An hour and some stress later, we arrived at the hotel. The arrival was the least interesting, and probably the least active, part of our journey. Though our agent was exhausted, he must have been quite proud of his accomplishment. To reach the hotel after so much spent energy was a result worthy of at least one round of applause. To believe that he had run that entire two miles or so through the city of Sevilla just to make sure we, the American guests, could find our place of stay was impressive. Our car had followed his enthusiastic, running self through some of the most crowded corridors of the city.
Of course, when these streets were first designed the idea of cars needing to move through them was nonexistent. As a result, the cars created to fit these streets left about an inch of space between each rearview mirror and the buildings. This lack of space, typical of Europe, required drivers to have impeccable depth perception and aim. Our car was of such standards, and though our reaction to its tiny size was originally that of amused nervousness, we soon came to understand its dimensions. The city itself was organized in such a way that each street merely connected one plaza to another, and no street was built wider than necessary.
We first discovered this when faced with two questions: how to take directions from a non-English speaking man, and how to move through this claustrophobic city? His name was Roberto, and he was to be our guide. As for the claustrophobic city- my father’s driving was tested at an entirely new level. This was, by far, one of my favorite memories from all of my family’s trip to Spain.
No comments:
Post a Comment