I hopped aboard another night bus in Porto headed for Sevilla in hopes of catching a glimpse of the world-renown Semana Santa Processions held throughout the week, before Easter Sunday. I can’t claim to have ever been religious, but the devotion of others--and their beliefs--have always and will always be something that interests me, particularly the way they express it. I kind of figured that the buses in Europe wouldn’t be as swank as the ones in Argentina, or even Brazil, or even Bolivia, but oh well; it was a more affordable and straightforward option than anything else I had. The first part of the trip was going alright until we stopped somewhere in Portugal--I believe Lisbon--and were told that we had to change buses in order to go to Sevilla. I’m kind of used to things like this happening despite the fact that you ask in advance if you have to do such a thing, but this time ended up being a little different. I grabbed my bag and tossed it into the compartment under the bus, and headed for a seat in the bus. Only the bus driver was standing in front of the door arguing with a girl over not allowing her to bring her backpack on board. From what I could decipher (thankfully they were speaking in Spanish), he wasn’t giving her any kind of reason as to why she couldn’t bring it on board, except that she couldn’t. All the while, everybody and their mother was hustling on board with their bags--the bus driver paying no attention. I kind of felt like the guy was just being a jerk to the girl, so I figured I’d ask him if I could bring my bag on. I know I pretty much asked for it, but the guy decided to turn his power trip on me, cussing me out in Spanish and telling me that if I didn’t put my backpack under the bus I couldn’t get on. I asked him to give me a reason as to why, and he kept yelling “NO SE PUEDE!!! [You can’t]” I, being the pretty persistent kid that I am, continued on by asking him where in the regulations of his bus company did it say that I was not allowed to bring a bag on board. He kept yelling, but I noticed that the girl he was yelling at earlier had gotten on with her bag. It was at this point where I gave up my argument and put my other bag under the bus and told him that if anything happened to my stuff, he would be paying for it. Oddly enough, he seemed to calm down as a result--though I still had to put my bag under. It was ridiculous, and I was so riled up that I didn’t sleep much for the rest of the night. That, in a nutshell, is how I arrived to Sevilla.
Thankfully, I was able to check in early when I got here, and slept off a little bit of my frustration. The situation has made me continually think a bit about some of the other things I need to work on, like not letting people get to me so much. At the same time, is it a bad thing to let it bother you that people are power tripping on others that seem to be ‘smaller’ than them? If you have the answer, or at least an idea, I’d love to know.
As I said before, the city itself is beautiful. There are tons of parks, water fountains, an unbelievable cathedral--a true architectural marvel, and the Alcazar--a spectacular palace occupied by both Spanish and Islamic royalty for centuries. In short, there are tons of things to keep you busy and entertained. Plus, Sevilla is supposed to be the Tapas capital of the free world.
Unfortunately, sometimes it’s the little things that make the difference between feeling at ease, or feeling uneasy. It was hard for me to get into the Easter Processions, because of this:
I have a lot of respect for religion, and the beliefs of others, but I shivered when I saw these guys come out with pointy hoods and robes. Though I tried, I couldn't really shake my prior associations between pointy hoods, robes, and the KKK...
Plus, the tapas would have tasted better if most of the bars hadn’t limited their restaurant menus to raciones--portions larger than tapas--as a result of all the tourists in town (This means you have to order more of one item, which means you get less variety, which therefore means that you ultimately don’t enjoy the point of tapas). And more importantly, I was limited from one of the things that I enjoy most: eating.
Oh well, so my time in Sevilla wasn’t as sweet as I had hoped. Sometimes [read: Most of the times] you just have to roll with the punches and keep on moving. That’s the benefit of seeing so many things in such a short period of time. There is always something to look forward to, and some new adventure right around the corner. Though, I suppose that can be applied to almost any place in life... If you choose.
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