Back at the locutorio so I have at least until midnight which is far and not only 45 minutes like in the library.
I was right, by the way. That bitch librarian did send a girl over to take my computer. I could read the hostility in her eyes.
Also I just had to buy more time and figured out that 6 hours for 5€, 12 hours for 10€, and 18 hours for 15€ all works out to be exactly the same. I feel like this whole semester I have been deceived. I pointed this out to the guy at the desk and he just laughed and said I was smarter than the average customer. I said that if I were smarter (using the subjunctive in condicional clauses, thank you very much!) I would have noticed sooner.
So, back from Barcelona. We took a night bus which I thought would be a great idea so Lauren wouldn´t have to pay for another hostel in Madrid and I would arrive back in Madrid just in time for school. I was right about both of these things but it didn´t really work out still. As it turns out, I suck at making myself go to school. I knew this before so it´s nice to see that at least I haven´t changed too much in España. I am being consistently myself :)
So we´re waiting for the night bus at the station. We are supposed to leave at midnight but the stupid bus is late. OK, fine, hurry up bus and come pick me up is what I´m thinking. Oh, no....
So there is a bus to Madrid every 20 minutes or so. We just happened to buy tickets for the one bus that couldn´t get to the station on time for some unknown reason. The buses for the next hour and half arrived and departed again for Madrid without sign of ours. This angered me a little. Especially since I was tired.
The only good thing to come out of this waiting process was that we met these 2 really cool girls from New York City who are studying here and chatted up/bitched about the late bus and how we all preferred Madrid by leaps and bounds to Barcelona. We decided that we feel like real Spaniards and that the kids studying in Barcelona are only tourists. This may sound dumb to most of you reading this, but Barcelona really is 10 times more touristy than my city. In Barcelona you only meet international people while in Madrid they get pissed and frustrated if you don´t speak Spanish when you are trying to interact. I appreciate this a lot about Madrid... and so does my Spanish.
So we finally arrived home with just enough time for me to get to class. Did I go? No.
I spent the whole day sleeping off that terrible bus ride with Lauren in my tiny twin bed. The bus was really small, much smaller than my last few rides through Spain, and I was kinda having it out with the bitchy lade who was sitting behind me.
This lady kept kicking my seat and I turned around to ask her to stop but she didn´t speak any Spanish. I hate to profile here but I think I´m spot on when I say she was from some South Asian country. And she carried designer luggage/clothes/sunglasses but was taking the bus instead of the more expensive airplane or train.
I put my seat back a smidge, not even close to fully, and she kicked my seat and started saying something to me in whatever language she was speaking. I kept my seat down and she eventually stopped.
Now it was on, though. Every time I leaned forward to readjust or grab something from my bag, she would push on my chair so it would straighten up. I would get angry and push it back further with force. The ride continued in this grain with us both bitching to our friends (mine was Lauren and hers was presumably her husband/boyfriend) in our own respective languages about how lame the other was.
Yes, this is the definition of being passive aggressive. That´s kinda how I roll sometimes. Like the other night at Joy when some Spanish chick didn´t want to check her coat and just set it on the floor in the middle of the dance floor where I continually stepped on it without meaning to. I mean, I couldn´t help it! She started yelling at me and pinching my shoulder and I called her a bitch to my friends. One of the things you learn immediately in a foreign country is that you can´t get away with speaking in your own language and assuming nobody can understand you. This works for a lot of other people but not for me because my language happens to be English. Damnit.
Me calling her a crazy bitch led to her yelling at me in English, "Did you just call me a crazy bitch?" This ended in her yelling more and pushing me after I turned around and walking away. During another setting I may have pursued her but I 1) didn´t want to get black-listed from Joy, and 2) hadn´t consumed enough alcohol to think that would in any way be a wise idea.
ANYWAY, we eventually arrived in Madrid and spent the beginning of the day napping. This was nice because neither of us had slept very well in the hostel. I had booked it late and it was the only one with availability and was kinda crappy. It was a bed, though, and it was safe so whatever.
OK, we then went to school for art history class (couldn´t ditch ALL day) and followed that with a visit to the Prado. I kinda went a little nuts with all the paintings and chatted Lauren´s ear off for the hour and a half we were there about all the paintings. And hour and a half is not sufficient time, but then again, Lauren did not have sufficient time in Madrid so we had to hurry. Plus, the Prado is free from 6-8 pm on weekdays. So we saw the good stuff (which is pretty much everything, but we saw MY favorites so that´s all that matters!). I think Lauren really appreciated this and I in turn appreciate that. It angers me when people dislike or aren´t enthusiastic about things I show/share with them. This includes, but is not limited to, movies, books, television shows, and apparently museums.
Sometimes during this time we also walked through Retiro and down to Sol. I showed her downtown, at this time it was kinda sunset, and we proceeded to wander down Calle Mayor. We passed La Plaza Mayor and went down to the Madrid Cathedral (which is complete crap and nobody likes it because it´s ugly and boring) and the Palacio Real. We walked through the gardens of the palace where the Moorish soldiers camped during an invasion of Madrid back in the day and then up north and through Plaza de España. From there (after Lauren had satisfied her chai craving with a Madrid Starbucks visit) we walked up Gran Vía.
At one point I took her to what is probably my favorite restaurant in Madrid. It´s kinda Californian but whatever. It´s a vegan/vegetarian buffet place that is completely mind-blowing, and I am not a big fan of vegetables. The food here is incredible but the highlight is definitely the organic carrot cake dessert. And I don´t even like carrot cake.
That´s the end of this entry. My shoulder hurts from sitting here. Peace out.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Barcelona... part 2
So, this will probably turn out to be one of those entries that just jumps all over the place because I have done and seen so much in the last week that I have everything in the world about which to write.
Let me start off by saying that Barcelona is having a little sewer problem so it smells like piss all over the place. This being said, I really did enjoy it and I´m glad I saw it even if I don´t really have too much of a drive to return any time soon. It was nice but I have many other places on the list before I spend the time and money to go back.
After buying our bus tickets for that night going back to Madrid and stowing our luggage at the bus station, Lauren and I played tourists all day. This was the day after the night of the last blog, which admittedly has many errors. I attribute this to that fact that every keyboard I use in Europe is slightly different than the last. I am trying but it´s not easy. And then I go to hostel in Lisbon and use American keyboards again and it´s the hardest thing ever. I need to type more on my own computer I suppose.
ANYWAY... We began by visiting La Sagrada Familia, Gaudí´s most famous project and Spain´s most visited attraction. Let me just say that it really is worth the hype... on the outside at least.
They have been building it for over a hundred years and aren´t anywhere close to finished. I didn´t appreciate how much more work it needs until I saw it in its current state of construction. The inside is still all scaffolding and construction stuff... TOTALLY not worth the 8€ they charged us to go in. You can go up in an elevator inside 2 of the tower deals but it costs extra and you have to wait in line for over 2 hours. I was pissed about this.
The outside is pretty amazing though. the Nativity Facade that Gaudí designed and built himself is the coolest side (obviously). You should Google Image it because it is truly breathtaking. I use that word more often than I should, but it really really is. On this side he had the pointed towers straight and 90º to the street to produce the effect that they are going to fall on you. He was successful. I really felt like my life was in danger, like that whole cathedral was going to fall right on me.
I loved the scenes of this facade, especially the portrayal of King Herod (I´m pretty sure although it´s been a while since I studied my Bible history) throwing babies at the ground to kill them. I don´t know why I have this morbid fascination with killing babies but it can´t be too strange because obviously the Spanish have it too (reference Saturn eating babies paintings in the Prado by Goya and Rubens... ok, well Rubens was from Flanders but still). It just is so dark. I really think this is significant to the human psyche that we have invented all these stories about killing babies throughout our history. And they weren´t all bad guys, go figure. I wonder what it means. Some psychology student out there needs to work on that and get back to me. But seriously, Gaudí put a couple dead babies on the ground around him and one in his hand screaming as he is about to chuck it. Yikes...
The other completed facade, the Passion Facade, depicts the last days of Christ. Now, these statues I really liked as well even though they were very different. They were designed and built by some dude after Gaudí died and they are all post-modern angular expressionistic deals. Most people from Barcelona, and from Spain, hate them. I say that it´s interesting to have statues/decorations different from all the Renaissance, Baroque, Rococo stuff that adorns every other cathedral in the world.
This was a beautiful day in Barcelona, too, not like the previous one when it rained all day and was completely freezing. So we took plenty of pictures and headed off for Gaudí´s other work of art in Barcelona, the Park Güell. This was his venture into landscape design and it is very unique. Kinda like La Sagrada Familia in park form. I shall explain.
First, we decided to walk to see more of the city and because the weather was so nice. Little did we know that this park sits on top of a miniature mountain (otherwise known as a hill but I feel like the hike up was so hard that I deserve credit for climbing a little mountain) and it took us about an hour to get there. We did get to see the Barcelona bullfighting ring, though, which was cool. I have now seen the bullring in every city I have visited (even Lisboa, but I will get to that later).
So we walked and walked and walked. At more than one point we thought we were going the wrong way because it´s not very walking friendly. This is because nobody does it because it´s a stupid idea. As I stated previously, miniature mountain.
So we finally arrived and walked all throughout the park. This, right now, is when I wish I could upload photos from my computer onto my blog. I felt like I was in Disneyland in this park. Place yourself in the imagination of Lewis Carroll (or as close as you mortals can) and think of a park he would create. That is Park Güell. I think you should Google Image this as well because there is no way to describe it otherwise. At the end of that hike, valía la pena (it was worth the pain).
After this we marched ourselves down into the city again (the walk down was much easier!) and headed for the Barrio Gotíc. It´s cool. Not amazing. I have seen cooler European neighborhoods. It really wasn´t anything to write home about.
Went to Port Vell which is the newly remodeled and stylish pier section off Las Ramblas. This is the place where we saw IMAX 3-D Dinosaurios Vividos and my old jeans ripped right across the butt when I stood from sitting on the pier at one point. The first thing was more fun than the second.
So now I have seen T-Rexes in 3-D (something I have been wanting to go see at the Madrid IMAX) and I am now down to 1 pair of jeans. As it turns out, all my jeans were too old to make it through 5 months living here. Well, I guess it´s only been 3 months. They have all jumped ship and are tired of me. This sucks. AND I can´t buy any here because they don´t make jeans long enough. As aforementioned at some point, I am the tallest girl in this whole country. This is depressing.
OK, so I walked around for about an hour 90s style with my red stripey sweatshirt tied around my waist until I decided that I didn´t give two shits if people saw the hole. Lauren assured me they couldn´t, but every time I stood for the rest of the day I felt the breeze :)
So before we had to catch our bus we wanted to go visit the rest of Gaudí´s slightly lesser known architectural beauties and we walked through the really trendy designer clothing districts to the Casa Batlló and the Casa Milà (yes I do realize that these accents are in 2 different directions... I don´t understand why because it´s in Catalan which it turns out that I don´t speak or understand very well). As long as you´re on Google Image, don´t leave these 2 out, they are pretty cool.
And since it was by this time dark and nighttime, we were the only ones out at these famous tourist sights and snapped all the solo pictures we wanted, even though they probably would have been better in the daylight.
During this day at some point we also walked by La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de something something which was a cathedral in the middle of the old city, and the palace. I don´t know who lived in this palace but it was probably the royal family of Catalunya. I will have to do more research because I don´t too much about this city. Only that my jeans didn´t like being there.
OH, and the day before all this we visited the Museo Picasso, Spain´s national Picasso museum, which is in Barcelona. Paris has a national Picasso museum that is much better which I don´t understand... Picasso was Spanish. But it´s all good because we got to visit the Paris museum´s collection because it is at the Museo Reina Sofía on Saturday evening.
I really enjoy mordern art, and I especially enjoy Picasso. The great thing about Picasso is that he changed his style all throughout his lifetime. Visiting a collection of his is like visiting that of twenty different artists combined. Seriously, if you didn´t know all those paintings were his you wouldn´t believe it. Plus, there´s nothing better than going to a museum and learning all about an artist whose art you have enjoyed. It is refeshing.
They had some gorgeous Blue Period paintings and all of his Las Meninas collection. This was the collection he did on the theme of Velazquez´s (and arguably Spain´s) most famous painting that now is the shining star of the Prado, Las Meninas. It was cool to have seen Las Meninas so many times going to the Prado and then seeing all of Picasso´s variations. I appreciated this.
The library lady is giving me the eye and I think she is going to assign someone to my computer right about now. I really hate her. I am finished being nice to her! Those days are long gone, ever since she yelled at me across the library.
I´ll update more later about Lisboa, coolest city ever maybe.
Let me start off by saying that Barcelona is having a little sewer problem so it smells like piss all over the place. This being said, I really did enjoy it and I´m glad I saw it even if I don´t really have too much of a drive to return any time soon. It was nice but I have many other places on the list before I spend the time and money to go back.
After buying our bus tickets for that night going back to Madrid and stowing our luggage at the bus station, Lauren and I played tourists all day. This was the day after the night of the last blog, which admittedly has many errors. I attribute this to that fact that every keyboard I use in Europe is slightly different than the last. I am trying but it´s not easy. And then I go to hostel in Lisbon and use American keyboards again and it´s the hardest thing ever. I need to type more on my own computer I suppose.
ANYWAY... We began by visiting La Sagrada Familia, Gaudí´s most famous project and Spain´s most visited attraction. Let me just say that it really is worth the hype... on the outside at least.
They have been building it for over a hundred years and aren´t anywhere close to finished. I didn´t appreciate how much more work it needs until I saw it in its current state of construction. The inside is still all scaffolding and construction stuff... TOTALLY not worth the 8€ they charged us to go in. You can go up in an elevator inside 2 of the tower deals but it costs extra and you have to wait in line for over 2 hours. I was pissed about this.
The outside is pretty amazing though. the Nativity Facade that Gaudí designed and built himself is the coolest side (obviously). You should Google Image it because it is truly breathtaking. I use that word more often than I should, but it really really is. On this side he had the pointed towers straight and 90º to the street to produce the effect that they are going to fall on you. He was successful. I really felt like my life was in danger, like that whole cathedral was going to fall right on me.
I loved the scenes of this facade, especially the portrayal of King Herod (I´m pretty sure although it´s been a while since I studied my Bible history) throwing babies at the ground to kill them. I don´t know why I have this morbid fascination with killing babies but it can´t be too strange because obviously the Spanish have it too (reference Saturn eating babies paintings in the Prado by Goya and Rubens... ok, well Rubens was from Flanders but still). It just is so dark. I really think this is significant to the human psyche that we have invented all these stories about killing babies throughout our history. And they weren´t all bad guys, go figure. I wonder what it means. Some psychology student out there needs to work on that and get back to me. But seriously, Gaudí put a couple dead babies on the ground around him and one in his hand screaming as he is about to chuck it. Yikes...
The other completed facade, the Passion Facade, depicts the last days of Christ. Now, these statues I really liked as well even though they were very different. They were designed and built by some dude after Gaudí died and they are all post-modern angular expressionistic deals. Most people from Barcelona, and from Spain, hate them. I say that it´s interesting to have statues/decorations different from all the Renaissance, Baroque, Rococo stuff that adorns every other cathedral in the world.
This was a beautiful day in Barcelona, too, not like the previous one when it rained all day and was completely freezing. So we took plenty of pictures and headed off for Gaudí´s other work of art in Barcelona, the Park Güell. This was his venture into landscape design and it is very unique. Kinda like La Sagrada Familia in park form. I shall explain.
First, we decided to walk to see more of the city and because the weather was so nice. Little did we know that this park sits on top of a miniature mountain (otherwise known as a hill but I feel like the hike up was so hard that I deserve credit for climbing a little mountain) and it took us about an hour to get there. We did get to see the Barcelona bullfighting ring, though, which was cool. I have now seen the bullring in every city I have visited (even Lisboa, but I will get to that later).
So we walked and walked and walked. At more than one point we thought we were going the wrong way because it´s not very walking friendly. This is because nobody does it because it´s a stupid idea. As I stated previously, miniature mountain.
So we finally arrived and walked all throughout the park. This, right now, is when I wish I could upload photos from my computer onto my blog. I felt like I was in Disneyland in this park. Place yourself in the imagination of Lewis Carroll (or as close as you mortals can) and think of a park he would create. That is Park Güell. I think you should Google Image this as well because there is no way to describe it otherwise. At the end of that hike, valía la pena (it was worth the pain).
After this we marched ourselves down into the city again (the walk down was much easier!) and headed for the Barrio Gotíc. It´s cool. Not amazing. I have seen cooler European neighborhoods. It really wasn´t anything to write home about.
Went to Port Vell which is the newly remodeled and stylish pier section off Las Ramblas. This is the place where we saw IMAX 3-D Dinosaurios Vividos and my old jeans ripped right across the butt when I stood from sitting on the pier at one point. The first thing was more fun than the second.
So now I have seen T-Rexes in 3-D (something I have been wanting to go see at the Madrid IMAX) and I am now down to 1 pair of jeans. As it turns out, all my jeans were too old to make it through 5 months living here. Well, I guess it´s only been 3 months. They have all jumped ship and are tired of me. This sucks. AND I can´t buy any here because they don´t make jeans long enough. As aforementioned at some point, I am the tallest girl in this whole country. This is depressing.
OK, so I walked around for about an hour 90s style with my red stripey sweatshirt tied around my waist until I decided that I didn´t give two shits if people saw the hole. Lauren assured me they couldn´t, but every time I stood for the rest of the day I felt the breeze :)
So before we had to catch our bus we wanted to go visit the rest of Gaudí´s slightly lesser known architectural beauties and we walked through the really trendy designer clothing districts to the Casa Batlló and the Casa Milà (yes I do realize that these accents are in 2 different directions... I don´t understand why because it´s in Catalan which it turns out that I don´t speak or understand very well). As long as you´re on Google Image, don´t leave these 2 out, they are pretty cool.
And since it was by this time dark and nighttime, we were the only ones out at these famous tourist sights and snapped all the solo pictures we wanted, even though they probably would have been better in the daylight.
During this day at some point we also walked by La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de something something which was a cathedral in the middle of the old city, and the palace. I don´t know who lived in this palace but it was probably the royal family of Catalunya. I will have to do more research because I don´t too much about this city. Only that my jeans didn´t like being there.
OH, and the day before all this we visited the Museo Picasso, Spain´s national Picasso museum, which is in Barcelona. Paris has a national Picasso museum that is much better which I don´t understand... Picasso was Spanish. But it´s all good because we got to visit the Paris museum´s collection because it is at the Museo Reina Sofía on Saturday evening.
I really enjoy mordern art, and I especially enjoy Picasso. The great thing about Picasso is that he changed his style all throughout his lifetime. Visiting a collection of his is like visiting that of twenty different artists combined. Seriously, if you didn´t know all those paintings were his you wouldn´t believe it. Plus, there´s nothing better than going to a museum and learning all about an artist whose art you have enjoyed. It is refeshing.
They had some gorgeous Blue Period paintings and all of his Las Meninas collection. This was the collection he did on the theme of Velazquez´s (and arguably Spain´s) most famous painting that now is the shining star of the Prado, Las Meninas. It was cool to have seen Las Meninas so many times going to the Prado and then seeing all of Picasso´s variations. I appreciated this.
The library lady is giving me the eye and I think she is going to assign someone to my computer right about now. I really hate her. I am finished being nice to her! Those days are long gone, ever since she yelled at me across the library.
I´ll update more later about Lisboa, coolest city ever maybe.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Barcelona... part 1
I am sitting in a hostel in Barcelona writing this at the moment. It is 1:25 am and Lauren and I have just finished a couple of rip-roaring games of rummy (or gin-rummy as Lauren swears it is called) after a three hour dinner of tapas and sangria followed by ice cream.
And for all of you keeping score, that's 2-0 games of rummy to me and 3-2 scoops of ice cream in favor of Lauren. Yes, she saw the sign with pictures of the different ice creams she could order and her eyes went straight to the triple scoop cone. She had me order of course because too afraid to say anything in Spanish (except hola which I think she said for the first time today) and the guy refused to give us 3 scoops on a cone so we had to settle for in a bowl with a cone on top. This produced to brilliant effect of Lauren eating a cone with one hand and with a spoon out of a bowl in the other. I took a picture :)
We had a big night last night with Monica and Amy, two of my girls from Madrid who were here this week and met up with us last night. Since this was the case, and we spent all day walking around the city, we figured we would spend a quiet night in just hanging out.
Not to mention that my feet practically need to be amputated because I refused to remove the Vans my mom sent in the extra bag for me. How did I used to wear those to work, without socks even? My feet need to get accustomed to them again.
Speaking of the extra bag, the blessed extra bag, it was the best gift I have ever received in my life I think. Good old mother packed it with peanut butter, chapstick (that I can purchase here for about 6€ each but that's ridiculous) and some DVDs that will help me pass the lonely nights when I am sitting in my bed waiting to fall asleep and I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT read another word of Spanish because my brain hurts. This has never happened as often as it has happened in Spain!
Also she even packed some Lake Tahoe mugs to give to Carmen as a present like I asked and an LT (place not the player) calender for yours truly like I didn't ask.
Again, thanks mom... you don't know how much I appreciate it! My eyes teared up when I was pulling everything out. It made me feel very special.
ALSO, she sent me a new camera because mine broke on Valentine's Day for inexplicable reasons. I could have bought one here but I didn't really feel like using a converter for the rest of its life in the U.S. of A. It works great, mom.
Also, the tights you sent are completely perfect... exactly what I needed. Everything was exactly what I needed :)
So, now to Barcelona.
I like it. It is beautiful and fabulous and all that. But I cannot escape comparing it at all times to Madrid.
I know, I know... this is a terrible thing to do because all cities are special and important in their own little ways. I only do this I think because everyone else is always comparing the two. Everyone I meet talk about Madrid versus Barcelona. I can't help thinking in terms of this distinction as well.
I love traveling but I also love my city. I have enjoyed seeing Barcelona but I can't wait to go home tomorrow night. I think some of this has to do with the fact that I don't speak Catalan at all and I can't read any signs or menus or anything. I didn't really understand the difference between Catalan and Castilian Spanish before I came to Spain. I didn't understand what a big difference there actually is I think. I guess I was a little disappointed that I can't get around as easily here.
AND I can't wait to show Lauren my city and how wonderful it is!
I am going to go to sleep because I think poor Lauren is fading fast. The girl is a trooper... I have been dragging her all over Spain for 2 days and she just arrived and is probably jetlagged like crazy, even though she won't admit it. I am even tired, she must be feeling like crap!
I will definitely write more at a later time. Right now we have a date with our pillows.
And for all of you keeping score, that's 2-0 games of rummy to me and 3-2 scoops of ice cream in favor of Lauren. Yes, she saw the sign with pictures of the different ice creams she could order and her eyes went straight to the triple scoop cone. She had me order of course because too afraid to say anything in Spanish (except hola which I think she said for the first time today) and the guy refused to give us 3 scoops on a cone so we had to settle for in a bowl with a cone on top. This produced to brilliant effect of Lauren eating a cone with one hand and with a spoon out of a bowl in the other. I took a picture :)
We had a big night last night with Monica and Amy, two of my girls from Madrid who were here this week and met up with us last night. Since this was the case, and we spent all day walking around the city, we figured we would spend a quiet night in just hanging out.
Not to mention that my feet practically need to be amputated because I refused to remove the Vans my mom sent in the extra bag for me. How did I used to wear those to work, without socks even? My feet need to get accustomed to them again.
Speaking of the extra bag, the blessed extra bag, it was the best gift I have ever received in my life I think. Good old mother packed it with peanut butter, chapstick (that I can purchase here for about 6€ each but that's ridiculous) and some DVDs that will help me pass the lonely nights when I am sitting in my bed waiting to fall asleep and I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT read another word of Spanish because my brain hurts. This has never happened as often as it has happened in Spain!
Also she even packed some Lake Tahoe mugs to give to Carmen as a present like I asked and an LT (place not the player) calender for yours truly like I didn't ask.
Again, thanks mom... you don't know how much I appreciate it! My eyes teared up when I was pulling everything out. It made me feel very special.
ALSO, she sent me a new camera because mine broke on Valentine's Day for inexplicable reasons. I could have bought one here but I didn't really feel like using a converter for the rest of its life in the U.S. of A. It works great, mom.
Also, the tights you sent are completely perfect... exactly what I needed. Everything was exactly what I needed :)
So, now to Barcelona.
I like it. It is beautiful and fabulous and all that. But I cannot escape comparing it at all times to Madrid.
I know, I know... this is a terrible thing to do because all cities are special and important in their own little ways. I only do this I think because everyone else is always comparing the two. Everyone I meet talk about Madrid versus Barcelona. I can't help thinking in terms of this distinction as well.
I love traveling but I also love my city. I have enjoyed seeing Barcelona but I can't wait to go home tomorrow night. I think some of this has to do with the fact that I don't speak Catalan at all and I can't read any signs or menus or anything. I didn't really understand the difference between Catalan and Castilian Spanish before I came to Spain. I didn't understand what a big difference there actually is I think. I guess I was a little disappointed that I can't get around as easily here.
AND I can't wait to show Lauren my city and how wonderful it is!
I am going to go to sleep because I think poor Lauren is fading fast. The girl is a trooper... I have been dragging her all over Spain for 2 days and she just arrived and is probably jetlagged like crazy, even though she won't admit it. I am even tired, she must be feeling like crap!
I will definitely write more at a later time. Right now we have a date with our pillows.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Pain in the ass Catholic Spain
OK, I have 22 minutes to write a blog entry. This is enough time to describe this day from hell that I have had if I type REALLY quickly. Please excuse errors as I will be writing furiously.
So, as it turns out Spain really is as religious as they say. This whole week has really been a series of me hoping places are open when I need them. These last 2 days have been especially difficult.
I had no idea Thursday was a holy day. I knew the whole Friday Christ dies thing, but what happened Thursday? Perhaps I need to brush up on my Catholic traditions, although I think that this time in Spain has already taught me quite a bit.
I went to the processions on Palm Sunday last weekend. Now, these were some experiences, let me tell ya.
It was an lesson in culture differences for sure. I crowded with the rest of the entire city (so it seemed) into the streets downtown to watch the parade at about 7:30. At this time I did not know they were going to just inch along and take all night to watch.
So we waited and waited and waited forever for the first float to come around the corner. It was this huge crucifix with Jesús Cristo on beds of flowers and elaborate candelabra all over the place. As if scenes of torture and death decorated with candles and blood red roses at night in a medieval city plaza aren´t creepy enough, there are the penitents.
I had read about them and seen photos but I still wasn´t emotionally prepared. As some of you probably know, they wear the robes and pointed hoods worn in America by the KKK. Yes, I am aware that the Catholic penitents during La Semana Santa were the origins of this tradition, but it is such a strong, emotional and taboo image in the states that I couldn´t help the gosebumps on my arms and the tears that sprang to my eyes. Although I suppose this is the expected reaction to this scene.
Jesús took about half an hour to make it through our plaza surrounded by the candle weilding penitents. By the way, it takes so long because they frickin carry this float through the enitire city on their shoulders.
Following by about another half an hour was an enormous float that looked like an elaborate Baroque style canopy bed with the Virgen surrounded by even more candles and flowers. She had a train made from white lillies that represent sadness.
During this parade, I made the acquaintance of 2 older Madrileña ladies who said they loved their city so much that they were glad to explain to me what was going on. I was appreciative of this, especially when the Cardinal of the province of Madrid began to speak in Latin and then the entire crowd around me burst into some Latin Catholic song. I felt kinda out of place with everyone singing around me but there were other tourists there so oh well.
The last mayor of Madrid and his woman (how you refer to your wife in Spanish which I don´t appreciate!) stood right in front of me, too. So, I´m kinda famous by association I guess :)
So 7 minutes for my horrible day today.
EVERYTHING IS CLOSED!!! This would normally not be the emergency it was for me today and instead would have been just a general pain in the ass, except for the fact that Lauren arrives tomorrow morning and I wasn´t sure at what time or in which terminal. I spent literally hours walking around the city with my computer looking for any locutorio that was open or anywhere that offered wi-fi. I went into about 5 Starbucks and all of them told me that their wi-fi wasn´t working.
I walked for hours and hours. I thought of course one had to be open in the center of the city with all the tourists here this weekend. Nothing.
FINALLY, on the verge of tears and about to call someone at home to check my email for me, I found a locutorio (my present position) that is open. I heaved a sigh of relief and looked up flight info for Lauren in the morning, flight info for us going to Barcelona tomorrow evening, hotel directions and infinitely more useful information.
And to top off my horrible day today, I walked into Irene´s room this morning to see that she has a computer sitting there that is connected to the internet via network cable and she has a printer and everything. When she got home I told her about my emergency and she just told me sorry and good luck.
What a bitch! I was so pissed! And even more pissed when I think about all the money I have wasted on buying internet when we have it in our apartment. I couldn´t believe it! For all the money I am paying to live there I should have internet. I am not pleased about this!
OK, that´s it and with exactly 1 minute to spare!
Now I am going to have the best week ever!!! YAY :)
So, as it turns out Spain really is as religious as they say. This whole week has really been a series of me hoping places are open when I need them. These last 2 days have been especially difficult.
I had no idea Thursday was a holy day. I knew the whole Friday Christ dies thing, but what happened Thursday? Perhaps I need to brush up on my Catholic traditions, although I think that this time in Spain has already taught me quite a bit.
I went to the processions on Palm Sunday last weekend. Now, these were some experiences, let me tell ya.
It was an lesson in culture differences for sure. I crowded with the rest of the entire city (so it seemed) into the streets downtown to watch the parade at about 7:30. At this time I did not know they were going to just inch along and take all night to watch.
So we waited and waited and waited forever for the first float to come around the corner. It was this huge crucifix with Jesús Cristo on beds of flowers and elaborate candelabra all over the place. As if scenes of torture and death decorated with candles and blood red roses at night in a medieval city plaza aren´t creepy enough, there are the penitents.
I had read about them and seen photos but I still wasn´t emotionally prepared. As some of you probably know, they wear the robes and pointed hoods worn in America by the KKK. Yes, I am aware that the Catholic penitents during La Semana Santa were the origins of this tradition, but it is such a strong, emotional and taboo image in the states that I couldn´t help the gosebumps on my arms and the tears that sprang to my eyes. Although I suppose this is the expected reaction to this scene.
Jesús took about half an hour to make it through our plaza surrounded by the candle weilding penitents. By the way, it takes so long because they frickin carry this float through the enitire city on their shoulders.
Following by about another half an hour was an enormous float that looked like an elaborate Baroque style canopy bed with the Virgen surrounded by even more candles and flowers. She had a train made from white lillies that represent sadness.
During this parade, I made the acquaintance of 2 older Madrileña ladies who said they loved their city so much that they were glad to explain to me what was going on. I was appreciative of this, especially when the Cardinal of the province of Madrid began to speak in Latin and then the entire crowd around me burst into some Latin Catholic song. I felt kinda out of place with everyone singing around me but there were other tourists there so oh well.
The last mayor of Madrid and his woman (how you refer to your wife in Spanish which I don´t appreciate!) stood right in front of me, too. So, I´m kinda famous by association I guess :)
So 7 minutes for my horrible day today.
EVERYTHING IS CLOSED!!! This would normally not be the emergency it was for me today and instead would have been just a general pain in the ass, except for the fact that Lauren arrives tomorrow morning and I wasn´t sure at what time or in which terminal. I spent literally hours walking around the city with my computer looking for any locutorio that was open or anywhere that offered wi-fi. I went into about 5 Starbucks and all of them told me that their wi-fi wasn´t working.
I walked for hours and hours. I thought of course one had to be open in the center of the city with all the tourists here this weekend. Nothing.
FINALLY, on the verge of tears and about to call someone at home to check my email for me, I found a locutorio (my present position) that is open. I heaved a sigh of relief and looked up flight info for Lauren in the morning, flight info for us going to Barcelona tomorrow evening, hotel directions and infinitely more useful information.
And to top off my horrible day today, I walked into Irene´s room this morning to see that she has a computer sitting there that is connected to the internet via network cable and she has a printer and everything. When she got home I told her about my emergency and she just told me sorry and good luck.
What a bitch! I was so pissed! And even more pissed when I think about all the money I have wasted on buying internet when we have it in our apartment. I couldn´t believe it! For all the money I am paying to live there I should have internet. I am not pleased about this!
OK, that´s it and with exactly 1 minute to spare!
Now I am going to have the best week ever!!! YAY :)
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Lazy Saturday afternoon
Today is beautiful. It is the third in a series of gorgeous days that has me almost convinced that spring has come and summer is not far behind.
All the green is popping out everywhere. Each new day I discover a plant blossoming with new leaves that was completely brown the day before. The birds are out in full force, there is a light warm breeze and I feel like I am in a Disney movie :) In a good way, not in a poisoned apple, cut out her heart way.
I am off again to Retiro to hunker down with El Hobbit. So far this spring break has been so wonderful; relaxing and reading and not having anything to really stress me out.
Carmen did give me a hard time this morning because she says I don´t go out enough (hear that mom and dad?). She said that I need to go out more at night and experience all I can of the Spanish nightlife. I think she´s just used to Vanessa never being home and therefore sees me as a homebody by comparison because I am not out of the house from sunrise until midnight every day.
Remember when I wrote that the Spaniards party hard and I can´t even begin to keep up? Well, even my 57 year-old host mom thinks I´m a pansy when it comes to partying.
Oh, well... you can´t please everyone. And I am having a great time not going out every night. Plus, when you go out you usually see more or less the same things/places/people. I would much rather go out during the daytime than go out partying every night.
More BORING than a 57 year-old you say?
More RELAXED than a 57 year-old I say.
I think the city thing has a big part in this, too. Carmen grew up/lives now in a HUGE city that goes goes goes all the time. I grew up in Tahoe City that does not go go go all the time. I have no problem with spending a lazy afternoon in the sunshine of the park reading. This sort of thing would kill her. She works all the time and when she gets home she runs around the house doing absolutely everything she can find to do.
I have to go though, because the day is too nice to sit inside anymore and the guy next to me listening to his iPod stinks to high heaven. I am NOT looking forward to riding the Metro when it gets really hot here. Yuck...
All the green is popping out everywhere. Each new day I discover a plant blossoming with new leaves that was completely brown the day before. The birds are out in full force, there is a light warm breeze and I feel like I am in a Disney movie :) In a good way, not in a poisoned apple, cut out her heart way.
I am off again to Retiro to hunker down with El Hobbit. So far this spring break has been so wonderful; relaxing and reading and not having anything to really stress me out.
Carmen did give me a hard time this morning because she says I don´t go out enough (hear that mom and dad?). She said that I need to go out more at night and experience all I can of the Spanish nightlife. I think she´s just used to Vanessa never being home and therefore sees me as a homebody by comparison because I am not out of the house from sunrise until midnight every day.
Remember when I wrote that the Spaniards party hard and I can´t even begin to keep up? Well, even my 57 year-old host mom thinks I´m a pansy when it comes to partying.
Oh, well... you can´t please everyone. And I am having a great time not going out every night. Plus, when you go out you usually see more or less the same things/places/people. I would much rather go out during the daytime than go out partying every night.
More BORING than a 57 year-old you say?
More RELAXED than a 57 year-old I say.
I think the city thing has a big part in this, too. Carmen grew up/lives now in a HUGE city that goes goes goes all the time. I grew up in Tahoe City that does not go go go all the time. I have no problem with spending a lazy afternoon in the sunshine of the park reading. This sort of thing would kill her. She works all the time and when she gets home she runs around the house doing absolutely everything she can find to do.
I have to go though, because the day is too nice to sit inside anymore and the guy next to me listening to his iPod stinks to high heaven. I am NOT looking forward to riding the Metro when it gets really hot here. Yuck...
Friday, March 14, 2008
My last 24 hours in reverse
It has officially been my spring break, or Semana Santa for shamelessly Catholic countries like España, for 24 hours. I have enjoyed every single one of them, too.
Most of the other kids in my program are off seeing the world already. My closest friends are at this very moment in Paris, Lisbon, Prague, Valencia and wherever else. They are having a blast traveling and being young and fun and all that other nonsense. I am currently sitting in Madrid, LOVING not having school to think about, and not visiting any other cool city but my own.
I had to explain to everyone who asked that I am going to Barcelona next weekend and Lisbon the weekend after when Reno Lauren arrives and so I am thus spending this glorious spring break in this equally glorious city. I felt a little foolish about not leaving but only because I thought everyone else would think that.
Oh well, I have plenty of adventures in store for the next few weeks so I don´t feel guilty about not taking advantage of this one. Actually, I AM taking advantage of this one, just in a different way.
In which ways? I am so glad you asked...
Up until right now, all this morning I have been toiling over my new reading endeavor.
Rewind to last night. I chatted with Carmen for a long time (over pasta with tomato sauce and chorizo, delicious) about books. Now, this is one of my very favorite topics and I have the pleasure of discussing it more often here in España than I do at home. I have chatted books with Susan and Gabriela, the lovely ladies in the USAC office, all about my favorites and theirs. In my cooking class I chat about books nonstop with a couple of the girls who take the class with me. Well, we talk about it in class when I am not otherwise involved arguing against Australia for the best place to set up a fortress to save the human race from zombies once the war commences (too arid, not enough fertile land to support a population cut off from the rest of the world, although I can´t argue that it wouldn´t be easy to wall off).
You know how I previously wrote about how stoked I was upon discovering The God of Small Things in English in the USAC office? WELL, if you remember my elation, then you will understand my doubled elation when Carmen pulled the Spanish version out of her bookshelf last night to recommend to me. I was so excited that I started stuttering and not being able to remember words. Seriously, it was pretty nerdy of me.
I had NO IDEA that this book was so popular. I understand why, though, because it´s just so freakin good. I adore this book. I have said it a hundred times but I am going to say it again right now. If you haven´t read this book, you should.
OK, well, the other book I borrowed from Carmen (aka my new reading endeavor as aforementioned) is El Hobbit por el genio (como todo el mundo me dice) Tolkien.
Now, I have not read this book in English previously and I know I am learning all the wrong names. For example, the only one I know for sure is different is Bilbo Baggins. En español, se llama Bilbo Bolsón. I am looking forward to just being generally impressive when I refer to the names in Spanish and then nonchalantly add, "Oh, yeah, I read it in Spanish. You know, I speak Spanish so it wasn´t that big a deal or anything."
Also, this is giving me a good vocabulary base for future fantasty novel reading in Spanish. I don´t know if this is going to be an extensive future but it COULD be because I am learning all the words.
For example, some words I have learned this morning:
dwarf = el enano
walking stick = el bastón -and- pointed (adj. as in hat) = puntiagudo (both courtesy of Gandalf)
fairy=el hada (and for that matter I saw fairy godmother which is el hada madrina and a masculine word, so that´s wierd...)
to sprout (which isn´t a particularly fantastic word, but still...)=brotar
There are many more words that I have learned from reading the first chapter of El Hobbit thus far, but these are the ones that jumped to mind. Overall, I am enjoying reading this book, especially when I can sit in the sunshine at Retiro and do it. This is what I did this morning and it was very pleasant.
So, last night before Carmen and I talked shop, she had her English lesson with Veronica. Veronica is a puertarriqueña who lived for a bit during her childhood in the US. She speaks beautiful English with a lovely foreign sounding accent. She actually sounds Russian or something.
I always feel like she is throwing down the gauntlet and trying to beat me at English. I know this sounds odd but everytime she comes over she always gives me the vibe like she wants to show me how well she speaks English (which is perfectly) and not in a friendly way but in a challenging way. I don´t know. I don´t think she likes me very much anyway. And she´s really intimidating. I have to keep reminding myself that there is no way she can "beat" me at English-speaking because it´s my native language. This doesn´t mean she isn´t going to try, though.
It certainly didn´t make her very happy yesterday when she walked in the door and Carmen tattled on me that I taught her the word "shit."
Back up half an hour. We were doing Carmen´s homework together (last minute, a lady after my own heart). She was writing out her verbs and I was supervising. She was going over verbs that stay the same in all tenses and she was on the word "to shut." Her handwriting is kinda a mix between cursive and printing like mine, so I thought it would be wise to tell her that making one too few bumps in the "u" of "shut" would give her a palabrotas. I thought this was useful advice because she actually had written "shit" more than she had written "shut."
We had a good laugh as we were yelling shit in the apartment when I explained this to her. We were pretending to stub our toes and swear at this pain (also "to hurt" was another word on her list so we used that one, man, I´m a good teacher!) and it was pretty much the funniest thing I have ever experienced hearing her describe people as "shitty" when she asked if it could be used as an adjective. It can, I assured her. And frequently.
I don´t even know why Veronica was so pissed, though. As soon as Carmen and I started laughing again over the word "shit" (which is actually HILARIOUS and I just never realized it) she joined in and used shit in a few ways. She wanted in on the fun, but then gave me a dirty look as they left the kitchen. I don´t know. I cannot explain this.
Anyway, while they were studying I got the urge to study, too. So I went into my room and did all my homework (which is pretty much the easiest hw I have had since elementary school, I wish Jorge would make it harder), and perused the dictionary for new and interesting vocabulary.
I often do this when I feel inspired to speak Spanish well. I have a pretty solid grasp of the grammar (I am not trying to say perfect by a long shot) and I feel like now I just need to expand the vocabulary more than anything.
Last night I made lists of words with a theme instead of just listing random words that I liked. I made a list of animals and one of bugs and their related words/phrases.
One that I found beyond funny was peacock. In español, you say "el pavo real" which directly translates to "royal turkey." I had a good giggle about this one.
Some words I encounter while I do this are disappointing. For example, in Spanish you say "bowl" and "topless" the same way. There is another word for it technically, but they just use "bowl" for whatever reason. Sometimes I appreciate that it´s the same as English for comprehension purposes and sometimes I do not for cultural purposes. I feel a smidge guilty that our word for that thing out of which you eat cereal has replaced their word for that thing out of which you eat cereal. Oh well.
Another interesting thing: my dictionary had the verb "to scalp" as in cut someone´s forehead off from their face but not the noun "scalp" as in what you cut off. Weird.
One more thing that has nothing to do with anything else I have written this afternoon. On Monday I have a very important date with some girls from my program who are leaving at various times during the week. A place was discovered in downtown Madrid that serves burgers made from all sorts of crazy meats. We are going to order a zebra burger, a camel burger, and another one that I don´t remember right this moment and then share them. I don´t know if this is morally or ecologically sound, eating these animals, but I don´t want to know until after I try them. Then I won´t ever eat them again (probably).
Also, one of the girls and I are going to make pumpkin pies at my apartment next week when Carmen leaves for Alicante. We are crossing our fingers that the American grocery store has either stewed pumpkin or an actual pumpkin. They DO have cream soda and ranch dressing so they are not COMPLETELY useless, although they DO NOT have decent peanut butter so they KINDA are.
AND the lady on the mat next to me at yoga the other day was very pregnant. I did not appreciate this. There is a whole room, preggers, why do you have to plop down right next to me, eh? Rude. I don´t even know why she was there, she can´t do any of it anyway. And in spandex??? Gross...
OK, well that´s all I got for now. I have very pressing issues of hobbit research to take care of in the next few hours and the sunshine from Retiro me está llamando.
Most of the other kids in my program are off seeing the world already. My closest friends are at this very moment in Paris, Lisbon, Prague, Valencia and wherever else. They are having a blast traveling and being young and fun and all that other nonsense. I am currently sitting in Madrid, LOVING not having school to think about, and not visiting any other cool city but my own.
I had to explain to everyone who asked that I am going to Barcelona next weekend and Lisbon the weekend after when Reno Lauren arrives and so I am thus spending this glorious spring break in this equally glorious city. I felt a little foolish about not leaving but only because I thought everyone else would think that.
Oh well, I have plenty of adventures in store for the next few weeks so I don´t feel guilty about not taking advantage of this one. Actually, I AM taking advantage of this one, just in a different way.
In which ways? I am so glad you asked...
Up until right now, all this morning I have been toiling over my new reading endeavor.
Rewind to last night. I chatted with Carmen for a long time (over pasta with tomato sauce and chorizo, delicious) about books. Now, this is one of my very favorite topics and I have the pleasure of discussing it more often here in España than I do at home. I have chatted books with Susan and Gabriela, the lovely ladies in the USAC office, all about my favorites and theirs. In my cooking class I chat about books nonstop with a couple of the girls who take the class with me. Well, we talk about it in class when I am not otherwise involved arguing against Australia for the best place to set up a fortress to save the human race from zombies once the war commences (too arid, not enough fertile land to support a population cut off from the rest of the world, although I can´t argue that it wouldn´t be easy to wall off).
You know how I previously wrote about how stoked I was upon discovering The God of Small Things in English in the USAC office? WELL, if you remember my elation, then you will understand my doubled elation when Carmen pulled the Spanish version out of her bookshelf last night to recommend to me. I was so excited that I started stuttering and not being able to remember words. Seriously, it was pretty nerdy of me.
I had NO IDEA that this book was so popular. I understand why, though, because it´s just so freakin good. I adore this book. I have said it a hundred times but I am going to say it again right now. If you haven´t read this book, you should.
OK, well, the other book I borrowed from Carmen (aka my new reading endeavor as aforementioned) is El Hobbit por el genio (como todo el mundo me dice) Tolkien.
Now, I have not read this book in English previously and I know I am learning all the wrong names. For example, the only one I know for sure is different is Bilbo Baggins. En español, se llama Bilbo Bolsón. I am looking forward to just being generally impressive when I refer to the names in Spanish and then nonchalantly add, "Oh, yeah, I read it in Spanish. You know, I speak Spanish so it wasn´t that big a deal or anything."
Also, this is giving me a good vocabulary base for future fantasty novel reading in Spanish. I don´t know if this is going to be an extensive future but it COULD be because I am learning all the words.
For example, some words I have learned this morning:
dwarf = el enano
walking stick = el bastón -and- pointed (adj. as in hat) = puntiagudo (both courtesy of Gandalf)
fairy=el hada (and for that matter I saw fairy godmother which is el hada madrina and a masculine word, so that´s wierd...)
to sprout (which isn´t a particularly fantastic word, but still...)=brotar
There are many more words that I have learned from reading the first chapter of El Hobbit thus far, but these are the ones that jumped to mind. Overall, I am enjoying reading this book, especially when I can sit in the sunshine at Retiro and do it. This is what I did this morning and it was very pleasant.
So, last night before Carmen and I talked shop, she had her English lesson with Veronica. Veronica is a puertarriqueña who lived for a bit during her childhood in the US. She speaks beautiful English with a lovely foreign sounding accent. She actually sounds Russian or something.
I always feel like she is throwing down the gauntlet and trying to beat me at English. I know this sounds odd but everytime she comes over she always gives me the vibe like she wants to show me how well she speaks English (which is perfectly) and not in a friendly way but in a challenging way. I don´t know. I don´t think she likes me very much anyway. And she´s really intimidating. I have to keep reminding myself that there is no way she can "beat" me at English-speaking because it´s my native language. This doesn´t mean she isn´t going to try, though.
It certainly didn´t make her very happy yesterday when she walked in the door and Carmen tattled on me that I taught her the word "shit."
Back up half an hour. We were doing Carmen´s homework together (last minute, a lady after my own heart). She was writing out her verbs and I was supervising. She was going over verbs that stay the same in all tenses and she was on the word "to shut." Her handwriting is kinda a mix between cursive and printing like mine, so I thought it would be wise to tell her that making one too few bumps in the "u" of "shut" would give her a palabrotas. I thought this was useful advice because she actually had written "shit" more than she had written "shut."
We had a good laugh as we were yelling shit in the apartment when I explained this to her. We were pretending to stub our toes and swear at this pain (also "to hurt" was another word on her list so we used that one, man, I´m a good teacher!) and it was pretty much the funniest thing I have ever experienced hearing her describe people as "shitty" when she asked if it could be used as an adjective. It can, I assured her. And frequently.
I don´t even know why Veronica was so pissed, though. As soon as Carmen and I started laughing again over the word "shit" (which is actually HILARIOUS and I just never realized it) she joined in and used shit in a few ways. She wanted in on the fun, but then gave me a dirty look as they left the kitchen. I don´t know. I cannot explain this.
Anyway, while they were studying I got the urge to study, too. So I went into my room and did all my homework (which is pretty much the easiest hw I have had since elementary school, I wish Jorge would make it harder), and perused the dictionary for new and interesting vocabulary.
I often do this when I feel inspired to speak Spanish well. I have a pretty solid grasp of the grammar (I am not trying to say perfect by a long shot) and I feel like now I just need to expand the vocabulary more than anything.
Last night I made lists of words with a theme instead of just listing random words that I liked. I made a list of animals and one of bugs and their related words/phrases.
One that I found beyond funny was peacock. In español, you say "el pavo real" which directly translates to "royal turkey." I had a good giggle about this one.
Some words I encounter while I do this are disappointing. For example, in Spanish you say "bowl" and "topless" the same way. There is another word for it technically, but they just use "bowl" for whatever reason. Sometimes I appreciate that it´s the same as English for comprehension purposes and sometimes I do not for cultural purposes. I feel a smidge guilty that our word for that thing out of which you eat cereal has replaced their word for that thing out of which you eat cereal. Oh well.
Another interesting thing: my dictionary had the verb "to scalp" as in cut someone´s forehead off from their face but not the noun "scalp" as in what you cut off. Weird.
One more thing that has nothing to do with anything else I have written this afternoon. On Monday I have a very important date with some girls from my program who are leaving at various times during the week. A place was discovered in downtown Madrid that serves burgers made from all sorts of crazy meats. We are going to order a zebra burger, a camel burger, and another one that I don´t remember right this moment and then share them. I don´t know if this is morally or ecologically sound, eating these animals, but I don´t want to know until after I try them. Then I won´t ever eat them again (probably).
Also, one of the girls and I are going to make pumpkin pies at my apartment next week when Carmen leaves for Alicante. We are crossing our fingers that the American grocery store has either stewed pumpkin or an actual pumpkin. They DO have cream soda and ranch dressing so they are not COMPLETELY useless, although they DO NOT have decent peanut butter so they KINDA are.
AND the lady on the mat next to me at yoga the other day was very pregnant. I did not appreciate this. There is a whole room, preggers, why do you have to plop down right next to me, eh? Rude. I don´t even know why she was there, she can´t do any of it anyway. And in spandex??? Gross...
OK, well that´s all I got for now. I have very pressing issues of hobbit research to take care of in the next few hours and the sunshine from Retiro me está llamando.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Super Senior
So the time has come for another semester´s registration. Oh my, how time flies. And this will officially mark my entrance into super senior status. Wait, maybe that was changing my major. Hmmm...
I have been sitting in the library of my Spanish university and perusing the class catalogue of my American one.
My first thought is how freaking easy this is when you don´t have to take practice/travel time into consideration but still get priority registration. This super senior thing is going well so far.
I consider myself to be adept at the whole choosing classes that will go toward my degree process and therefore don´t think an advisor is necessary, all evidence to the contrary. I mean, I understand the whole thing and have read extensively through the graduation requirements for an English literature degree, but somehow I have taken all these superfluous classes. I am blaming this on Kelly Ford, I think. Yes, that sounds good...
Anyway, I have a list of the classes I am going to take. I was disappointed, however, that the English department lied to me in the future course offerings on the UNR website. Seriously, almost every single class is wrong. It´s crap. I will be taking this up with the department upon my return. Or I will just say nothing and be a little pissed. Whatever.
Most of the classes are of the English lit persuasion. I still have to take Eng 303 which will be full of freshmen and sophomores. I put this off because it sounds boring: Intro to Literary Theory and Criticism? No thank you... I can criticize adequately on my own, just ask my friends. And I always find these lower classes to require way more work, too, so I´m not too stoked on it.
There´s also Eng 490: Gender/Sexual Identity Literature. Those of you who know me won´t be surprised that I´m taking this class. If I can´t be a Women´s Studies major then I´ll take as many of their classes as they will cross-list with English :)
A special Eng class offered this semester: Contemporary Literature on Grief and Loss. Doesn´t this sound wonderfully tragic and depressing. These are the best novels because they won´t ever leave you. No matter what else you ever read or how far you go in life they stay with you and haunt you always. The memorable books are the best books. I hope we´ll read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close because I adore it. It´s about as contemporary as they come and all about grief and loss. I think it fits the bill.
I have to take another class with lit before 1600s and I can´t decide between Chaucer and, yes ladies and gentlemen, Old Norse. That´s right, my school teaches people the literature of the North Germanic language spoken in Scandinavia and its settlements before 1300. In case you are wondering, Wikipedia just told me that modern Icelandic language is the closest contemporary language. Just thinking about taking this class, or the faces of people when I tell them I am taking it, makes me laugh as I sit here and write this. Why would any English major take this as an undergrad class you ask? Why would they even offer it of all the languages that have ever been? Why the hell not. It seems to me to be just odd enough to probably be fun. Probably useless, but then again, I have found that a lot of college is. Hell, the only thing I´ll be missing from a Spanish minor when I get home is a culture of modern Spain class. I live in modern Spain. I experience the culture (not from a book) every single day. I cannot waive this class. Does this seem as dumb to you as it does to me? People who make these requirements can be a bunch of idiots.
To keep up with the Spanish there will be an Intro to Hispanic Lit. ¿Por qué no? I like literature. I like Spanish. Seems like a good idea.
And to fully round out my full semester without v ball, I am going to take German. Yes, that´s right, German. I have always wanted to take German, I wanted to when I began college but they wouldn´t let me. Now since I don´t have v ball and I do have one more year to take advantage of a paid-in-full education, I may as well. Maybe I´ll go to Germany next year. Plus, I can always drop it if I so choose. It´ll be fun with all the freshman... I can sit there and act badass while they try to muster courage to sit next to me and ask me to buy them alcohol for their dorm party.
Sweet. I´m a super senior.
I feel no guilt about this whatsoever. Most of my friends are all graduating after this spring and moving on with their lives. Not me, no siree. Useless classes are on my agenda (eg Old Norse and Beginning German) and I don´t feel bad at all. Who wants to graduate in 4 years? That´s leaving the party early, ladies and gentlemen. I will be leaving this party we call life soon enough and I want to learn a little more about dead and obscure early Germanic languages before I do.
I have been sitting in the library of my Spanish university and perusing the class catalogue of my American one.
My first thought is how freaking easy this is when you don´t have to take practice/travel time into consideration but still get priority registration. This super senior thing is going well so far.
I consider myself to be adept at the whole choosing classes that will go toward my degree process and therefore don´t think an advisor is necessary, all evidence to the contrary. I mean, I understand the whole thing and have read extensively through the graduation requirements for an English literature degree, but somehow I have taken all these superfluous classes. I am blaming this on Kelly Ford, I think. Yes, that sounds good...
Anyway, I have a list of the classes I am going to take. I was disappointed, however, that the English department lied to me in the future course offerings on the UNR website. Seriously, almost every single class is wrong. It´s crap. I will be taking this up with the department upon my return. Or I will just say nothing and be a little pissed. Whatever.
Most of the classes are of the English lit persuasion. I still have to take Eng 303 which will be full of freshmen and sophomores. I put this off because it sounds boring: Intro to Literary Theory and Criticism? No thank you... I can criticize adequately on my own, just ask my friends. And I always find these lower classes to require way more work, too, so I´m not too stoked on it.
There´s also Eng 490: Gender/Sexual Identity Literature. Those of you who know me won´t be surprised that I´m taking this class. If I can´t be a Women´s Studies major then I´ll take as many of their classes as they will cross-list with English :)
A special Eng class offered this semester: Contemporary Literature on Grief and Loss. Doesn´t this sound wonderfully tragic and depressing. These are the best novels because they won´t ever leave you. No matter what else you ever read or how far you go in life they stay with you and haunt you always. The memorable books are the best books. I hope we´ll read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close because I adore it. It´s about as contemporary as they come and all about grief and loss. I think it fits the bill.
I have to take another class with lit before 1600s and I can´t decide between Chaucer and, yes ladies and gentlemen, Old Norse. That´s right, my school teaches people the literature of the North Germanic language spoken in Scandinavia and its settlements before 1300. In case you are wondering, Wikipedia just told me that modern Icelandic language is the closest contemporary language. Just thinking about taking this class, or the faces of people when I tell them I am taking it, makes me laugh as I sit here and write this. Why would any English major take this as an undergrad class you ask? Why would they even offer it of all the languages that have ever been? Why the hell not. It seems to me to be just odd enough to probably be fun. Probably useless, but then again, I have found that a lot of college is. Hell, the only thing I´ll be missing from a Spanish minor when I get home is a culture of modern Spain class. I live in modern Spain. I experience the culture (not from a book) every single day. I cannot waive this class. Does this seem as dumb to you as it does to me? People who make these requirements can be a bunch of idiots.
To keep up with the Spanish there will be an Intro to Hispanic Lit. ¿Por qué no? I like literature. I like Spanish. Seems like a good idea.
And to fully round out my full semester without v ball, I am going to take German. Yes, that´s right, German. I have always wanted to take German, I wanted to when I began college but they wouldn´t let me. Now since I don´t have v ball and I do have one more year to take advantage of a paid-in-full education, I may as well. Maybe I´ll go to Germany next year. Plus, I can always drop it if I so choose. It´ll be fun with all the freshman... I can sit there and act badass while they try to muster courage to sit next to me and ask me to buy them alcohol for their dorm party.
Sweet. I´m a super senior.
I feel no guilt about this whatsoever. Most of my friends are all graduating after this spring and moving on with their lives. Not me, no siree. Useless classes are on my agenda (eg Old Norse and Beginning German) and I don´t feel bad at all. Who wants to graduate in 4 years? That´s leaving the party early, ladies and gentlemen. I will be leaving this party we call life soon enough and I want to learn a little more about dead and obscure early Germanic languages before I do.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Yoga time
I have just returned home from my first yoga class in Madrid and my first Bikram class ever.
First thing that comes to mind: DAMN! It is sooooo hot in that room!
Second thing: My body is loving me for getting back in the exercising swing of things. Seriously, I have that tired, shaky muscles feeling that I always had right after a hard lifting sesh or a good practice.
I just feel happier all around. I don´t know much about the human body (hell, I know almost nothing about the human body but go ahead and ask me anything about Jane Austen) but I think I needed some endorphine flow.
I joined this yoga studio for 15€ for the first week to try it out. I was really jonesing for some sort of exercise and running through Retiro just wasn´t going to happen. For those of you who know me, you know running really isn´t my cup of tea. I run for about 30 seconds and then I completely forget why I am doing it when Leah is not yelling at me to go faster. Then I stop. Then I go home. Then I eat some cookies (or another equally unhealthy snack). This is a less than efficient way of staying in shape. Cut to me in yoga class...
The sweating thing was disconcerting at first. I sweat a lot and I was kinda grossed out by it. I was even more grossed out when I saw the streams of sweat pouring from the guys in front of me, but this also made me less self-conscious about my own excess of sweat. At one point of the class, the teacher saw me wiping my face and told me to leave the sweat because it is your body´s natural cooling system and if you wipe it away you will be hot. I wanted to tell her to shut up because I was already really frickin hot. I guess I have a defective self-cooling system because my sweat was about 100 degrees and was trying to boil me alive.
As the class went on, though, I kinda got more into the heat thing. It felt so good on my muscles to stretch in that heat. Once I moved past the sweat, I felt refreshed and new. I felt like I was sweating out crap that my body didn´t want anymore. It felt really nice.
Vanessa told me after class as we were kinda cleaning up that the rooms at the studio here are way too cool and the studios in the US are about 15/20 degrees warmer. Shit. I don´t know if I can hang with that kind of heat. I´ll have to get used to this some more before I can even think about subjecting myself to that level.
Anyway, I´m feelin good and worked out. I was thinking about taking a siesta but instead I think I´ll head downtown to get a little haircut. I need it, my hair looks like crap these days :)
First thing that comes to mind: DAMN! It is sooooo hot in that room!
Second thing: My body is loving me for getting back in the exercising swing of things. Seriously, I have that tired, shaky muscles feeling that I always had right after a hard lifting sesh or a good practice.
I just feel happier all around. I don´t know much about the human body (hell, I know almost nothing about the human body but go ahead and ask me anything about Jane Austen) but I think I needed some endorphine flow.
I joined this yoga studio for 15€ for the first week to try it out. I was really jonesing for some sort of exercise and running through Retiro just wasn´t going to happen. For those of you who know me, you know running really isn´t my cup of tea. I run for about 30 seconds and then I completely forget why I am doing it when Leah is not yelling at me to go faster. Then I stop. Then I go home. Then I eat some cookies (or another equally unhealthy snack). This is a less than efficient way of staying in shape. Cut to me in yoga class...
The sweating thing was disconcerting at first. I sweat a lot and I was kinda grossed out by it. I was even more grossed out when I saw the streams of sweat pouring from the guys in front of me, but this also made me less self-conscious about my own excess of sweat. At one point of the class, the teacher saw me wiping my face and told me to leave the sweat because it is your body´s natural cooling system and if you wipe it away you will be hot. I wanted to tell her to shut up because I was already really frickin hot. I guess I have a defective self-cooling system because my sweat was about 100 degrees and was trying to boil me alive.
As the class went on, though, I kinda got more into the heat thing. It felt so good on my muscles to stretch in that heat. Once I moved past the sweat, I felt refreshed and new. I felt like I was sweating out crap that my body didn´t want anymore. It felt really nice.
Vanessa told me after class as we were kinda cleaning up that the rooms at the studio here are way too cool and the studios in the US are about 15/20 degrees warmer. Shit. I don´t know if I can hang with that kind of heat. I´ll have to get used to this some more before I can even think about subjecting myself to that level.
Anyway, I´m feelin good and worked out. I was thinking about taking a siesta but instead I think I´ll head downtown to get a little haircut. I need it, my hair looks like crap these days :)
Friday, March 7, 2008
discovery
Obviously I am not the only person to be interested in searching Wikipedia for fictitious U.S. presidents. There is actually an entire article that lists them all, from which source they come and a brief overview of what they were all about. Hmmm...
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Important life questions... everyone´s got them
Why are all librarians mean and grouchy? Also, why are there people who enjoy the taste of blood (the alive ones, not the undead ones)? These are just some of the important life questions I am addressing while living here in Spain...
Ok, technically we are only supposed to have 45 minutes on the computers in the library at school (my current strategic position of attack). The official process is going to the lady behind the fancy window and she assigns you a computer after scanning your student ID card. You go to your assigned computer and dick around on the internet or whatever until someone comes and kicks you off anywhere from 45 minutes to never later. The unofficial process is just sitting down at an empty computer until someone kicks you off whenever.
The lady behind the fancy window, however, is dealing with a major superiority complex. She is the keeper of the computers here in the Biblioteca Miguel de Cervantes at the Universidad del Rey Juan Carlos. For us it is very serious internet/computer using, family and friends communicating time. For her it is a time for head games and wielding power. It can get ridiculous.
I will come in and sit down before class for 20 minutes or whatever and there are about 5 computers being used amongst the 20 or so that are in this room. The very next person who goes to her and requests a computer she will send straight to yours if you didn´t ask her permission.
So you log out of your e-mail, blog, facebook and save your Word Doc and switch to the computer right beside that one. Low and behold, the next person who comes in heads straight for you. This is beyond annoying because it´s just petty.
I just want to yell at her sometimes! "Hey woman... it´s 9 am and everyone is in class or still sleeping! I am across the universe from my friends and family and all I want to do is check my stupid e-mail for a hello message for five minutes. Get off my back!"
Today I sat down before class because I was here at 8 to finish some homework and study for a midterm (it was a piece of cake, by the way... how many times can one person study the subjunctive case?). She yelled through her little window mocrophone, "¡Perdona, perdona!" This has never happened to me before.
I went to her and asked her if I could sit for five minutes and check my e-mail rápidamente. She said no (meanwhile there are, like, 4 students in the entire library). She has the feelings of an ice queen, that one.
I have taken the same approach with her that I do with flight attendants, bartenders and the icy, unfriendly doorman of my appartment building. I have been trying to kill her with kindness and melt her cold heart with my effervescent smiles of greeting. This works 99 out of a hundred times. She, unfortunately, is the one time it is not working at all.
Some days she is just so pleasant when I ask her how her day is going or amiably comment on the increasingly improving weather. Then other days she yells at me across the library to get the hell off the computer she did not assign to me.
This one is proving a tough nut to crack.
BUT my doorman slowly broke down and now even smiles when I cheerfully wish him a good day when I leave in the morning or ask him sincerely how his day was while I´m waiting for the elevator at night. He is this really tiny old guy who speaks with a high raspy voice and wears gray cardigans every day (he could have one or a hundred, I have no idea). He should be cast in a real-life version of that Pixar short that plays before one of their big budget films with the old guy who plays an intense chess game against himself. You guys know the one I´m talking about. He´s maybe not as skinny as that cartoon guy, but he´s a pretty good match nonetheless.
AND I wanted to write about my experience with morcilla the other night. Or rather, I should say my inexperience with morcilla the other night.
For a good dramatic beginning to this story, I will go ahead and tell you all that morcilla is blood sausage. That´s right, sausage skin (intestines? I´m not quite sure) stuffed with a mixture of pork blood, rice and spices. It is black as night because of the clotted blood and reeks of uncooked meat, well, and unsurprisingly blood.
I knew it was coming. Since the Spaniards eat everything stewed, cooked, boiled into oblivion (which is delicious but gets a little old when all you´ve consumed for the past 2 months is bread and assorted flavors of mush), Carmen begins stewing, cooking, boiling usually before I leave for school in the morning. I saw the pot that morning, too. I saw the chorizo, jamón and morcilla stewing away already in only the boiling water without the white beans and vegetable puree they would eventually be served with later that evening.
I thought about it sporadically all day. I tried my best to prepare myself mentally and had some boys at school tell me it was delicious. I don´t know why it freaked me out so much, I´m a very adventurous person when it comes to eating odd things. The girls I sat beside one night for dinner in Andalucía (who I absolutely cannot stand) said they wanted to throw up when they discovered that the meat we had eaten at El Escorial (which they sent back 3 TIMES to be cooked more) was ox. I didn´t really understand this because it tasted almost identical to beef. I told them that if they couldn´t tell while they were eating it I don´t think it was that big of a deal. They scowled at me.
ANYWAY, I arrived home that night and for the first time I dreaded dinner. Who am I kidding? I was actually really excited to eat no matter what I had to choke down like always :)
I sat down to it by myself. Vanessa was at yoga so her bowl of whatever it was called (Carmen told me the name but I can´t remember it... I do recall that it is a dish from Galicia though) was covered next to mine. Eating alone, I ate all my stew stuff around the hunks of blood sausage. Even the stew part, which was basically blended veggies and white beans which I really like usually when Carmen makes it for me, tasted like that coppery blood flavor. It tasted like when you´re 10 and cut your finger and suck on it because it´s the obvious solution to the problem of the newly forming blood droplets. Yeah, it tasted like that.
I got pretty close to the bottom with some help from some delicious fresh bagette. It was tough. I sat there and stared down the morcilla. I was trying to beat it mentally, which was proving more difficult than you would anticipate. It was the beating myself mentally that was the tough part, I guess, because I couldn´t bring myself to lift the fork and cut into the soft, boiled, bloody rice goop. I wanted so badly to be adventurous and be able to say that I tried it like I have everything else I have been served in Spain, but I just couldn´t do it.
This was how Carmen found me when she came into the kitchen a while later, staring down the morcilla like the wicked and taunting nemesis that it was.
"¿A ti no te gusta la morcilla?" she asked me.
"Carmen, quiero probarla pero no puedo," I answered her seriously with a strained look on my face.
"No pasa nada," she said as she laughed at me, "no tienes que comerla si no quieres." She is really a great lady, Carmen is. Very easy-going and affable.
"Necesito estar más preparada para probarla, Carmen," I told her. "Necesito más que un día."
"Te diré cuando la voy a hacer al principio de la semana, ¿vale?"
"Sí, pienso que sería mejor," I told her.
She whisked my plate away, tossed the dreaded morcilla into the trash and told me repeatedly it was fine while I repeatedly apologized for not eating it. That stuff is expensive to just be throwing away and I felt kinda guilty. La próxima vez, I told her. And I will try it next time... maybe.
I was disappointed, though, that I couldn´t do it. There are only a few things food-wise in the Western world that I would not try at least once. Blood sausage so far has turned out to be one of them. I especially felt like an ass when Vanessa came home and tried it later, even though it was such small bite I don´t really think it counts too much. And THEN she told Carmen she tried it just for her because she loves her so much or something like that. This, of course, made me feel even worse.
Eating a food that is primarily made out of blood, though? That kinda creeps me out, especially since a kid in my program and I were talking zombie and vampire business in cooking class last week. I just kept saying to myself as I sat there staring down that morcilla that it was a positive thing that I didn´t have the taste for blood. Too vampiry for my comfort level, thank you very much.
Also, I finished The Sun Also Rises and I checked out For Whom the Bell Tolls today. I haev decided to try and read a book for every letter of the alphabet before I come home. So far, I have only 6, but I did just fall back into the reading swing of things.
Ok, technically we are only supposed to have 45 minutes on the computers in the library at school (my current strategic position of attack). The official process is going to the lady behind the fancy window and she assigns you a computer after scanning your student ID card. You go to your assigned computer and dick around on the internet or whatever until someone comes and kicks you off anywhere from 45 minutes to never later. The unofficial process is just sitting down at an empty computer until someone kicks you off whenever.
The lady behind the fancy window, however, is dealing with a major superiority complex. She is the keeper of the computers here in the Biblioteca Miguel de Cervantes at the Universidad del Rey Juan Carlos. For us it is very serious internet/computer using, family and friends communicating time. For her it is a time for head games and wielding power. It can get ridiculous.
I will come in and sit down before class for 20 minutes or whatever and there are about 5 computers being used amongst the 20 or so that are in this room. The very next person who goes to her and requests a computer she will send straight to yours if you didn´t ask her permission.
So you log out of your e-mail, blog, facebook and save your Word Doc and switch to the computer right beside that one. Low and behold, the next person who comes in heads straight for you. This is beyond annoying because it´s just petty.
I just want to yell at her sometimes! "Hey woman... it´s 9 am and everyone is in class or still sleeping! I am across the universe from my friends and family and all I want to do is check my stupid e-mail for a hello message for five minutes. Get off my back!"
Today I sat down before class because I was here at 8 to finish some homework and study for a midterm (it was a piece of cake, by the way... how many times can one person study the subjunctive case?). She yelled through her little window mocrophone, "¡Perdona, perdona!" This has never happened to me before.
I went to her and asked her if I could sit for five minutes and check my e-mail rápidamente. She said no (meanwhile there are, like, 4 students in the entire library). She has the feelings of an ice queen, that one.
I have taken the same approach with her that I do with flight attendants, bartenders and the icy, unfriendly doorman of my appartment building. I have been trying to kill her with kindness and melt her cold heart with my effervescent smiles of greeting. This works 99 out of a hundred times. She, unfortunately, is the one time it is not working at all.
Some days she is just so pleasant when I ask her how her day is going or amiably comment on the increasingly improving weather. Then other days she yells at me across the library to get the hell off the computer she did not assign to me.
This one is proving a tough nut to crack.
BUT my doorman slowly broke down and now even smiles when I cheerfully wish him a good day when I leave in the morning or ask him sincerely how his day was while I´m waiting for the elevator at night. He is this really tiny old guy who speaks with a high raspy voice and wears gray cardigans every day (he could have one or a hundred, I have no idea). He should be cast in a real-life version of that Pixar short that plays before one of their big budget films with the old guy who plays an intense chess game against himself. You guys know the one I´m talking about. He´s maybe not as skinny as that cartoon guy, but he´s a pretty good match nonetheless.
AND I wanted to write about my experience with morcilla the other night. Or rather, I should say my inexperience with morcilla the other night.
For a good dramatic beginning to this story, I will go ahead and tell you all that morcilla is blood sausage. That´s right, sausage skin (intestines? I´m not quite sure) stuffed with a mixture of pork blood, rice and spices. It is black as night because of the clotted blood and reeks of uncooked meat, well, and unsurprisingly blood.
I knew it was coming. Since the Spaniards eat everything stewed, cooked, boiled into oblivion (which is delicious but gets a little old when all you´ve consumed for the past 2 months is bread and assorted flavors of mush), Carmen begins stewing, cooking, boiling usually before I leave for school in the morning. I saw the pot that morning, too. I saw the chorizo, jamón and morcilla stewing away already in only the boiling water without the white beans and vegetable puree they would eventually be served with later that evening.
I thought about it sporadically all day. I tried my best to prepare myself mentally and had some boys at school tell me it was delicious. I don´t know why it freaked me out so much, I´m a very adventurous person when it comes to eating odd things. The girls I sat beside one night for dinner in Andalucía (who I absolutely cannot stand) said they wanted to throw up when they discovered that the meat we had eaten at El Escorial (which they sent back 3 TIMES to be cooked more) was ox. I didn´t really understand this because it tasted almost identical to beef. I told them that if they couldn´t tell while they were eating it I don´t think it was that big of a deal. They scowled at me.
ANYWAY, I arrived home that night and for the first time I dreaded dinner. Who am I kidding? I was actually really excited to eat no matter what I had to choke down like always :)
I sat down to it by myself. Vanessa was at yoga so her bowl of whatever it was called (Carmen told me the name but I can´t remember it... I do recall that it is a dish from Galicia though) was covered next to mine. Eating alone, I ate all my stew stuff around the hunks of blood sausage. Even the stew part, which was basically blended veggies and white beans which I really like usually when Carmen makes it for me, tasted like that coppery blood flavor. It tasted like when you´re 10 and cut your finger and suck on it because it´s the obvious solution to the problem of the newly forming blood droplets. Yeah, it tasted like that.
I got pretty close to the bottom with some help from some delicious fresh bagette. It was tough. I sat there and stared down the morcilla. I was trying to beat it mentally, which was proving more difficult than you would anticipate. It was the beating myself mentally that was the tough part, I guess, because I couldn´t bring myself to lift the fork and cut into the soft, boiled, bloody rice goop. I wanted so badly to be adventurous and be able to say that I tried it like I have everything else I have been served in Spain, but I just couldn´t do it.
This was how Carmen found me when she came into the kitchen a while later, staring down the morcilla like the wicked and taunting nemesis that it was.
"¿A ti no te gusta la morcilla?" she asked me.
"Carmen, quiero probarla pero no puedo," I answered her seriously with a strained look on my face.
"No pasa nada," she said as she laughed at me, "no tienes que comerla si no quieres." She is really a great lady, Carmen is. Very easy-going and affable.
"Necesito estar más preparada para probarla, Carmen," I told her. "Necesito más que un día."
"Te diré cuando la voy a hacer al principio de la semana, ¿vale?"
"Sí, pienso que sería mejor," I told her.
(Special Note: I of course was paraphrasing Carmen´s words to me... I am pretty sure all that is correct, but she said it more ornately I´m sure.)
She whisked my plate away, tossed the dreaded morcilla into the trash and told me repeatedly it was fine while I repeatedly apologized for not eating it. That stuff is expensive to just be throwing away and I felt kinda guilty. La próxima vez, I told her. And I will try it next time... maybe.
I was disappointed, though, that I couldn´t do it. There are only a few things food-wise in the Western world that I would not try at least once. Blood sausage so far has turned out to be one of them. I especially felt like an ass when Vanessa came home and tried it later, even though it was such small bite I don´t really think it counts too much. And THEN she told Carmen she tried it just for her because she loves her so much or something like that. This, of course, made me feel even worse.
Eating a food that is primarily made out of blood, though? That kinda creeps me out, especially since a kid in my program and I were talking zombie and vampire business in cooking class last week. I just kept saying to myself as I sat there staring down that morcilla that it was a positive thing that I didn´t have the taste for blood. Too vampiry for my comfort level, thank you very much.
Also, I finished The Sun Also Rises and I checked out For Whom the Bell Tolls today. I haev decided to try and read a book for every letter of the alphabet before I come home. So far, I have only 6, but I did just fall back into the reading swing of things.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Books and eating babies make me overly excited
Books make me excited. This is why I am an English major. They are going to give me a degree for reading books I generally enjoyed and writing reactions about them. Well, that and successfully deceiving my profes (barely) that I knew something about biology, geography and college algebra. Sometimes I really love university.
I just went to check out a new book from the USAC office and I ran into The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. Some of you already know this but this book is one of my top favorites of all time. Seriously. I just wanted to write a blog about how excited I was when I saw they had it. This is so great because they only have about 20 books in English and this one is kinda obscure, I mean, it´s not a library necessity or anything like Harry Potter (of which they have 2 or 3). I was so stoked that I made a big fuss about one of our hardworking USAC ladies reading it as soon as possible. She said she absolutely will after she finishes her current book, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. I read this book during my junior season of vball on our road trip through Idaho and it was one of those that you don´t really care for until you reflect back on it and then you think it was pretty good.
Anyway, what I did end up checking out was The Sun Also Rises because I have decided to go back through Hemingway while I am in Spain. This is the perfect book with which to begin because it was his first major work and he talks about bullfighting which we all just studied intensively for our trip through Andalucía. I´m going to go sit in the study section of the library and read until Lauren gets out of class and we can head for our museum visit.
No more Prado, today it´s the Museo Sorolla to study some more Goya. This museum is supposed to be fantastic. I don´t know what can be better than Goya´s Cuadros Negros (Black Paintings) though, which we viewed in their permanent exhibit in the Prado last week. These are definitely my favorites that we have studied in art history class so far. You should definitely Google them because they are so amazing. Pretty much the devil himself couldn´t have painted creepier/scarier paintings. And the brilliance of this collection is that Goya painted all of these directly onto the walls of his home. No wonder he completely lost it near the end. Anyone would being surrounded by those images constantly.
Below is the Goya version of the same story of Saturn devouring his children. I posted the version by Rubens in a blog entry many moons ago. Notice the subtle differences :) How would you like this staring at you from beside your bed every night? And the beauty is that they´re all pretty grand in scale.
Sun Also Rises time...
I just went to check out a new book from the USAC office and I ran into The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. Some of you already know this but this book is one of my top favorites of all time. Seriously. I just wanted to write a blog about how excited I was when I saw they had it. This is so great because they only have about 20 books in English and this one is kinda obscure, I mean, it´s not a library necessity or anything like Harry Potter (of which they have 2 or 3). I was so stoked that I made a big fuss about one of our hardworking USAC ladies reading it as soon as possible. She said she absolutely will after she finishes her current book, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. I read this book during my junior season of vball on our road trip through Idaho and it was one of those that you don´t really care for until you reflect back on it and then you think it was pretty good.
Anyway, what I did end up checking out was The Sun Also Rises because I have decided to go back through Hemingway while I am in Spain. This is the perfect book with which to begin because it was his first major work and he talks about bullfighting which we all just studied intensively for our trip through Andalucía. I´m going to go sit in the study section of the library and read until Lauren gets out of class and we can head for our museum visit.
No more Prado, today it´s the Museo Sorolla to study some more Goya. This museum is supposed to be fantastic. I don´t know what can be better than Goya´s Cuadros Negros (Black Paintings) though, which we viewed in their permanent exhibit in the Prado last week. These are definitely my favorites that we have studied in art history class so far. You should definitely Google them because they are so amazing. Pretty much the devil himself couldn´t have painted creepier/scarier paintings. And the brilliance of this collection is that Goya painted all of these directly onto the walls of his home. No wonder he completely lost it near the end. Anyone would being surrounded by those images constantly.
Below is the Goya version of the same story of Saturn devouring his children. I posted the version by Rubens in a blog entry many moons ago. Notice the subtle differences :) How would you like this staring at you from beside your bed every night? And the beauty is that they´re all pretty grand in scale.
Sun Also Rises time...
Monday, March 3, 2008
Otro día de clase en España...
I am not an efficient student. This semester has been the easiest one of my life school-wise and I still have managed to difficult it up for myself.
By this I mean that I have waited until right now to do all the important assignments of the semester that all happen to be due tomorrow. It´s not so bad because none of them are too long, I just have been working on my Andalucía journal for hours and my hand is about to fall off. This is why I am writing here because I wanted to give my hand a rest. Now that I am typing, though, my fingers still hurt a little :(
Anyway, I have been in love with Madrid the last few days. After a bad homesick week, I got to talk to my dad and just that conversation made me feel worlds better. Thanks for hooking up the webcam, dad, you saved my weekend suffering from self-pity and dreariness.
I spent this weekend by myself, without speaking any English at all (I think, I mean I wasn´t exactly recording everything I said or anything). I wandered through the tumultuous crowds that was the city this weekend.
On Saturday I went and saw an American movie (27 Dresses) by myself. So I take back the comment about no English. I saw this movie in VO (versión original) because I absolutely abhor dubbed movies. I prefer to watch all movies in original language with subtitles if necessary. Dubbing movies always makes them less real to me. They seem like cartoons or something, like some version of Tom Hanks in those ridiculous old school Godzilla films from Japan. I say Tom Hanks because Forrest Gump was on tv the other night dubbed with Spanish. I did not appreciate this version... not at all. It took all the natural melancholy and blandness of human existence that is what makes Forrest Gump so beautiful and tragic out of the film. I know that last sentence sounds like a bunch of dramatic horse shit and it might be, I don´t know.
Anyhow, I did see this movie in English with Spanish subtitles, which, believe it or not, does improve my Spanish a lot I think. I get to see all the ways they express themselves to mean kinda the same sentiments as English slang/phrases. It put me in the Spanish mood, so to speak.
I basically wandered through the city all day, stopping to have lunch at the Museo de Jamón. Bocadillo de Lomo con Queso a la plancha is where the party´s at. This is a fresh baquette with pork loin and some delicious gourmet stinky cheese all grilled like a panini. And the best part is that you can get this with a beer (granted the beer in Spain sucks big time) for about 3€. This is a fantastic deal and the food is great. And you get to stand at the bar and consume while chatting with the Spanish bartender.
I went to the Rastro finally on Sunday morning. It was my first time there, I´m ashamed to say. I prefer to sleep in on my Sunday mornings and not go toll through mountains of junk. But it was an experience. Lots and lots of people, especially since there is a bus strike and todo el mundo está en la calle para las manifestaciones. Protests all over the place, especially in Sol which is super crowded all the time anyway. Throw in all the striking bus workers and it was a mess. Kept a tight tight tight hold on my purse and with head down I made it through and lived to tell the tale :)
So now I have to go prepare for my art history presentation tomorrow. Not too bad, presentations don´t bother me. Just something to get through. But it´s only about 5-10 minutes so it´s not so bad. It´s the writing about 10 more pages in the old Andalucía journal that will kill me I think before the day is through. I am in the library working now but I think I will head home. Or perhaps not. I really don´t know.
Also, I witnessed something this morning on my metro ride to school that I have been waiting to see since my first ride in January. The doors of the car closed on a guy. Every time the whistle blows people run to try and get on. This bothers me to begin with because there are signs everywhere that very clearly tell you not to exit or enter after the sound of the whistle. Some people make it and some don´t. Very often people kinda reopen the doors and delay the whole train. Like a good city girl I hate these people and sneer at them. WELL... this morning an old couple (I am sorry it had to be an old couple, but as I wrote previously, there are signs) tried to run and make it on way after the whistle had blown. The guy was leaping on as the doors closed and THEY DIDN´T REOPEN LIKE USUAL! This was completely bizarre because usually they act like elevator doors and open when something is between them. I was literally right in the mess of things, right there in front, and this other guy and I immediately had our hands on those doors and pulled them open. This old guy was trapped in the doors right around his shoulders and he was using some choice Spanish profanity. All the people on our car were screaming and generally freaking out as well. It totally was not that big of a deal, the doors had the power of, like, the closure of a ziploc bag, but it was still exciting. The poor couple had to get on the train and be embarrassed for a few minutes, too, so maybe they´ll think twice next time they try to get on late. I must admit, though, that my heart was racing. In the movie we watched in class last Thursday a guy got cut in half by a falling elevator when the chick was trying to pull him out and my mind immediately flashed to that scene. I thought I was going to see this guy get ripped in half right in front of me. Well, for a split-second, at least.
Reading through this blog I notice that some of it doesn´t sound quite right and now I am panicking... am I slowly forgetting how to speak (or write as it were) English? That would be tragic because I don´t speak/write Spanish all that brilliantly yet. Now I just sound like an idiot in every language. Crap!
P.S. I use the expression "piece of cake" all the time. In class the other day we were going over Spanish expressions with food and I discovered a pleasing little nugget of information. To mean the same thing as "piece of cake" how we use it in English, they say "hacer pan" which means "making bread." I don´t know how many Spaniards make their own bread, though, because it´s really not that easy. That damn yeast is temperamental.
By this I mean that I have waited until right now to do all the important assignments of the semester that all happen to be due tomorrow. It´s not so bad because none of them are too long, I just have been working on my Andalucía journal for hours and my hand is about to fall off. This is why I am writing here because I wanted to give my hand a rest. Now that I am typing, though, my fingers still hurt a little :(
Anyway, I have been in love with Madrid the last few days. After a bad homesick week, I got to talk to my dad and just that conversation made me feel worlds better. Thanks for hooking up the webcam, dad, you saved my weekend suffering from self-pity and dreariness.
I spent this weekend by myself, without speaking any English at all (I think, I mean I wasn´t exactly recording everything I said or anything). I wandered through the tumultuous crowds that was the city this weekend.
On Saturday I went and saw an American movie (27 Dresses) by myself. So I take back the comment about no English. I saw this movie in VO (versión original) because I absolutely abhor dubbed movies. I prefer to watch all movies in original language with subtitles if necessary. Dubbing movies always makes them less real to me. They seem like cartoons or something, like some version of Tom Hanks in those ridiculous old school Godzilla films from Japan. I say Tom Hanks because Forrest Gump was on tv the other night dubbed with Spanish. I did not appreciate this version... not at all. It took all the natural melancholy and blandness of human existence that is what makes Forrest Gump so beautiful and tragic out of the film. I know that last sentence sounds like a bunch of dramatic horse shit and it might be, I don´t know.
Anyhow, I did see this movie in English with Spanish subtitles, which, believe it or not, does improve my Spanish a lot I think. I get to see all the ways they express themselves to mean kinda the same sentiments as English slang/phrases. It put me in the Spanish mood, so to speak.
I basically wandered through the city all day, stopping to have lunch at the Museo de Jamón. Bocadillo de Lomo con Queso a la plancha is where the party´s at. This is a fresh baquette with pork loin and some delicious gourmet stinky cheese all grilled like a panini. And the best part is that you can get this with a beer (granted the beer in Spain sucks big time) for about 3€. This is a fantastic deal and the food is great. And you get to stand at the bar and consume while chatting with the Spanish bartender.
I went to the Rastro finally on Sunday morning. It was my first time there, I´m ashamed to say. I prefer to sleep in on my Sunday mornings and not go toll through mountains of junk. But it was an experience. Lots and lots of people, especially since there is a bus strike and todo el mundo está en la calle para las manifestaciones. Protests all over the place, especially in Sol which is super crowded all the time anyway. Throw in all the striking bus workers and it was a mess. Kept a tight tight tight hold on my purse and with head down I made it through and lived to tell the tale :)
So now I have to go prepare for my art history presentation tomorrow. Not too bad, presentations don´t bother me. Just something to get through. But it´s only about 5-10 minutes so it´s not so bad. It´s the writing about 10 more pages in the old Andalucía journal that will kill me I think before the day is through. I am in the library working now but I think I will head home. Or perhaps not. I really don´t know.
Also, I witnessed something this morning on my metro ride to school that I have been waiting to see since my first ride in January. The doors of the car closed on a guy. Every time the whistle blows people run to try and get on. This bothers me to begin with because there are signs everywhere that very clearly tell you not to exit or enter after the sound of the whistle. Some people make it and some don´t. Very often people kinda reopen the doors and delay the whole train. Like a good city girl I hate these people and sneer at them. WELL... this morning an old couple (I am sorry it had to be an old couple, but as I wrote previously, there are signs) tried to run and make it on way after the whistle had blown. The guy was leaping on as the doors closed and THEY DIDN´T REOPEN LIKE USUAL! This was completely bizarre because usually they act like elevator doors and open when something is between them. I was literally right in the mess of things, right there in front, and this other guy and I immediately had our hands on those doors and pulled them open. This old guy was trapped in the doors right around his shoulders and he was using some choice Spanish profanity. All the people on our car were screaming and generally freaking out as well. It totally was not that big of a deal, the doors had the power of, like, the closure of a ziploc bag, but it was still exciting. The poor couple had to get on the train and be embarrassed for a few minutes, too, so maybe they´ll think twice next time they try to get on late. I must admit, though, that my heart was racing. In the movie we watched in class last Thursday a guy got cut in half by a falling elevator when the chick was trying to pull him out and my mind immediately flashed to that scene. I thought I was going to see this guy get ripped in half right in front of me. Well, for a split-second, at least.
Reading through this blog I notice that some of it doesn´t sound quite right and now I am panicking... am I slowly forgetting how to speak (or write as it were) English? That would be tragic because I don´t speak/write Spanish all that brilliantly yet. Now I just sound like an idiot in every language. Crap!
P.S. I use the expression "piece of cake" all the time. In class the other day we were going over Spanish expressions with food and I discovered a pleasing little nugget of information. To mean the same thing as "piece of cake" how we use it in English, they say "hacer pan" which means "making bread." I don´t know how many Spaniards make their own bread, though, because it´s really not that easy. That damn yeast is temperamental.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Egypt time everyone
OK people. I am going to Egypt. This is because my friends found a great trip deal and my parents rule (that´s right, good work mom and dad).
We leave May 19 from Madrid with a Spanish tour group on a privately chartered plane. (Downfall of Spanish studying without any English studying: I had to look up that word "plane" because it didn´t look right. Wow...) So we fly into Luxor (the artist formerly known as Thebes) and board a riverboat to cruise up the Nile for 4 days.
During these days we disembark all along the way to visit all the most famous temples (Karnak, Kom Ombo, Medinet Habu, Hatshepsut, Luxor and more) and the Valley of the Kings. Stunned faces abound, right? Yes, I will be in the Valley of the Kings in a few months time. I can´t even believe this. I am stunned with my own future travel plans.
We disembark in Aswan and take a short domestic flight into Cairo. We stay here for 3 days in a 4 star hotel (I was a little sketchy about Egyptian hotel ratings but we saw pics and it looks very lovely, although I will feel odd (or fabulous, I don´t know) swimming in a pool in Egypt).
During these few days we will be able to explore Cairo between taking day trips out to the pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx. Yes, THE pyramids of Giza and THE Sphinx. I really can´t believe this is happening.
Since I boarded my plane (damn that word!) in Reno on January 10th my life has been so surreal that this just adds to the seeming illusion. I am so jazzed about this trip that I am walking on air this weekend. The pyramids are CLOSING at the end of this year and if I ever have children I will be able to tell them how I walked through them. I will have been there and seen them and experienced it all. I am happy beyond words.
Vanessa is in Lisbon this weekend and Irene and Carmen went out last night so I had the apartment all to myself. I took advantage of this by watching Sahara in English in the living room (because I finally found the DVD player remote under the couch so I could change the language settings... I didn´t particularly want to watch Penélope Cruz trying to speak English dubbed into Spanish cause that would be weird). She is like a national hero here, by the way. Everyone in this whole country adores her except Carmen who says she is ugly and talentless. With the exception of Volver, I completely agree with her.
Worst film ever made I think, and this is a spot I usually reserve for Catwoman starring the ever-talented Halle Berry, HOWEVER, I am desperate for some American films AND it took place in the Sahara Desert. The whole time I just couldn´t stop picturing myself wearing those kahkis outfits or wearing those flowy drapy sheet outfits and riding camels. I just kept smiling at the thought that it will be me in that sand in a couple months. YAY!!!
We leave May 19 from Madrid with a Spanish tour group on a privately chartered plane. (Downfall of Spanish studying without any English studying: I had to look up that word "plane" because it didn´t look right. Wow...) So we fly into Luxor (the artist formerly known as Thebes) and board a riverboat to cruise up the Nile for 4 days.
During these days we disembark all along the way to visit all the most famous temples (Karnak, Kom Ombo, Medinet Habu, Hatshepsut, Luxor and more) and the Valley of the Kings. Stunned faces abound, right? Yes, I will be in the Valley of the Kings in a few months time. I can´t even believe this. I am stunned with my own future travel plans.
We disembark in Aswan and take a short domestic flight into Cairo. We stay here for 3 days in a 4 star hotel (I was a little sketchy about Egyptian hotel ratings but we saw pics and it looks very lovely, although I will feel odd (or fabulous, I don´t know) swimming in a pool in Egypt).
During these few days we will be able to explore Cairo between taking day trips out to the pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx. Yes, THE pyramids of Giza and THE Sphinx. I really can´t believe this is happening.
Since I boarded my plane (damn that word!) in Reno on January 10th my life has been so surreal that this just adds to the seeming illusion. I am so jazzed about this trip that I am walking on air this weekend. The pyramids are CLOSING at the end of this year and if I ever have children I will be able to tell them how I walked through them. I will have been there and seen them and experienced it all. I am happy beyond words.
Vanessa is in Lisbon this weekend and Irene and Carmen went out last night so I had the apartment all to myself. I took advantage of this by watching Sahara in English in the living room (because I finally found the DVD player remote under the couch so I could change the language settings... I didn´t particularly want to watch Penélope Cruz trying to speak English dubbed into Spanish cause that would be weird). She is like a national hero here, by the way. Everyone in this whole country adores her except Carmen who says she is ugly and talentless. With the exception of Volver, I completely agree with her.
Worst film ever made I think, and this is a spot I usually reserve for Catwoman starring the ever-talented Halle Berry, HOWEVER, I am desperate for some American films AND it took place in the Sahara Desert. The whole time I just couldn´t stop picturing myself wearing those kahkis outfits or wearing those flowy drapy sheet outfits and riding camels. I just kept smiling at the thought that it will be me in that sand in a couple months. YAY!!!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)