Days 29-31: Continued....Becoming a Street Performer and a Visit to the Market

(Saturday 02/19/2012-Sunday 02/20/2012)

        The next day Erin and I met up in the morning to go to the Flamenco museum, which was a bit pricey but a good experience. It’s informative, has interactive exhibits, and some pretty interesting art, I recommend it if you have some free time here. Plus, if you pay a little extra you can return in the evening to see a live Flamenco show, however, Erin and I both had plans so we decided to pass on that offer. 

        I have softball practice every Saturday afternoon, playing this sport is not only a way for me to get some physical exercise but I’m also getting spanish exercise since I’m the only English speaker on the team. At a later time I’ll do a separate post all about the team, for now I’ll tell you that it’s made up of women of all ages, I think we range in age from 12 to 40-something, and we’re called the Sevilla Angeles. We practice on Wednesday’s and Saturdays and play games on Sundays, I’ve got my second scrimmage with them this weekend.

        I had to leave practice early to make the train in time to get out to Dos Hermanas for my free jazz lesson and concert, but as usual I was running late. If you’ve ever tried to meet up with me before, you’ve probably noticed that I tend to run about 10-15 minutes late just about every time, not that I do it on purpose, it just how I am. Here that’s called ‘spanish-time’, being exactly on time isn’t all that big of a concern here, because realistically what does ten minutes of lateness ever actually do for your schedule? It’s another wonderful part of the culture that I adore, it makes me a lot less stressed out and it’s nice to not have to jog to make-up for my tardiness. 

        Well, the trouble is, that while most of it’s citizens run on this ‘spanish-time’, the trains do not. I showed up and bought my ticket just in time to watch my train pull off from the other side of the station. It would be another hour until the next train which meant that I would show up in time for the concert, but have missed the lesson. I sat down and ate my bocadillo that my host mother had packed me for dinner (sandwich with ham and cheese, and an apple), and contemplated what I should do. After mulling over my options I decided to just call it a night, I’d get back home much earlier than planned, but I didn’t mind the opportunity crawl into bed early since I would be getting up early the next day to meet Erin. I finished my sandwich, picked up my banjo, and hopped the metro back home, satisfied with calling it an early night, but still bummed to have missed the opportunity to play banjo with other people. 

        As I walked the steps up the metro stop near my house I was contemplating if it was too late to play banjo in my room back at the apartment, when this wonderful and terrifying thought popped in my head: go play banjo on the street. I am slowly learning to not get nervous when playing in front of people, but I still get shaky when I perform around more than about 4 people. As my own personal challenge, I had written in my (afore mentioned) ‘to-do in Spain book’ that I wanted to play banjo on the streets of Sevilla. 

        I had an internal struggle at this point, there was one part of me that absolutely did not want to do this, it tried to convince the other, more adventurous part of me, that I could always do it ‘some other time’. The adventurer part in me brought up a point that the fear part couldn’t counter: if I didn’t do it now, when I was already out, banjo in hand, with nothing to do on a Saturday night, then when the heck would I do it?

        With that, I walked to the pedestrian street near my house called Calle Asuncion, a favorite spot for families to go walking, and that only had mild traffic at 9 o’clock at night; it wasn’t bustling, but it also wasn’t deserted. I sat my case down, got out my banjo (something that I’m fairly certain the majority of people of Calle Asuncion had never seen or heard in person), and began to tune up. Although my hands were shaking a bit, I started out with a tune called Old Joe Clark. 

        The first couple of rounds of it were, well a mess, but eventually I began to get comfortable and actually enjoy myself. After getting over my initial nervousness I couldn’t do anything but smile, I was playing banjo on the streets in Spain. 

Check that one off my list. 

        I had been playing for about ten minutes when my first ‘patron’ stopped by. I had noticed a little girl, about 4 or 5 years old, point at me to her mom when they walked by. On their way back down the street the little girl was a few steps ahead of her mom and had a nervous look on her face. She had her little hand balled up and kept looking between me and her mom, who was standing behind encouraging her, as she continued to venture closer. Finally, with one last look up at me, she courageously tossed a few coins into my case and hurried back to her mom. I did my best to give her a big smile and to say gracias while not losing my place in the song; multi-tasking while playing isn’t a skill I’ve mastered just yet, but I managed to do so with mild success.

        So now not only was I playing banjo, outside, on the streets of Spain, but I was also getting PAID to do it. Over the next hour I continued to have people toss coins in my case, as well as I had a few conversations with people who were quite curious about the banjo, and why I was in Spain with it. At about 10:15pm I decided to call it a night, I figured an hour of playing was enough for this first time, and I walked home with change in my pocket and still unable to stop smiling. The experience was priceless, but to have made 8.70€ on top of it, well it’s icing on the best darn cake I’ve eaten in a while. 

        I’ll be doing this again sometime soon, I’m working up the courage to play in el Centro where there tends to be a lot more people, something that I’m still not quite mentally prepared for, but I’m working on it!

        The next day I awoke early to meet Erin to go to the open-air market that happens every Sunday. I was running late, as usual, but this time it was because my host mother had made me hot and fresh churros and chocolate for breakfast. No one in their right mind would pass that up, plus I didn’t want to be rude so I stuck around and chatted with Gumer over these deliciously sweet treats. 

(Click to enlarge the photos!)

        I eventually made it Erin’s apartment and we walked to the market, a much welcomed long walk that helped me burn off the heavier-than-usual breakfast that I had just indulged in. The market has a hundred different booths offering all types of clothing, fruits, vegetables, bread, shoes, housewares, and even live animals. 

It's officially strawberry season!!

        On my two visits I’ve managed to purchase a pair of house slippers, a purse, a ridiculous t-shirt, a coin-purse, and a jacket all for less than 20€. The best thing, in my opinion, about this market is the 1 euro fresh pastry truck, something that if you keep your eye out for will provide you with the best deal that you can find there. Even after starting my morning with a full plate of churros and a large mug of hot-chocolate, I couldn’t manage the self-control required to turn one of these down. Erin and I split a gigantic vanilla cake-like pastry covered in a chocolate icing with a lemon glaze filling, after which we sat in the sun and enjoyed a cup of café con leche (expresso and milk), before I walked myself home. A sweet ending to another sweet weekend here in Sevilla!

This past weekend marked my one month anniversary of being in Spain, I love it here but I’m missing home too. Midterms coming up soon, but first a big weekend because: I’m turning 21 on March 2nd!