One of the things that was not included in my two fifty pound bags of luggage was an umbrella. Or rainboots of any variety. This isn't quite as stupid as it sounds because, apparently, it never rains in Sevilla, or at least this is what all the Sevillanos have been telling me.
I passed the whole first day of my Seminario Cultural classes looking like a pale wet rat with freezing feet. Even my classes about Franco and actually useful and comprehensive grammar weren't quite enough to take my mind of my sopping wet condition. I cursed my poor planning while I took notes on the Spanish history of the last century and learned about Franco's 7 essential laws. I inconspicuously rubbed my feet together to warm them while listening as my conversation teacher expanded on the difference between "club" and "discoteca" (hint, one involves prostitutes, the other all-night dancing and chicos guapos). In my last class of the day on grammar, I wondered whether wrapping my toes in toilet paper would keep me warmer or just create a soppy mess in my shoe. I decided that it would probably be more hassle than it was worth.
However, by the time the rain let up a little for my walk back to the hotel after classes, there were wounded and dying umbrellas laying in puddles on the sidewalk everywhere I looked. It seems that any umbrella I would have packed would not have stood up to the torrential winds. As Gayle has taken to saying, "cualquier" (an incorrect usage of the literal translation of 'whatever'), at least it's not snow!