Jess and I made a (very reasonable) mistake. We booked a room at a
pensione in Sevilla
. We thought
pensiones, albergues, and hostels were all about the same thing. Not so much.
A pension is a very, very cheap, very, very basic sort of hotel. In the case of the pension we had booked a room at, it was like a 2nd floor, relatively clean dungeon inside a none-too-inviting old house. An albergue is ... harder to define. Most of the ones I see are primarily for use by pilgrims on
caminos, old paths once tread by saints (if for no other reason than because those paths were Roman roads and the easiest paths to tread upon). So, albergues are often free for pilgrims (donations are suggested, however) or are hostel/albergues that are deeply discounted for the benefit of pilgrims. Hostels are glorious gatherings of world travelers in bright open spaces and shared dorm rooms, often in air-conditioned palatial buildings or very well-appointed large apartments. All of these cost about the same price, but typically only the latter two offer the conveniences of kitchens, free breakfasts, cool air, and fly-free bathrooms (if our pension was any indicator).
When we first arrived at the pension, Jess and I were relieved just to get out of the sun´s firing range, and were thankful that our room had a ceiling fan. However, soon the paper walls and windows that could not block out even a portion of the street noises echoing up the street outside made us start wondering just how relaxing our stay could really be in such a place. There was no social space, no excitement, and no place to put our ¨keep refrigerated¨ goods. We considered riding it out, telling ourselves that not every abode along the way had to feel like a treat. But then...
I hope I am not giving any surprises away by saying that Jess and I had purchased an exquisite block of aged goat cheese in Pamplona at a week-long craftsmans´ festival during our first week in Spain, and have been lugging it around city to city in Jessie´s Magical Backpack of Voluminous Wonders since then. We usually only have it out of the refrigerator for hours at a time, but it immediately begins to display its high odorous achievements during those few hours. As its pungency manifested itself to us in the room as a poignant reminder of its hircine powers, we realized that we would not actually survive three days in the room with our beloved block of cheese sucking the heat in as a deadly power source much like an old video game ultimate boss that has to be killed, like, 8 times before it actually dies, each time regenerating by gathering some swirl of sparkly dust around it while it rebuilds itself.
So, we hopped online, found a nearby hostel, booked three nights there, and jumped ship. This move seemed to personally offend the owner (whom we told we needed a refrigerator in Sevilla, and did not even mention how thoroughly everything else about the pension fell well below our expectations). He informed us that we would not find a hotel that offered a kitchen. It occurred to me that he probably has no idea what these hostels are like. Hostels are, to the young and adventurous, palaces of glory. His pension was.... not. Like I said, we were paying for a second floor dungeon (using the European form of ¨second floor¨, which means two floors above the ground floor).
Two blocks of luggage lugging later, we were in our palace. Here are some of the exclamations that we proclaimed as we checked in and were introduced to our room:
¨Oooooh, air conditioning!¨
¨Hey, is that an elevator? Why, yes, yes it is.¨
¨Free drink coupons for the bar on the rooftop terrace? Well, thank you very much, kind hostel personnel.¨
¨Jessica. There is a bidet in our bathroom. A bidet. I love this hostel.¨
¨So, which of the three refrigerators should we use for the cheese?¨
¨Hello, friendly vegan roommates. How long have you been in Spain? Several weeks, you say? Amidst several months in Europe? Oh, yes, I would love to exchange stories of our respective adventures.¨-- and so on.
Every once in a while, Jess and I turn to one another and express a general but excited sense of thanks that we made the change. I am, in fact, happy that we spent nearly an hour fretting that our time in Sevilla would be less than amazing, because that hour has made us appreciate (with abandon) every hour since.
By the way, even outside the hostel, Sevilla is fantastic, but too hot to explore before about 11pm. Last night, we braved the evening heat at about 7pm. Because we found a spectacular little restaurant with a menu we are more interested in touring than the rest of Sevilla, we plan to return to it at every opportunity (any meal between noon and midnight). I promise to take pictures and label them carefully, not only to share but in hopes of recreating these recipes in the States. Last night, we were too food-focused to think of cameras. Sorry about that.
Photos to come ...
