Well after completely ditching my Spain blog after Cantabria and now being back home for almost 3 weeks, I have finally decided to bring my adventures in Spain to a formal end. I think I’ll start it with what I wrote in my journal the day I departed my dream world …
I’m sitting at my gate in the airport right now making a conscious effort to avoid the old red neck woman who keeps forcing conversation about how she worked in a cafeteria for 30 years and is taking her career to another level. I’m also trying really hard not to cry. This morning, the Tron woke up at 5 a.m. with Colleen and me to see us off as we boarded the Tres P for the last time. When we were waiting for the bus, she talked to us about how one cooks “arroz a la cubana” and pasta. Even though I had already secretly figured out how to cook white rice, fry an egg, and boil pasta, I didn’t want the conversation to ever end. The Tron gave Colleen a huge hug when we saw Tres P rounding the corner. It was the most precious sight I have ever seen. Tron burrowed her head into the underside of Colleen’s chest highlighting the fact that she really must be a Spanish midget robot. I ran over and joined the group hug to make a Tron sandwich. When we loaded our things onto the bus, all of us just lost it. The people already on the bus were crying and there was really no hope to keep any composure.
It still doesn’t feel real. I feel like I’m getting on this plane to go on another excursion and then will soon return back to Salamanca. I didn’t realize that over the past 4 months, Salamanca has been the place I considered to be my home. I will miss so much.
I’ll miss my awesome Spanish friends – especially edu, natalio and Cesar. I’ll miss my jolly old human-cigarette for a Spanish civ. Professor…along with the 5 easiest/most fun classes that exist in college. I’ll miss the homeless man who sings about hamburgers (even though I gave him money and all he did was flash his rotting teeth and me and walked away. I’m pretty sure he farted, too). I’ll miss sitting on the floor of the plaza with Sarah and Colleen. I’ll miss the feeling that I get when the Tron brings out arroz a la cubana for the first course of our siesta lunch. I’ll even miss the fact that every Spanish man somehow thinks that my friends and I are God’s gift to the earth even after we just shoved 15 pounds of paella down our throats.
That was when I stopped writing in my journal because I had suddenly turned into the lonely girl with a pink suitcase bawling in the airport. However, to my surprise, I ended up sitting in front of another student from Virginia Tech who was returning from a semester in Barcelona. We talked a little but I got most of my info from eavesdropping. It sounded like she felt the exact same way I did. We just couldn’t believe it was over.
Over the past three weeks, I have experienced a bit of reverse culture shock but nothing too dramatic. I accidentally say “euros” a lot rather than “dollars.” When 2:30 rolls around I sometimes find myself preparing a Thanksgiving feast. It has been weird speaking English every day opposed to Spanish; I miss it. But I do have some good news regarding that issue. I recently had an interview with NII Holdings which is Nextel International. The company has completely moved its client base from America to Latin America. It has 6.5 million clients in Argentina, Brazil, Mexico, Peru and Chile. That being said, almost everybody in the office speaks Spanish on a daily basis. I somehow landed a summer internship with them (paid, YES!) and will continue speaking Spanish on a daily basis.
A lot of people say that when they study abroad, they come back a different person. I can say that this wasn’t the case for me. I’m still the same person, but my eyes have been opened to a new world of possibilities. Spain has shaped me to see things differently and consider new options. If I hadn’t had this experience, there are so many things I would have missed out on; including life lessons. I printed out over 200 photos from Spain and will soon put them into a scrapbook of memories. I also just wrote the Tron a letter and included some photos for her as well; hopefully she and I will keep in touch over the years.
Well I guess this formally concludes my 4-month Spanish dream life. A token of advice to anybody who reads this blog: study abroad. If you have already graduated college, make it a point to take a vacation to Europe at some point in your life. It’s amazing how much you can see once you take a step back from American culture. And also, when you’re planning this European get-away, hit me up and count me in.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Cantabria: The final excursion
Our final excursion with papa duck and the JMU gang was to Cantabria; the northern region of Spain. As Colleen and I joyfully trotted down the streets of Salamanca towards the Tres P with our home-made Bocadillos in hand, I thought about how incredible this whole experience has been. I started to think back to all of the hilarious things that have happened throughout our travels. From waking up in Barcelona with a bazaar allergic reaction that afforded me the opportunity to look like a bloated puffer fish, to threatening the bus driver that there WOULD be urine in his trash can if he didn’t stop soon, I remembered several incidents that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
This particular bus ride to Cantabria was pleasantly scenic. As we escalated up the mountains, I think that everybody on the bus was secretly praying to God for the bus driver to slow down so we wouldn’t fall off the road that seemed to be made for go-karts. These windy mountain roads reminded me of driving in Mexico with Dad and Elliott. Dad frequently feels the need to pass 18-wheelers on a 2-way mountain road while making a 40 degree angled turn. When he realizes that there are usually at least one or two additional 18-wheelers heading in the other direction, he either swerves back into his un-marked lane or guns his Ford Focus hoping that there is indeed a God out there. Usually at this point, Kate and I are holding hands and telling each other we have always loved one another and never meant anything by calling the other person a retard. Unfortunately, the only thing I had in my seat to comfort me on the way to Cantabria was Chelsea Handler’s book, “Are you there vodka? It’s me, Chelsea.”
After several hours of the worst palm sweat I’d experienced since being in Mexico with Dad, we arrived to the prehistoric cave of Puente Viesgo. This was one of the coolest sight-seeing activities we have done all semester. It seemed like it had barely been touched; there were hand prints and cave drawings all over the walls from thousands of years ago. Due to the plethora of water and mineral deposits that had run throughout the cave, the natural rock shapes were so unique and interesting to look at. As I walked around observing the natural history, Sarah kept pointing out rocks that she believed to be representations of fettuccini alfredo and an ice-cream sundays with a cherries on top. This is just one example of how Spain has expanded our minds to look at things from a different perspective.
After our cave visit, we ate our bocadillo feasts and headed to the mountain hotel. Our hotel was literally right smack in the middle of a chain of towering, snow capped mountains. I decided to take advantage of Mother Nature and grabbed my lumber-jack walking stick to hike up the mountains. We hiked for around two hours and took some awesome pictures, I didn’t think it could get any better until I found out the activity we would do the following day.
At around 10 am the next morning, we all piled into a gondola and headed up to the top of the mountain. We stepped out to find a beer-vending machine, and miles of gorgeous, snow capped mountains at our feet. We pranced around the mountains for a few hours. This was DEFINITELY my favorite sight-seeing activity throughout the whole semester, (besides the moment when I first laid eyes on one of the Tron’s home-made empanadas). I can’t even explain the feeling of serenity on top of this mountain; it was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
The next day we hopped on Tres P once again towards Santander. We went to a museum that was a replica of the Altamira cave that was not open to the public. I understand that this was a good replica, but because I had been spoiled the day before by seeing a REAL cave, I thought this was a pretty lame activity. Also, there were at least 20 grandparents standing in front of me during the whole tour emitting their old-people fumes straight into my face – it wasn’t the most pleasant smell in the world. That night we enjoyed our awesome 4-star hotel and went out to a local bar in Santander.
The next day would be our last and final day on our last and final excursion. We walked along the beach in 70 degree weather and saw an outside zoo. Zoo is pronounced like “thoe” in Spanish; just say it out loud like 5 times in a row, you’ll see why it’s kind of funny. Anyways, we saw penguins, seals and sea-lions. I missed Kate a lot when I laid eyes on one penguin that was awkwardly waddling around the rocks by himself after being ostracized from the rest of the penguin clan. If you know Kate, you know why she would remind somebody of a penguin. If not, just imagine a 5’5 petite woman with tiny limbs, hands and feet the size of a 7-year old. Then imagine the girl dancing off beat like she has absolutely no control over these baby-sized limbs. Hence, the reason my sister reminds me of a lonely penguin.
After that awesome day, we boarded Tres P for the last time and headed back to the ‘Manc. I suppose that on a normal day I would have been pretty sad that this was my last excursion. However, the following day was Lunes de Aguas. This day of fiesta marked the historic date when prostitutes were allowed back into the city of Salamanca after lent. That being said, the tradition was that people would picnic and drink by the river all day and welcome the prostitutes back into the city as they crossed the river. Evidently, there are no more prostitutes journeying across the river now-a-days, but according to the Tron, who doesn’t mind legal prostitutes, there are still a few slutting it up uncomfortably close to the location of our JMU office. Prostitutes or no prostitutes, nothing stops people from taking the day off and drinking 40’s and wine under the sun. Also, part of the tradition is to eat Hornazo which is basically like a meat pie/pastry. Thanks to the plethora of Spanish holidays that let us off school, our vacation from a vacation has not ended yet. Thursday is yet another Spanish holiday called Valverde. I have no idea what this holiday stands for, but I do know that I am not going to class and instead will be riding horses all day and having a picnic with all the madres – I’m not complaining.
This particular bus ride to Cantabria was pleasantly scenic. As we escalated up the mountains, I think that everybody on the bus was secretly praying to God for the bus driver to slow down so we wouldn’t fall off the road that seemed to be made for go-karts. These windy mountain roads reminded me of driving in Mexico with Dad and Elliott. Dad frequently feels the need to pass 18-wheelers on a 2-way mountain road while making a 40 degree angled turn. When he realizes that there are usually at least one or two additional 18-wheelers heading in the other direction, he either swerves back into his un-marked lane or guns his Ford Focus hoping that there is indeed a God out there. Usually at this point, Kate and I are holding hands and telling each other we have always loved one another and never meant anything by calling the other person a retard. Unfortunately, the only thing I had in my seat to comfort me on the way to Cantabria was Chelsea Handler’s book, “Are you there vodka? It’s me, Chelsea.”
After several hours of the worst palm sweat I’d experienced since being in Mexico with Dad, we arrived to the prehistoric cave of Puente Viesgo. This was one of the coolest sight-seeing activities we have done all semester. It seemed like it had barely been touched; there were hand prints and cave drawings all over the walls from thousands of years ago. Due to the plethora of water and mineral deposits that had run throughout the cave, the natural rock shapes were so unique and interesting to look at. As I walked around observing the natural history, Sarah kept pointing out rocks that she believed to be representations of fettuccini alfredo and an ice-cream sundays with a cherries on top. This is just one example of how Spain has expanded our minds to look at things from a different perspective.
After our cave visit, we ate our bocadillo feasts and headed to the mountain hotel. Our hotel was literally right smack in the middle of a chain of towering, snow capped mountains. I decided to take advantage of Mother Nature and grabbed my lumber-jack walking stick to hike up the mountains. We hiked for around two hours and took some awesome pictures, I didn’t think it could get any better until I found out the activity we would do the following day.
At around 10 am the next morning, we all piled into a gondola and headed up to the top of the mountain. We stepped out to find a beer-vending machine, and miles of gorgeous, snow capped mountains at our feet. We pranced around the mountains for a few hours. This was DEFINITELY my favorite sight-seeing activity throughout the whole semester, (besides the moment when I first laid eyes on one of the Tron’s home-made empanadas). I can’t even explain the feeling of serenity on top of this mountain; it was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
The next day we hopped on Tres P once again towards Santander. We went to a museum that was a replica of the Altamira cave that was not open to the public. I understand that this was a good replica, but because I had been spoiled the day before by seeing a REAL cave, I thought this was a pretty lame activity. Also, there were at least 20 grandparents standing in front of me during the whole tour emitting their old-people fumes straight into my face – it wasn’t the most pleasant smell in the world. That night we enjoyed our awesome 4-star hotel and went out to a local bar in Santander.
The next day would be our last and final day on our last and final excursion. We walked along the beach in 70 degree weather and saw an outside zoo. Zoo is pronounced like “thoe” in Spanish; just say it out loud like 5 times in a row, you’ll see why it’s kind of funny. Anyways, we saw penguins, seals and sea-lions. I missed Kate a lot when I laid eyes on one penguin that was awkwardly waddling around the rocks by himself after being ostracized from the rest of the penguin clan. If you know Kate, you know why she would remind somebody of a penguin. If not, just imagine a 5’5 petite woman with tiny limbs, hands and feet the size of a 7-year old. Then imagine the girl dancing off beat like she has absolutely no control over these baby-sized limbs. Hence, the reason my sister reminds me of a lonely penguin.
After that awesome day, we boarded Tres P for the last time and headed back to the ‘Manc. I suppose that on a normal day I would have been pretty sad that this was my last excursion. However, the following day was Lunes de Aguas. This day of fiesta marked the historic date when prostitutes were allowed back into the city of Salamanca after lent. That being said, the tradition was that people would picnic and drink by the river all day and welcome the prostitutes back into the city as they crossed the river. Evidently, there are no more prostitutes journeying across the river now-a-days, but according to the Tron, who doesn’t mind legal prostitutes, there are still a few slutting it up uncomfortably close to the location of our JMU office. Prostitutes or no prostitutes, nothing stops people from taking the day off and drinking 40’s and wine under the sun. Also, part of the tradition is to eat Hornazo which is basically like a meat pie/pastry. Thanks to the plethora of Spanish holidays that let us off school, our vacation from a vacation has not ended yet. Thursday is yet another Spanish holiday called Valverde. I have no idea what this holiday stands for, but I do know that I am not going to class and instead will be riding horses all day and having a picnic with all the madres – I’m not complaining.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
“Spring Break” when you’re already on vacation? What?
You know when you’re really really excited about something that’s about to happen, and you’re waiting for it, and you have no idea how you will react when it finally happens? Well, after what seemed like hours of pacing/dancing (literally) around the arrival gate in Madrid Airport, I accidentally greeted my family with an abundance of uncontrollable tears.
We started out in Madrid on Saturday and then took a flight to Tenerife on Tuesday. Our arrival to the grand Hotel Imperatriz in Madrid was a delight for me – as I had slept in a hostel without a bedroom door the night before. The hostel is called “Bull’s Hostel,” but I have made an executive decision to strictly refer to it now as “Bullshit Hostel.” Anyways, leaving Bullshit and seeing mom, Emmett and Isabelle was so overwhelming; I was so happy. Due to the fact that my mom and Emmett are like sight-seeing energizer bunnies, they were ready to explore Madrid in no time.
The next few days before we left for Tenerife, we went out for some great lunches and dinners. Prior to their arrival, I spent hours trying to map out the best restaurants and places to shop; clearly I had forgotten that Emmett is a human GPS and kicked my ass in every aspect of tourism knowledge. From insisting that a tiny quad under construction was the famous Plaza Mayor, to leading them through streets filled with hookers and accidentally ending up outside a brothel rather than a dessert bar, I can confidently admit that I am still the worst tour-guide on the planet.
However, thankfully, my family is very forgiving and we still had an amazing time. We spent each day walking around different parts of Madrid, taking in the culture and beauty of the city. On Sunday, we went to a huge flea-market which Madrid is famous for. Emmett wasn’t interested in buying cute earrings, bracelets and purses, but the girls had a blast.
The next morning we woke up early head to the airport. When we arrived to Tenerife, we proceeded to the Avis-Rent-a-Car desk; I couldn’t think of a way to convert “Avis” into a name like “Bullshit” for “Bull’s Hostel,” but it sure does deserve a name of that caliber. Since we carried a lot of luggage, we were hoping we’d get lucky with one of the hundreds of roomy vans or SUV’s we noticed in the parking lot. But no. Apparently an “upgrade” afforded us the opportunity to have the smallest bright-blue hatch-back known to man. Isabelle, mom and I all sat with suitcases on our laps and tennis rackets on our heads. Our upgrade also afforded us the opportunity to take a 92 Euro cab ride to the airport on the way home because the car broke in the hotel parking lot the morning of our 11am flight.
Phew – well, now that I have cleared the path for additional negative-nancy thoughts, I can talk about our perfect vacation in Tenerife. The hotel was literally a resort. It was one of those places that made it unnecessary to leave the premises to have a wonderful vacation. Throughout the week we enjoyed several bars, lounges and bands in the hotel. Also, every night from 11pm-12am, all the drinks were buy-one-get-one. Clearly, we revolved our whole night around that hour more than once.
We spent the days lounging at the pool and taking walks around the beach and shops. There are mountains and a huge volcano on the island. What gorgeous view. The sand is also a lot darker than normal; it’s almost black in certain parts because of the volcano. Also, the whole island catered to at least four languages: Spanish, English, French and German. Some restaurant menus also had Russian and Italian. I got some great practice in Madrid because I had to translate everything for my parents and speak for them, but in Tenerife they didn’t feel like they needed me to get around which was cool.
Isabelle and I spent most of the time with the parents, but six of my friends from the program were also in Tenerife so we met up with them a few times. This brings me to “Flirtz” experience: The cheesiest 70’s club that still exists today. The night-life in Tenerife is extremely touristy. If the bars aren’t playing music that was cool 40 years ago, they’re playing backstreet boys or Will Smith. Isabelle and I went out with my friends and enjoyed several cheap drinks at Flirtz. We also enjoyed the 50-year-old DJ that continually interrupted the 70’s dance-mixes with his appalling voice. Oh Flirtz. The walls were covered with bright pink flowers, peace signs, and phrases that read “shake your booty” (or something of that genre). When songs from the dirty dancing soundtrack came on, it was no surprise that all the girls immediately migrated to the dance floor. I think that Danny and Will secretly wanted to join but felt too manly to dance along with a video in which the singers were wearing leotards. Anyways, Flirtz was an experience to say the least.
The next day, my friends came to the hotel pool for the day. Unfortunately, it was overcast – this was the only day though that the weather wasn’t absolutely perfect. My mom and Emmett were delighted to meet the people that I’d been telling them about for so long. The next day was the last before our departure. We had an awesome breakfast at the hotel, and after that I finished “Catcher in the Rye.” I can’t figure out why it took me 20 years to read that book – don’t people usually read that when they’re like seven?
The flight back to Madrid felt like hours because I was secretly dreading saying good-bye to the fam. We all had such a great time (minus the stupid rent-a-car). When we parted ways it was sad, but I held in my tears this time. I then took the metro to meet up with Sarah and spend the next two days with her in Madrid.
Sarah had stayed with her mom and sister in Madrid for Spring Break. Her incredibly kind parents reserved their hotel for two extra days after they left so that Sarah and I didn’t have to stay in a hostel. Seriously, what did I do to deserve this? Anyways, the hotel was awesome and in a perfect location. Sarah and I went to Kapital on Saturday night, a 7-story club that we’ve been hearing about for months. It was a lot of fun but the men wouldn’t leave us alone. If I have learned one thing from being in Spain for three months, it’s how to get men to leave you alone. After confessing to several boys that I am gay, German, and cannot speak Spanish or English, I managed to enjoy a fun girls night with Sarah.
The next day was Easter and Sarah and I treated ourselves to an outstanding Broadway show called Carmen. It was all dancing, no speaking. The dance was flamenco. If you read my post from Granada, you know that the last time I saw flamenco I felt like I was watching constipated gargoyles for two hours; this was different. I can’t even explain how talented these people are, it was amazing.
The next day we took the metro to the bus station and headed back to Salamanca. Coming back to Escolitron and Colleen was really nice. Since I only have around two weeks left in Salamanca, I have decided that I should shed at least a few of my double-chins before I head back to the states. I told the Tron and I’m going on a diet and she acknowledged my effort to lose weight by feeding me a greasy ham & cheese sandwich last night and ½ a pizza tonight. Wish me luck, seriously.
This weekend we’re heading to the province of Cantabria for our last and final group excursion. After that, I have less than two weeks until I head back to the motherland. Spain has been an incredible experience, but I’m feeling ready to head back and see everybody and everything I’ve missed. 16 days from today!
P.s. I am posting this from the Tron's casa, for 3 months Colleen and I have eagerly tried to steel internet every day. This is a serious breakthrough.
We started out in Madrid on Saturday and then took a flight to Tenerife on Tuesday. Our arrival to the grand Hotel Imperatriz in Madrid was a delight for me – as I had slept in a hostel without a bedroom door the night before. The hostel is called “Bull’s Hostel,” but I have made an executive decision to strictly refer to it now as “Bullshit Hostel.” Anyways, leaving Bullshit and seeing mom, Emmett and Isabelle was so overwhelming; I was so happy. Due to the fact that my mom and Emmett are like sight-seeing energizer bunnies, they were ready to explore Madrid in no time.
The next few days before we left for Tenerife, we went out for some great lunches and dinners. Prior to their arrival, I spent hours trying to map out the best restaurants and places to shop; clearly I had forgotten that Emmett is a human GPS and kicked my ass in every aspect of tourism knowledge. From insisting that a tiny quad under construction was the famous Plaza Mayor, to leading them through streets filled with hookers and accidentally ending up outside a brothel rather than a dessert bar, I can confidently admit that I am still the worst tour-guide on the planet.
However, thankfully, my family is very forgiving and we still had an amazing time. We spent each day walking around different parts of Madrid, taking in the culture and beauty of the city. On Sunday, we went to a huge flea-market which Madrid is famous for. Emmett wasn’t interested in buying cute earrings, bracelets and purses, but the girls had a blast.
The next morning we woke up early head to the airport. When we arrived to Tenerife, we proceeded to the Avis-Rent-a-Car desk; I couldn’t think of a way to convert “Avis” into a name like “Bullshit” for “Bull’s Hostel,” but it sure does deserve a name of that caliber. Since we carried a lot of luggage, we were hoping we’d get lucky with one of the hundreds of roomy vans or SUV’s we noticed in the parking lot. But no. Apparently an “upgrade” afforded us the opportunity to have the smallest bright-blue hatch-back known to man. Isabelle, mom and I all sat with suitcases on our laps and tennis rackets on our heads. Our upgrade also afforded us the opportunity to take a 92 Euro cab ride to the airport on the way home because the car broke in the hotel parking lot the morning of our 11am flight.
Phew – well, now that I have cleared the path for additional negative-nancy thoughts, I can talk about our perfect vacation in Tenerife. The hotel was literally a resort. It was one of those places that made it unnecessary to leave the premises to have a wonderful vacation. Throughout the week we enjoyed several bars, lounges and bands in the hotel. Also, every night from 11pm-12am, all the drinks were buy-one-get-one. Clearly, we revolved our whole night around that hour more than once.
We spent the days lounging at the pool and taking walks around the beach and shops. There are mountains and a huge volcano on the island. What gorgeous view. The sand is also a lot darker than normal; it’s almost black in certain parts because of the volcano. Also, the whole island catered to at least four languages: Spanish, English, French and German. Some restaurant menus also had Russian and Italian. I got some great practice in Madrid because I had to translate everything for my parents and speak for them, but in Tenerife they didn’t feel like they needed me to get around which was cool.
Isabelle and I spent most of the time with the parents, but six of my friends from the program were also in Tenerife so we met up with them a few times. This brings me to “Flirtz” experience: The cheesiest 70’s club that still exists today. The night-life in Tenerife is extremely touristy. If the bars aren’t playing music that was cool 40 years ago, they’re playing backstreet boys or Will Smith. Isabelle and I went out with my friends and enjoyed several cheap drinks at Flirtz. We also enjoyed the 50-year-old DJ that continually interrupted the 70’s dance-mixes with his appalling voice. Oh Flirtz. The walls were covered with bright pink flowers, peace signs, and phrases that read “shake your booty” (or something of that genre). When songs from the dirty dancing soundtrack came on, it was no surprise that all the girls immediately migrated to the dance floor. I think that Danny and Will secretly wanted to join but felt too manly to dance along with a video in which the singers were wearing leotards. Anyways, Flirtz was an experience to say the least.
The next day, my friends came to the hotel pool for the day. Unfortunately, it was overcast – this was the only day though that the weather wasn’t absolutely perfect. My mom and Emmett were delighted to meet the people that I’d been telling them about for so long. The next day was the last before our departure. We had an awesome breakfast at the hotel, and after that I finished “Catcher in the Rye.” I can’t figure out why it took me 20 years to read that book – don’t people usually read that when they’re like seven?
The flight back to Madrid felt like hours because I was secretly dreading saying good-bye to the fam. We all had such a great time (minus the stupid rent-a-car). When we parted ways it was sad, but I held in my tears this time. I then took the metro to meet up with Sarah and spend the next two days with her in Madrid.
Sarah had stayed with her mom and sister in Madrid for Spring Break. Her incredibly kind parents reserved their hotel for two extra days after they left so that Sarah and I didn’t have to stay in a hostel. Seriously, what did I do to deserve this? Anyways, the hotel was awesome and in a perfect location. Sarah and I went to Kapital on Saturday night, a 7-story club that we’ve been hearing about for months. It was a lot of fun but the men wouldn’t leave us alone. If I have learned one thing from being in Spain for three months, it’s how to get men to leave you alone. After confessing to several boys that I am gay, German, and cannot speak Spanish or English, I managed to enjoy a fun girls night with Sarah.
The next day was Easter and Sarah and I treated ourselves to an outstanding Broadway show called Carmen. It was all dancing, no speaking. The dance was flamenco. If you read my post from Granada, you know that the last time I saw flamenco I felt like I was watching constipated gargoyles for two hours; this was different. I can’t even explain how talented these people are, it was amazing.
The next day we took the metro to the bus station and headed back to Salamanca. Coming back to Escolitron and Colleen was really nice. Since I only have around two weeks left in Salamanca, I have decided that I should shed at least a few of my double-chins before I head back to the states. I told the Tron and I’m going on a diet and she acknowledged my effort to lose weight by feeding me a greasy ham & cheese sandwich last night and ½ a pizza tonight. Wish me luck, seriously.
This weekend we’re heading to the province of Cantabria for our last and final group excursion. After that, I have less than two weeks until I head back to the motherland. Spain has been an incredible experience, but I’m feeling ready to head back and see everybody and everything I’ve missed. 16 days from today!
P.s. I am posting this from the Tron's casa, for 3 months Colleen and I have eagerly tried to steel internet every day. This is a serious breakthrough.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Caution: Spanish Women Ahead
Within the past 72 hours I have experienced a sufficient amount of embarrassment and anger to be frightened of Spanish women. The first account is actually rather comical, the second, not so much.
The first traumatic Spanish-woman incident happened on Sunday night when Sarah decided to come to the Tron casa for a visit. She lives close and had never seen the house; she also wanted to kick it with Escolitron, ya know maybe talk to gossip – the usual. To her unpleasant surprise, the gossip would later end up being about herself, Colleen and me. As we wrapped up the grand tour of our apartment, we ended up in the bathroom. It was at this moment when Colleen pointed to the scale and made a joke about how these days we try to stay away from any type of weighing-device. Well, the Tron, being the typical blunt Spanish woman that she is, seized this opportunity and immediately picked up the scale and demanded that we all weigh ourselves. After she plopped her 5’2 tiny self on the scale and announced that she weighs as much as a fit 6-year old, she shifted her focus to me. There was no turning back. After a pathetic attempt to deny her request, I found myself on the scale while she announced to my friends how much weight I have gained. After I got off, she moved right down the line to Colleen. When an awkward silent pause, she looked up in disbelief and said “aaaay….pesas MUCHO!” (You weight A LOT). Yes Tron, Colleen may weigh a tad bit more than you, being that she is approaching 7-feet tall. It didn’t stop there; the fact that Sarah had been in the house for less than 5 minutes did not faze the determined Escolitron. After she announced Sarah’s weight, we shamefully retreated back to Colleen’s room, heads hanging low, pondering if this could be just some normal welcoming present; “hey, welcome to my house! You have 4 chins and I want you to know EXACTLY how much they weight!”
The next episode that left me terrified of Spanish women happened last night in the bathroom of a club called Khandavia. Around 3:30 a.m, Colleen, Andrea and I found ourselves in a bathroom with 20 other girls waiting on three stalls – men have it so easy. Anyways, a lot of the girls were going into the bathrooms together so when my friend Andrea went in, I proceeded to follow her. The next thing I knew, a girl was yelling at me and grabbing my arm, literally pulling me out of the stall with Andrea. Although I didn’t understand every word, I got the gist that she was pissed because there was a line. Fine. No biggy. I surrendered and left the stall without putting up a fight. When I put myself back in line, she and a group of her friends started talking about me, waving their arms in my direction. In all honesty, they were saying pretty nasty things, one of which was “she’s so stupid she doesn’t even understand that we’re talking about her” (because they were speaking Spanish). Well, I did understand so I found the confidence to say in a shy, weak voice, “Excuse me, I can understand what you’re saying.” They only continued to make fun of me. I wanted to give it right back to them but instead, I said nothing because I was afraid of saying something like “You silly girls I wish you would just be more jolly!” due to the lack of my mean-Spanish-girl vocabulary. When I realized the yelling and rude gestures weren’t about stop any time soon, I ran out of the bathroom into the arms of Colleen and started crying like a baby. Seriously, I know it’s weird that I cried, but they were feisty, and the fact that I couldn’t say anything back was so frustrating. Anyways, I got over it soon enough. I’m sure I’ll look back on this and realize I was being ridiculously over sensitive, it’s all good though…all part of the experience.
On a lighter note my merrrrm is coming to visit in 3 DAYS with Isabelle and Emmett! I am SO excited. Megan, Sarah and I are taking a 9am bus to Madrid on Friday, staying in a hostel that night then meeting our parents on Saturday. As you know, we’re going to Tenerife on Tuesday and spending the rest of the week there. Check up on the blog sometime after next week!
The first traumatic Spanish-woman incident happened on Sunday night when Sarah decided to come to the Tron casa for a visit. She lives close and had never seen the house; she also wanted to kick it with Escolitron, ya know maybe talk to gossip – the usual. To her unpleasant surprise, the gossip would later end up being about herself, Colleen and me. As we wrapped up the grand tour of our apartment, we ended up in the bathroom. It was at this moment when Colleen pointed to the scale and made a joke about how these days we try to stay away from any type of weighing-device. Well, the Tron, being the typical blunt Spanish woman that she is, seized this opportunity and immediately picked up the scale and demanded that we all weigh ourselves. After she plopped her 5’2 tiny self on the scale and announced that she weighs as much as a fit 6-year old, she shifted her focus to me. There was no turning back. After a pathetic attempt to deny her request, I found myself on the scale while she announced to my friends how much weight I have gained. After I got off, she moved right down the line to Colleen. When an awkward silent pause, she looked up in disbelief and said “aaaay….pesas MUCHO!” (You weight A LOT). Yes Tron, Colleen may weigh a tad bit more than you, being that she is approaching 7-feet tall. It didn’t stop there; the fact that Sarah had been in the house for less than 5 minutes did not faze the determined Escolitron. After she announced Sarah’s weight, we shamefully retreated back to Colleen’s room, heads hanging low, pondering if this could be just some normal welcoming present; “hey, welcome to my house! You have 4 chins and I want you to know EXACTLY how much they weight!”
The next episode that left me terrified of Spanish women happened last night in the bathroom of a club called Khandavia. Around 3:30 a.m, Colleen, Andrea and I found ourselves in a bathroom with 20 other girls waiting on three stalls – men have it so easy. Anyways, a lot of the girls were going into the bathrooms together so when my friend Andrea went in, I proceeded to follow her. The next thing I knew, a girl was yelling at me and grabbing my arm, literally pulling me out of the stall with Andrea. Although I didn’t understand every word, I got the gist that she was pissed because there was a line. Fine. No biggy. I surrendered and left the stall without putting up a fight. When I put myself back in line, she and a group of her friends started talking about me, waving their arms in my direction. In all honesty, they were saying pretty nasty things, one of which was “she’s so stupid she doesn’t even understand that we’re talking about her” (because they were speaking Spanish). Well, I did understand so I found the confidence to say in a shy, weak voice, “Excuse me, I can understand what you’re saying.” They only continued to make fun of me. I wanted to give it right back to them but instead, I said nothing because I was afraid of saying something like “You silly girls I wish you would just be more jolly!” due to the lack of my mean-Spanish-girl vocabulary. When I realized the yelling and rude gestures weren’t about stop any time soon, I ran out of the bathroom into the arms of Colleen and started crying like a baby. Seriously, I know it’s weird that I cried, but they were feisty, and the fact that I couldn’t say anything back was so frustrating. Anyways, I got over it soon enough. I’m sure I’ll look back on this and realize I was being ridiculously over sensitive, it’s all good though…all part of the experience.
On a lighter note my merrrrm is coming to visit in 3 DAYS with Isabelle and Emmett! I am SO excited. Megan, Sarah and I are taking a 9am bus to Madrid on Friday, staying in a hostel that night then meeting our parents on Saturday. As you know, we’re going to Tenerife on Tuesday and spending the rest of the week there. Check up on the blog sometime after next week!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
El sur: Granada, Córdoba, Sevilla y Mérida
We left at 8:30 on Thursday morning. Remembering my traumatic experience on the way to Barcelona, I allotted myself ample time to use the restroom before I boarded the Tres Pilares. (Tres Pilares ((Three Pillars)) is the name of the bus company we use – it always smells like b.o and has no restroom, we all hate it and refer to it as tres p, p cubed, or t.p).
Tres p was uneventful, smelly, and lasted around eight hours. We arrived to our hotel in Granada around 5:30. It seems like with every excursion comes a more posh hotel. The hotel was surrounded with gorgeous gardens and a big pool area. After we unpacked, we all walked through the barrio de Albaycín (Albaycín neighborhood), the place where I would end up spending my entire food stipend on bags, dresses and presents. The barrio lead us to a stunning view of the Alhambra; a famous ancient palace. When the Muslims ruled Spain, the rulers lived in the Alhambra and later, it became the home to King Ferninand and Queen Isabela. The view was breathtaking. Behind the Alhambra are snow-topped mountains that seem to trace the edge of the sky. The sight is honestly impossible to explain. I think that part of the reason it was so awesome was because I was standing in 80 degree weather looking just past the city to see mountains completely covered in snow.
After taking in the serenity of the Alhambra, we leisurely walked around the barrio. Andalucía is characterized by a unique Arabic influence. The architecture reflects Arabic art which is really colorful and dynamic, and the Granadinos are very distinct from the people of northern Spain. Every other side street and corner in Granada is filled with people hanging out drinking 40’s and smoking hookah/hash. The fashion is shockingly similar to that of MC hammer; apparently high Granadinos think that parachute pants have come back into style. Don’t get me wrong, I fell in love with these people. I found the hippies to be very welcoming and friendly; the Tron told me that this is very typical of southern Spain. When I come back here, I am definitely taking another trip to Granada. Flamenco dance is also a huge part of southern culture which is something you would never see in places like Salamanca, Madrid or Barcelona. According to Jesús, the only thing that all of Spain has in common is mucha fiesta; a pleasant bonus for my study abroad group. Later that night we had a delicious dinner in the hotel and went out to a local bar.
The next day we did some more historical sight-seeing. My favorite part of the day was dinner at the Flamenco Show. If you’ve never seen Flamenco before, it might be worthwhile to youtube it. I ended up sitting about six inches from the stage which ended up being a bittersweet experience. Before we knew it, Sarah and I were dodging the feet of angry, fervent flamenco dancers. The style of dance incorporates an intense amount of passion. Their feet tapped wildly, their arms flung forcefully, and their faces emitted expressions of sheer fury. Because the style of dance integrates an extreme amount of physical and emotional passion, every bit of energy went to the precise body movements of the dancers. Due to the concentrated footwork, there were a handful of moments when their faces ended up producing expressions of painful constipation. Clearly, I caved in to my immaturity and had a severe laughing attack for 2-3 minutes. Other than the images of constipated gargoyle faces forever imprinted in my mind, I will only have fond memories of this experience.
After dinner, the group proceeded to take a little tour through another barrio that lead up to the Alhambra. Just as I rounded the corner to face our tour director, I was confronted by two dirty fists in front of my face flicking me off. I stared at the fists in complete shock and tried to think of everything I learned in Elementary school about self defense. My heart was pounding as I stood in front of a gang of 5-year olds with pig tails flicking me off and spitting tuna sandwiches at me. Screw MS-13, we had a pack of dangerous Spanish toddlers on our hands armed with tuna sandwiches. I tried to run away, but these niños were quick. The group walked past the gang and tried to pay attention to the director. I didn’t end up hearing one word the guide spoke because I was too busy dodging tuna bullets. I found out later that this was a notoriously bad neighborhood full of poor gypsy families – why we chose this path, I’m not sure, but we will follow our papa ducky Jesús no matter where he goes.
Thankfully, we were able to flee the danger zone and make our way up to the view to see the Alhambra at night. Again, breathtaking. After that, we made our way home taking a detour route back to the bus in order to avoid further gang activity.
The next day we left Granada early to arrive at Córdoba around 2:30. We saw la Mesquita de Córdoba (mosque) which was cool. I’m not a huge fan of touring cathedrals/mosques, especially when the weather is so nice, but the art/architecture in these Spanish cathedrals are truly out of this world. Even though I tend to drag my feet at times, listening to papa ducky talk about the history of the buildings makes it pretty interesting.
We only stayed in Cordoba for a half-day and then went to Sevilla to have a late dinner in the hotel. I rolled off the bus half-asleep and when I saw the hotel I almost thought we were touring another building. The hotel was enormous and decorated with intricate strings of lights and vines. I took a bunch of pictures of the atrium before I got to my room – I know I’m nerdy.
Sunday, we visited los Reales Alcázares which is where Christopher Columbus was first received in Spain. The stone buildings are surrounded by seemingly never-ending gorgeous gardens. I really liked this part of the trip because we were outside for most of the time. After that, the group went to Plaza de España which is definitely comparable to the Plaza Mayor in Salamanca. Later a couple of the girls and I went to a Cuban restaurant for lunch and drank the best mojitos in the world. Feeling a little buzzed and all the more adventurous, we decided to take a boat tour of Sevilla on the river. The tour was cheesy and semi-bland but it was still a perfect way to wrap up the day.
During this excursion, we did so many activities during the day that by the time night rolled around a lot of us were too beat to go out. I went to bed early and woke up Monday morning to hop on tres p to head back to the motherland. On the way back, we stopped in Mérida to see Roman ruins including an amphitheater which was really cool. Everybody kept telling me to stand in the middle of the theatre and sing; I didn’t do it…but I did take a cheesy picture with Sarah and Tori doing ballet. … Que guay?
We got back to the Tron casa around 7:30. Time seems to be flying here. Next weekend we will be here in Salamanca, and then we have Spring break, one more excursion followed by a few days of exams and back home! It’s definitely a bittersweet feeling… recently I have been thinking about all the things I’ll miss when I go back home. Surely one is being able to talk about things that you know nobody around you can understand. Another is the homeless man in Salamanca on the street that sings the same song up and down calle toro every day. I have memorized the song word-for-word: “Ayúdame para comprar una hamburguesa que tengo hambre por favor!” (Help me to buy a hamburger I am hungry, please!” It sounds kinda lame on paper but it really does have a nice little ring to it. I’m thinking that before I leave I will give him some money and then sing with him, we’ll see…cuando en España.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
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