The further I get, the more bustling the morning seems. While I cross the Puenta de Triana, squinting in the morning light and grateful for the comfortable, yet short-lived temperature. Along the bridge and the Rio Guadalquivir, there are people walking their dogs, always stopping to greet a friend. The fit of the town are often getting in their morning jog or bicycle ride before the sun becomes too brutal to want to put forth that much physical effort. When I reach the end of the bridge, I am bombarded with the tantalizing smell of freshly fried churros and sweet chocolate from the humble stand at Calle Arjona, a place I have grown to love over the past few weeks. I am unable to indulge as much as I’d like, however, because the stand has the strangest hours, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the city.

On my way to school, it only gets busier. Suited Sevillanos on their mopeds zip by and I am often terrified for my life. Many of the riders seem to be going faster than the cars with which they share the road and decide to traverse the sidewalk. After the initial shock, I can really step back and notice what is going on around me. People gather in the various plazas and big main streets, ready to begin their day. Restaurants put their chalkboard easels on display, advertising the desayuno especial: jamon, tomate, y aceite con un café y zumo de naranja, 3 euros (a deliciously simple and traditional meal of a ham sandwich with tomatoes and oil, a coffee, and an orange juice). Once I get to school, the morning really begins picking up right outside the classroom window, as is evident by the constant rumbling of cars and increasing cacophony of voices in the street.

Cityscape and New Media Final.Paco Gonzalez.Summer2014