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.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
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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