here, there, everywhere

In Sevilla, which is so hot I´m wearing a tanktop and finding excuses to stop walking around so much in the unfamiliar sun; I only have a few minutes left of what I´m pretty sure is free internet at the Tourist Office, so for now I just wanted to say that the high point of being in Spain (aside from making it to Chapter Two of Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal) has definitely been the Antiguo Museo de Brujería, or museum of witchcraft, which tragically does not have a huge internet presence, unless you count numerous directions to the travel sites that tragically advise their readers to´walk past the witchcraft museum¨ on their way to bigger, less unexpectedly awesome and kitschy venues. The museum itself is about five euros (though the guy gave me two books for free, so it sort of balanced out) and made up of several dimly lit rooms that house a comprehensive exhibit of medieval poisons and hallucinigens (from which comes the title of this post) and a collection of false relics, including but not limited to: the holy grail, the head of elizabeth bathory, the hand of a hanged man, a mummified mermaid, a fairy floating in a jar of formeldahyde, the elixer of eternal youth, an impressive array of stuffed mythological animals and a case of what I can only describe as 'penis monsters.' And, lest you think being a witch was all potions and sex with demons, the basement includes a slightly more somber collection of torture implements and accounts of witch trials. BEST MUSEUM EVER.

In Madrid, where I shouldn´t write too much since I´m on the communal, free internet in my hotel, and where I am probably over-enjoying the easy accesibility of upside-down punctuation (¡¿) on the keyboard. This is the last leg of my trip, which is a bit sad (though I miss home like crazy) and so far I´m having a great time exploring and trying to pretend like I know how to speak Spanish (I have a really horrible ability to nod like I understand when in fact I don´t, which seems ... ominous, but I´ve also been able to more or less politely get by, if not interact overmuch, so, hooray for dimly recalling those four years of high school Spanish and not starving to death or sleeping on the street.

In hopes of at least marginally improving my inexcusably bad Spanish, I actually bought a copy of the first Harry Potter book in Spanish (along with a Spanish to English dictionary) today, in large part because I´ve almost finished the only book I brought with me and the only English books for sale were $20 paperbacks by Michael Crighton or Patricia Connolly and the like. I spent a good 30 minutes painstakingly making my way through the first two pages, dictionary in hand, and can confidently say that I a) have spent an unreasonable amount of time feeling almost sympathetic for the Dursleys, with their boring ties and tuneless humming and as-of-yet unexplored tendencies towards child abuse, and b) know the Spanish word for drill! So much better than a Michael Crighton book. I don´t really know if this will help me communicate while I´m actually here (unless Voldemort stages an attack against Muggles, in which case I´m all over that) but at least my brain can stop atrophying at least a little bit and maybe I can even make friends with a dentist. Or something.