Well I am Back! (we are backkkk, we are getting Doug Backkkkk...any Hangover fans in the bunch?)
Whew, so a lot has happened in my little Spanish life since I last left you. March 8th is apparently an "international" holiday to celebrate working women everywhere. Haven't heard of it? Yeah, me neither, until I went to the elementary school to volunteer and they had assemblies all day devoted to it. They were surprised I had never heard of it, and I kept getting it confused with Mother's Day, but no, it is indeed different. How different, you may ask? Let's just give you a sneak-peek into what the assembly I attended looked like.
Ahem--- so. The teachers stood at the front of the gym and wrote on the board things their moms all do..nice, right? Yes. Until this came up..."The mom always cleans the house and does the cooking...with a smile on her face." Or how about this one... "The mom is supposed to stay home with the children and wash all of their clothes." As a pretty independent woman (thank you, Destiny's Child, for getting that song stuck in my head now), my mouth dropped open that it's 2010 and they're "celebrating" the Day of the Working Woman and basically it was an assembly to reinforce negative stereotypes.
To distract myself during the assembly from the verbal crap being thrown at me, and the children who were climbing all over me (Rubia! Rubia!), I glanced around the gym. To encourage the kids to learn English, the whole school is plastered with English phrases...in classrooms, labeling things, and also in the gym. I found normal English phrases (though tough for 4th graders I think) such as "flexibility", "balance" and "strength". Right next to them, I also spotted "Help" and "Security". What they are teaching these kids during their gym hour, I have no idea....
That same day when I was outside with the first graders, one little girl's tooth fell out when they were playing what I can only assume is the Spanish version of "Steal the Bacon". They just wrapped it up in little fluffs of Kleenex and put it in her pocket, no big deal. Maybe the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist here.. Either way, it reminded me of my dear friend Jen, who tragically had her front tooth knocked out of her face after she tumbled off a bus. Oh, how I miss my friends in the 'paign. (Champaign)
All in all, springtime has slowly made its way to the South of Spain. According to weather.com Granada is supposed to have 300 sunny days out of the year. Well, I don't know who fact-checks that site, but it's rained probably 45 of the 70 days I have been here. BUT, I can virtually guarantee it will not rain if I do one thing: remember to bring my Moses' Stick of an umbrella with me when I leave. Seriously, the thing is colossal. And everytime I do remember to bring the damn thing to school, it magically gets sunny. And when it's sunny, I am pleasantly reminded just how beautiful Granada is. Seriously, they are going to have to deport me to get me outta here. My visa is good for 90 more days after I am "supposed" to leave, but who actually checks things like that? I think the airport people are so concerned about my 1.8 ounces of liquid that might be an explosive that they don't really notice if you're allowed to be in that country or not. But maybe not. Maybe that was what the gypsies did...and now ....they're gypsies. I'll sleep on it.
Actually, in my culture of Spain class, we had an entire section devoted to gitanos, or gypsies. They aren't just the crazy googley-eyes women who chase you with rosemary...they are actually an entire race of people! Who. Knew. see Mom & Dad? I am learning things over here.
In other news, last week I successfully tore into my ankle because I twisted it on a rock and fell. Clearly, you can't outrun your lack of grace, Kel, it will follow you across oceans. When I got home, Lina dipped it into a hot tub of salt water and rubbed it...I'm not complaining about the free ankle massage, but I think some ice would have fixed it just fine. too bad we don't have ice in the house...just frozen ham and fish heads. I'll pass on slappin' that on my ankle, thank you.
Last weekend, Kaye, Katherine, MaryPat and I ventured north to Barcelona, which always reminds me of that song "My Sharona", but that's neither here nor there. We saw a Picasso Museum, and a lot of Antoni Gaudi (famous Spanish architect/sculptor)'s houses and parks, and rode the gondola around. For those of you who don't know, a gondola is not only a skinny boat you use in lieu of taxis in Venice, it is also a little cage that carries groups of people through the air. (I was ignorant of this fact, previously. I also was under the impression Barcelonians rode the gondola to get around town. False. Only tourists actually take the gondola.)
At the end of our day of touring, we came back to our 10 by 13 foot room (I didn't actually measure, I am estimating, duh) and I looked forward to nothing more than a hot, hot shower. Well, leave it to me to manage to rip the attachable shower head clear off the hose. So all I was left with was scalding-hot water squirting out of the skinny hose and flying in all directions. Literally, it was the big-kid version of a CrAzY DaIsY sprinkler, and the other girls must have thought I found a corpse in the shower I was screaming and laughing so much. I guess I wouldn't laugh at a corpse.. I don't know what else you'd both scream and laugh at though, if it wasn't this giant fireman's hose on crack that somebody couldn't hold on to..
And now, Justine, Katherine, me and some of our friends studying in Sevilla are off for Semana Santa (Holy Week) to go travel. We'll be in Amsterdam, Prague, and Krakow, which is in Poland. I find it very hard to say the word "Krakow" with the right inflections...I always end up saying it like my dad...("Could be a crackhead!") If you don't get it, Youtube "Leprechaun in Mobile, Alabama". Worth it, I promise.
Alright, amigos y amigas, that's all for now. We'll be good and safe on our travels, and don't worry Dad, I won't try and bring "any plants on the plane" (why would I do that anyways??) except for my little avocado plant I am growing here in Spain...we'll see if they let me into the States with that lil' guy.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
I've seen London, I've seen France...
Don't fret, dear friends and fam, I am alive! After 12 days of traveling, I am back home (home is relative, and for me, it now means sleeping in a bed that doesn't have a person under it...wait, that sounds creepy, but what I mean is, sleeping in bunk beds, not like there are scary people hiding under our hostal beds...hopefully).
Where to begin? Let's start the week before we left for Paris. My package from my parents finally arrived! I was so excited when it arrived at school I almost cried! The excitement diminished when I realized it weighed 20 something pounds and I had to carry it, in the rain, on my 25 minute walk home. Though my biceps were ready to fall off by the end of the walk, I was ecstatic to find trailmix, granola bars, and Easy Mac inside! The fact that we don't have a microwave here means making that Easy Mac won't be quite so easy, but that's okay. No pasa nada.
I also started my volunteer project for my culture of Spain class. Basically, I go to this elementary school and help teach the kids English. Easy enough, right? Except on the very first day, Kaye and I got lost (this is becoming a recurring theme I think) and ended up at a high school. It was an easy mistake to make, really because both schools have the same street name, though the two streets are very far apart. So I show up at a High School, terrified I have to teach these 25-year-olds English. (In Spain, they go to high school up until age 29 if they want..can you say supa senyah?) We eventually made it to the right school, though, and pretty much all of my 2nd graders knew about the States was "Nueva York!!" and they'd leap out of their seats and shot their bite-sized fists into the air. I'm assuming they were pretending to be Lady Liberty, but what do I really know. One of my kids is the spitting image of young Spock, and if it wasn't creepy, I'd try and sneak a picture of him. So you'll just have to make due with the mental image.
That week we went out to this little bar called "Feeling" and it was so much fun! We tried making friends with some of the locals, and had a little "culture swap". For example, we opened their eyes to what is Lady Gaga, and I taught a chico named Jesus how to say a key American phrase: "Get 'em B". Lucky Kaye left with Jesus' number in her telefono (Insert phrase "Get 'em Kaye" here).
I don't think there's ever been a year where I have missed so much of the Olympics. Honestly, there is literally zero coverage of the Olympics here, I forget they are even happening (or happened? Are they over yet? see, I have no idea, it's like I'm under a giant Spanish blanket with absolutely no news). Even with the Olympics on, there's still a solid 15 minutes of the news devoted solely to futbol...which...despite myself, I am starting to like! That might have something to do with a "Cristiano" or perhaps a "Ronaldo", but maybe not. Also, on the news, they tend to refer to Americans as "norteamericanos", which means North Americans. So, what? Do Canada and Mexico just get dropped outta the race then? Pobrecita Canada..always the second-best neighbor to the north. Except apparently they beat us in hockey or something, which I found out from a Canadian in London. Had to go all the way to England to find out about los olimpios...sheesh!
Oh dearie, so the trip began by trying to cram 12 days worth of clean clothes and underwear into a Jansport backpack. No easy feat, let me tell you, but it can be done. Also helps when you have a marshmallow of a coat to hide things under. Did I get some weird looks as I went through security? Sure. Was I able to bring my towel back 'cause it wouldn't fit in the backpack? You bet. Win.
We left Granada and took a midnight bus to Madrid to make our 7 a.m. flight to Pareeee (Paris). To help the 5-hour bus ride pass, Justine and I watched The Hangover, maybe forgetting it was the middle of the night and our distinctive American laughs could be heard on the whole bus. In our defense, we did sing a nice little lullaby to them....what do tigers dream of? When they take a little tiger snooze...
Paris was wonderful! We met up with our friend Arianna (and future roommate of Johnstowne 317) who is studying in Nottingham, England to celebrate her 21st. We were lucky enough to be able to stay with Kaye's friend Eva, which was great because her apartment was in the heart of Paris and it was so much nicer (and free-er) than a hostel. We saw a TON in Paris, and I managed to take nearly 400 pictures in Paris alone, which is surprising considering I forgot my camera at home most of the days. I swear I have the memory of a miniature mountain goat sometimes. We went to the Louvre, which is a ridiculously large museum. Someone told me if you look at every piece of art for only 10 seconds, it would take you 5 weeks straight to see everything inside. Okay, that might be inaccurate because I actually overheard someone saying that at the Louvre, but you get the idea: there's a lot to see. We saw the Real Mona Lisa, the statue of the Lady without any arms, and Napolean's apartment! Even though I may not know a lot about art, (I don't know if you could tell based off of my insightful descriptions) but it was still really interesting. Funny how when you're little you hate going to places like that, and now we opt to go on our own. It helps that most of this stuff was free with our student visas. A nice perk, thank you France! We also got to see the famous Notre Dame. I squinted long and hard to find a lil Quasimoto hangin' out in the rafters, but was ultimately disappointed.
Can't you tell we love museums? We don't look tired at all....
After 4 days in Paris, we took an early flight to the land of my ancestors..Ireland. Except you don't sound as authentically Irish when traveling with a "MaryPat Flanagan" and a "Katherine Foley". Dublin was awesome, definitely my favorite city of our first spring break. It wasn't nearly as hilly or green as I had imagined, but I blame movies for distorting my image of what Ireland is. We only had a short stay in Dublin in between Paris and London, but it was so nice to chill out and relax between the two cities. Everybody in Dublin is soo friendly! Especially coming out of France..."you're in France and you mean to tell me you don't speak French?" No, Lady I am studying Spanish, calm yourself Iago!
So friendly, in fact an Irish man at one of the shops asked Kaye about her origins, and he started telling us how the Foley family who used to live on the other side of the hill were sheep-stealers. I almost believed him, until he also said Justine's family also lived over the hill, and also were sheep-stealers. Justine is Asian. I am fairly certain none of Justine's ancestors were ever in Ireland.
We drank a lot of good beer in Dublin, and of course had to try the Guinness, which is mas o menos alcoholic chocolate milk! I know what's going in MY baby bottles... jooooke joke joke. Drinking beer over here has given me an all-new appreciation for college towns. After paying 6 Euro a pint, I think going out downtown might even be cheaper. But you're only in Ireland once, right? (Or cross your fingers, twice when we go back in May).
On to London! In London, we stayed at this really nice hostel called Astor Kenzington. It's cool 'cause everybody at the hostel has to be between the ages of 18 and 35. Also, all the hostels we stayed at had big common kitchens, so we were able to save money and cook for ourselves a few nights. It dawned on me that I would have to be doing just that, cooking..., all by myself next year in the apartment. I'll be starting the Kelly Gustafson diet, meaning Lucky Charms and and Kinder Buenos unless Lina gives me a few cooking lessons before I peace out. For those of you so tragically unlucky that you don't know what a Kinder Bueno is, it's a cross between a Kit Kat and...heaven in your mouth.
London was pricey; so much so, that we came back to Spain saying "Thank God for the Euro!" The Underground, or "Tube", as they call it, is incredibly efficient but expensive to take. It's the best way to get anywhere, and is pretty safe too. We saw a lot in London, too: Buckingham Palace, Leicester Square, Big Ben, Tower of London, Kenzington Palace, and of course, the changing of the guard. Even after seeing the changing of the guard, I still don't really see what the big deal is. When someone comes in to replace me after my shift at work, it's really not that big of a deal, and certainly doesn't warrant a parade, but maybe you have to be British to understand it. The epitome of irony was in the middle of the changing of the guard when the band played "New York, New York"....Really, England? That's not even in your country!
Saturday night, the girls and I went on a pub crawl, which ended up being super fun. Being a part of the crawl let us get out of cover, get free "drinks" in each bar (I put these in quotes because I am pretty certain they were cough syrup and/or juicy juice), and skip lines. It was worth it because we got to see 5 different kinds of bars, and they were all pretty fun! Cheers!(because everyone in London and Dublin says Cheers after everything. You sneezed? Cheers. You had a baby? Cheers. You sister was bit by a pregnant rhino? Cheers.)
Justine & I got tickets to see "Wicked"; she had never seen it and I was dying to see it a second time. We had such great seats--it was the perfect ending to our London leg of the trip. We also went to Kenzington Palace for high tea that afternoon, which, to clear up any confusion, is not tea with weed in it, it is afternoon tea and a longstanding English tradition (Eric). That was really fun, I ate my first scone ever and attempted to eat like a civilized person. Lina, my senora, makes fun of me because I really don't know how to cut my meat or hold a fork for that matter, so I especially liked the finger sandwiches we got to eat. No cutlery required!
At the airport bright and early Tuesday morning, our good luck had to come to an end. The airport security....confiscated....my peanut butter. I wanted to cry. Actually, my first reaction was to try and negotiate with the guy. I unscrewed the lid of my peanut butter and frantically shook its contents, trying to prove it's in fact not a liquid! Don't you understand security man? They don't HAVE peanut butter in Spain! No luck. They took my 280g of PB and didn't even care. A moment of silence for the lost PB...
When I finally finally finally got back to Granada after 15 hours of traveling home from London (could have gone back to Chicago and halfway back to Spain in that time...), I found hot soup and a clean Lambchop waiting for me! Lambchop is my blanket I insisted on bringing with because they don't have central heating here. Anyways, Lina goes "I went ahead and washed your blanket. It was filthy!" Needless to say I was embarrassed. Also, I am pretty sure her lavadora is now choc full of dog hair from Lucy Loo and Abbey. Whoops. When that thing starts making those Chewbacca noises again, and starts spittin' out hairballs, then I'll worry. But for now, no pasa nada. Te vayas bien!
Where to begin? Let's start the week before we left for Paris. My package from my parents finally arrived! I was so excited when it arrived at school I almost cried! The excitement diminished when I realized it weighed 20 something pounds and I had to carry it, in the rain, on my 25 minute walk home. Though my biceps were ready to fall off by the end of the walk, I was ecstatic to find trailmix, granola bars, and Easy Mac inside! The fact that we don't have a microwave here means making that Easy Mac won't be quite so easy, but that's okay. No pasa nada.
I also started my volunteer project for my culture of Spain class. Basically, I go to this elementary school and help teach the kids English. Easy enough, right? Except on the very first day, Kaye and I got lost (this is becoming a recurring theme I think) and ended up at a high school. It was an easy mistake to make, really because both schools have the same street name, though the two streets are very far apart. So I show up at a High School, terrified I have to teach these 25-year-olds English. (In Spain, they go to high school up until age 29 if they want..can you say supa senyah?) We eventually made it to the right school, though, and pretty much all of my 2nd graders knew about the States was "Nueva York!!" and they'd leap out of their seats and shot their bite-sized fists into the air. I'm assuming they were pretending to be Lady Liberty, but what do I really know. One of my kids is the spitting image of young Spock, and if it wasn't creepy, I'd try and sneak a picture of him. So you'll just have to make due with the mental image.
That week we went out to this little bar called "Feeling" and it was so much fun! We tried making friends with some of the locals, and had a little "culture swap". For example, we opened their eyes to what is Lady Gaga, and I taught a chico named Jesus how to say a key American phrase: "Get 'em B". Lucky Kaye left with Jesus' number in her telefono (Insert phrase "Get 'em Kaye" here).
I don't think there's ever been a year where I have missed so much of the Olympics. Honestly, there is literally zero coverage of the Olympics here, I forget they are even happening (or happened? Are they over yet? see, I have no idea, it's like I'm under a giant Spanish blanket with absolutely no news). Even with the Olympics on, there's still a solid 15 minutes of the news devoted solely to futbol...which...despite myself, I am starting to like! That might have something to do with a "Cristiano" or perhaps a "Ronaldo", but maybe not. Also, on the news, they tend to refer to Americans as "norteamericanos", which means North Americans. So, what? Do Canada and Mexico just get dropped outta the race then? Pobrecita Canada..always the second-best neighbor to the north. Except apparently they beat us in hockey or something, which I found out from a Canadian in London. Had to go all the way to England to find out about los olimpios...sheesh!
Oh dearie, so the trip began by trying to cram 12 days worth of clean clothes and underwear into a Jansport backpack. No easy feat, let me tell you, but it can be done. Also helps when you have a marshmallow of a coat to hide things under. Did I get some weird looks as I went through security? Sure. Was I able to bring my towel back 'cause it wouldn't fit in the backpack? You bet. Win.
We left Granada and took a midnight bus to Madrid to make our 7 a.m. flight to Pareeee (Paris). To help the 5-hour bus ride pass, Justine and I watched The Hangover, maybe forgetting it was the middle of the night and our distinctive American laughs could be heard on the whole bus. In our defense, we did sing a nice little lullaby to them....what do tigers dream of? When they take a little tiger snooze...
Paris was wonderful! We met up with our friend Arianna (and future roommate of Johnstowne 317) who is studying in Nottingham, England to celebrate her 21st. We were lucky enough to be able to stay with Kaye's friend Eva, which was great because her apartment was in the heart of Paris and it was so much nicer (and free-er) than a hostel. We saw a TON in Paris, and I managed to take nearly 400 pictures in Paris alone, which is surprising considering I forgot my camera at home most of the days. I swear I have the memory of a miniature mountain goat sometimes. We went to the Louvre, which is a ridiculously large museum. Someone told me if you look at every piece of art for only 10 seconds, it would take you 5 weeks straight to see everything inside. Okay, that might be inaccurate because I actually overheard someone saying that at the Louvre, but you get the idea: there's a lot to see. We saw the Real Mona Lisa, the statue of the Lady without any arms, and Napolean's apartment! Even though I may not know a lot about art, (I don't know if you could tell based off of my insightful descriptions) but it was still really interesting. Funny how when you're little you hate going to places like that, and now we opt to go on our own. It helps that most of this stuff was free with our student visas. A nice perk, thank you France! We also got to see the famous Notre Dame. I squinted long and hard to find a lil Quasimoto hangin' out in the rafters, but was ultimately disappointed.
Can't you tell we love museums? We don't look tired at all....After 4 days in Paris, we took an early flight to the land of my ancestors..Ireland. Except you don't sound as authentically Irish when traveling with a "MaryPat Flanagan" and a "Katherine Foley". Dublin was awesome, definitely my favorite city of our first spring break. It wasn't nearly as hilly or green as I had imagined, but I blame movies for distorting my image of what Ireland is. We only had a short stay in Dublin in between Paris and London, but it was so nice to chill out and relax between the two cities. Everybody in Dublin is soo friendly! Especially coming out of France..."you're in France and you mean to tell me you don't speak French?" No, Lady I am studying Spanish, calm yourself Iago!
So friendly, in fact an Irish man at one of the shops asked Kaye about her origins, and he started telling us how the Foley family who used to live on the other side of the hill were sheep-stealers. I almost believed him, until he also said Justine's family also lived over the hill, and also were sheep-stealers. Justine is Asian. I am fairly certain none of Justine's ancestors were ever in Ireland.
We drank a lot of good beer in Dublin, and of course had to try the Guinness, which is mas o menos alcoholic chocolate milk! I know what's going in MY baby bottles... jooooke joke joke. Drinking beer over here has given me an all-new appreciation for college towns. After paying 6 Euro a pint, I think going out downtown might even be cheaper. But you're only in Ireland once, right? (Or cross your fingers, twice when we go back in May).
On to London! In London, we stayed at this really nice hostel called Astor Kenzington. It's cool 'cause everybody at the hostel has to be between the ages of 18 and 35. Also, all the hostels we stayed at had big common kitchens, so we were able to save money and cook for ourselves a few nights. It dawned on me that I would have to be doing just that, cooking..., all by myself next year in the apartment. I'll be starting the Kelly Gustafson diet, meaning Lucky Charms and and Kinder Buenos unless Lina gives me a few cooking lessons before I peace out. For those of you so tragically unlucky that you don't know what a Kinder Bueno is, it's a cross between a Kit Kat and...heaven in your mouth.
London was pricey; so much so, that we came back to Spain saying "Thank God for the Euro!" The Underground, or "Tube", as they call it, is incredibly efficient but expensive to take. It's the best way to get anywhere, and is pretty safe too. We saw a lot in London, too: Buckingham Palace, Leicester Square, Big Ben, Tower of London, Kenzington Palace, and of course, the changing of the guard. Even after seeing the changing of the guard, I still don't really see what the big deal is. When someone comes in to replace me after my shift at work, it's really not that big of a deal, and certainly doesn't warrant a parade, but maybe you have to be British to understand it. The epitome of irony was in the middle of the changing of the guard when the band played "New York, New York"....Really, England? That's not even in your country!
Saturday night, the girls and I went on a pub crawl, which ended up being super fun. Being a part of the crawl let us get out of cover, get free "drinks" in each bar (I put these in quotes because I am pretty certain they were cough syrup and/or juicy juice), and skip lines. It was worth it because we got to see 5 different kinds of bars, and they were all pretty fun! Cheers!(because everyone in London and Dublin says Cheers after everything. You sneezed? Cheers. You had a baby? Cheers. You sister was bit by a pregnant rhino? Cheers.)
Justine & I got tickets to see "Wicked"; she had never seen it and I was dying to see it a second time. We had such great seats--it was the perfect ending to our London leg of the trip. We also went to Kenzington Palace for high tea that afternoon, which, to clear up any confusion, is not tea with weed in it, it is afternoon tea and a longstanding English tradition (Eric). That was really fun, I ate my first scone ever and attempted to eat like a civilized person. Lina, my senora, makes fun of me because I really don't know how to cut my meat or hold a fork for that matter, so I especially liked the finger sandwiches we got to eat. No cutlery required!
At the airport bright and early Tuesday morning, our good luck had to come to an end. The airport security....confiscated....my peanut butter. I wanted to cry. Actually, my first reaction was to try and negotiate with the guy. I unscrewed the lid of my peanut butter and frantically shook its contents, trying to prove it's in fact not a liquid! Don't you understand security man? They don't HAVE peanut butter in Spain! No luck. They took my 280g of PB and didn't even care. A moment of silence for the lost PB...
When I finally finally finally got back to Granada after 15 hours of traveling home from London (could have gone back to Chicago and halfway back to Spain in that time...), I found hot soup and a clean Lambchop waiting for me! Lambchop is my blanket I insisted on bringing with because they don't have central heating here. Anyways, Lina goes "I went ahead and washed your blanket. It was filthy!" Needless to say I was embarrassed. Also, I am pretty sure her lavadora is now choc full of dog hair from Lucy Loo and Abbey. Whoops. When that thing starts making those Chewbacca noises again, and starts spittin' out hairballs, then I'll worry. But for now, no pasa nada. Te vayas bien!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Moroccan Roll
Whew! First of all, I apologize that it has been so long since my last post. But I have learned a few things since I last left you after my adventures on the slopes-- I learned how to ¨get by by the seat of my pants¨, as they say. For example, when it gets right down to it, sometimes you´ve gotta shower with your socks on. Not the most pleasant sensation, mind you, but hey, I´d rather have squishy feet than some malignant form of the clap on my toesies for the next four months because I showered in a random hostal barefoot. eeeee. Second lesson learned: bring shower shoes.
This all transpired on our weekend trip to Sevilla, which is about a three-hour bus ride southwest from Granada. We had wonderful weather, we got our first taste of what it takes to plan weekend trips on your own, and we found peanut butter!! That was a glorious hilight of the trip, but more on that later. Sevilla is much more modern than Granada, in that there is a Starbucks on every corner, but it´s still very historic and culturally interesting. In fact, it´s home to own of the largest cathedrals in all of Europe! We not only saw the inside of it, gorgeous, ornate, the whole she-bang, but Kevin, Devin & I camped outside of it on our first night and feasted on bread, deli-style sliced chicken, and jam. Yeah, we got some looks. And yeah, probably didn´t help our American reputations, but the other two Must-A-eaters and myself (like 3 muskateers? get it?) were famished, to put it lightly. In the middle of our street-side feast, my mom called and we just told her we were ¨having dinner¨--well that was the joke for the rest of the weekend. Had I told her I was sitting in a curb like a gypsy dipping chicken into strawberry jam, I think she might have started to worry.
Afterwards, full and happy, we all split some cheap (and by cheap I mean 3 € a bottle, cheap) and then went to Club Catedral, a discoteca there. Not quite as fun as the following night, when we went to a disco called Budda, but I think that´s because I was without my asian twin Justine at Club Catedral. Kaye met a ¨tennis player from Barcelona¨(c´mon Kaye, I tell everyone I am a professional swedish sunbather--you cannot believe what people tell you when you´re out, haha), and I whacked some creepo in the eye with my ponytail. He acted like a pirate for about 5 minutes (meaning he kept covering his eye with one hand, he didn´t have a nub or anything like that), trying to get me to apologize, and I more or less told him it was his own fault for getting so close to the Hurricane.
The next day I ghetto-showered: in my socks, and then attempted to dry off with a scrap of a towel I stole from the front desk (They make you PAY for towels there!!). Literally, I think I could have stolen a blanket from a blind man in jail that was bigger than that towel. Later, we toured around, saw Chris Columbus´tomb, saw Sevilla´s islamic version of our Alhambra, and went paddleboating on the river. Well, to be fair, the boys really are the only ones who actually paddled-- Justine, Katie & I sat in the back drinking Starbucks and watching the sunset. Would have been romantic, except that it was the 5 of us in a little boat, trying not to get run down by the Norwegian rowers that happened to be practicing at that time. Their little trainers were cute, though, scampering along the river on bikes with megaphones shouting at them ¨Öy heys nos frusghurgito!¨(Did I become so worldly that I also speak Swedish, you may ask? No. I made that up. Just so you can imagine what it sounded like). That night for dinner, instead of eating on the street again, we bought a bunch of bread, peanut butta, lunch meat, fruit and nutella and ate that at our hostal. It was like a flashback to summercmap, with all of us and our little sammies (sandwiches, for you proper people) and a room filled with bunkbeds. One of the most memorable parts of that weekend was getting churros con chocolate at 5:30 am after a night at Budda. We need some of these in Champaign, stat.
Throughout the rest of last week, not a whole lot happened other than that I nearly burned down my senora´s house because I left for class and completely left hot water on the stove when I was making tea. Good thing Lina has such a great sense of humor... I probably should buy her a new pot, though...and let me just say burning metal smells rancid!! I also learned how to eat a kiwi with the skin on..this happened because I wanted to eat that tasty lil´guy and was sadly without spoon or knife. It´s really not that bad, though! Like eating a peach that has a little five o´clock shadow maybe. And maybe you cough up little hairs all day. No big.
So then this past weekend we went to Morocco on a program put together by school. I´m not going to go into every detail but the short and long of it is this: Morocco´s definitley not a family-destination spot, it´s dirty, it´s an extremely poor country, some parts are indescribably beautiful, the people there will haggle you to death to buy their trinkets, and when all else fails, have faith that in a country that can barely scrape together running water, there´s got to be a McDonald´s somewhere. During our freetime in Tanger, Justine and I opted to wander off in search a Mickey D´s instead of stay in the medina, or marketplace, when it was dark out. Probably not the wisest idea in hindsight, but we were careful and I have a very good internal compass. And by ïnternal compass¨ I am referring to my staunch ability to seek out edible food in foreign lands when the hunger calls. After watching the Moroccan version of Sarah Palin´s turkey pardoning (beheaded chickens with blood and feathers and jugulars all hangin´out were all over the street), I got the best McFlurry I´d ever had and fries.
When I got home from my Moroccan adventures, our hot water heater broke, so showering was out of the question. The last ice bath I took was so cold, it literally gave me a headache. Alos, I found out Lina had accidentally dropped my underwear off the balcony while she was doing laundry (they hang all their clothes outside to dry here). Some poor little espanola below us is probably shaking her head, wondering why she has underwear that say Ï love summer¨and ¨I sacked the quarterback¨ on her balcony and in the shrubs below us...unless I can figure out how to explain that THAT in spanish, I guess it´s sayonara to those little guys. And on that note, I am out.
This all transpired on our weekend trip to Sevilla, which is about a three-hour bus ride southwest from Granada. We had wonderful weather, we got our first taste of what it takes to plan weekend trips on your own, and we found peanut butter!! That was a glorious hilight of the trip, but more on that later. Sevilla is much more modern than Granada, in that there is a Starbucks on every corner, but it´s still very historic and culturally interesting. In fact, it´s home to own of the largest cathedrals in all of Europe! We not only saw the inside of it, gorgeous, ornate, the whole she-bang, but Kevin, Devin & I camped outside of it on our first night and feasted on bread, deli-style sliced chicken, and jam. Yeah, we got some looks. And yeah, probably didn´t help our American reputations, but the other two Must-A-eaters and myself (like 3 muskateers? get it?) were famished, to put it lightly. In the middle of our street-side feast, my mom called and we just told her we were ¨having dinner¨--well that was the joke for the rest of the weekend. Had I told her I was sitting in a curb like a gypsy dipping chicken into strawberry jam, I think she might have started to worry.
Afterwards, full and happy, we all split some cheap (and by cheap I mean 3 € a bottle, cheap) and then went to Club Catedral, a discoteca there. Not quite as fun as the following night, when we went to a disco called Budda, but I think that´s because I was without my asian twin Justine at Club Catedral. Kaye met a ¨tennis player from Barcelona¨(c´mon Kaye, I tell everyone I am a professional swedish sunbather--you cannot believe what people tell you when you´re out, haha), and I whacked some creepo in the eye with my ponytail. He acted like a pirate for about 5 minutes (meaning he kept covering his eye with one hand, he didn´t have a nub or anything like that), trying to get me to apologize, and I more or less told him it was his own fault for getting so close to the Hurricane.
The next day I ghetto-showered: in my socks, and then attempted to dry off with a scrap of a towel I stole from the front desk (They make you PAY for towels there!!). Literally, I think I could have stolen a blanket from a blind man in jail that was bigger than that towel. Later, we toured around, saw Chris Columbus´tomb, saw Sevilla´s islamic version of our Alhambra, and went paddleboating on the river. Well, to be fair, the boys really are the only ones who actually paddled-- Justine, Katie & I sat in the back drinking Starbucks and watching the sunset. Would have been romantic, except that it was the 5 of us in a little boat, trying not to get run down by the Norwegian rowers that happened to be practicing at that time. Their little trainers were cute, though, scampering along the river on bikes with megaphones shouting at them ¨Öy heys nos frusghurgito!¨(Did I become so worldly that I also speak Swedish, you may ask? No. I made that up. Just so you can imagine what it sounded like). That night for dinner, instead of eating on the street again, we bought a bunch of bread, peanut butta, lunch meat, fruit and nutella and ate that at our hostal. It was like a flashback to summercmap, with all of us and our little sammies (sandwiches, for you proper people) and a room filled with bunkbeds. One of the most memorable parts of that weekend was getting churros con chocolate at 5:30 am after a night at Budda. We need some of these in Champaign, stat.
Throughout the rest of last week, not a whole lot happened other than that I nearly burned down my senora´s house because I left for class and completely left hot water on the stove when I was making tea. Good thing Lina has such a great sense of humor... I probably should buy her a new pot, though...and let me just say burning metal smells rancid!! I also learned how to eat a kiwi with the skin on..this happened because I wanted to eat that tasty lil´guy and was sadly without spoon or knife. It´s really not that bad, though! Like eating a peach that has a little five o´clock shadow maybe. And maybe you cough up little hairs all day. No big.
So then this past weekend we went to Morocco on a program put together by school. I´m not going to go into every detail but the short and long of it is this: Morocco´s definitley not a family-destination spot, it´s dirty, it´s an extremely poor country, some parts are indescribably beautiful, the people there will haggle you to death to buy their trinkets, and when all else fails, have faith that in a country that can barely scrape together running water, there´s got to be a McDonald´s somewhere. During our freetime in Tanger, Justine and I opted to wander off in search a Mickey D´s instead of stay in the medina, or marketplace, when it was dark out. Probably not the wisest idea in hindsight, but we were careful and I have a very good internal compass. And by ïnternal compass¨ I am referring to my staunch ability to seek out edible food in foreign lands when the hunger calls. After watching the Moroccan version of Sarah Palin´s turkey pardoning (beheaded chickens with blood and feathers and jugulars all hangin´out were all over the street), I got the best McFlurry I´d ever had and fries.
When I got home from my Moroccan adventures, our hot water heater broke, so showering was out of the question. The last ice bath I took was so cold, it literally gave me a headache. Alos, I found out Lina had accidentally dropped my underwear off the balcony while she was doing laundry (they hang all their clothes outside to dry here). Some poor little espanola below us is probably shaking her head, wondering why she has underwear that say Ï love summer¨and ¨I sacked the quarterback¨ on her balcony and in the shrubs below us...unless I can figure out how to explain that THAT in spanish, I guess it´s sayonara to those little guys. And on that note, I am out.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Chewbacca's in the Bathroom
Hola Hola Coca Cola!
Well since I last updated this thing, a lot has happened! Let's see, let's start with last weekend when we all went to Sierra Nevada to go skiing.
We got up ridiculously early to meet at Isabel Catolica (a fountain in the center of the city) at 7 a.m. to catch the bus to the mountain. At this hour, because it takes the sun longer to rise over the mountains, it's pitch black out. If I hadn't looked at a watch, I would have assumed it was 2 or 3 in the morning. So after munching on a hearty breakfast of gummy worms I found in the bottom of my purse I bought the night before, we got to the bus station. Luckily, we were able to rent skis and stuff there for pretty cheap! As always, a little bit of drama follows the American stragglers everywhere, and MaryPat was called an imbecile by a Spanish lady because she accidentally whacked her in the head with her skis. "You say that you are very sorry but you are not, imbecile!" jajajaja
After a pretty twisty ride up the mountain, and many attempts to pop my ears, we finally arrived at the base of the mountain. The town, which I shall refer to as Christmas Town because I don't know its actual name, and it looks like the town from Nightmare Before Christmas (solid movie, by the way, if you haven't seen it, it rivals The Labrynth except without the David-Bowie factor), was adorable. MP and I bartered with a Moroccan man for some gloves and then we were on our way! Now, I used to ski with my family all the time, as a nina. Somehow I assumed skiing was a skill you just don't lose.... I was sorely (yeah, that's a pun right thurr) mistaken. Madre Mia, I was terrible in the beginning. Good thing MaryPat was blessed with enough patience to try and re-teach me how to ski; I mean, I still ended up making out with the mountain for a lot of the day, but she kept me alive up there.
After spending the morning following the little ones who are a quarter of my age zip down the mountain, we decided it was time to upgrade to where the rest of the group was. On the way, MP's cell fell out of her pocket on the chairlift. Shiza. That's not Spanish, exactly, but it gets the point across. When we got to the top, the only runs we could take down to where she had lost her phone were Blue runs....I had only practiced on Greens, which mean "easy"....
Now, the view from the higher part of the mountain was spectacular! Keep in mind, I only got to see it for a view brief seconds in between scampering after MaryPat and trying not to die. After a particularly awkward fall in which my body, my ski poles, and my skis went in opposite directions and I ended up more twisted than some trippy-hippie dreadlocks (even their DOGS' hair is dreadlocked here-- they don't mess around- they hard core), a very kind spaniard offered to help me get upright. Because I presumed he didn't understand English, I muttered how much I wish I was in America, because that would make ghetto-skiing that much easier. Turns out, he understood, 'cause he laughed. But he might have been laughing at the fact that I was a first-time skiier wearing a knee-length Liz Claiborne coat, pajama bottoms, and probably black-market gloves.
After a few more run-ins with a fence and some chicken wire, we were hungry. So we scurried down to the base to get our bocadillos (sandwiches, but way more fun to say) from the locker. We. Were. Famished. And just our luck, when we opened up the locker, in MP's bag where her two bocadillos, fruit and nuts were supposed to be....was....a head of cauliflower! She grabbed the wrong bag from the fridge! Her poor Senora..probably wondering how she was going to make cauliflower soup without the cauliflower...No I just playin'---POOR MARYPAT! She's a great sport though, and we all shared what we could with her.
So that was skiing. Other eventful things that ha pasado...hmmm.
OH. The first time my senora did my laundry was interesting. The itty bitty washing machine is in the bathroom, right next to the bidet (thanks Sarah!) and the thing is a monster. She didn't tell me she was doing laundry, and I was sitting in my room, listenin' to my Sony, chewin' on bubble gum (Herman the worm anyone? No? Okay), I literally hear a noise I can only equate with Chewbacca. Chewbacca has somehow scurried up 7 stories and snuck in the bathroom and was making a ruckus in there. When I ran to ask Lina what was the matter, she laughed at me and explained my dirty clothes were aggravating her lavadora....whoops.
Saturday wa sour first experience with a discoteca..they open around 2 a.m. here and close at 7, 'cause they take their partying very seriously here. The first one we went to was in the barrio Sacromonte, and it was so-so. There were lots of little caves, and tunnels, and the whole time I felt like I was playing Mario64 and was stuck in an underwater level. Except these ones didn't have red coins in Giant clams...
Speaking of clams, I ate some! On Saturday, we had a four-hour seafood lunch, and...I liked it. Sorpresa! We had fried clams (I think, can you fry those?), calamari, octopus, shrimp, and SHARK. I don't know how I feel about eating Jaws on a regular basis, but it was good for that one time. (That's what she said...?)
Alright, amigos, I'm out.
Well since I last updated this thing, a lot has happened! Let's see, let's start with last weekend when we all went to Sierra Nevada to go skiing.
We got up ridiculously early to meet at Isabel Catolica (a fountain in the center of the city) at 7 a.m. to catch the bus to the mountain. At this hour, because it takes the sun longer to rise over the mountains, it's pitch black out. If I hadn't looked at a watch, I would have assumed it was 2 or 3 in the morning. So after munching on a hearty breakfast of gummy worms I found in the bottom of my purse I bought the night before, we got to the bus station. Luckily, we were able to rent skis and stuff there for pretty cheap! As always, a little bit of drama follows the American stragglers everywhere, and MaryPat was called an imbecile by a Spanish lady because she accidentally whacked her in the head with her skis. "You say that you are very sorry but you are not, imbecile!" jajajaja
After a pretty twisty ride up the mountain, and many attempts to pop my ears, we finally arrived at the base of the mountain. The town, which I shall refer to as Christmas Town because I don't know its actual name, and it looks like the town from Nightmare Before Christmas (solid movie, by the way, if you haven't seen it, it rivals The Labrynth except without the David-Bowie factor), was adorable. MP and I bartered with a Moroccan man for some gloves and then we were on our way! Now, I used to ski with my family all the time, as a nina. Somehow I assumed skiing was a skill you just don't lose.... I was sorely (yeah, that's a pun right thurr) mistaken. Madre Mia, I was terrible in the beginning. Good thing MaryPat was blessed with enough patience to try and re-teach me how to ski; I mean, I still ended up making out with the mountain for a lot of the day, but she kept me alive up there.
After spending the morning following the little ones who are a quarter of my age zip down the mountain, we decided it was time to upgrade to where the rest of the group was. On the way, MP's cell fell out of her pocket on the chairlift. Shiza. That's not Spanish, exactly, but it gets the point across. When we got to the top, the only runs we could take down to where she had lost her phone were Blue runs....I had only practiced on Greens, which mean "easy"....
Now, the view from the higher part of the mountain was spectacular! Keep in mind, I only got to see it for a view brief seconds in between scampering after MaryPat and trying not to die. After a particularly awkward fall in which my body, my ski poles, and my skis went in opposite directions and I ended up more twisted than some trippy-hippie dreadlocks (even their DOGS' hair is dreadlocked here-- they don't mess around- they hard core), a very kind spaniard offered to help me get upright. Because I presumed he didn't understand English, I muttered how much I wish I was in America, because that would make ghetto-skiing that much easier. Turns out, he understood, 'cause he laughed. But he might have been laughing at the fact that I was a first-time skiier wearing a knee-length Liz Claiborne coat, pajama bottoms, and probably black-market gloves.
After a few more run-ins with a fence and some chicken wire, we were hungry. So we scurried down to the base to get our bocadillos (sandwiches, but way more fun to say) from the locker. We. Were. Famished. And just our luck, when we opened up the locker, in MP's bag where her two bocadillos, fruit and nuts were supposed to be....was....a head of cauliflower! She grabbed the wrong bag from the fridge! Her poor Senora..probably wondering how she was going to make cauliflower soup without the cauliflower...No I just playin'---POOR MARYPAT! She's a great sport though, and we all shared what we could with her.
So that was skiing. Other eventful things that ha pasado...hmmm.
OH. The first time my senora did my laundry was interesting. The itty bitty washing machine is in the bathroom, right next to the bidet (thanks Sarah!) and the thing is a monster. She didn't tell me she was doing laundry, and I was sitting in my room, listenin' to my Sony, chewin' on bubble gum (Herman the worm anyone? No? Okay), I literally hear a noise I can only equate with Chewbacca. Chewbacca has somehow scurried up 7 stories and snuck in the bathroom and was making a ruckus in there. When I ran to ask Lina what was the matter, she laughed at me and explained my dirty clothes were aggravating her lavadora....whoops.
Saturday wa sour first experience with a discoteca..they open around 2 a.m. here and close at 7, 'cause they take their partying very seriously here. The first one we went to was in the barrio Sacromonte, and it was so-so. There were lots of little caves, and tunnels, and the whole time I felt like I was playing Mario64 and was stuck in an underwater level. Except these ones didn't have red coins in Giant clams...
Speaking of clams, I ate some! On Saturday, we had a four-hour seafood lunch, and...I liked it. Sorpresa! We had fried clams (I think, can you fry those?), calamari, octopus, shrimp, and SHARK. I don't know how I feel about eating Jaws on a regular basis, but it was good for that one time. (That's what she said...?)
Alright, amigos, I'm out.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Getting My Bearings
Vale. (That's spanish for "okay" and you say the 'v' with a 'buh' noise. Pretty much it's the go-to word for whenever your mouth gets tired of saying "si si si si si"when you want to say something but don't really fully understand what's going on).
If I've learned anything from my first full week in another country, it's that every day is an adventura. I'm trying to learn my way around, but none of the streets are parallel here- they pretty much run at all angles and diagonals and all the names are in Spanish (who saw that coming?!). So getting to school took me close to an hour yesterday when it really only is a 25 minute walk. But that's okay, I enjoy looking even more foreign here, by pulling out a map in the middle of the road, squinting at it, and resolving that I am more lost than before. If there were more distinct landmarks, I'd be alright-but on every street there are countless heladerias, fruterias, cafeterias, and other words I don't know (yet) that end is -ia. Muy confusando. So by the grace of God, and a hunch to follow a girl who I presumed was also American and was going to my school, I finally got to CEGRI (school). Lucky thing the girl led me in the right direction but she actually doesn't go here. Whoops. Or as they say here, weeee.
Yesterday morning, we had our first experience with churros con chocolate. Oh. Dear. Lord. Where we these when I was secretly stealing Marypat's Luna bars in the hostal? Basically their fried dough that you dip in very very thick, rich chocolate. They eat it here for breakfast. Why nobody here is morbidly obese, I do not know. Then we wandered around and enjoyed the afternoon in the sunshine. It got up to about 68 degrees yesterday in the sun, and it felt soo soo nice. Good thing I brought all that SPF 70 with me- this little chica blanca is going to burnn like a baby come April when we go to las playas.
Then, last night after dinner-which was a chicken broth-based soup, salad and ham, (It's going to be awhile before I eat ham when I get back home), most of the people from our group went to a free salsa lesson at a little bar called La Habana. Try cramming 60 pretty uncoordinated americanos in a small tapas bar and trying to teach them to be suave. Ha. All the bars here are pretty small. But the difference is, there are more of them. The barcrawls you could partake in....
So today, I woke up late (this is starting to be a recurring theme, but in my defense, I was pretty tired from the night's activities), and had to scramble to get readyf or my nine a.m. class. In Champaign, I've been able to get myself together in 6 or 7 minutes before class if I have to, with the ultimate luxury of living on the Quad. Here, there's really very little I can do to shorten that 25 minute walk to class, so when I woke up at 8:21, I was in a tizzy. With no shower, and no hair products here yet, I just decided to borrow some of my senoras hairspray. No problema!
It wasn't until later, when I went to a supermercado to buy my own hairspray that I realized what I had sprayed on my hair was not actually hairspray....it was in fact, deodorant. Fantastic. At least my head won't be sweaty.
Until next time-- stay thirsty, my friends.
If I've learned anything from my first full week in another country, it's that every day is an adventura. I'm trying to learn my way around, but none of the streets are parallel here- they pretty much run at all angles and diagonals and all the names are in Spanish (who saw that coming?!). So getting to school took me close to an hour yesterday when it really only is a 25 minute walk. But that's okay, I enjoy looking even more foreign here, by pulling out a map in the middle of the road, squinting at it, and resolving that I am more lost than before. If there were more distinct landmarks, I'd be alright-but on every street there are countless heladerias, fruterias, cafeterias, and other words I don't know (yet) that end is -ia. Muy confusando. So by the grace of God, and a hunch to follow a girl who I presumed was also American and was going to my school, I finally got to CEGRI (school). Lucky thing the girl led me in the right direction but she actually doesn't go here. Whoops. Or as they say here, weeee.
Yesterday morning, we had our first experience with churros con chocolate. Oh. Dear. Lord. Where we these when I was secretly stealing Marypat's Luna bars in the hostal? Basically their fried dough that you dip in very very thick, rich chocolate. They eat it here for breakfast. Why nobody here is morbidly obese, I do not know. Then we wandered around and enjoyed the afternoon in the sunshine. It got up to about 68 degrees yesterday in the sun, and it felt soo soo nice. Good thing I brought all that SPF 70 with me- this little chica blanca is going to burnn like a baby come April when we go to las playas.
Then, last night after dinner-which was a chicken broth-based soup, salad and ham, (It's going to be awhile before I eat ham when I get back home), most of the people from our group went to a free salsa lesson at a little bar called La Habana. Try cramming 60 pretty uncoordinated americanos in a small tapas bar and trying to teach them to be suave. Ha. All the bars here are pretty small. But the difference is, there are more of them. The barcrawls you could partake in....
So today, I woke up late (this is starting to be a recurring theme, but in my defense, I was pretty tired from the night's activities), and had to scramble to get readyf or my nine a.m. class. In Champaign, I've been able to get myself together in 6 or 7 minutes before class if I have to, with the ultimate luxury of living on the Quad. Here, there's really very little I can do to shorten that 25 minute walk to class, so when I woke up at 8:21, I was in a tizzy. With no shower, and no hair products here yet, I just decided to borrow some of my senoras hairspray. No problema!
It wasn't until later, when I went to a supermercado to buy my own hairspray that I realized what I had sprayed on my hair was not actually hairspray....it was in fact, deodorant. Fantastic. At least my head won't be sweaty.
Until next time-- stay thirsty, my friends.
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Five-Hour Tour... A Five-Hour Tour...
Hola a todos!
Good news on the homefront: I have a senora!
Whew, so let's backtrack a little bit. They found me a very nice senora on late Saturday afternoon. Her name is Lina, short for her last name Catalina, and she's a peach. After dinner, which was more edible than my afternoon meal, we went and picked up her sister-in-law and then went to el teatro to see a play. Riding in Lina's car was an experience, to say the least. No, take that back. Riding in a car anywhere in Spain is an experience to say the least. I thought those crazy U-Turns in Florida were confusing, but here there are rotundas, which are circle drives which whip you around and somehow get you in the right direction. I've resolved to stay far far away from driving because I'm already pretty bad at navigating by foot.
So I saw my first official play in Spanish--it was a little hard to follow, but they annuciate well and use a lot of hand motions (I suppose that's a given, it was dramatic theatre, but still it helps) so I was able to get the gist of it. I think. It was called "La Marqeza de O", and all I know is there was a woman, who I think was pregnant, but wasn't married and her parents spent a lot of time yelling at her. So...basically "Secret Life of the Granada Teenager"?
Afterwards, because these spanish women seriously know how to party, we went to a cerverceria for some drinks and tapas. My brother's going to be proud of me, I'm actually starting to like beer that has some flavor to it. No more Keystone Ice Para mi! The beer mostly everybody drinks here is "La Alhambra", and it's not bad!
Our tapas, which are free in this part of Spain with any drink order, were calamares and mariscos (calamari and shrimp, but I am pretty sure anyone who knows a little spanglish could have deduced that). I didn't want to be rude, so even though I don't really eat seafood often I ventured out and tried it. I liked the taste of the calamri, but not the texture. I mentally kept telling myself over and over in my head that I was eating chicken, but I kept imagining I was eating a tentacle from one of those aliens from MIB. (Here come the Men in Black...)
I also ate the shrimp, even though I've passed on them at every family party since I was old enough to make the sound "eww". They really weren't that bad tasting, but I didn't like that while I was eating one, all his little friends on the plate were staring me down, giving me the eye. "No comas mi amigo!!!"
When we got back, it was so nice to finally be unpacked and have my own bed. I had trouble falling asleep but I think it was because I didn't have Kaye and MaryPat's giggles to lull me to sleep. Also, by the end of my first day entirely in e'pano' (they leave out a lot of s's...that doesn't make listening for a beginner hard...or anything...) it was hard to shut my mind off. I'm pretty sure I was dreaming in Spanish, which is almost as much fun as over break when I was ringing up liquor in my sleep for two weeks.
So yesterday, we went on our 5 and a half hour tour (except there wasn't an S.S. Minnow...dang) of the La Alhambra, which is a complex of fortresses and palaces from the Muslims who settled in Granada 1,000 years ago. It was really incredible, I can't wait to see La Alhambra in the spring when all of los flores are in bloom.
When we got to the top of one of the military towers, the view was amazing. You could see a full 360 degrees of Sierra Nevada, La Albaycin, La Catedral, and all of the little houses plopped down in between. It literally takes your breath away. That, or maybe it was the ridiculous amount of stairs we had to climb to get to the top.
After flashing our Universidad badges to the security to get into the palaces and muttering "Jack Bauer" (Hey, I'm allowed to poke fun, I'm pretty sure my senoras been laughing AT me for two days straight...) we got into el cuarto de secretos. No Gretchen Weiners, but it definitley was a room full of secrets. The room was designed by ancient muslims who created an arch in the ceiling and when it gets really quiet, two people can stand in opposite corners of the room and whisper to the wall. (It sounds lame, but wait I am getting to the good part!). Be it miracle, magic, or simply the art of clever architecture, the wall actually whispers back to you! The person standing in the opposite corner's voice gets carried across the arched ceiling and it literally sounds as if they are standing right next to you. Justine and I got a kick out of it. If I lived in that palace, oh some 1,000 years ago, I'm pretty sure I'd use that room to prank people a lot, and freak them out that the walls were talking to them. It's probably what they did for fun! That, and running away to avoid becoming enslaved by the Catholics. Always a good time in Southern Spain, let me tell you.
Almost as much fun as trying to figure out the showers here. Another story, for another time. But basically, when I finally figured out how to turn it on, it's the shower-equivalent of sitting under a luke warm leaky gutter. Score. There's a funny little contraption in the bathroom here. I haven't quite figured out its purpose...either it's a urinal of some kind, or a device to wash your feet. I'm not gonna test those waters yet, until I am sure of its real purpose, though so don't fret your little head.
Today we start school...I won't lie I am wondering if it's a little racist to not grant us the day off because of Martin Luther King Jr. Day. But I guess I can't complain, I'm taking 12 hours, with no Friday classes, and two spring breaks...in Spain. No Tengas celos. Don't be jealous, friends. For now, ciao ciao ciao!
Good news on the homefront: I have a senora!
Whew, so let's backtrack a little bit. They found me a very nice senora on late Saturday afternoon. Her name is Lina, short for her last name Catalina, and she's a peach. After dinner, which was more edible than my afternoon meal, we went and picked up her sister-in-law and then went to el teatro to see a play. Riding in Lina's car was an experience, to say the least. No, take that back. Riding in a car anywhere in Spain is an experience to say the least. I thought those crazy U-Turns in Florida were confusing, but here there are rotundas, which are circle drives which whip you around and somehow get you in the right direction. I've resolved to stay far far away from driving because I'm already pretty bad at navigating by foot.
So I saw my first official play in Spanish--it was a little hard to follow, but they annuciate well and use a lot of hand motions (I suppose that's a given, it was dramatic theatre, but still it helps) so I was able to get the gist of it. I think. It was called "La Marqeza de O", and all I know is there was a woman, who I think was pregnant, but wasn't married and her parents spent a lot of time yelling at her. So...basically "Secret Life of the Granada Teenager"?
Afterwards, because these spanish women seriously know how to party, we went to a cerverceria for some drinks and tapas. My brother's going to be proud of me, I'm actually starting to like beer that has some flavor to it. No more Keystone Ice Para mi! The beer mostly everybody drinks here is "La Alhambra", and it's not bad!
Our tapas, which are free in this part of Spain with any drink order, were calamares and mariscos (calamari and shrimp, but I am pretty sure anyone who knows a little spanglish could have deduced that). I didn't want to be rude, so even though I don't really eat seafood often I ventured out and tried it. I liked the taste of the calamri, but not the texture. I mentally kept telling myself over and over in my head that I was eating chicken, but I kept imagining I was eating a tentacle from one of those aliens from MIB. (Here come the Men in Black...)
I also ate the shrimp, even though I've passed on them at every family party since I was old enough to make the sound "eww". They really weren't that bad tasting, but I didn't like that while I was eating one, all his little friends on the plate were staring me down, giving me the eye. "No comas mi amigo!!!"
When we got back, it was so nice to finally be unpacked and have my own bed. I had trouble falling asleep but I think it was because I didn't have Kaye and MaryPat's giggles to lull me to sleep. Also, by the end of my first day entirely in e'pano' (they leave out a lot of s's...that doesn't make listening for a beginner hard...or anything...) it was hard to shut my mind off. I'm pretty sure I was dreaming in Spanish, which is almost as much fun as over break when I was ringing up liquor in my sleep for two weeks.
So yesterday, we went on our 5 and a half hour tour (except there wasn't an S.S. Minnow...dang) of the La Alhambra, which is a complex of fortresses and palaces from the Muslims who settled in Granada 1,000 years ago. It was really incredible, I can't wait to see La Alhambra in the spring when all of los flores are in bloom.
When we got to the top of one of the military towers, the view was amazing. You could see a full 360 degrees of Sierra Nevada, La Albaycin, La Catedral, and all of the little houses plopped down in between. It literally takes your breath away. That, or maybe it was the ridiculous amount of stairs we had to climb to get to the top.
After flashing our Universidad badges to the security to get into the palaces and muttering "Jack Bauer" (Hey, I'm allowed to poke fun, I'm pretty sure my senoras been laughing AT me for two days straight...) we got into el cuarto de secretos. No Gretchen Weiners, but it definitley was a room full of secrets. The room was designed by ancient muslims who created an arch in the ceiling and when it gets really quiet, two people can stand in opposite corners of the room and whisper to the wall. (It sounds lame, but wait I am getting to the good part!). Be it miracle, magic, or simply the art of clever architecture, the wall actually whispers back to you! The person standing in the opposite corner's voice gets carried across the arched ceiling and it literally sounds as if they are standing right next to you. Justine and I got a kick out of it. If I lived in that palace, oh some 1,000 years ago, I'm pretty sure I'd use that room to prank people a lot, and freak them out that the walls were talking to them. It's probably what they did for fun! That, and running away to avoid becoming enslaved by the Catholics. Always a good time in Southern Spain, let me tell you.
Almost as much fun as trying to figure out the showers here. Another story, for another time. But basically, when I finally figured out how to turn it on, it's the shower-equivalent of sitting under a luke warm leaky gutter. Score. There's a funny little contraption in the bathroom here. I haven't quite figured out its purpose...either it's a urinal of some kind, or a device to wash your feet. I'm not gonna test those waters yet, until I am sure of its real purpose, though so don't fret your little head.
Today we start school...I won't lie I am wondering if it's a little racist to not grant us the day off because of Martin Luther King Jr. Day. But I guess I can't complain, I'm taking 12 hours, with no Friday classes, and two spring breaks...in Spain. No Tengas celos. Don't be jealous, friends. For now, ciao ciao ciao!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Well who saw this coming.....
So today was the big day! Meeting our senoras!!
This morning we were supposed to meet our senoras in the lobby of the hostal at our scheduled pick up times. My time was 11 a.m., so I woke up early, repacked my life into my two suitcases and showered 'cause I didn't want my senora to think I reeked of Hannigan's regularly. Yick. Now I am not sure how familiar you are with European elevators, but they're more or less made for one person. And maybe a broom, if you're lucky, or a pretzel stick. Janet would definitley have some trouble I think. So Kaye and MP load me into this deathtrap and lower me down to the first floor. It's a good thing I'm not claustrophic or I would have been forced to drag my 170 pounds of luggage down 210 stairs. Lug lug lug, Lo siento! Lug lug lug. That's not any fun. The elevator, if you can even call it that, stopped at every floor on the way down, and everyone opened the door, looked in and saw me squished to the back, holding my breath to conserve oxygen, and made this sound "EEEEE!". Something screwed up and sent me straight back up to the 5th floor with Kaye and MP and by this point I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. Not really, but it was hilarious.
Now when I'm downstairs, I'm rehearsing in my head everything I want to say to my senora when I meet her. "Mucho gusto! Me llamo Kelly!" (I seriously debated telling her my name is Kelly-jandro. Kelly-kelly jandddro for the Gaga fans reading this). I asked Miguel how to translate "Sorry I have so much stuff," and I think what he told me was "Lo siento pero tengo mi novio en my equipaje"....which translates roughly to "Sorry, but I brought my boyfriend in my suitcase".
I sit by the side of the lobby with my mountain of stuff I probably didn't need (you were...right, Mom) and I watch all the lovely little senoras come to pick up their students. Every time one walked in the door, I looked at her kind of hopefully, and thought "oooh! she might be mine!" Some of them were so cute. If I hadn't brought some much stuff I seriously contemplated snatching a pocket-sized one up and shoving her into my carry-on.
So I wait and I wait, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my senora. As I watched all of my friends scamper off with their new old lady friends, bravely attempting to help carry their bags and luggage, I felt like I was on the island of misfit toys as everyone else got scooped up and I was left behind. Don't you go feeling bad for me, I spent my time trying to convince a senora to just take me in (jokingly) because mine was so late. "Que es una mas?" Jajaja (That's some Spanish laughter right there).
Well, they called my senora. And called her. And called her. Now I'm freakin' out. Great. I've got the senora that's gone and kicked it. So they plop me in a Taxi and drive me to her house with one of the directors Violeta. Ojala para Violeta. So we show up to the address and I've never been more uncomfortable in my life. Except maybe for the time I fell off that treadmill at Cardinal.
She rings the buzzer and whaddya know!? Senora esta en casa! But she had NO idea I was coming! Just try and imagine this little blonde girl showing up at your house with enough luggage to clothe a small family in Uzbekistan saying "I'M HEREEEE!" Now I couldn't fully understand what passed between Violeta and my senora, or "senora" I suppose since she doesn't really know about me..., because they were speaking so fast and cutting each other off like....like I did..that one eventful night in Lockport. So if you've ever flipped through a telenovela, this is what passed. A lot of raised voices and "ayyys" passing through the intercom, all the while with me standing by the curb trying to balance my luggage like a lost puppy. I know that's a terrible cliche, but really, I think that applies. That or I felt like a child meeting their father for the first time...and their father didn't know this person even existed. So you can imagine, I was damn excited to live with this senora for the next couple a months.
Next thing I know, we're trucking along the street, me flailing to keep up with Violeta, sweating because I still can't understand degrados celsia and I thought 12 degress Celsius would be chilly, so I wore a sweater and a parka basically because I like to be prepared for an arctic chill. She takes me to an apartment nearby where I more or less crashed another girl's "senora party". Oh hey. I'm just gonna hang out here, ya know. Til I find a home.
Lunch, or almuerzo was interesting. We had some type of filet, but I couldn't tell if it was pork or fish. I guess that's more of a personal problem..but we also ate some mushy green soup, mmm, and salad with little pointy pickles in them. But I was ready to gnaw my own hand off so I ate it.
That is where I leave you thus far, on my misadventures. I'll keep you posted if I ever get taken. This is like not getting picked for dodgeball, times a thousand. Put me IN coach!
Hasta Luego
This morning we were supposed to meet our senoras in the lobby of the hostal at our scheduled pick up times. My time was 11 a.m., so I woke up early, repacked my life into my two suitcases and showered 'cause I didn't want my senora to think I reeked of Hannigan's regularly. Yick. Now I am not sure how familiar you are with European elevators, but they're more or less made for one person. And maybe a broom, if you're lucky, or a pretzel stick. Janet would definitley have some trouble I think. So Kaye and MP load me into this deathtrap and lower me down to the first floor. It's a good thing I'm not claustrophic or I would have been forced to drag my 170 pounds of luggage down 210 stairs. Lug lug lug, Lo siento! Lug lug lug. That's not any fun. The elevator, if you can even call it that, stopped at every floor on the way down, and everyone opened the door, looked in and saw me squished to the back, holding my breath to conserve oxygen, and made this sound "EEEEE!". Something screwed up and sent me straight back up to the 5th floor with Kaye and MP and by this point I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. Not really, but it was hilarious.
Now when I'm downstairs, I'm rehearsing in my head everything I want to say to my senora when I meet her. "Mucho gusto! Me llamo Kelly!" (I seriously debated telling her my name is Kelly-jandro. Kelly-kelly jandddro for the Gaga fans reading this). I asked Miguel how to translate "Sorry I have so much stuff," and I think what he told me was "Lo siento pero tengo mi novio en my equipaje"....which translates roughly to "Sorry, but I brought my boyfriend in my suitcase".
I sit by the side of the lobby with my mountain of stuff I probably didn't need (you were...right, Mom) and I watch all the lovely little senoras come to pick up their students. Every time one walked in the door, I looked at her kind of hopefully, and thought "oooh! she might be mine!" Some of them were so cute. If I hadn't brought some much stuff I seriously contemplated snatching a pocket-sized one up and shoving her into my carry-on.
So I wait and I wait, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my senora. As I watched all of my friends scamper off with their new old lady friends, bravely attempting to help carry their bags and luggage, I felt like I was on the island of misfit toys as everyone else got scooped up and I was left behind. Don't you go feeling bad for me, I spent my time trying to convince a senora to just take me in (jokingly) because mine was so late. "Que es una mas?" Jajaja (That's some Spanish laughter right there).
Well, they called my senora. And called her. And called her. Now I'm freakin' out. Great. I've got the senora that's gone and kicked it. So they plop me in a Taxi and drive me to her house with one of the directors Violeta. Ojala para Violeta. So we show up to the address and I've never been more uncomfortable in my life. Except maybe for the time I fell off that treadmill at Cardinal.
She rings the buzzer and whaddya know!? Senora esta en casa! But she had NO idea I was coming! Just try and imagine this little blonde girl showing up at your house with enough luggage to clothe a small family in Uzbekistan saying "I'M HEREEEE!" Now I couldn't fully understand what passed between Violeta and my senora, or "senora" I suppose since she doesn't really know about me..., because they were speaking so fast and cutting each other off like....like I did..that one eventful night in Lockport. So if you've ever flipped through a telenovela, this is what passed. A lot of raised voices and "ayyys" passing through the intercom, all the while with me standing by the curb trying to balance my luggage like a lost puppy. I know that's a terrible cliche, but really, I think that applies. That or I felt like a child meeting their father for the first time...and their father didn't know this person even existed. So you can imagine, I was damn excited to live with this senora for the next couple a months.
Next thing I know, we're trucking along the street, me flailing to keep up with Violeta, sweating because I still can't understand degrados celsia and I thought 12 degress Celsius would be chilly, so I wore a sweater and a parka basically because I like to be prepared for an arctic chill. She takes me to an apartment nearby where I more or less crashed another girl's "senora party". Oh hey. I'm just gonna hang out here, ya know. Til I find a home.
Lunch, or almuerzo was interesting. We had some type of filet, but I couldn't tell if it was pork or fish. I guess that's more of a personal problem..but we also ate some mushy green soup, mmm, and salad with little pointy pickles in them. But I was ready to gnaw my own hand off so I ate it.
That is where I leave you thus far, on my misadventures. I'll keep you posted if I ever get taken. This is like not getting picked for dodgeball, times a thousand. Put me IN coach!
Hasta Luego
Friday, January 15, 2010
And on the Fourth Day..there was Sun!
Day Four..finally we get to see Granada in some sunshine! We overslept...again, because my alarm clock on my running watch is being spiteful. For breakfast, we needed a break from the pan y mantequilla (bread n butta) and opted to go to a little pasteleria which had juice, muffins, eggs, and ham. I've pretty much realized that every meal here has some ham in it somewhere. I ordered a chicken gyro kebob thing yesterday, and I'm quite certain there had to be some hidden ham in there. Ya know, just for kicks, keep ya on your toes. Unfortunate if you're MP and a vegetarian..but for the rest of us it's like finding little hidden surprises in all of your meals! Especially at the beginning, since we don't know how to order and pretty much just beg the waitors to give us whatever they'd recommend. Except el conejo. Nunca el conejo (rabbit). Not into chowin' down on some bunnyheads.
One thing I AM good at ordering, though, is fruta. I can hold up that kiwi and plop it on the counter with full confidence in what I will be getting. A Kiwi. Spanish for...I'm not sure yet. But this is a learning trip!
We had our housing orientation this morning..basically laying down the law for what we can and cannot do with our senoras. I was disappointed to find out we can't take them out and get them hammered. Darn. The term for being drunk here, which is helpful, is esta barracho. But don't worry, no estoy barracha.
Also, today MaryPat & I went on a long wandering walk, completely safe, in the late afternoon. We went to the mercado and picked up some fresh fruit, and ate and walked along La Calle Reales and looked in all the store shops. It's so funny because southern Spain is just such a mix of atmospheres. The little houses all along the Albaycin look like little Grecian Houses, like little white marshmallows somebody just plopped into the hillside. Then, right behind these tropical Mediterranean-ish casas is the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Today was the first day we really got to see them since it wasn't raining. Now I've never been to Colorado, but I can imagine that is what it must look like. In fact. GoogleImage showed me so. It's so strange to be walking and see orange trees, and palm trees, and just up ahead are snowy mountains. Oh! Don't eat the oranges. Nice to look at, yes. But they got more zip in them than a mouthful of sow' patch kids. (Nerea told us this, I wasn't actually going to sample strange fruit on another continent without first asking).
Then, we found this pretty little tea market behind La Catedral; they sell all kinds of fresh spices and different kinds of teas! Even though I stupidly presumed there was no tea in Spain and brought a carryon's-worth of tea, I bought some called "el te de Granada"; it smells like lemons. I will have to be careful bringing this stuff back into the country, 'cause really who knows what's in it.
So on a final note! I am so excited to meet my senora en la manana and finally get unpacked! Living out of a suitcase is tough stuff man, good thing I didn't end up being a rockstar. Instead, I'm just a meandering college student in a foreign land with the best friends possible. Next on the agenda: learning to order food in restaurants because two nights back-to-back of chocolate sticks and cocacola just won't fly. Adios
One thing I AM good at ordering, though, is fruta. I can hold up that kiwi and plop it on the counter with full confidence in what I will be getting. A Kiwi. Spanish for...I'm not sure yet. But this is a learning trip!
We had our housing orientation this morning..basically laying down the law for what we can and cannot do with our senoras. I was disappointed to find out we can't take them out and get them hammered. Darn. The term for being drunk here, which is helpful, is esta barracho. But don't worry, no estoy barracha.
Also, today MaryPat & I went on a long wandering walk, completely safe, in the late afternoon. We went to the mercado and picked up some fresh fruit, and ate and walked along La Calle Reales and looked in all the store shops. It's so funny because southern Spain is just such a mix of atmospheres. The little houses all along the Albaycin look like little Grecian Houses, like little white marshmallows somebody just plopped into the hillside. Then, right behind these tropical Mediterranean-ish casas is the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Today was the first day we really got to see them since it wasn't raining. Now I've never been to Colorado, but I can imagine that is what it must look like. In fact. GoogleImage showed me so. It's so strange to be walking and see orange trees, and palm trees, and just up ahead are snowy mountains. Oh! Don't eat the oranges. Nice to look at, yes. But they got more zip in them than a mouthful of sow' patch kids. (Nerea told us this, I wasn't actually going to sample strange fruit on another continent without first asking).
Then, we found this pretty little tea market behind La Catedral; they sell all kinds of fresh spices and different kinds of teas! Even though I stupidly presumed there was no tea in Spain and brought a carryon's-worth of tea, I bought some called "el te de Granada"; it smells like lemons. I will have to be careful bringing this stuff back into the country, 'cause really who knows what's in it.
So on a final note! I am so excited to meet my senora en la manana and finally get unpacked! Living out of a suitcase is tough stuff man, good thing I didn't end up being a rockstar. Instead, I'm just a meandering college student in a foreign land with the best friends possible. Next on the agenda: learning to order food in restaurants because two nights back-to-back of chocolate sticks and cocacola just won't fly. Adios
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Un día no olvidaré
Well, here we are Day THREE and I've started this blog to share all that I am learning thus far!
The most interesting stuff happened yesterday. We had our first real tours; in the morning we had a "survival tour" which showed us our school (oh yeah! we go to school while we're here...kidding Mom and Dad) and the police station! All very handy places.
We also had our first encounters with the gypsies. They more or less chase after you with free rosemary or "romero", and when you grab it, they try to read your palm...which is not free. if you don't pay, a whole flock of them come out of nowhere and ROB you! No worries, compassionate friends and family, I did not learn this from personal experience. Luckily, that's what Miguel Angel y Nerea are for! They are our fantastic resident directors here who are basically taking care of us for the next couple of days here at the Hostal and then keeping an eye on us at classes.
Let me tell you a little bit about our hostal. One: though I regrettably never saw the movie "Hostel" because I was spending all my time watching "Taken", I can tell you our hostal is very safe. I didn't say it was glorious or anything like La Alhambra (an Islamic palace at the tippt tiop of the hill here in Granada but more details on that later. Or if you want to actually learn more about Spain, I have linked to MaryPat's blog, which is stock-full of interesting factoids!), but it is very clean and safe. MaryPat, Kaye and I are all rooming together until Saturday when we move in with our senoras.
I'm beginning to question whether or not that Bridesmaid dress is actually going to fit when I return stateside in May, but as of right now I am not bothered by this realization. For being a "healthy" nation, it's been pretty surprising/amazing that Spaniards are so thin! First of all, nobody here exercises really. Well, unless you count all that mountain climbing we did on our tour yesterday. In the rain. But hey! We're in Spain so it's okay! We saw some of los barrios, or neighborhoods yesterday too.
Funny thing- all the dogs, los perros, here are mostly unleashed. They just scamper around following their hippie owners. So different than at home, where Lucy Loo and Abbey are practically are family members.
Alright, well that's enough for today....from the amateur blogger. Hopefully, I keep up with this thing. Hasta luego!
The most interesting stuff happened yesterday. We had our first real tours; in the morning we had a "survival tour" which showed us our school (oh yeah! we go to school while we're here...kidding Mom and Dad) and the police station! All very handy places.
We also had our first encounters with the gypsies. They more or less chase after you with free rosemary or "romero", and when you grab it, they try to read your palm...which is not free. if you don't pay, a whole flock of them come out of nowhere and ROB you! No worries, compassionate friends and family, I did not learn this from personal experience. Luckily, that's what Miguel Angel y Nerea are for! They are our fantastic resident directors here who are basically taking care of us for the next couple of days here at the Hostal and then keeping an eye on us at classes.
Let me tell you a little bit about our hostal. One: though I regrettably never saw the movie "Hostel" because I was spending all my time watching "Taken", I can tell you our hostal is very safe. I didn't say it was glorious or anything like La Alhambra (an Islamic palace at the tippt tiop of the hill here in Granada but more details on that later. Or if you want to actually learn more about Spain, I have linked to MaryPat's blog, which is stock-full of interesting factoids!), but it is very clean and safe. MaryPat, Kaye and I are all rooming together until Saturday when we move in with our senoras.
I'm beginning to question whether or not that Bridesmaid dress is actually going to fit when I return stateside in May, but as of right now I am not bothered by this realization. For being a "healthy" nation, it's been pretty surprising/amazing that Spaniards are so thin! First of all, nobody here exercises really. Well, unless you count all that mountain climbing we did on our tour yesterday. In the rain. But hey! We're in Spain so it's okay! We saw some of los barrios, or neighborhoods yesterday too.
Funny thing- all the dogs, los perros, here are mostly unleashed. They just scamper around following their hippie owners. So different than at home, where Lucy Loo and Abbey are practically are family members.
Alright, well that's enough for today....from the amateur blogger. Hopefully, I keep up with this thing. Hasta luego!
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