A Spanish Easter

Easter in Spain has been very different from Easter in America for several reasons...

1. Semana Santa--a week of processionals and parades with huge ornate foats topped with scuptures of Christ and the Virgin Mary each carried by 80 men, Nazarenos (look these guys up on Google images), and lots of candles and inscense

2. Mass at the Cathedral of Sevilla--the third largest cathedral in the world and the largest gothic structure in the world, this was quite a different experience than any previous Easter morning service I've attended

3. No Easter brunch with family, no Easter eggs, Easter baskets, Easter ham, etc.

I was just in AFRICA!!!

Yesterday I was just talking to a couple friends who spent the first half of their spring break in Amsterdam, and I was trying to explain my adventures in Morocco. I think the best way to explain everything in a nutshell is by saying I did not have a good trip, but I had an amazing experience. Everything was incredibly physically and mentally uncomfortable, difficult, painful, etc. but I learned so much in five days, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

The day we left, we had to be on the bus at 4am, and we traveled ALL day. I had no problem with this because I had only gotten 4 hours of sleep the previous two nights so I slept like a baby for the both bus rides and the ferry ride across the mediterranean. When we got to Fes Friday night, everyone was still so exhausted from being on a bus for 12 hours that they just ate dinner and went to sleep. I did too. The next morning we visited one of the kings palaces and then headed off to the Medina. This is an ancient market place that is still in it's orginal form. I felt like I was taking a step into the past because this vast area of winding, intricate streets and tiny shops is exactly as it has been for the past couple thousand years. There have been some minor changes as they now have some drainage systems and a few shops have electricity, but for the most part, it looks just like it did for the arab traders.

Our first stop in the Medina was a carpet vender's store house. Here they explained to us the process of making a carpet--how the camel wool is dyed by hand with henna, mint, indigo and other herbs, how the women make it into "thread and spin it onto spools' and finally how they weave it into carpets full of complex designs with hiddens meanings in every shape and symbol. After the explanitory part was over, all of the salesmen came out of the crevices and began trying to sell these carpets to the ignorant and unsuspecting Americans. Thankfully, one of my advisors had lived in Morocco; so, when an old man tried to seel me a carpet for 200 Euro, she was kind enough to inform me that it wasn't worth more than 50. The old man was not happy, and after much unsuccessful bartering, he sulked into a corner to smoke a cigarrette and shake his head at me. I was not about to be taken for a 200 Euro ride.

The next stop was an alchemist's shop where we were given many free samples and consequently many people bought things they did not need AT ALL--I did too. The shop was run by a man who had learned everything he knew from his grandfather, and the shop had been passed down for 13 generations. He showed us how Moroccan women use coal powder for eyeliner and poppy's stemen for lipstick. Then he gave us helpful advise in the art of aroma therapy and how to cook with Moroccan spices. Finally, after the big show, he pulled out an archaic type of writing pad and began taking orders. He was clearly used to tourists and was able to make a large commission very easily.

When everyone had finally paid for their D'argan oils and fine Moroccan makeup, we navigated though the busy, confusing streets until we got to the worst smelling place on the planet (probably not, but it was pretty bad). As soon as we entered the leather store the guides began handing out sprigs of mint, and we all began climbing the 5 flights of stairs that lead up to the roof. Before this, I had a very romanticized idea of how leather is made, but, in reality, it is a very unpleasant process. I'm still not completely sure, but I believe that I saw the actual leather factory--where the animals are killed and stripped of their skin, where it's tanned, where it's died... everything. Even though we were all covering our noses and mouths with the mint, the smelll really got to some people, and one girl came very close to vomiting all over me. At that point, it was time to head back downstairs. Inside the five story store, every wall and shelf was lined with leather bags, wallets, and coats of every shape and color imaginable. PETA would have a great time in Morocco.

The last two stops that day were a place where they weave fabric and a place where they make pottery. Both were very interesting. In the "loomery," I expected to find women weaving the fabric, but there were only men working the looms. Oddly, they were very flirtatious. The pottery place was sweet, and I bough my uncle a nifty ashtray. We got to see every step of the pottery making process, and watching the craftsmen made most of us feel as though we failed at life. Interesting how that works out.

The next day we woke up early to mount the bus once again, but this time I was completely awake the whole time, soaking in the diverse landscapes of morocco. It's amazing because I thought it would all look pretty much the same, but there were snowcapped mountains, cedar forests full of monkeys, arid caverns and lush valleys. There were even parts that reminded me of the grand canyon--even though I've never been there. After soaking in the beauty, we finally reached the town where we were forced to leave our comfy charter bus, and we climbed into jeeps ready to cross the desert. This excursion was very exciting, and I'm sure my father would have been terrified if he saw how our little chaufer was driving. It was like we were on a safari going 60 miles an hour through sand dunes at sunset, the wind whipping through our hair while listening to some very authentic arabic music--think Ravi Shankar.

When we reached our camp, I was so happy to find that we were going to be camping out just like the natives... it wasn't at all touristy! The tents were fashioned out of wooden stakes and Berber carpets--the Berbers are the tribe that we lived with for the next three days. That night we all ate dinner, and then a group of us climbed up a sand dune to have a little "jam session." It was so relaxing that another girl and I spontaneously got up and started dancing... dancing under the stars in the desert. That's a good time.

The next morning we woke up early to catch the sunrise, and, sadly, I woke up a little too late and only caugh the tail end of it, but it was still beautiful. After that, we prepared for our camel ride across the desert. This part of the African experience was very fun. My camel was kind of rebellious, and everytime I mounted him he made really loud Chubaka noises, but calmed down after he got to stand up. I'll lend a piece of advice--If you want a good workout, ride a camel. My hips haven't been forced to move so much since I did latin dance exercise tapes, no joke. The Berbers also told me that my camel's real name is wibbly wobbly (also not a joke), but they also called him Michael Jackson. We traversed across sand dunes in our little caravan and eventually reached a massive dune when the Berbers decided that the camels needed a break; so we climbed the dune. This took half an hour. Of course, going down took about five minutes. So after that, we climbed back onto our camels and headed into the nearest town.

In the town, some people bought oranges for the kids, and they were so happy. I had previously bought colored pencils and notepads at a dollar store in Sevilla because one of our advisors told us that the kids liked school supplies more than anything else, and I tried to give the to the little girls who couldn't fight their way to the oranges. It was very difficult--the boys were very aggressive. Next we went to a little hut where a Berber family was selling their jewelry, carpets, pottery, etc. I decided to buy a carpet for my oldest brother because I felt much better giving these people my money... they need it alot more than the people in the city. It was a very interesting experience bartering with a Berber because in their tradition a business transaction is very private. They took every person one at a time into a room and spent alot of time making sure that they showed every option before offering the first price. After the first price was offered I had to reject it and give my counter offer trying hard to be shrewd enought to knock the price down a substantial amount but, at the same time, trying hard not to offend by offering too low. I cut the price in half, and he laughed at me and told his assistand to bring us some mint tea. He proceeded to tell me the story of the carpet (which I will always believe is true because I'm an iealist)--what every symbol and color meant, the grandmother who made it, and why it has significance. I picked a rather simple pattern embroidered with orange and cream silk on brown camel wool. After much talking in spanish, I knocked the price down to two-thirds the original, and we shook hands. While my carpet was being wrapped up, I lit up a cigarette and sipped my mint tea feeling pretty good about my bartering abilities.

Everyone who wanted to made their transactions, and we made our way back to the camp. At this point, I hadn't showered in a couple days so I thought the best thing to do would be to ignore my stench by taking a nap. I was drained from being out in the sun all day so I slept until right before dinner, and there was just enough time for me to get a henna tatoo--clearly, something I've always wanted to do. After dinner, we partied in the desert. Basically, the Berbers brought out their instruments and played for us while we all danced. There was one Berber girl in the whole group, and she really liked me because I kept trying to mimick her moves... they were really good. I'm fairly certain I looked like a total idiot, but it was fun. After the party was over, everyone went to bed, but I decided to stay up and look at the stars. I grabbed my ipod (I love technology) put on some Radiohead and watched the stars from the top of a sand dune near our tents. I saw a shooting star and surge of extreme gratitude flooded my being.

The next two days we basically traveled the reverse route for 12 hours straight until we reached Sevilla.

I'm sure what I've explained here makes it sound like I had a great trip and a great experience, but I want to quickly explain why it I can never call it a great trip. I had a very strong awareness that I was surrounded by extreme poverty. The treatment of women in Arab countries is pretty insane (for example, after 8pm, any woman outside of the home is a prostitute, and there are quite alot). These two things combined made the overall environment very oppressive. It was necessary to be excessively cautious--at one point, two other girls and I saw an arab man take someone's luggage, and the advisors were far away so we had to act quickly, and, basically, it was three American girls agains an Arab man (all the other people in the group just stood there dumbfounded). There was just alot of yelling involved, but it was still kind of frightening. Other than that, I was very dirty and uncomfortable the entire time--I did everything one could possibly have to do in the desert (with no running water), and at the very end of the trip I got really sick. However, it was probably one of the best experiences of my life; I learned so much about so many things, and I don't think I could trade it for the best trip anyone had to offer.

Cordoba and Granada

Cordoba and Granada were definitely cool places to visit, but I don't have that much to say about them...

It was interesting to see the arches of the Mezquita in person because they're the stereotypical picture of Andalucia.

I enjoyed seeing a flamenco performance, but the one in Triana was better because it was so much more authentic.

The Alhambra (huge Muslim fortress) was so grandiose that it was too hard to take it all in, and I eventually came to the realization that I like the Alacazar (Muslim Palace) more anyway.

Of course, I always like hearing the history of the different sights and seeing the different ways of life. However, during this excursion my favorite part was when we were on the top of the overlook and everyone was taking pictures of the Alhambra at night, and there were these two gypsy performers telling the story of the world's origins and offering some pretty convincing propaganda concerning imigration laws all through the art of yoga. Surrounding them were a group of disheveled looking spanish hippies smoking "something." It was a very genuine experience.

3 girls, 3 days and Barcelona

The adventure began the minute Tori, Abbie and I stepped out of the the metro and began searching for a route to our hostal. Barcelona was a little intimidating at first because it has the same metropolitan atmosphere that any big city in the U.S. would have. In fact, in some ways it reminded me of New York City because of it's cultural and architectural diversity. Thankfully, after wandering a few blocks with our noses burried in the map, a nice gentleman asked if we needed help, and pointed us in the right direction. When we got to our hostal, we were pleasantly surprissed to find that the accomodations were very tidy seeing that we did not pay top dollar. After getting settled in, we decided that we were too tired to do anything but find something to eat so we headed into the center of the city for some delicious tapas. That was another nice thing about Barcelona--it was easy to find really good food (even if it was a bit expensive).

The next day we woke up bright and early and decided to devote the entire morning to the exploration of Gaudi's architechtural wonders. Of course, we began with the Sagrada Familia. This Cathedral was awe inspiring,and, as with most other things, I don't trust that my writing will do it any justice. The rugged, sunwashed stones created a natural haven for those seeking a higher ideal, and it was the perfect mixture of harsh angles and fluid lines that created such an etheral beauty. The sculptures and carvings surrouding the spires seemed like images out a surrealist's painting. The building has been under construcion for a long time because Gaudi died before he completed it. Tori and I think he might have done this on purpose because when he was alive everyone in the artistic world thought his work was crude, and to get back at them he left the most complex architectural plans that no one would ever be able to figure out let alone complete.

After taking pictures of the cathedral, we wanted to see Gaudi's park. However, we didn't want to spend money to get a metro pass so we walked across the ENTIRE city (which took about two hours). On the way, we ducked into a huge market and bought some fresh squeezed exotic fruit juice for breakfast; this was so tasty that we made sure to go back everyday to try a different flavor--my favorite was mango coconut. Anyway we reached the park, and it was created entirely out of rock (I think it was sandstone which makes no sense because it would have eroded by now), and it was competely coherent with Gaudi's desire to create structures that mimick nature's patterns. For me, the most interesting part of the park was the tunnel fashioned out of double helix shaped pillars and made entirely out of rocks.

On our way back from the park we happened upon Gaudi's two appartment buildings (one of them was unfondly named "the quarry" when he first built it because critics hated it so much). After being out in the sun all moring, we figured it would be a good time to treck across the other side of the city and head for the Mediterranean Sea. When we got there, I took a nap in the sand and then we all played in the waves. After relaxing on the beach, we were quite hungry so we got some catalan waffles and crossed Port Vale to watch the sunset. As we walked back we heard music and yelling coming from one of the plazas so we decided to check it out. It turned out to be an anti-war rally with musical performances by Catalonians. This was quite interesting because we got to hear some Catalan rap which was basically just Spanish rap that incorporated some very clear American phrases. I swear I heard them say "F%*& the police," and I laughed. That night we were so exhausted we could only manage to eat and sleep--nothing exciting.

The next morning we got a little lost looking for the Picasso Museum, but when we found it, it was well worth the wait. I took the longest out of anyone to go all the way through, and by the end, I think my friends had been waiting for over an hour--oops. It was just so interesting to see so much of his work in chronological order and understand the different historical and cultural influences that affected his work. Most of the art in the museum wasn't even cubistic, but pieced from his other movements. After the museum we wandered around the old gothic part of the city and went in and out of little shops and took pictures of window displays and graffiti all afternoon until it got dark and we decided to meander down "las ramblas" to see the street performers. Sadly, I didn't take any pictures of these guys because you have to pay them, but there was this one guy dressed up like Edward Scissorhands, and he would stand perfectly still until a crowd gathered around him, and then we would snap his scissors together and pretend to start cutting people's hair--the kids loved this.

That night, we were all craving chinese food for some reason so we found a little place near our hostal. Let me just finish this entry by saying that chinese food in Spain is really weird

Where Fairytales Really Might Be Possible

Lisbon and Sintra

My excursion to Portugal came at the end of my week of midterms so I definitely felt like I needed a break. I hadn't gotten more than 4 or 5 hours of sleep each night the past two weeks so when I got to Portugal I was a little exhausted, but, since everything was so amazing, I didn't really care. After a 5 hour bus ride, we arrived at Hotel Vila Gale Opere and unloaded the lugged. The hotel was pretty cool because every floor was named after a different musical genre, and every room was named after a band. I was on the "Pop" floor, and I was in the Queen room. As soon as we unloaded our luggage, we headed out to walk around the city and see the sites around town. Lisbon is really interesting, and they say it's a mix between San Fransisco and Rome... I thought this was a really strange analogy at first, but it makes sense. They have a gigantic bridge that resembles the Golden Gate Bridge, the city frequently has problems with earthquakes, and there are trollies all over the place. However, the architecture resembles the Italian Renaissance and a conglomeration of other European influences.

The first monument we saw were the ruins of the Castillo de San Jorge, and they were pretty interesting, but I really appreciated the guitarrist sitting in the courtyard playing traditional portuguese music. It was a beautiful day, and we stayed until the sun was about to set. Since the castle was built as a fortress on a hill, you could see out over the whole city, and the view coupled with the music made the whole experience really charming.

After the castle, my friend Tori and I decided that we needed some coffee to keep us going the rest of the night; so, we wandered around the center of the city in search for some caffeine. Afer we found a cafe and ordered our drinks, we saw that they sold cream tarts--the traditional portuguese dessert. So, of course, we had to try one. It was delicious, and I must have eaten at least 6 more before the trip was over. Now that our appetites were wetted, we decided it would be a good idea to start looking for a place to have dinner. One really nice thing about Portugal is how cheap the food is, and one really nice thing about Tori is that she likes to share. So, we were eventually lured in by a matre 'd because he had the amazing talent of being able to spin a menu on his finger like it was a basket ball. Needless to say, I was incredibly impressed by this. We eventually ordered a Bacaloa stew and Prawn/Calamari skewers... everything was delicious. The best food I've had so far has been in Portugual. Anyway, since we were so tired, we decided to go back for an early night.

The next day we got to see the "barrio de Belem" which included the Monastery of Los Jeronimos and the Tower of Belem, and despite learning much about the history and culture of Portugal, neither of those are very important because afterwards, Tori, Courtney and I spent the remainder of the day and night in Sintra... my favorite place on earth.

Sintra is a little town a train ride away from Lisbon, and there really are no words to describe the mixture of quaint little houses and beautiful landscapes that make this place perfect. On top of that, there are three castles up in the mountains surrounding the town... the old moorish castle, the park and palace of Monserrate, and the park and palace of Pena. My favorite was the Palace of Pena because it was built by the Artist King Don Fernando II for his wife the princess of Portugal, Dona Maria II. It basically consists of three huge fairytale like, multi-colored castles, 5 lakes, and a throne carved into the side of the mountain. The three of us hiked around, and were in complete awe of the beauty that surrounded us.

Sadly, my pictures do not do it justice...

When it started to get dark, we decided to hike back down the mountain and take in as much of the scenery as we could possibly manage all the while letting out little gasps of disbelief of the magnificence of what surrounded us. When we arrived back in town, we meandered down the little streets, ducking into antique shops and books stores where we found old little relics and small examples of what life is like in Portugal. My favorite culture experience from the town was finding a bookstore that was playing "Fado" music out into the street. It's traditional folk music from Portugal, and it's very emotive. I wrote down the names of several artists so I could look them up when I get home... if anybody's interested ;) Anyway, we eventually got hungry, and decided to stop for dinner. Goodness, I can't even describe it... in simple gastronomic terms, we had braised pork rib with garlic cilantro casserole, creamed bacalao stew, and port to drink. Haha, it was really good. After dinner, we were so elated with our day that we basically had to wander around for another hour and let our enthusiasm wear off before we headed back to the hotel to pack for the trip home. It was an amazing day.

The Real Spain

So, I've had two recent adventures in Sevilla that have helped me to feel like I'm really and truly in Spain: Hiking and Flamenco.

1. Hiking (pronounced hee-keeng) through the sierras was really amazing because I got to see a totally different aspect of Spanish life. It was a strange experience because I had been in the center of the city for about two months, and I had almost forgotten what it was like to be out in the tranquility and solitude of nature. It was a morning hike so it was rather chilly, but the air was so fresh that it didn't matter. Tiny little farms spotted the hillsides, and every type of farm animal grazed freely on the pasture. All in all, it was a beautiful morning.

2. Flamenco is currently one of my favorite things, and it's suprising because I had a bad experience with flamenco classes when I was 15. Thank goodness the flamenco in Spain is nothing like the flamenco they try to teach in America--we're to rigid and uptight to really appreciate flamenco the way this older coulple is appreciating it...

Anyway, the night after the hike, a couple of my friends and I went to Triana (which is actually the city where flamenco originated), and found this little whole-in-the-wall kind of bar with people lined up around the block to get in. We figured we had better check it out if it was that popular, and it turns out that it was so much more than worth it. There were about 200 people crammed into the bar, and, out of all of them, only 4 of us were American. This place was owned by a woman who reminded me of the Spanish version of Paula Dean... so obviously much better. She was short and chubby and loud and boisterous, and she didn't charged an entrance fee, but she made sure that everyone in that whole place had something to drink. Then the music started. I used to stereotype flamenco music as being harsh and dissonant, but the songs I heard were beautiful even though they spoke mostly of the pain of lost love. Oddly, most of them were upbeat, and the whole crowd almost always sang and clapped along. The best part was the dancing--of course. But the reason it was so great was because the people from the audience were the one's to get up and dance. It didn't even feel like a performance; it felt like a big family get-together where your quirky Aunt Mildred and your crazy Uncle Fred dance togther and the rest of the family joins along in the merry-making. For the first time, I genuinely felt like I was experiencing another culture, and it was beautiful.

Contemporary Spanish Literature #365

"Sin amor, las ideas
son como mujeres feas"

- Abel Martin

Where It's At

I've always wanted to live by the mountains, but the sea is giving the mountain a run for it's money.

Gibraltar is a strange place. It's a tiny British colony in the southern-most region of Spain, and it's home to the Rock of Gibraltar, many many monkeys, and a huge underground cavern. Sadly, I don't have any good stories... the day consisted of riding an 1960s Volkswagen bus that had been converted into a tourbus, walking around a massive cave that is now an underground concert hall, and being attacked by monkeys--seriously though.

From the rock, you can see Africa, Spain, the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.

The cave was actually my favorite part of the trip, but this picture doesn't really do it justice. This is one tiny section of stalagtites... they were HUGE in real life.




And of course, the monkeys... there are thousands of them all over the colony. Primates are apparently really smart, and this poses some serious problems for the inhabitants. I guess the monkeys break into people's homes and steal food and makes messes and such. I went up to one for a nice little photo-op, and the little bugger grabbed my hand in the cutest way possible. However, I quickly learned that he was trying to move my hand so he could steal my purse and the sandwich inside. Haha, I actually thought of Anna and said, "Monkey! Get away from my bocadillo!" He knew I meant business.

I'll Take Pictures; I Promise

So, I should definitely be working on a project that's due tomorrow, but I guess old habits die hard... even if you are in another country. Honestly, people in Spain have this amazing ability to worry about very little if anything at all, and I think it's rubbing off on me a little. For example, I don't care about my grades, and, instead of doing homework, I've been planning my voyages across Europe. Let me share...

February 21: Carnaval in the Coastal town of Cadiz--Spanish style Mardis Gras

March 13-15: Excursion to Lisbon, Portugal

March 19-22: Personal trip to Barcelona with my friends Tori and Abbie

March 27-28: Excursion to Cordoba

April 3-8: Excursion to Morocco

April 9-12: Semana Santa--apparently it's a big deal

April 16-19: Personal trip to Stockholm, Sweden with my friend Abbie (I will also be spending a night in London and a night in Milan, Italy)

April 27-May 3: Feria--this is the biggest fiesta in Andalusia (but I might be off to Bilbao to the see the Guggenheim or to Munich to experience Germany)

May 7-10: Personal trip to Geneva, Switzerland with my friend Tori to visit an old highschool friend studying on the French border

May 23: Flight back to the states

I'm so freaking excited! Anyway, I am fully aware that I'm probably going to just scrape by at school, and I probably won't even be able to speak Spanish that well, and I will certainly come home without a penny to my name, but, hey, you're only 21 in Europe once. And I will finally be able to say, "for the price of pint of milk, I'll tell you all I know about the state of the world today." Thank you Belle and Sebastian.

So, oddly enough, I wanted to write about my recent trips to Rhonda and Gibraltar... I guess I got a little side tracked.

Rhonda is an amazing town enveloped by mountains. It's the most quaint thing I have ever seen...I went to a gypsy district where I bought a hand made change purse for a few dollars--it's that quaint. However, I'm fairly ignorant when it comes to technology, and the SD card I used to store the pictures of Rhonda isn't actually compatible with our laptops. I was fortunate to find this 4GB SDHC card lying on the ground in the gardens of a Moorish palace, and there were no pictures on it; so, I took it for my very own. I expect that my not being able to actually transfer my pictures onto my computer is some form of poetic justice. But, I just won't think about that right now. The town is also the home of the oldest Plaze de Toros and one of the highest/oldest bridges in Spain.

Ernest Hemingway actually visited Rhonda frequently--the way Gertrude Stein felt about Paris was the way Hemingway felt about Rhonda. It's where he fell in love with Bull Fighting, and he drew inspiration to write The Sun Also Rises from this city. That alone made me fall in love with it. After the group visited the Plaza and I inspected the bridge several times for structural support, we wandered around the overlook and ate lunch while soaking in the view of the mountains.

That little gazebo is actually where I ate lunch, and there was a gypsy sitting up there singing "Hotel California" with a lovely spanish accent. It was a nice taste of home. After that, a few of us traipsed around the city looking for an icecream shop, and we happened upon an old man who insisted upon giving us a tour. We politely declined, and annexed ourselved into a geriatrics group. Thankfully, we were able to excuse ourselves and quickly find an heladeria... I'm convinced it saved us from emotional scarring because it's just so damn good! (I think the Spanish have figured out a way to inject it with seratonin).

The following day about five of us boarded a bus for Gibraltar. I'll be writing about that later (there will always be a part of me that succumbs to schoolwork).

There Is No Entry for: "Butt" in Dictionary.com

Sometimes, I don't even know where to begin. Right now, I will begin with David Beckham's toosh, hiene, ass, rear end, bum, cheeks, shitter, tuckass, culo (span.) etc.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009 I saw Spain defeat England (2-0) in the World Cup qualifying match in the Nervion Stadium in Seville. Soccer is, by far, my favorite sport to watch, and if i played sports, it would probably be my favorite sport to play. This game surpassed any expectations that I could have ever had. about any sport--I know it sounds like I'm being melodramatic... but, seriously. I think it reminded me of when my highschool soccer team competed for the state title, and all my friends and I traveled down to Columbus, Ohio, to watch the game. It's also similar because all my girlfriends in highschool had a thing for soccer players, and I'm pretty sure there wasn't one girl at the Spain/England game who wasn't ready to sacrafice her decency just to get close to David Beckham. A couple rows behind me at the game, there was a frizzy haired, Spanish girl screaming "GUAPO, GUAPOOOooo....." every single time he came within 100 feet of the stands. I was one of the lucky one's who actually got within 100 feet of him but only thanks to my friend Alison. This girl woke up at 6am to get to the stadium and buy tickets for 5 of us. Oddly enough, I wasn't even supposed to go, but the guys she bought the tickets for never called her back. Good thing too... We had second row seats at the midfield line.

Being surrounded by Spaniards at that kind of a game is far more intense than any Stillers fan could imagine. Not to mention that we all went to an Irish pub before, and it was filled with rowdy Brits. There were broken bottles all over the streets, a Spanish girl got punched in the face by a drunk Englishman, the police came mounted on horseback, much "boo-ing" and singing of "God Save the Queen" ensued... there was also a decent amount of puke in the street. I was later informed by one of my Spanish friends that one could tell it was British puke; I was very impressed by this cultural observation--British vomit is different than Spanish vomit. After spending enough time at the pub to realize why the Spanish think that ALL people who speak English are culturally ignorant assholes, we decided to go to the stadium. It was crowded, we walked really fast everywhere (which is quite difficult after one has had a few beers), I dropped a fresh pack of cigarettes in a puddle, I was not pleased.

Anyway, we got inside, and it was amazing. I don't really know how to describe all of it, but it was definitely a good game. I am by no means a sportswriter.

Kibbles and Bits

1. There is no such thing as carpet in Spain. Every building I have been in completely lacks carpeting (must be due to the hot summers).
2. People wear their wedding rings on the right hand because they consider it to be the lucky hand. (I'm pretty sure this comes from Arabic tradition because, in Middle Eastern countries, the left hand is still considered unclean).
3. People do not live in houses. Everyone on lives in apartments; however, I think the apartment I'm living in right now is still bigger than my house :)
4. I have a GREAT appreciation for public transportation. I spend 30 Euros a month to go wherever I want--I think I spend triple that in gas when I'm at home and have to drive to work everyday. (I still secretly miss my car).
5. The cars here are tiny--the biggest thing I've seen- that isn't a minivan- is a ford focus. Because, of the Spanish tradition of conserving space, they make fun of Americans with huge cars.
6. These people know how to parallel park like nobody's business.
7. Their toasters are really bizarre because they don't use sliced bread like we do... I'll have to take a picture and post it later.
8. Pretty much everything closes for the siesta--I love this tradition... everyday, I come home from class at 2, each lunch, and take a nap until 5 in the afternoon.
9. People in Sevilla consider 49 degrees and rainy the worst of all possible weather. I explained to my house mother that this weather is typical of May in PA. She was horrified.
10. If you drink coffee after 10am, you are considered psychotic and "to-go" mugs are nowhere to be found. I'm having a hard time with this.
11. You are supposed to treat waiters and waitresses like crap... and people here only tip 5%
12. When I come home, I will be confused as to why there are not ancient cathedrals on street corners, waterfalls in public parks, and benches that are older than our country on the sidewalk.

Ain't No Trouble Gonna Find Me Now

"In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country" -Federico Garcia Lorca

I actually have no clue who Federico Garcia Lorca is, but, when I found this quote, I decided that it was the perfect way to describe Andalucia. In fact, it's not just the dead, but everything here that is more alive, and everything about life is stronger and more potent.

WHO:

Tessa Rae Bright--my roommate. Tessa is about 5'2" and is a pretty typical Mic-western girl. She's really friendly and outgoing. Almost too friendly... I've said, "keep walking, Tessa" several times when guys try to stop us on the street. She also likes partying a bit more than I do, but it's a good mix because we have lots of fun together and we balance each other out. She's the type of person who likes to go out and do something every night, and, during our first Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights in Sevilla, we were out until 6am every single night. I cannot keep that up, but I do like the nightlife here... things don't even really get started until 2am--it's great for my nocturnal nature. Anyway, she's good to live with except that she uses my towel to dry her hands...thankfully lisa never did that :) It really isn't that big of a deal, but still... We have alot of fun together and laugh about dumb stuff ... like how I've already broken 2 of the glasses at our house.

Sandra Orejas Gonzales--my house mother, and she's super nice. She's beautiful for a woman of 54, and 5'10" and very slim. Actually almost everyone here is gorgeous. When I first got into Sevilla, someone told me that it's the city of beautiful people. I thought she was kidding. She was not. Anyway, Sandra is a work-aholic, and she spends all of her time with a man named Torri who is supposedly her "partner at work," but I think he's just her partner... for heaven's sake the man takes naps in her living room every afternoon. Maybe it's just a cultural difference. Anyway, Sandra is in the music business, and apparently she signs contracts for some label in Spain. Sometimes she works at home; sometimes she's out until 12am at shows and such. Interesting story: she neglected to actually give me a mattress when I first arrived... it was just a foam pad on a bed frame, and my back was killing me. I told her about it, and she immediately got me another foam pad... so she's not too bad. And when I told her that I was sick, she made me some lemon juice-honey-hot water concoction. Plus she lets us do whatever we want :) Other house parents try to enforce really strict rules, but Sandra gives us free reign.

Lopez--her fox terrier... an annoying little mut

(he's pretty sedated here)

Lola--the maid. This woman is a trip. She's probably sixty something, and she has the facial characteristics of a raccoon. She speaks Spanish so fast that we usually just stand there saying "si, si, si, si, si, si" until she gives up. She acts more like a mother than Sandra ever does... once she yelled at me for not wearing socks, and today she asked Tessa and I if we had picked up our rooms and made our beds. To which we replied, "no." However, she does cook some amazing food... except for yesterday when we had hotdog soup... I was severly confused. Oh, I've also tried cow heart now. The taste isn't too bad, but the consistency really got to me. Other than that, I've loved everything I've eaten. I have fresh baked bread with every meal and TONS of extra virgen olive oil... I eat olive oil like it's peanut butter. But not really.

Abbie--another girl I hang out with. Abby is pretty reserved, and she definitely has a good head on her shoulders. She can get a little feisty, but generally speaking, I feel like she could go to Grove... unlike everyone else here. She doesn't really like going out and partying, but she offers some great company, and we have some similar interests (art!). We're actually planning on going to Gibraltar next weekend together. I like her because she won't make dumb-ass decisions, ie: walking home alone and drunk at 4am.


Melissa, Alison, Merideth: other girls I hang out with that like to party... They're all great and completely hysterical in their own ways (hysterical as in funny not as in psychotic--just to clarify)

Jen, Joelle, and Ariel: generally we call them the blondes. We hang out a decent amount. I met all the girls I've mentioned on the first day in Madrid, and we all decided to go out for lunch together. We could not decide on any particular restaurant, and I'm sure we looked severly lost. So these two old men stopped us, and told us about a restaurant called "El rey de las tortillas" or the King of tortillas. This was the worst restaurant that I've ever been to, but it was an interesting first experience with the natives.

Skylar, Sean, and Eric (from left to right): Skylar is the really laid back one who doesn't say much at all. He actually used to be best friends with Ryan Lesser... fun fact of the day. If I'm going to stereotype people, then Eric is the jock... simply because he plays football in college. He's really nice, and pretty outgoing. Sean honestly reminds me of Kevin Gaul in some ways, and I really don't even know why. Anyway, they're all really nice guys.

WHAT:

Excursions: I have seen some of the most awe-inspiring things of my life since I've been in Spain, but since this may be the most boring section to read... I'll try to keep it short and only talk about the best of the best...

El Prado--this is like the Spanish Louvre. Thank the Lord for Civ Arts! I got to see all the works by El Greco (except the martyrdom of St. Maurice), Velazquez, and Goya. We were all divided up into two groups-the Spanish group an the English group. Thankfully I was in the Spanish group, and the tour guide was this amazing lady who I secretly want to be best friends with. She told us so much about all the works, and I was totally that annoying kid that knew the answers to her questions (thank you Dr. Munson). I learned that Goya's work "Saturn Devouring One of His Son's" is also thought to be an expression of his own guilt. Apparently he had a venereal disease, and everytime his wife got pregnant the unborn baby would die (this happened 19 times). So the last time this happened, he was so distraught that he made this painting. It's actually alot smaller than one would think... maybe an 11x14

El Museo De Reina Sofia--Later the same afternoon I made some people go with me to the modern art museum, and I got to see "Guerrnica" (the painting Picasso made after Hitler bombed the village of Guerrnica). I've seen this painting in countless textbooks for art history, history, spanish, civilizations courses... etc. Seeing it in person was amazing, and I stood there looking at it for about 10 minutes. I could have stood there for an hour. Because of it's massive size and the use of the gray-scale, it just makes you feel the misery of those people... it was beautiful.

The Basillica at the Valley of the Fallen in El Escorial--this is a hugely controversial place because Franco built it during the Spanish Civil war. Anyway, when you pull up the first thing you see is a massive cross on top of a hill... like in Rio de Janeiro, except that this one is being held up by four massive stone scupltures . Then, under the cross, there is this stylized reproduction of what looks like "la Pieta" which is that sculpture Michael Angelo did where Mary is holding Jesus' dead body. Each sculpture is easily the size of a house or small building, and they are in themselves breathtaking. But then you actually go in the Basillica, and you understand why people hated religion and found it severely oppressive. It's frightening. Everything is massive and cold, but it inspires so much reverence. So, when you walk through the foyer, there are two more gigantic sculptures of arch angels towering over you and bearing down on top of you; then, hundreds of feet away you can see the main chapel, and there are about six mini chapels on either side... so 12. Here comes the good part... I was meandering around and looking at the wall-covering tapestries after almost everyone else had left when all the lights in the whole place go out and there are vibrations from the Gregorian chanting reverberating through my whole body. Suddenly a single light illuminates another huge cross in the middle of the main chapel, and it's surrounded by monks in red capes... chanting. I don't even know how to describe the feeling I got from seeing that, and it's not like they planned it as a tourist attraction...I was the only one in there. I started crying immediately.


The Cathedral of Seville and the Alcazar --in the same day... I won't bog you down with too many details except to say that they were both amazing. The Cathedral of Seville is the largest gothic structure in the world, and the Alcazar is an old palace built by the Moors with huge indoor gardens and amazing tiled walls. (check out more pictures of these on Facebook)

School--the university is pretty normal, and there are alot of Spanish people everywhere. I finally got into all the classes I need. I'm taking 4, 300 level classes. School is boring. However, I only have classes from Monday-Thursday. Three day weekends. Every. Single. Week.

Las Discotecas--translation:the clubs. So I've been to 3-4 clubs already, and I can tell you that people in Spain know how to party. There are always Europop beats blaring wherever you go, and my newfound friends were quite suprised when they found out that I'm a "freak" simply because I know how to dance :) Generally, people in Spain don't get drunk, and it's actually very frowned upon. I've had beer or wine with several meals, and always enjoyed it. The clubs, however, are different... everyone is drunk, especially the American students. I can thankfully say that I haven't been ... I'm enjoying being the responsible one for once :)

WHERE:

Well, I've seen Madrid, El Escorial, Toledo = beautiful, and Sevilla. I live right across the street from the largest park in Seville which is also beautiful. I'm planning on going to Morocco... actually, I am going to Morocco to camp in the desert for 4 days. Alot of my friends want to travel around Europe, and I might go completely broke, but I want to do the same. I'm probably going to go to Cadiz for Festival... Spanish Mardi Gras. And tomorrow, I'm going to Italica to see old Roman ruins from B.C. Next weekend I'm going to a small town in the mountains called Rhonda, and then I'm going to Gibraltar to see the rock of Gibraltar, go splunking, and then play with monkeys. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I will have documentation to prove it. This is way to long, but I hope it makes you laugh at least a few times and entertains you til the end.

Laura (people actually call me by my real name now) :)

p.s. Please always feel free to email me!