Scared in Sevilla

Tomorrow is my first day in the Archivo General de Indias. Because I arrived after everyone else, I have to run the registration gauntlet ... alone. Alone. And en espanol. Somehow, I don't think the guards and archivists are going to be quite as amused by my wretched attempts to communicate in Spanish as some of the merchants are. Or those lovely businessmen on the train from Madrid to Sevilla, who spent two hours speaking slowly and sweetly to me, finding my language skills after only two summer semesters rather endearing. Oh no. I'm afraid the archivists are going to draw themselves up and shoo me away when I approach them and tell them I have come to register for the first time ("Vengo registrar por favor").

I have a little cheat sheet with Spanish phrases written on it (which includes the well-worn "Lo siento pero no puedo hablar muy bien"), but I don't think I'll have time to refer to it. ("Hold that thought, mean guard, while I check out my cheat sheet.") But perhaps they will be so enchanted by my new black Wolfold polka-dot stockings that they'll let me in anyway. I'll report tomorrow.

Here is why I am falling in love with Sevilla:

Interior of la Iglesia de Santa Maria la Blanca ... right down the street from our apartment.

Beautiful, flowering trees ... everywhere.

Tile railings at the ... actually, I don't remember where I saw this during our walk today. I think it's the Plaza de Espana ... I'll find out!

Random beautiful building on our walk this afternoon.

Crossing the street near Plaza de Espana.

More crossing of streets ... it's just gorgeous everywhere I turn my head.