sevillian senses

I sit here in the plaza and cannot ignore the putrid smell of horse manure and wet dirt. The air is cool on my skin but the stench of sewer invades my nostrils and makes me feel uncomfortably hot. A fly lands on my knee and I stare at it as I try and come up with words to describe the myriad of things going on around me.

I look around and see a group of young tourist seemingly interested in the endless flow of historical facts being uttered by the guide whose face conveys a feeling of pure monotony.

The fly is still on my knee. There are flies everywhere. I hear the subtle drops of rain hitting my umbrella and I can't help but wonder why on earth I'm sitting in the rain. I smell a burning cigarette to my left and I turn to see a brightly clothed Arab woman sitting alone on a bench beside me drinking a Starbucks latte. She seems pensive and dismal and ten million thing run through my mind. I wonder why she's here alone? Then sound of the bell tolling reminds me of the time. For a split second the whole plaza stops and there is a moment of silence. Aware of the tight sightseeing schedules, crowds of tourist rush to get the last photographs of their surroundings. The orange trees abundant with fruit rustle lightly in the cool summer breeze and the cathedral stands magnificently in the overcast sky while the oohs and ahhs of wandering tourist fill the air.

I sit here in the Plaza del Triunfo taking in all the sights. Its not very nice out. The horse carriages are covered and the horses look miserable as they always do and the owners are all congregated around one area smoking cigarettes, hoping for a client to take for a ride. This fly really won't leave me alone.

I make my way back to the ornate entrance of the building and get lost in a crowd of words I can't understand and the continuous clicking of curious camera lenses taking pictures of every little detail of this magical place.