Spring 2004 Story Contest - 2nd Place Winner
My Story
Anna Christine Reidy
Sevilla Summer 2004
My señora said many things to me during my stay in Sevilla, most of which I didn’t understand. But among all the opinions, witticisms, tongue-twisters, and other sundry bits of Spanish wisdom, one stood out: “El tiempo somos nosotros. Tal como seamos será nuestro tiempo.”
When I arrived in Spain I did not understand this, either grammatically or conceptually. Since I was a pianist, with an obsession for all things pre-twentieth century, I was accustomed to feeling like a marginalized foreigner who couldn’t understand the local idiom, and as a result I never expected life to hand me anything more than the key to a practice room door. I tended to avoid social settings and withdrew from close contact with other people in the belief that real, inter-personal communication was essentially impossible. Coming to Spain, I did not anticipate anything different. If I felt like a foreigner in my own country, there was no reason to think I would feel at home in a foreign country.
But sun-spackled Sevilla would have none of my cynical introversion and, upon meeting my homestay family, I had my first real conversation with real Spaniards about the relative merits of Bach vs. Mozart. My Spanish family took the time to try and understand not only my stilted, pidgin Spanish, but my passions and dreams as well. My final week in Sevilla, my señor insisted on driving me through the nube de polvo to the pueblo of Pilas where the legendary pianist Daniel Barenboim was rehearsing with his orchestra of hand-picked, young musicians. It didn’t seem to matter that he had other work to do or that the atmosphere was like that of the interior of an oven. My señora and I shared a love of the arts and of “all old things;” she spent many hours encouraging my dreams, reproving my cynicism, and advising me in the ways of Spanish life.
There was a piano in the house, so I was able to practice whenever I wanted; but, much to my own surprise, I found myself venturing out into the twisted streets of Sevilla – either alone or with friends – to absorb the music of Spanish life. I became fascinated with the how everything in Sevilla has a rhythm to it, from the way grandmother beats eggs for the tortilla, to the staccato accents of Andalusian chatter, to the circling of the birds above the Giralda at dusk. With encouragement and an endless supply information from my family, I became a frequent visitor at cafes, museums, monuments, plazas, and gardens; the staff at one concert venue even learned to call me by name and gave me a gift upon my departure from Sevilla.
The life of the city crept into my veins and the brilliant drama of history captured my imagination, and the more I participated, the more I understood what my señora meant when she said that time belongs to me and that it will be as beautiful as I make it to be.