The Spanish Berry

Walking along the banks of the Guadalquivir on a sunny Tuesday morning I tried to persuade myself to stay.

I could hear the birds, watch the ripples left by jumping fish, tiptoe over purple Jacaranda blossoms and smell the wildflowers blooming along the neglected flower beds.

A smile crossed my lips at the thought of all the things I love about this city, the memories that spring up on every street corner.

Here I watched my friend run a marathon, there I almost ran over a pigeon with my bike. On that quayside I took my lunch breaks during my first job and I’ve seen that storefront house at least three different businesses.

’14 years is a long time’, I think.

The early rays illuminate my gaze as I turn my face to the sun, still not too hot at this time of day. It’s pleasant, almost peaceful.

Almost. Above me, the road buzzes with the sounds of the morning commute. Horns blaze, people shout, motorbikes zoom by.

Who am I kidding? Traffic is the unmistakable soundtrack of a city, one you hope might fade into the background as your ears get used to the constant sound of wheels on tarmac.

Yet hard as I’ve tried, I find I cannot tune it out.

I crave the quiet that here exists only briefly, at some late hour of the night. I need a slower pace, a gentler rhythm, the kind of silence that’s only interrupted by wildlife.

Seville is a beautiful city, a small city, yet a city nonetheless. I need a place where I can rest, where my overstimulated brain is not constantly screaming at me.

So, much as it also saddens me, I know it’s time to bring this chapter to a close.

At the end of the month I will be moving to rural Spain, to the region of Extremadura. It’s a place not yet overrun by tourists, relatively unknown and often overlooked.

It’s where I spent most of my childhood and where I’ll be working to set up my own business.

The fact that I’m looking forward to this move doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier. I’m going to miss the people I’ve met here and who have become very special to me.

I’m going to miss local expressions like ‘no ni na’ or an excited ‘illa, illa, illa!’.

Plans that start with lunch, morph into coffee, then lead to drinks and continue with cena.

I’m even going to miss being woken by a marching band accompanying a saintly figure past my balcony.

I have learnt so much while living here.

As I look back over this time I can’t help but be grateful for all the ways it has contributed to making me who I am today. So, if it’s too hard to say goodbye, perhaps I’ll say ‘hasta luego’ instead.

One thing is for sure, wherever I go, Sevilla will always be a part of my story.