banging on the door fruitlessly for a while, I called my landlady, who came down to get me. She showed me a complex system to lock and unlock the door – I wondered why a lock was needed on such a solid door anyway? Nobody would dare to break in.
My landlady lived on the second floor of the building with her family - three tiny dogs – a papa, a mama and an over-boisterous boy. They welcomed me by going into an intense barking spree around my ankles. She assured me that they liked me; I was worried I might step on one of them accidentally I was shown to the guest room, which overlooked our little street through a large shuttered French window. It had a small comfortable bed, a bedside table, a dresser and a small 12” TV. I felt a little guilty that I considered my 32” TV back home small. Apart from the other bedroom, which was occupied by my landlady and her three furry companions, there was a small kitchen, a dining room and a bathroom. There was a lot of character to the apartment even though it was small, especially with its old furniture, dusty books, family photographs and posters; I immediately felt at home. It was such a big change from my featureless modern apartment back home. I got along well with my landlady, who was intelligent, well traveled and knowledgeable, even though I had a hard time keeping up with her with my basic Spanish. For dinner that night she made Spanish tortilla, which I ate with relish. She turned out to be a great cook and over the week, I actually looked forward to her cooking, when I returned from school. To make the experience complete, the school was barely a five-minute walk from the apartment. I felt glad that I had chosen the homestay option.
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