First, a few days before my birthday a few of my friends from the study-abroad program decided to treat me to dinner. Which fine dining establishment did I choose? A hamburger and pizza place called Sloppy Joe's... basically the closest thing to real American food you can get in Spain without resorting to McDonald's. I know, I know, I should be enjoying Spanish food in my last few weeks here, but it was my birthday and there was no way I wasn't having a bacon cheeseburger.
The group at Sloppy Joe's, taking a short break from stuffing our faces. Emme's taking the picture because we didn't want to ask our waiter for a group shot-- he was possibly the surliest waiter in all of Spain (and that's saying something).
After dinner we were all completely stuffed, but no birthday dinner is complete without something sweet and fattening. We decided to walk 30 minutes across town to what is arguably Seville's best ice cream shop, Rayas.
It's no Funfetti cake with chocolate icing (truly the king of all birthday cakes), but the ice cream was really delicious.
After getting ice cream I went dancing with my intercambio and a few of her friends. Wait a second, I don't think I've mentioned my intercambio on here before. Basically, the University of Seville has an program where Spanish students who are interested in practicing their English meet with American students who want to practice their Spanish. My intercambio is named Dulce (which means "sweet" in Spanish) and her name is terribly fitting. She's 31 years old, she's enthusiastic about everything, she writes plays, she's super generous, and she lives in the bohemian, hippie area of town. We started out just getting coffee once a week but now we hang out regularly and do random stuff together. She's awesome-- we teach each other all sorts of helpful words and phrases. (Though the other day she asked me what "douchebag" meant. Have you ever tried to put in words what that means? It's tough.)
Me, Alejandro and Dulce. At this point this picture was taken it was 2:00 in the morning. I was exhausted so I headed back to my house, but they ended up staying until about 5:00 a.m. And this is a regular thing! Maybe I'm just prematurely middle-aged but I honestly don't understand how Spaniards do it.
On Monday, my actual birthday, I came home after classes to find a wrapped package on my desk. At first I thought it must be from Ramya, my roommate, but the note was barely legible and written in very-grammatically-incorrect Spanish. Gotta be from my senora. But what could she possibly have gotten me? As I've said, literally the only thing she knows about me is that I'll eat anything she puts in front of me. She doesn't even know my name most of the time (which is extra-ridiculous because Laura is the fourth most common girl's name in all of Spain).
A picture of the mystery present. Oh man, the suspense!
So I open it, with much anticipation, to reveal... a duck. A medium-sized stuffed duck. The kind you give to children. It has a bow around its neck and it quacks (really loudly) when you squeeze it. My first thought upon seeing it: "You have got to be kidding me." My second thought: "I LOVE IT!!!" I laughed for five minutes straight, then composed myself and went out and thanked my senora profusely for the best gift I've ever gotten.
He doesn't have a name yet, but I am very open to suggestions from everyone.
Me and this duck are basically best friends now. Getting him home is going to be interesting-- my suitcase will probably quack all the way to New Jersey.
A few days after my birthday, I hung out with Dulce again. I had mentioned that my birthday was coming up on Saturday, and she insisted on getting me a present even though I told her she shouldn't. We got coffee, sat down, and she revealed my present: a bag of six dinner rolls and a birthday card that was still wrapped in plastic (nope, nothing written on it). For the second time in two days I burst out laughing and thanked someone repeatedly for a gift so bewildering that it circled around into being awesome.
After I opened my present, she decided that it was time to sing Happy Birthday (it's "Cumpleanos Feliz" in Spanish, with the same tune). She then got out her lighter-- like most Spanish people I know, she's a dedicated smoker-- stuck it in one of the rolls, and flicked it on. She then forced me to sing Happy Birthday to MYSELF in English because she wanted to hear how it sounded. So there I am sitting in a cafe, singing happy birthday to myself while my Spanish friend holds a lighter on in a dinner roll-- which also happens to be my present. Are you kidding me?
In summary, my 22nd birthday was really great. I love my American friends here, my wonderful senora, and my crazy intercambio, and I'm going to miss everyone!