Now that I’ve spent a few weeks settling into life in Seville, I decided to take a closer look at an ordinary Monday to see what still surprises me and what’s starting to feel more familiar.
Mondays here carry a rhythm that I’m beginning to understand: the quiet, almost sleepy pace of the morning slowly builds into the warmth and energy of the evening. One thing that continues to stand out is how the city truly comes alive at night, even on weekdays. In the U.S., Monday is the quietest evening of the week as people are dreading finishing out the week and reminiscing on their lively weekend. But in Seville, the plazas are just starting to fill up after 8 p.m., and it’s not unusual to see families with kids still out at 10 or 11, sharing tapas and conversation. It’s made me think a lot about how the Spanish prioritize connection and time together in a way that isn’t dictated by the clock.
I’ve also noticed how much walking has become part of my day. On this Monday, for example, I walked from class through the winding streets of Triana, where the mix of history and daily life still amazes me. The narrow cobblestone paths, the orange trees, and sudden bursts of color from tiled walls still feel like something out of a movie. Back home, a “walkable” city usually means big sidewalks and bike lanes. Here, “walkable” feels more organic and genuine. People weave through streets that were never designed for cars, and somehow it works.
One aspect I’ve come to appreciate more deeply is how tradition and modern life blend so seamlessly. On this particular Monday, just like most days when I walk to class, I pass a flamenco dancer and guitarist practicing in a courtyard near the Starbucks and convenience stands, and neither felt out of place. The coexistence of old and new here isn’t just about simple architecture, but it’s in the way people live. There’s a respect for tradition that doesn’t feel forced or nostalgic. It just simply exists..
At the same time, the cultural differences I noticed early on still linger. I’m still adjusting to the lack of personal space, the lack of AC, and I occasionally miss the pointless politeness that I’m used to in the States. But I’m starting to see that what I originally saw as rudeness might just be a different set of social rules, ones that prioritize presence and directness over insincere niceties. And while I don’t always love the closeness of traffic or how scooters sneak up behind me to simply rush past me, I’ve stopped holding my breath so much.
This small experiment, just paying closer attention to a Monday, reminded me how much I’ve learned simply by observing and participating in daily life. The more I walk these streets, listen to conversations in plazas, and adjust to the pace of this city, the more I begin to feel like I’m not just visiting.
I’m starting to see the city not just through the eyes of a traveler, but as a Sevillano.
