Went to mass today. It was kind of weird. Can I say that? Whatever. Anyway, considering that there are at least three churches within a five-minute stroll from my house, I chose not to repeat my Catedral confusion of last weekend and aim a little lower to go to a small, local church. I chose Capilla de San Lorenzo, which is in a plaza about two minutes from my house. First of all, it took me way too long to find the entrance because, for whatever reason, there is another Catholic church in the exact same plaza. They are so close together that they are literally touching. It is just like when gas stations pop up next to each other, competing for the most patronizers. This made for way too many big wooden doors on the plaza. When I finally found the one I was looking for, I walked into the church. At this point, it was about 7:25 and mass would be starting at 7:30. Given this, I was somewhat surprised at the amount of kids running around and people snapping pictures. Was I mistaken? Was this church no longer fit to hold mass and just there to mark history? Thankfully, this was not the case; I saw an older couple take a seat in the pews and followed their lead. I waited for the rest of the congregation to arrive. Well, it is now about twenty minutes after the mass has ended, and I am still waiting. As someone who has only attended churches with at least 100, typically more, people at a mass, I was not a fan of being a part of a congregation this small. Overall, there were about ten of us present, not including the tourists snapping pictures who would come and go as they pleased throughout the mass. Sounds distracting? Perhaps, but I was already distracted. The other thing that I was not a huge fan of was how this entire church was literally shellacked in gold and silver. Though I imagine this technique had the awe-inspiring effect it was going for back at this church's inception, it kind of just looked gaudy to me. Truthfully, I spent most of the mass captivated by a ten-foot-tall Jesus figurine who appeared to be holding a life-size aluminum spatula and a glittering snowboard. I really liked the father who said mass (as in I could understand most of what he said), but I don't think I will be returning to this one. While that may sound pessimistic of me, I am actually pretty excited about it. I've decided I'm going to try a new church every week, because what I am looking for is the feeling that I get when I am at the Villanova masses. This church was nice, it was a house of God, it had good people in it, but it just didn't do it for me. Especially because there was no singing. Next week I might try the convent around the corner, or maybe the university. Part of me hopes I don't find my favorite church too fast, because I am excited to visit different ones and compare them. Am also looking to get back into running in the next coming week. I don't have class until six, and I should really take advantage of it. Tomorrow I am going to Cordoba! It has a cathedral inside a mosque and one of only two synagogues in Spain. And hopefully good shopping.
Pictures below:

239. Orange trees EVERYWHERE, literally EVERYWHERE
287. The baths at Real Alcazar, a palace in Sevilla.
224. Climbed a tower in the Cathedral, saw this.
198. This is the Catedral. Just to give you some idea of how absolutely massive this place is. It's the third largest cathedral in the world!

Staying busy

Last night after class, I went to a flamenco bar with Caroline and Mac & Co. For lack of a better word, it was so cool. It was about two minutes from the CIEE center, but hidden back in an alley. Caroline and I had a little trouble finding it, but some strangers saw us looking confused and just said, "it's that way," without us even saying where we were going. Que Americana. So we finally found this place and walked into an almost empty room, but then we walked a bit further and found this huge room at the back that was packed of people standing and sitting and talking and drinking, all turned toward the flamenco stage at the very front of the room. It was amazing how social and loud the place was, but as soon as the male flamenco-er (I am sure there is a better word for this) stood up, closed his eyes, and started clapping softly or singing (or hissing "shh!"), the room immediately fell into a silence that I can honestly only describe as reverent. There is so much about flamenco that I do not understand, but when my host mother refers to it as "un flamenco espectáculo," I absolutely know why. While the American:Spaniard ratio was a bit more than I would have liked, this place felt very authentic and I definitely want to frequent it more.
I have been trying to just explore as much as I can. On Sunday I tried to go to mass at the Cathedral, but I think i read the schedule wrong or something because I never ended up finding it. The afternoon just turned into a long walk through the city and along the river, which of course I can't complain about. It was an absolutely beautiful day and all the people were out, just relaxing. There was one moment when I was walking down the street and a bunch of people were gathered around a street harpist just listening, and I got a small glimpse of realization that, holy crap, I actually love it here.
I am also not as nervous as I used to be for meals with my senora. I have a perpetual aversion to silences and always try to fill them, and in past days this has frustrated me because I simply do not know enough words to carry on a conversation as I would in English. However, I noticed today that I am becoming just a little bit more comfortable with speaking during lunch. Also, when there are silences, they do not bother me as much anymore. They're not as awkward as I had originally thought. They're comfortable and relaxed, much like a lot of the culture here. I know that a big flaw of mine is that sometimes I just need to chill out and loosen up, and I can see how this country can teach me to do that.
First night of intensive Spanish class was last night; it was really fun and a good group of people. I am not so afraid to speak in class. I'm accepting that for a while, I am just going to completely butcher this language in my attempt to learn it. My professor is very nice and started us with the basics, like really basic, we're talkin' ser v. estar. But I actually did learn last night, and what I already knew kind of reinforced that I know more than I think I do.
All in all, getting adjusted, slowly but surely. I am trying to do and experience as much as I can to help the process along, staying busy. Thanks for bearing with me. Thank you so much to anyone who has emailed or messaged me. Even if I haven't yet gotten a chance to respond, it brightens my days even more hearing what you all are up to.
Un abrazo!

A few pictures

Little Victories.

At this point, I have walked to school entirely by myself on two, count 'em, two separate occasions in varying degrees of weather. You'd better believe I felt invincible each time. I'm still entirely off my game, don't get me wrong, but at least I can get from A to B.
We had an info sesh today about registration that was peppered with what I would call forceful encouragement to speak Spanish all the time, everywhere, think in Spanish, read in Spanish, shower in Spanish, breathe in Spanish. I am so impressed with CIEE. They seem to have pinpointed the places where students might get lazy or forget how motivated we were before we came here to really be fluent and revert back to English, just floating through the semester. But it's so true - it is absolutely possible to learn an entire language in four months, and I've got about six years backing me up. I really want to try while I'm here, because I really want to kick Spanish's ass. My friend Sarah told me about the girl who stayed in her homestay before her, whom she met when the girl came back to pick up her luggage the other day that she'd left at the homestay while traveling for a few weeks. (That was an abysmal sentence.) Anyway, the girl told Sarah that she began the program in the lowest language level, but was speaking with her senora like she was part of the family by the end of this. It clearly is going to take work. Even though I am still so tempted to just skype all the time, and go to starbucks, and listen to my american music (the irony of the fact that I have listened to Party in the USA every morning is not lost on me), I just have to keep trying. Immersion is no joke, it's exhausting to be sure, but I have to keep reminding myself that it's what I want, it's what I chose back way before I was homesick and vulnerable and surrounded by everything new. Anyway, CIEE has been great. I think it's really going to help me. For some reason, all these great people have come together to teach some dirty Americans how to be a little less American. It's something to take advantage of!

Everyone smiles in the same language.

Props for the above gem to Anne Hannan. It's been my motto so far. I realize that last post was vague on all counts. To give a bit more information about, i dunna, everything, I moved into my homestay yesterday. Sevilla is broken up into neighborhoods and I am in el centro, which I was initially excited for because the name implies that it is in the very center of the city, which would be close to absolutely everything that I could ever need. I actually couldn't be farther, but that's fine; I am getting to know more of the city this way. No 45 minute walk is gonna hold me down. Although I am going to need to step up the sass a bit I think. People are friendly when you approach them, but the typical look is more, i dunna, pissed off. Not entirely sure I am going to be able to adapt if I don't assume that Sevilla swagger. Anyway, I have a senora for my homestay. She looks very young, although everybody here does; she has a 19 year old son named Claudio who is at University of Madrid. I am in his old room. As I sit here typing under the soft light of the paper dragon that covers pretty much the entire span of the ceiling, I am realizing it is such a boy's room, it is hilarious. All his star wars and game boy crap is in all the drawers, and it makes me think of Patrick and how my mom keeps all his crap too. My senora, Yolanda, is very sweet, but I am pretty sure she thinks I'm a huge idiot. That's probably because anytime I try to talk, I get the nervous ha-ha's and giggle like a monkey. I am not entirely relaxed here yet. I feel like since language isn't always the clearest way of communication right now, I'm hyper-sensitive to everything else. Oh! Story. I was picked up for my homestay yesterday morning (Wednesday). I was sitting in the lobby with my bags all packed, knees shaking and chin quivering because of course I was nervous. Apparently, they gave Yolanda the wrong Elizabeth. I asked one of the CIEE coordinators wha'sup, and she looked at her paper, another coordinator looked at her paper, they looked at each other, their jaws dropped, and they booked it out of the hotel suddenly to get the wrong Elizabeth. Two seconds later, they were grabbing my bags and running away and I was running and I had to cross the street and I couldn't carry all my bags and it was awkward. Broke the ice. So I am here, and I have internet thankfully, and my own room. Oh! That's another thing, there is another girl from the program living here with me. Which is great, because it takes the pressure off each of us a little bit. It has been really good to have somebody to figure things out with.
It's been kind of hard figuring out how to go out with friends since we literally live all over the city, and I didn't have a phone until today. I was still able to a couple of times; the program took us to tapas, and last night we went to a discoteque even though I am pretty sure it actually wasn't. I am not sure what the difference is exactly, so I'm going to wait to back that one up until I have some better evidence other than me being pretty sure. But it is also hard to go out because we are so far from everything. I'm going to figure out how to meet up with other people from my neighborhood. The next time I see them. Whenever that is. Because I have no way of contacting them. currently, my spanish mom is getting ready to go out. Hopefully I do not disappoint her by consistently being uncool and will get on her level soon.
Being here, and being me, I have had my share of little misdemeanors; "general blunderings," as says Victoria Stork. For example, in my interview for class placement yesterday I believe that I said at Villanova, for break trips we like to "give services" of the Pretty Woman kind, not of the community service kind. Oops. My host mom thinks I'm a moron, covered that one. I gave a cab driver ten euro for a ride that cost three because I thought he said trece. It took me, three other people, and three maps two hours to get home last night from a location that my host mom has informed me is twenty minutes away. I cannot figure out my way in this city for the life of me. But I'll get it down. I am becoming so aware of how necessary it is to be proactive in everything here. I need to spend free time talking to Yolanda, as painful as it is to constantly scramble for words when I've never had many issues expressing myself before. The program has a lot of enrichment opportunities, and I want to take advantage of all of them. I need to meet Spaniards, which will be a tough one; I could easily stick to the people in my program, all of whom I speak English with. They're all cool, too! Dammit. I am happy about that, though; it seems that we have (mostly) all come here to really get immersed and (pretend to) be Spanish for a few months. It is my biggest fear that I waste the opportunity of being here.
I am doing okay with being away. I am homesick for friends and family; so homesick for Jackson 303 since that's both. But I do love hearing updates from everyone. It honestly does not make me sad or feel like I'm missing out; I am truly happy to hear when people are having a good time. I hope you all realize that even though I'm here, I'm still here for you. This is going to be a beautiful experience that I wish I could share. (guess that's what the point of a blog is, to try.)

SO MUCH, SO MUCH, TAN MUCHO PARA DECIR!! Many realizations in the past, I don't know, three hours. I have always considered myself to be a city girl; even never having lived in one, I have just always felt more comfortable in the city environment. AND this is such a beautiful, fun city. The most beautiful things are such a normal part of life here. Vibrant colors, beautiful plazas, Spanish tiles. But it is still a city, and that in itself does require some adjustment. I try to walk with a sense of purpose, but if anybody's going to say anything to me while passing on the street, it's "hello" because something about me just looks American. We stick out like crazy around here. We could probably make it a little easier on ourselves - not travel in packs, not wear North Faces. But that's kind of who we are, loud pack-travelin' north face-wearin' Americans. And something about us would still stick out. That's the biggest part of this adjustment thus far. I need to get over the fact that I'm not going to truly fit in, ever. I just want to drink it all in for four months. Also, city people are not as friendly as I would have expected! I can't just smile at people on the street like at home. I mean, I can, but it's unreciprocated. It hit me today, as I walked the forty-five minutes (yeah, cool) to the university, that I am actually here. This didn't surprise me, as I tend to have embarrassingly delayed reactions to things like this. I'm actually more surprised that I had an aHA moment within the first four days. Maybe I'm not doomed to be oblivious after all. Anyway, I had another aHA that, as crazy as it sounds, it is actually frighteningly possible to live here for four months and not better my Spanish. More on that later. Actually, more on everything later. I have to go somewhere else now. I'll be back later. That was vague. Sorry. You know about as much as I do about my daily schedule.

The Before Shot.

It seems like blogging is very in these days. But think about it. What sounds like a nonsense word actually signifies that somebody is putting themselves out there, their own original or otherwise thoughts. Kind of a big freakin' deal! This blog world is comforting on a few levels - while people tell themselves that a blog is a tool for updating friends and family on one's life while requiring minimal interaction or small talk, I think most people probably harbor not-so-secret desires that strangers will somehow stumble across their blog, people will start a-talkin and a-twitterin and pretty soon, that modest blogging individual has a book deal/is in a fulfilling relationship with the eye candy in the next cubicle who fell in love with her insightful and so bravely public Internet musings/is on the cover of People, etc, etc. There might also be solace in the fact that while many might use the bloggings of another as justification for judgin' and preachin' and hateradin', most people are too lazy to do so. To do this would require filling out a comment box, which is far too complicated to be worth the time of the vast majority. I do not hope that this blog will make me famous or interesting enough to be judged. But, I do hope that a) this blog is entertaining and actually does update friends and family when keeping-in-touch conditions across the pond are less than optimal, and b) that you, please, for the love of all that is good, did not read that entire paragraph.
I have written far too many words about blogging on this, my blog, because I do not yet have much else to write about. I have had four weeks of ass-sitting, plenty of time to look at Facebook pictures of everybody on the planet and develop a dissertation about the work ethic of the Jersey Shore cast (GymTanLaundry. Every! Day!) and that's pretty much it. BUT! Here comes the big 'ol butt. Tomorrow, I am going to Spain! My bags are packed! My bank has been alerted! My Ipod is broken! Clearly, it's jet-settin' ime. Tomorrow, I will get on a plane, and that plane will go to Boston, and in Boston, I will get on a bigger plane, and that plane will go to Madrid, and then I will get on a teeny plane to Sevilla, and then I will pee my pants. And that'll be that.
I feel like it's not very Internet-cool to start blogging about an experience before I have actually embarked on it. Settin' the bar low here with this before shot, I guess. Hmm. Emotions? Got 'em. Packing troubles? You betcha. I would write more on this subject, but I feel that they're pretty standard.
What is the inspiration for your URL, Clever Liz? You may ask. Well, interested follower (you aren't a publisher by any chance, are you?) as is known to those who actually know me, I go to Villanova University. "Villanova" means "new home" in Italian (I think), and over the past two and a half years, that is what it has become. Well I like to think I'm clever so since I am leaving this place and people that I love (LOVE! LOVE! I'M IN LOVE AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!) and am hoping to make Sevilla a new home, I redundantly titled this blog, "new home." Womp Womp. But it didn't have much of a kick to it, so I put it in Spain-ish. So there's that.
Like I said, settin' the bar low.