Week 4: Change is Permanent
- carelican
- Jun 22
- 6 min read
Las Setas
Las Setas was incredible! I learned that, although the name means "the mushrooms," they were originally designed to resemble parasols. The view was stunning. They played ambient music similar to that played in Epcot at Disney World, which made it feel all the more serene. It was pretty windy, and the floor creaked when I walked on it, which made me nervous. Hope and I were shocked to discover that it's made entirely of wood and is the largest wooden structure in the world. This made standing on it even more nerve-wracking. Still, the experience was unforgettable!
CanalSur Radio y Televisión
Our class's site visit to CanalSur Radio y Televisión was really cool! The representative led us around the building and showed us the different rooms where they write, film, edit, and produce content. I realized how much work goes into the behind-the-scenes of television. I used to be fascinated with film, so I think about this a lot whenever I watch movies. However, when it comes to live television, I consume the information quickly and don't often think about what conversations happen before and during production.
Apparently, there's a 7-second delay from the station to people's TVs due to the signal blockages. I asked one of the workers if part of that delay was a cushion in case a newsperson said or did something embarrassing. The worker said that it was just for the signal interference, so if someone said or did something embarrassing on TV, everyone would know. This bewildered me. I can't imagine the pressure I would feel on live television with no safety buffer.
Udon
During our last week in Seville, Hope and I were exhausted. We needed alone time, and we needed really good food. We found a place super close to our dorm called Udon, and it was the best Asian food I've ever had. We went there three times throughout the week! The same person served us our food each time, and he had our drink order memorized (un vaso de agua y un Aquarius). It was the breath of fresh air we needed in a tiring week of packing and planning to go home.
Last Class
This was a slightly sad moment (don't worry, there's more in store later). I was thinking throughout the week about what it means when something happens for the last time. There's the technical side to it, where I saw that it has no additional significance than all the other times. My last hug with my late grandfather technically meant just as much as every other hug we had. And I was expecting this last class to technically feel like every other class, because nothing was different except my mindset, a mindset of knowing there would be no more. I didn't remember how powerful this mindset was until I was in the class at 12:55 pm, five minutes until the end of class.
I remembered that with my grandfather, I didn't know our last "I love you" was going to be our last, so no wonder I don't remember it as extremely significant. We always said "I love you" whenever we parted ways, or wrote a birthday card, or had something significant happen. Why would one time be any more significant than the others, just because it happened to be at the end?
The moment class ended, I wasn't devastated, distraught, or even sad. I was only a little sentimental, thinking about the permanence of endings. I could be in the same place in the future, but I wouldn't be with the same people and in the same context. Thinking about this sort of thing brought me to terms with the mortality of some other things. But I didn't feel much depth to it until the Farewell Dinner.
Honorable Mention: Disgusting Salmon
This salmon looks beautiful, does it not? That's what Hope and I remarked. We were happy to be eating healthy food. Salmon, vegetables, and we had papas bravas earlier! Things were looking good.
Upon my first bite, I experienced a rotten taste. Something was sinfully wrong with what I just ate. I didn't want to ruin Hope's experience in case it was something wrong with my taste buds, so I awaited her reaction. I watched her try the salmon, watching her face to see if she felt the same. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes housed a spirit of panic. They met mine with a mutual understanding of the horror we just experienced.
I use colorful language for everything, half of the time for humor, the other half for poetic effect. With that in mind, I am not being funny or poetic when I say that was truly the worst salmon I've ever had. I wondered if it had committed a great deal of sins in its life to get to that rotten point. I became so thankful for all the times I have had good salmon and realized there truly is bad food out in the world, and I rarely have to eat it. It was a necessary moment of my life, because if I had never tasted something so putrid, I would have never accounted for my blessings in the way I did. It just goes to show that you need the negative to recognize the positive in life.
Farewell Boat Ride
The breeze felt so good! I realized that in the future, I absolutely plan to go on ample boat tours and bus tours whenever I visit a new city, just so I can learn while feeling the breeze. My friends discovered that it was a beautiful place to take pictures, so we got to work. Hope and I tried to recreate the iconic Titanic moment. I think we did great, and it was nice to get these last pictures of me with my friends.
Farewell Dinner
Call me American, that's fine, but I will never stop telling people that Papas Bravas was my favorite dish in Spain. The satisfying crunch of the fried potatoes, contrasted by the way they marinate in the vibrantly flavored sauce, just spikes my brain with dopamine. Nothing will ever come close to papas bravas for me.
The dinner started in a fun-natured way. Everyone talked about their own things. I sat across from Hope and next to Dr. Brunner's 14-year-old son, and since I have three teenage brothers, it was very easy to make conversation.
I finally truly realized at this dinner why Spanish people take so long to eat dinner. When the food comes out in waves, and when conversation fills the air more than the smells of the food, it's hard not to spend three hours eating and talking.
A Reflection on Goodbyes
The flight home was rough, but better than the flight to Spain. Hope and I were bored, exhausted, and restless, but there are worse things to be. And thankfully, it all gave me time for a lot of introspection.
Saying goodbye during our Farewell Dinner should have technically felt normal. Everyone was going back home to the same school, and we would all see each other again at some point or another. It was difficult, though. And I didn't understand why.
My teachers were so kind and said such kind words, and my friends were all getting emotional with me. I wondered what made this occasion any different from every other gathering we've had.
After some reflection, I've come to the conclusion that goodbyes remind us of how limited our experiences are. They remind us that we will not be in the same exact time and context ever again, and that things constantly move forward. Humans are uncomfortable with these things, yet somehow we find the conviction to move forward and discover new things. Maybe it's because we don't know how to sit with the vacant void that was left behind by the fleeting nature of our old experiences. Maybe that's a good thing. Who am I to say?
The people, the places, the smells, the tastes, the music, the architecture, and everything in between brought me a new worldview that I could never have found otherwise. It all taught me more about the world, how differently people live based on where they were born, and the fact that our lives are a geography lottery. I learned more about the circumstances that make a person, and the ones that make myself, much more than I could have if I stayed home. All I know is I am eternally grateful for this experience, and although it will never be the exact same, I'd happily do it again.
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