A Blueprint
Shalinee in Sevilla
On Wednesday, exactly one year after I arrived in Sevilla, I started grad school. It’s been three months since I arrived back in the US. Since getting back, I’ve wanted to write something; I’ve wanted to reflect on this chapter of my life before moving on to the next one. But all through the summer, I found it so difficult. Conjuring in my mind the cobblestoned streets of the Casco Antiguo brought tears to my eyes and an ache to my chest. I couldn’t think about my time in Sevilla without feeling a profound sense of loss. I was paralyzed by the knowledge that that beautiful, carefree, near-perfect time of my life was over, and I would never return to it.
It’s true—I probably won’t ever be that free from responsibility again. But now, three months later, that thought doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. Now that I am here in LA, I am reminded that while the Sevilla chapter of my life may be over, there is so much else to look forward to. I’m in a gorgeous new apartment with three lovely roommates I’m getting to know. I love my neighborhood, my commute is easy. My cohort mates and professors are kind and friendly. The next chapter is starting to take shape, and it’s looking pretty good. And as I settle in to my new life here, I can feel the changes in me, the influences that my time in Sevilla had.
A few days ago, my friend Grace sent a text in our Sevilla group chat. “I’ve been thinking about how I want to live my life, and I’m calling it the azahar mindset,” she said. “Being outside, having potluck dinner with friends, picnics, saying hi to strangers, letting yourself be emotional and crying at beautiful things.” Grace had so simply summarized all the things we did in our year in Sevilla that made it so special. Our dinner rotation and sharing countless meals together. Spending leisurely Fridays basking in the sun in Parque del Alamillo. The friendliness of the Sevillanos, the servers we saw at our weekly brunch that began to recognize us. Learning from each other. But perhaps most of all, the way Sevilla forces you to recognize beauty, and be in awe of it.
To me, March was the most special time in Sevilla. The short winter was ending, and all the merrymaking of the spring fiestas were just around the corner. The city seemed to be waking up—it was Spring. You would be walking around the city, going about your business, and then suddenly—Oh! The smell of azahar overwhelmed you, you’d never smelled something as strong and as beautiful. You took deeper breaths, aching to fill your nose with as much of the intoxicating, sweet scent of orange blossoms as you could. You felt a little insane—the scent enveloped you, and yet it felt somehow out of reach. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks. You were in awe.
Azahar was the most beautiful thing about Sevilla, and also a perfect symbol of what our time there was like. When Grace sent that message, it became clear to me what the experience had meant to all of us. Sure, it was fun—there was the partying and the traveling and the food. But more than anything, at a time when we were just beginning to enter adulthood, it was a blueprint for a fulfilling life. A blueprint for how we wanted to be in the world.
I miss Sevilla so much. I long for the faded yellow and red buildings, the orange trees, the rhythms of Andalusian Spanish, the chatter of the Alameda. But I am also so excited to share meals and cook with my friends here, to appreciate my surroundings and go for walks. To bask in the sunshine, and let beauty stop me in my tracks.
Early in the summer, I saw my friend Sarah in Cape Cod. We sat out on a patio, surrounded by blue and white hydrangeas in full bloom. I had just gotten back from Spain days earlier; Sarah had gotten back a few weeks earlier. We reminisced about our dinners, our picnics, our walks, our cañas. Our intelligent, loving, beautiful friends. “We were the luckiest people in the world,” she said. Maybe, we still are.
One last thing—my time in Spain is over, but I have plenty of musings on life left. Should I rebrand this newsletter to ‘Shalinee in LA’ and keep writing? Let me know!